The girl had been asleep. A loud ‘Bang’ close to their modest home roused her up rudely in the middle of the night. Instinctively she turned to snuggle against her mother.
Outside,the Pines, grew erect and tall, as if they wanted to touch the cerulean blue skies. Throughout the year they glistened a deep green. To some it seemed like they had stowed away emeralds in their branches. In fact in Spring when the cones would first show up at the ends of branches like green candles in a candelabra, the Pine forests seemed festooned, ready for celebrations. To young Binny, they looked their best then. Once the pines grew brown and woody, they waited for the nuts to ripen and the pines to fall. They had so many games to play with those pines, from collecting the largest numbers, collecting pine nuts, to knocking piles of cones with a ball.
These Pine woods on one hand protected the run down home against the fierce winds, snow, animals, and on the other hand they also gave shelter to the enemy.
As dawn reached out its rosy hues to paint the inky sky in inviting colours, the girl crawled out from the warmth of the bed and peered through the windows. It promised to be a sunny day. School day!
She rushed to get ready, as did her mother.
It would be a long day, walking up and down five miles over the mountain trails, crossing the turbulent stream over the old wooden log, and then racing through the meadow to reach the school in the valley. Then it would be fun to listen to the teachers teaching them so many things from reading to writing and adding numbers. The best part was colouring. Those who finished their work, could play cricket or colour. She would wait for that. Nothing smelled as good as the musty pages of a drawing book nor thrilled her as much as bright reds, pinks and greens of colour pencils and crayons. Holding the multi hued crayons, filling the empty white pages with images of parrots, flowers, mountains, the sun and rivers, made her heart sing.
Baba would walk with her. He would wait till her school got over, then they would walk back together. His eyes filled with pride. He was her hero. He could do everything and anything. He was so strong. And so big. He protected her from everything and everyone.
They waited at the threshold of their home. Mother and daughter. After some time, mother got busy with her daily chores, food had to be eaten, hearth had to be cleaned- everyday, after all. The sun had climbed up high in the blue sky.
Binny was getting restless now. She was about to pull off her shoes when she saw him in the distance. Her Baba.
Girdhari Lal had been up all night, once again. The first sound of gun shot had alerted him. He had quietly moved out, gun in hand. They had come again. Like vermin they came in waves, time and again. Since his son had joined the Army, he felt the need to support him. Now even more. He was a good marksman, always had been. His son too had kept up the family tradition.
The gunfire went on all night.
Some he shot, few turned tail.
As a new day dawned, Girdhari Lal turned homewards. His duties towards his family beckoned. Running, firing, and running again, through the night was his wont. None could decipher in the darkness, how many were there, how many kept guard, when Girdhari alone kept guard. Trudging over the mountains after such a night, his feet slowed down. Exhaustion and age were telling.
Making a super human effort he continued. Binny had to go to school. All children had to go to school. That was a befitting slap on the face of the nefarious enemy and in strengthening the local community.
It was a promise he had made to himself and his nation when he had saluted the body of his martyred son.
Binny shrieked with joy “Baba!”
She would go to school that day, finally.
Smiling, he said, “Cmon Binny, we willl be late!”
“My Baba strongest!” she laughed.
Patting his daughter-in-law’s head, he took the bag of food, drank the warm kahwa and followed the little girl.
Pic by Manu Alesanco on Unsplash
