A Night Without End

February 14, 2019 was just another day in our lives. For us nothing had changed except the headlines of the newspaper. And when we read it, we tchk-tchked in horror, anger, shock and maybe awful rage. And then got down to our daily chores relegating the horrors of blood and body parts strewn on the streets of Kashmir out of our sight and out of our collective conscience.

But today, if we do not shout out loud, we are bigger traitors than the devious, scheming terrorists. We are the rats, termites and parasites who feed on the system and only crib and complain about our taxes, the education system, the politicians, the medical services and such injustices of our lives. With our heads burrowed in our desks, trying to make more money and growing more personal wealth, we hardly ever look back and worry about the lives of the children and spouse of our brave martyrs which changed in a flash when suddenly one fanatic radicalized terrorist rammed his explosive laden SUV into a convoy of buses carrying our CRPF boys to their new postings to protect our tumultuous borders.

These were young boys. All maybe aged between 21 to 28 years. Yes they joined the armed forces to make a living, to send money to their parents and families in towns and villages to buy them a little more comfort against the vagaries of their lives. But they were bravehearts who chose our armed forces over jobs in air-conditioned offices. They were made to roll on the hard cold ground, gravel in the cold dirty slush, jump over piercing harsh barbed wires, rappel a steep mountain side using rough ropes, jump off roof tops wearing their full battle gears. They burnt in the sun, soaked in the rain, froze in the cold before they came out battle ready and fighting fit. All through this, their families lived their lives just with the help a few phone calls, letters, photos and a handful days of togetherness. But there was always enormous pride in their eyes for the hardships endured by their boys. Only because all the adversities they withstood was for protecting the honour of our nation.

These boys were same age as our children. Our children, who are college going, brand conscious, smartphone using, headphones wearing, sassy and bright. And we worry for their US college admissions, their having to brave the pollution, their traumas and heartbreaks, their losing a few marks in the mid-semesters, their summer trainings and their final placement offer packages!!! And our lives crumble if they break a bone or fall ill.

But the loss of over four dozen precious young lives of hardened-in-battle-preparation boys going to a border posting to protect us from the evil nefarious designs of the enemy is worth only our sighs, sorrows and exasperated whatsapp exchanges ruing the system, the politics, the religious fundamentalists, the state of our intelligence and status of Kashmir. This is a cowardly and dastardly behavior of an apathetic impassive nation! Are we worthy of the sacrifice of these young boys dying for us daily on our borders with Pakistan, Bangladesh and China? Just because we pay our taxes which apparently pays for their salaries, do we relegate them out of our consciousness as we glance away from the headlines and lead our lives as if nothing has changed?

We can never replace them at the borders. But we can respect them and love them and honour them. We can teach our children to be proud of our soldiers and never slander them in drawing room conversations. We can shut up our politicians who cast libel and insult on our armed force’s patriotism and sacrifices. These are the same power hungry guzzlers whose multi layered protection is provided by the strapping lads of our fearless forces.

So what are we waiting for? The debates to start on prime time on what action should the Prime Minister and his colleagues take to avenge our country’s honour while we snack on hot bites and chilled drinks? Be the first the buy the ticket and share the reviews of the next URI movie, this time named The Road to Pulwama? Decry the Pakistani establishment while we listen to the melodies of Nusrat Fateh Ali, Ghulam Ali and Mehdi Hasan?

Can we still remain dispassionate, unflustered and unperturbed while we only demand action of others and ride our high horses? Wake up. The war is at our doorstep. Wake up. Or it will be an endless night. Speak up or forever Rest In Peace!!