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Saturday 28 December 2013

Beyond the State Lines

Reena tossed and turned in her cot. She turned the coarse bundle of clothes she was using as pillow over and over again desperately trying to find a dry spot to hide her face in. She froze at the slight movement at the cot next to her. But the person did not wake up; just turned over and everything was still again. Letting out a long breath, Reena buried her face in her pillow and wept.


3 years ago
“You take care of yourself… (sniff sniff) … God knows how you will manage … eat properly… watch your health, try to get good sleep when you are not on duty…” aunt chanted continuously, all the time weeping. Reena’s cousin Rabi was going away to Kolkata. He had enlisted in the Special Forces and had received his first posting. The entire family was elated. Rabi was not only one of the very few educated boys of this remote village, but also one of the only three to get an actual job.
This tiny village, situated in a heavily forested area near the state border, rarely saw such achievements. Their lives usually consisted of farming on small plots of land and rearing cattle. Some of them who worked outside their village were daily laborers. Very few could boast of a half decent education and even less could dream of having a job and a fixed salary. Thus, Rabi’s going away party included more or less the whole village. They all wished him luck, blessed him, praised him and gave him charms to keep him safe while his mother fretted about the constant dangers of his duty.
“Don’t worry maa, I’ll be alright”, Rabi smiled, assuring his mother.
“Yes pishima, he’ll do well”, said Reena, “Rabi da is very smart, and you know that!”
Rabi turned to Reena. “You take care of yourself and everyone here. Ok?”
“Of course”, she hugged him, “be careful.”


1 year ago
The only school in their village had long closed down. Now it served as the arms vault for the rebels. Almost every able bodied man and woman had been enlisted to this rebel army. It was the villagers’ job to provide for these people. Thus Reena’s father, who was farmer, had been spared from enlisting. 17 yr old Reena did not understand much of what they said or preached. Something about the government not being fair, something about wanting their rights, formed the core of their ideology; not that they cared much for it. As long as the people were terrified of them and the government took them seriously, they were happy. Initially, when the rebellion started, the villagers had supported them. They all had genuine grievances which needed to be heard. But as time went on, more and more places came to be affected. Power in the hands of the rebels increased, more villages came under their control, more people joined and subsequently the body count rose.
 The rebels lost sight of the original aim and took to the more enticing ideas of power and manipulation. Reena knew that it was only a matter of time before she would be forced to join them. Her father had already turned them away twice saying he needed her help in the fields but that excuse would not hold every time. She didn’t know exactly what was waiting for her but she was terrified of it. The fear of the unknown is always the worst. But Reena was sure that knowing would hardly be any better.


3 months ago
Reena arrived at the rebel camp. It was in the middle of a forest, about half an hour trek from their village. The man who escorted her showed her to a tent.
“You’ll stay here… this is where we sleep…” he beckoned her to follow him. He proceeded to show her around the camp and explain the rules. Finally they reached a clearing where the new recruits were being trained. He handed her a rifle and ordered her to join the parade. When training for the morning was over, Reena followed them back to the tents for a frugal lunch.
“What is your name?” Reena asked a woman sitting beside her.
“Jaya”
“How long have you been here??”
“Five years…” The woman didn’t seem interested in this new recruit but Reena, who could hardly contain the terror in her heart, went on.
“How long do we have to live like this?”
“As long as it takes. This is our life.” Jaya replied. Reena examined her face. She was dark, her face expressionless, hardened in a way that emotions no longer found a place on it. Her eyes were casual, indifferent. A thin jagged scar ran from her hairline, over her eyebrows and ended just above her right eye.
 “Where did you get that scar?”
“About a couple of years back. We were fighting the joint forces, few villages away from here. I lost my footing and fell onto some rocks. The cadres brought me back to the camp and stitched up my forehead. But the scar remained.” Jaya shrugged.
Her indifference sent chills down Reena’s spine.
“What will happen to me?” Reena asked, not even attempting to hide her fear this time.
Jaya looked at her and said, “We’ll train you to fight. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to all this.”


