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Victorious Night --- Part 2 (Revised)
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Victorious Night --- Part 2 (Revised) |
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Sudhir Iyer Member Ascendant
since 2000-04-26
Posts 6943Mumbai, India : now in Belgium 
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A little after 10 PM and we had gathered in the dark dingy dungeon of a bunker where even a breath of fresh air seemed to charge a vast amount of rent. Five of us stood there almost like fierce guards preventing the entry of rabid dogs at war. Armed with handguns with a shooting skill matching the worst amateur bunch of hunters there ever was to shoot a static target from a distance of five metres! But that must do, that’s what gave us the motivation, between today and tomorrow, tomorrow seemed to have better hopes. Tomorrow promised the end of the war, and a cease-fire to bring things back to their funny and merry ways, with routine happenings and questions of life, death, hunger, disease, joy, emotions and love ruling instead of meaningless hatred. Yet all the five of us were glued in a stare transfixed upon the hatch of the bunker we called Haven Underground with ears upright to hear the faintest of a footstep treading towards the bunker. All this against a backdrop of deafening explosions of bombs going off. Paul was very angry with all that was happening. He screamed foul at almost everybody. The only ones he spared were the ladies and a few others, particularly young children. He could never blame the mothers for the mistakes of their children and he had a tremendous amount of love for children. We called him Paulie (Oh! How he hated that name, given to him by all of us, quite affectionately, of course!). His affection to young children was such pronounced that he used to miss our weekend parties if he had made a promise to a young kid to tell him or her a story to help get some sleep and dream wonderfully sweet dreams. He used to tell some of the most interesting stories about butterflies, stars, moons, the birds of spring, mountains, fairies, angels from the sky and many more such child-appealing subjects. He knew how to touch a child's innocent heart in the most sensitive ways. His heart used to pour out all the love that he had to the kids of the town. Buying gifts, chocolates, dolls and whatever else that would thrill a child in the neighbourhood, was his primetime hobby; such a 'soft-at-heart' gentleman. Yet, in the direst of circumstances, he was a leopard, eyes gleaming for the hunt, to spring upon the victim with utmost agility. In these wartime days, he was one of our best bets for safety. He was pacing around with the same agility of the wild one, but his tenacity seemed to be jerky with the seething anger at the men who he felt were hurting his reason of existence. He seemed to be violently edged against the anti-peace warriors from the other side! Paulie's brother, James (nicknamed Jim as was most common) was quite the opposite. A saint in disguise of a very hard working man. Four years senior to Paul, he was a devout follower of the Murphy's axioms. He was the wise 'old' man of our little gang. Married (the only one in our group to have done so) to a gem of a lady and with two absolutely gorgeous and adorable kids - a boy and a girl. To him, war was thoughtless, but then destined to happen. The foul that comes with war is simply the result of the thoughtlessness. This was his sincere belief. Very hardworking by nature, a man engaging in deep thought processes of his own, yet outwardly cheerful and accepting all that life had to offer him. In his position, who else could not be such? A loving family and a great younger brother and a bunch of friendly faces around only helped in keeping him even happier. Then this war happened bringing out the serious person inside him out to the playground of life and death in a deadly game whose only result at that moment seemed to be the finality of coldness, a game with death being the only victor. He was pensive and thinking of only surviving one night at a time. Robert (fondly and teasingly called Rob a short form derived from Robbie, ever since he stole a kiss from one of the pretty young things at school) was Paul's classmate in school and friend since they were four years old. He was a typical self-made guy, most adequately equipped for all kinds of tricky situations. He was an adventurer at heart and an escapist to form. Often the first to speak of camping trips around the landscape of our little town, he used to believe that life is meant to be free and lived in style befitting freedom's exalted stature. To him, Paulie's friendship was God's writ. A rule that he had vowed never to break. Often in the past, he had proved his friendship on many occasions for various reasons. He was never found to be wanting in any occasions that demanded his doing so. Also one of the most polite, a typical hassle-free personality, the favourite in the group and many times a butt of jokes. Most funny jokes would revolve around the various uninspiring situations that he could lead us into while hiking or camping out etc. He was a great sport and took it all in his stride. No wonder we all loved his character. The last man there was also the most introvert and non-charismatic personality a bit worse off than I was, in that department. Named Anthony at birth, we had changed it to Tony, a beautiful name that echoed melodic music in its mere spelling. His name was the most flamboyant part of his otherwise down-to-earth personality. Well, almost! He could play the harmonica with great finesse, most entertaining with a great knack of selecting perfect tunes for the perfect moments. But that is exactly what gave him the edge. Silent and calm at the most dangerous of situations, he was cool as a cucumber, a man to be trusted to keep us alive as long as he could by force of sheer wit and wisdom. He was everybody's friend since he antagonised no one. He had no enemies; till three weeks back. He was playing a real disturbed and choppy tune reminding us to remain awake through the black of the night. The tune also seemed to make Paulie even more edgy. My job in the group was to crack meaningless 'jokes' and half them laughing them like nuts after getting them sufficiently drunk. I was an expert in making cocktail drinks and that was the only part of my profile worth to be included in my resume. They called me 'Nuts' and I didn't mind. Three weeks back, we all had jobs, but with the war having been declared, all jobs were meaningless to be attended for the offices were gutted; to be marked as the first victims of the pointless event. Our enemies were clever and shrewd. They wanted to systematically destroy us. We were lucky, we had the day off, but there were about 15 workers working and all of them but one lost their lives. Only one soul survived, Samuel. All of us from the town affectionately called him Uncle Sam because that name resembled a great country, as was he. One of the real grand 'characters' of our town, vivid in his views, he had the respect of us all. Adored by ladies throughout his life most for his kind gentlemanly behaviour. Ten years back, when his wife died after thirty years of happy marriage, he was heart broken. The job at our factory was his sole reason to survive; his colleagues were his best friends. His two children, both girls, had married and moved with their husbands into the big cities. They used to visit him for Christmas and Easter, and boy, did he look happy on those days of the year! One could only wish for such a broadminded, big-hearted father as he. He had shed tears when his many girls left for the city. He could never comprehend the lure of the city, for he was the typical frog in his well, which formed his surroundings and also his universe. But after a while, he learned to accept things as they stood and became more cheerful. Then her most caring wife died to a heart attack, and he thought God was being cruel. He shed tears till his well dried up. His friends rallied around him and gave him much needed support, and for that and more he was eternally grateful. When he heard the demise of his friends in the holocaust-like scene, he gave up. He felt he couldn't bear it anymore. Life had lost its meaning. He was left with no arms or legs, without any support and no one to call his own, he committed a ghastly suicide disgusted with life and seeking not to be a burden to the others. He had been working there in that factory for more than 35 years. He would have retired in three months' time. He could have had enough pension money to visit his girls and their kids, his grandchildren once each month and also have be a tourist scanning the scenery surrounding this town. Unfortunately, the war retired him earlier! Tony had composed a mournful tune at his funeral and Jim had read out a heart-wrenching speech at the sad event. Tony was now playing that tune and all of were staring blankly at each other with tears flowing in a trickle. Paulie screamed another series of angry mutterings cursing the dogs of war and the wisdom of the pompous and inconsiderate so-called rulers of the land. Tony stopped abruptly. ------ my friends, how is this? better than earlier verion, I hope!  ... Thanks in advance....[This message has been edited by Sudhir Iyer (edited 09-04-2000).] |
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