Kitnee Srishti mein kitnaa prem...
(So much of love in so much of the world)
So much of distance ! Distance... so distant ! So much of pain that... uff... enough of it for now please ! So much of noise that it turns the voices deaf ... so much of quiet that it can make the silence voluble ! So much of fatigue that even sleep would fail to fall asleep... ah, so much of sleep that one could forget all the fatigue ! So much of sorrow that all happiness just craves to come into being... so much of happiness that sorrow is nowhere to be seen ! So much hatred...uff, so much of hatred that it becomes difficult to make even a mention of love and so much of love that the very presence of hatred astounds ! So much difficulty that everything seems easy... so much of ease, it's like facing a storm of difficulty ! Such chill that one could embrace the entire sun... such heat that even the Himalayas will not be enough !
A pain-like pain... so much of pain in these burning soles that taking off these heavy boots after a long patrol, one can't figure out whether the soles are still there or have peeled off along with the soggy and wet-for hours socks ! So much of something that seems unsaid that there is no justification of saying anything... so much has been said it's as if nothing now remains unsaid ! So many bullets fired from so many guns that it has riddled the very soul of a nation... so many wandering souls that the guns in the entire world have run out of bullets ! Such a large number of martyrs that that there is a dearth of land for pyres... such large stretches of empty, barren lands that the hunger for martyrdom is never satiated ! So many of coffins that there is no tricolour available now to wrap them up in... so many tricolours being woven, for the coffins do not stop coming! Such valour that there is no sign of fear... so much of fear that it makes valour disappear !
Someone calling out from the opposite bunker across the border... 'have you gone to sleep, sir'... evokes laughter on this side... "Shut up you rascals ! Losing even to Bangla Desh... and you have the cheek to play cricket" and again loud guffaws. The embarrassment in the silence on the other side begins to fill the cold air with a strange warmth. So many words...aha, so many words to weave stories to revel in... so many stories that words begin to play hooky ! The resonance of so many... so many guffaws that the flow of tears loses its sound and so many tears, that the resonance of the guffaws gets drowned !
A guffaw had resonated that day too. Not one but many guffaws... together. In that month of October. The October of nineteen years ago. The war of Kargil had ended two months back for the country. But only for the country... not for its army...
After the formal declaration of victory at the end of July, combing operations were still being carried out from bunkers occupied on high mountains for any remaining enemy till much later. A small search party of dare-devils from a battalion of the Indian army under one such combing operation had reached near a cave in a high mountain following leads. The search party consisted of two officers... one major, the leader of the party and one lieutenant, the second-in-command...along with twelve brave soldiers. They had confirmed intelligence ... the informer had, by pointing towards the cave, announced there were seven to eight enemy hiding inside the cave before them. Having given a once over to each and every detail of the plan to attack for the last time and with the party seated before him, the young major saab, the leader of the party was holding a spirited 'briefing'. Contrary to its name, the 'briefing' was stretching on and on...
'Kaalikaa mata kee jai - victory to mother Kalika ! Love you all ! Let's do this !'
Actually, the major saab -pointing towards the haunt of the enemy - was becoming a bit emotional. They didn't have an exact idea of the number of the enemy and the mission had to be completed before darkness descended. For some reason, major saab had this premonition that some of the members of the party going with him on the attack may not make it back in one piece after the mission and therefore his emotions were surging up again and again in sentences like 'I-love-you-all' during this briefing of the action of the mission.
The second-in-command of the team, a little younger than young lieutenant, was now becoming a little exasperated with this long stretching 'briefing' of the major. He wanted only to advance now, explode on the enemy hide-out and return to his base-camp. One more of 'I-love-you-all' from the major robbed the young lieutenant of all his patience and before exploding at the enemy hide-out he exploded at his own team commander...
"Arre, be done with it sir ! What will happen at the most... either those bastards will die or we will ! If they die we'll go, have beer in our camp... and in case we die, one or the other road will be named after us !"
Along with the rock-melting resonance of the laughter of all the team- members, the shout of 'victory- to- mother- Kalika' became engraved on the mountain for centuries.
"kitnee srishti mein kitnaa prem
ki kehnaa na pade
mujhe prem hai tumse
aur kitnaa prem
ki karne ko poorie umra bhee kum ho jaise !
kitnaa main
ki tum aao
kitnee tum
ki main na rahoon !"
(so much of love in so much of the world
that there is no need to say
I love you
and love you so much
that an entire life would seem short
to fulfill it !
so much of me
that you should come
so much of you
that I no longer remain.)
