Motherland

By Dibyendu Maiti

 It is a story of a little boy named Sajit who lived with his parents in Pak occupied Kashmir. It was a small village full of scenic beauty. Most of the people were very poor. Their only source of income came from fruits and trees. They always lived in fear because of tension raised between India and Pakistan and of terrorist activities. Sajit's father was the Mukhia of this village and was quite well off among the villagers. So, the life of Sajit was passing smoothly like all other children of the well to do families.  There was only one school in this locality which was quite away from his house. He used to go to school on foot with his friends and come back with them after school was over. One day he went to school but didn’t come back as usual, as he played with other friends. He was so engrossed in playing that he forgot to return home in time. As darkness slowly descended everywhere, it peeped into his mind that he had to return and rushed out from the school campus. He began to run wildly as he was late and darkness shrouded slowly all around. Suddenly he heard a roaring sound of an animal and frantically run to and fro and made the usual way unusual. To avoid the approaching sound, he mistakenly sneaked into Indian territory and was stopped by a rough voice which came from nearby area. He trembled to think what might have happened to him and within a moment he was surrounded by some soldiers with raised guns. One of the soldiers asked “Who are you?”, “where are you going?” Other enquired. He had to face fusillade of questions from them. He was terrified and began to cry without giving answers of their questions. They searched him thoroughly and were confirmed that he was nothing but a student of Pakistan who crossed LOC forgetting his way home. They carried him to their camp to give him refuge for the night. He continued to cry and refused to eat anything offered by the soldiers. He always demanded, “I want to go to my mother.” But their inability threw him in a whirl of problems which he was unable to escape from. Unlikely days passed and he remained confined there for few days despite his earnest desire to go back to his parents. He began to starve and remain sleepless for few days. One day a widow who used to come there to sell milk heard the cry of the pathetic boy and being moved she began to console him like a mother. But motherhood without mother could do nothing.

At last, her desperate efforts went prolific as he calmed down and agreed to go with her from this confinement. She was allowed to take him away for few days as long as the process of extradition was resolved. She took him away to her house and gave him shelter for few days, as days progressed, he became restless and obstinate and demanded, “I want to go to my mother. I don't want to stay here anymore. Take me away from here.” She cajoled him that she would bring some dolls, balls and bat whatever he liked. But to his innocent cry, she sometimes felt helpless being caught in a net of subterranean flow of motherly affection. However, two or three days later, he suddenly heard a call i.e. Ajan from a Masjid while he was in bed with her at night. He hastened to come out and saw to his wonder in the moonlit night that it was not his familiar homely background where he used to play with his friends under the shadow of his parents’ affection “It is India. It is not Pakistan- my motherland” - he realized. Being frustrated he sat down under the vast expanse of moonlit sky and began to sob. He then resolved to flee away secretly to Pakistan. As dawn broke, she awoke and stretched her hand to grasp him with affection but he wasn’t there. She cried, “Sajit, ------- Sajit.” Her poignant cry possibly could not reach to him but only broke the very silence of the morning. She rushed outside the house and look around the yard. After a while she found the sobbing Sajid sitting at the corner of the yard. She held him and pulled into her lap and frantically kissed on his face. Real truth came out at last. “I am your mother …. look at me… I am……. I am …. crying” ……. she exclaimed. He shrugged off and dauntingly demanded, “You are not my mother ………. you are a witch. I hate you. I hate you.”  It's a sequel of unwanted love. Childless mother who lost her husband in the Kargil war just after her marriage remained helpless standing between widowhood and motherhood. It led her to a dilemma. She was bewildered and could not understand what to do or say in such a situation. She recoiled herself and promised him that she would take him away to his mother the day after tomorrow. She just managed the situation and brought him back into the house. But the boy was determined in his resolve and eagerly waited for the night. Finally, time came, darkness prevailed and resolve ripened. He took his bag and stepped outside the house. He ran forgetting everything about the past. Only thing in his mind was his mother, father, home and, after all, his motherland -Pakistan. He reached on the bank of the Indus River. He heard the wild sound of the water, saw the diamond like bubbles of water. “Just opposite my motherland-Pakistan is. How beautiful she is! I'll go there … I ‘ll go there. Mother just coming. M – o – th - er just coming” – he whispered. But fate no rules. Only a small bullet pierced into his heart and left a mother’s lap vacant forever. He lied down on the shallow water of the Indus River with intolerable pain. Within a moment the soldiers came there and one of them who had captured him came forward and lifted his bloodstained body into his lap and tried to say something in his ears. But the little heart stopped forever whispering only a word, “maa”. He grasped his dead body and regretted, “O! God pardon us. We are bound in some baseless chain of rules. It’s our duty to our motherland. We kill them who are supposed to be against us in order to protect our motherland. We don't know who are against us. We are fighting in absolute darkness forgetting everything positive in the world. ………………………………… .

 We failed to send him back in living condition. Mother, please forgive us.”

Suddenly, he looked in surprise that a wild current of water was rushing down. The soldier floated the dead body over the water and vacantly observed that his dead body was floating away dancing over the water and finally it touched on the soil of Pakistan, the motherland of Sajit. 

By Dibyendu Maiti