An Anonymous Evening


I know much has been written about the story of our country’s independence. Many movies have been made which portray the boldness which the people of this country showed, in a moment we needed the most.
This story is not about those who fought on the front end, but it’s just a humble attempt what went in their families, their hopes, dreams and fears.

An Anonymous Evening

Hopping on the bed, wearing her night pajamas the little girl took her mamma’s hand, and lead her to the window and hinted at the gleaming and exploding skies.
The girl’s forehead wrinkled as her face shone with bewilderment. She popped the question which had been disturbing her from such a long time, “What’s the clamor that goes boom? Mamma what’s the disturbing bewailing?

Mamma didn’t seem to notice.

“Mamma, where’s papa?”

Tears appeared in mamma’s eyes, and her chest seemed congested, and she refused to clear the things for the little girl.

“Why does every woman cry? The little girl had noticed the tears in her mother’s eyes. “Why do you weep?” said the girl knowing little whereabouts of this cruel world.

Mamma refused to oblige, she simply caressed her head, her little daughters’ head, kissed on her forehead, tucked her in the sheet and stumbled her way to the bed.

Her elder daughter watched this closely even though she pretended to have slept; she knew why her mother cried.

After the woman had left the room, the older daughter took the hand of her sister, and gazing at the sky explained what was happening, “No longer will we have to obey, no longer will we have to feel like dirt, no longer will be under a bully, instead we fight”, that is what father said, when he left, he promised me that he would return and play with both of us, we would play horse, you like it, don’t you?  The younger sister jumped with amazement, but the matter was still out of her grasp.

So, the elder daughter tried rephrasing it and said, “Our father is an hero, mom recognizes that, but she misses him, like we all do”

This time the girl understood this and she felt proud that her father was a hero, but she missed him too. She nodded to her elder sister and went to bed.

The older daughter couldn’t help but focus on the blackened skies, as her heart and mind divulged into a battle of their own. A thought arose in her mind, “All we can do, my young sister is watch as our beloved people walk, opposing the raj, and wonder if we would ever see them again.” Her heart assured her, that her father would come tomorrow, and they would be a happy family again.

Author’s Note:

There are true heroes among us. Many people just fail to see them.

Let’s make India, what the forefathers, who scarified their life, imagined us to be.
I’d like to express my sincere gratitude to the countless men and women who helped in India gaining independence. Sincere, heartfelt thanks.

Hardeep Singh

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