12 hours ago
Reena hid behind a tree trunk. She cringed as gunfire erupted a few feet away from her. The first shots were fired from the other side of the tree line, which was followed by a few more shots from her side. Jaya was shooting from behind a big boulder.
“Move forward to the next point and cover for me” she yelled. Reena remained rooted to her spot. This was her first encounter with the law enforcers. The rebels had planned a ‘guerilla attack’ on an army camp but had not counted on the back up. There were more Jawans than they had estimated and now they were fighting back. The group had fled to the forest but Jaya and Reena were way behind the others and still needed to go over the stream to the safety of the dense forest cover, which they know like the back of their hand by now.
“Move!” Jaya screamed again.
Reena hastily lifted her rifle and started firing. She quickly ran from her hiding place to the next point. She could hear Jaya running behind her. She found a guarded spot behind a banyan tree near the stream. Jaya also came to a stop behind her. They both were panting. Reena was terrified. She couldn’t believe that she was actually firing at people, trying to kill them. She was covered in sweat, her hands, cold. She could literally hear her heartbeat. Jaya, on the other hand, was counting the cartridges.
“Five… six… here…” she put a few cartridges in Reena’s hand, “I have a few more, just in case.”
Reena’s hand shook but the little training she received made her pocket the cartridges safely.
“On my count start firing and follow me towards the stream. You did good so far, don’t freeze now.” Reena nodded, desperate to get back to camp.
“One… two… three” Jaya started running, dodging branches swiftly.
Reena emerged from behind the tree, about run after her when she saw someone come out from the thicket to her left. She turned quickly and lifted her rifle but her palms were too clammy and the hand supporting the weapon, slipped.
Cold fear gripped her. In a moment she felt nauseous, terrified and angry for having lost grip as she fumbled with the weapon. The entire thing lasted only a couple of seconds but Reena knew very well that bullets only take as much time to kill.
She repositioned her hand and looked up. The man in front of her was in a uniform, a cap covering his head, his gun raised, but he didn’t fire.
“Why didn’t he fire?” Reena wondered, “He could have easily taken me down…”
“Reena?”
She froze. The man lowered his weapon. Reena’s own grip was failing again but this time she didn’t care.
“Rabi da…”
Rabi took a step towards her.
“What are yo… just…” he extended his hand, “come with me…”
 Reena stood there unable to believe her eyes. She supported herself on the rifle and took a step forward.
BANG! BANG!
Rabi’s hand was still out stretched. But he looked like someone had shoved him. He took a step back as if reacting to an invisible force. A dark red spot erupted in his chest and another followed. He froze for a bit and then fell down, dead.
“Dada!!” Reena screamed and started to run towards the fallen man but a strong grip on her shoulder stopped her.
“Come fast!” Jaya yelled, forcefully pulling her away.
“Noo let me go...” Reena cried, thrashing about, trying to break free but the grip was unrelenting.
Jaya forcibly stuffed a piece of cloth in Reena’s mouth, covered it with her hand and dragged her towards the stream. Within seconds, Reena felt water up to her knees and rising. Jaya still had that death grip on her shoulder and was pulling her. Reena looked around wildly, trying to get away when she caught sight of Rabi. He lay there on his stomach, lips slightly parted, eyes wide open. She felt tears running down her cheeks. She was waist deep in water and with every step she took, the leaves and branches around the clearing obscured her view. She didn’t want to move but she was forced to trudge.
Finally, the grip on her shoulder relaxed. The water barely rose above her boots by then. They had crossed over the stream successfully.
“You can take a minute, but we can’t stay here more than that” Jaya said, trying to keep her calm.
Reena removed the cloth from her mouth. Her cries had reduced to sobs. She heard a few voices calling out to each other. She realized more men had come in to the clearing and they had found the body.
Reena was shaking like leaf from head to toe. Her beloved brother had been shot dead in front of her. Worst still, had the rifle not slipped, she would’ve pulled the trigger herself without even realizing it was Rabi. And she would have done it to survive.
From where she stood, she saw them exchange a few words and go in separate directions. Three Jawans started towards the stream.
Jaya’s body tensed beside her.
“If we don’t move now, they’ll kill us”, she whispered urgently.
She took Reena’s arm again, but lightly this time. “Let’s go!”

Reena took a deep breath, took one last look at the clearing. Then she wiped away her tears, ducked to keep out of the soldiers’ sight and began the trek back to camp.


4 comments:

  1. Wow! Couldn't lift my eyes till I had finished reading! Very fast-paced. Story with a message. You could develop this idea into a novel. ;)

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  2. god!this is so awesome n real! a sequel please???

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  3. Lovely. Has stark resemblance to Arundhati Roy's "Walking with the comrades"; the style and language I mean.

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    Replies
    1. Is it? I haven't read it so I'll take this as a huge compliment! Thanks!! :D

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