(So much of love in so much of the world)
So much of distance ! Distance... so distant ! So much of pain that... uff... enough of it for now please ! So much of noise that it turns the voices deaf ... so much of quiet that it can make the silence voluble ! So much of fatigue that even sleep would fail to fall asleep... ah, so much of sleep that one could forget all the fatigue ! So much of sorrow that all happiness just craves to come into being... so much of happiness that sorrow is nowhere to be seen ! So much hatred...uff, so much of hatred that it becomes difficult to make even a mention of love and so much of love that the very presence of hatred astounds ! So much difficulty that everything seems easy... so much of ease, it's like facing a storm of difficulty ! Such chill that one could embrace the entire sun... such heat that even the Himalayas will not be enough !
A pain-like pain... so much of pain in these burning soles that taking off these heavy boots after a long patrol, one can't figure out whether the soles are still there or have peeled off along with the soggy and wet-for hours socks ! So much of something that seems unsaid that there is no justification of saying anything... so much has been said it's as if nothing now remains unsaid ! So many bullets fired from so many guns that it has riddled the very soul of a nation... so many wandering souls that the guns in the entire world have run out of bullets ! Such a large number of martyrs that that there is a dearth of land for pyres... such large stretches of empty, barren lands that the hunger for martyrdom is never satiated ! So many of coffins that there is no tricolour available now to wrap them up in... so many tricolours being woven, for the coffins do not stop coming! Such valour that there is no sign of fear... so much of fear that it makes valour disappear !
Someone calling out from the opposite bunker across the border... 'have you gone to sleep, sir'... evokes laughter on this side... "Shut up you rascals ! Losing even to Bangla Desh... and you have the cheek to play cricket" and again loud guffaws. The embarrassment in the silence on the other side begins to fill the cold air with a strange warmth. So many words...aha, so many words to weave stories to revel in... so many stories that words begin to play hooky ! The resonance of so many... so many guffaws that the flow of tears loses its sound and so many tears, that the resonance of the guffaws gets drowned !
A guffaw had resonated that day too. Not one but many guffaws... together. In that month of October. The October of nineteen years ago. The war of Kargil had ended two months back for the country. But only for the country... not for its army...
After the formal declaration of victory at the end of July, combing operations were still being carried out from bunkers occupied on high mountains for any remaining enemy till much later. A small search party of dare-devils from a battalion of the Indian army under one such combing operation had reached near a cave in a high mountain following leads. The search party consisted of two officers... one major, the leader of the party and one lieutenant, the second-in-command...along with twelve brave soldiers. They had confirmed intelligence ... the informer had, by pointing towards the cave, announced there were seven to eight enemy hiding inside the cave before them. Having given a once over to each and every detail of the plan to attack for the last time and with the party seated before him, the young major saab, the leader of the party was holding a spirited 'briefing'. Contrary to its name, the 'briefing' was stretching on and on...
'Kaalikaa mata kee jai - victory to mother Kalika ! Love you all ! Let's do this !'
Actually, the major saab -pointing towards the haunt of the enemy - was becoming a bit emotional. They didn't have an exact idea of the number of the enemy and the mission had to be completed before darkness descended. For some reason, major saab had this premonition that some of the members of the party going with him on the attack may not make it back in one piece after the mission and therefore his emotions were surging up again and again in sentences like 'I-love-you-all' during this briefing of the action of the mission.
The second-in-command of the team, a little younger than young lieutenant, was now becoming a little exasperated with this long stretching 'briefing' of the major. He wanted only to advance now, explode on the enemy hide-out and return to his base-camp. One more of 'I-love-you-all' from the major robbed the young lieutenant of all his patience and before exploding at the enemy hide-out he exploded at his own team commander...
"Arre, be done with it sir ! What will happen at the most... either those bastards will die or we will ! If they die we'll go, have beer in our camp... and in case we die, one or the other road will be named after us !"
Along with the rock-melting resonance of the laughter of all the team- members, the shout of 'victory- to- mother- Kalika' became engraved on the mountain for centuries.
"kitnee srishti mein kitnaa prem
ki kehnaa na pade
mujhe prem hai tumse
aur kitnaa prem
ki karne ko poorie umra bhee kum ho jaise !
kitnaa main
ki tum aao
kitnee tum
ki main na rahoon !"
(so much of love in so much of the world
that there is no need to say
I love you
and love you so much
that an entire life would seem short
to fulfill it !
so much of me
that you should come
so much of you
that I no longer remain.)
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