Super Hero

Raksha Bandhan or Rakhi is one of the most popular festivals in India. Every year it renews the bond that brothers and sisters share. The importance of this festival has been depicted in numerous Bollywood movies and TV serials, whenever the bond between the brother and sister had to be highlighted. Heroes have fought Villain’s to death in the name of this sacred bond; Sisters have called upon their brothers in the time of need reminding them of the ‘Rakhi’ they tied. Such is the strength of this festival and bond that unrelated individuals have become brothers and sisters for life. The image of ‘Raksha Bandhan’ is imprinted on our minds.

But what if I tell you a different story. The story of a little girl who did something years ago and her actions defined someone’s life. Now, if you ask me why she did it or what made her to do it, I won’t be able to tell you. Maybe, it was an instinctive reaction or an act that no one expects from a child.

This story takes us back to 1990, to a state in the Northern part of India. Insurgency had reared its ugly head and things were not good. On a cold winter morning a boy and girl were travelling in a mini bus. This mini bus was a military vehicle and carried out various duties such as transporting the mail, dropping soldiers who were proceeding on leave, collecting fresh rations etc. In our case this bus also ferried these two children to their school and back. The mini bus was guarded, it had armed soldier on board for its protection but it was a plain old green mini bus.

It was November and it was early winters. The children had joined their school in August. As a gift the mother had bought the two children new jackets. Both were dark blue, one had pink fur and the other light blue. As the kids reluctantly got on to the bus it was just another day.

The vehicle left the camp and barely a kilometre away it was ambushed by terrorists. The ambush was well planned and the vehicle was hit from both sides. They lobbed grenades at the bus and the driver in an attempt to save the bus veered off the road and into a deep cemented drain. They were stuck and helpless. Bullets poured into the bus like water, not much could be done. Help was on its way but it would take some time.

As the little boy inquisitively peered out of the shattered bus window, the girl pulled her little brother down. The little girl hugged her brother and bundled him within her arms and lied down on the bus floor, covering him the best way she could. As the firing continued, lives were lost.

Finally, help arrived. The father, who also happened to be the Company Commander of the camp reached the location with his men. They engaged the terrorist in a gun battle and knowing that they were outnumbered the terrorist started fleeing. To protect the two children the father flung them over a wall and asked one of his men to stay with them. He then ran after the terrorists with his men.

After some time when the firing had died down, the men who were left behind decided to take the children back to the camp. As they walked down to the camp, the little girl complained of pain in her legs. The soldier picked up the girl and carried her back home. The anxious mother was waiting, relieved and happy to see her children. The soldiers told her what had happened. They said the children were scared and cold and it was best to put them in bed. But the little girl still complained of pain in her legs.The men said in the ensuing chaos somebody might have stepped on her leg. But the mother was not convinced. The children had no visible injury. No blood. But something was wrong. A mother’s instinct.

She checked the children. Nothing wrong. She checked again. The boy’s jacket had small holes caused by splinters, but the little girls jacket had three prominent holes in the back. The mother was confused, she hurriedly turned the little girl around and unzipped the jacket. As she took it off the jacket, it felt wet and her fears were turning into a reality. The brand-new jacket had done its job well. It soaked up all the blood. The little girl had been shot three times. She was seven. What the mother did after this, is a story to be told another day.

The reason why I am narrating this story on the eve of Rakhi is because, in this story it is not the brother who was the hero. It was the sister. She protected him. She became the saviour. 

The festival of Rakhi holds a very different place in this boy’s mind. Every day of his life he owes to this little girl. His hero, his saviour. The little boy grew up and became an army officer. Forever indebted to this little girl. Had the little girl not done what she had, maybe the boy would have not survived.

So, every year as the festival approaches, this boy remembers what had happened all those years ago. He remembers his hero, his big sister. She protected him years ago and continues to do so, usually against his parents’ wrath now. He is still that little boy standing in his big sisters protective shadow and will forever continue to do so. Not because he likes hiding, but because every time the sister senses danger; She Steps Up to become the ‘Super Hero’ she is. 

As one more year passes by, thank you for being my big sister. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for being my ‘Super Hero’. Happy ‘Raksha Bandhan’ sis.