July the 14th, 1971
Transit Camp,
Udhampur (Kashmir)
My very dear Sangeeta
The indications are very strong that we shall move to the
frontier in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you
again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I
shall be no more.
Our movement may be one of a few days' duration and full of
pleasure, or it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but
thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the line of duty
in the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or
lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not
halt or falter. I am ready, by mind and by body, to make the supreme sacrifice.
I know how our countrymen depend on us for their security; I
know that they can live in peace because we are ready to shed blood on the
frontiers. I know that not all countrymen look at me with respect, yet there is
nothing that prevents me from laying down my life for the sake of my Motherland
and for my people. You can indeed call my love selfless. I am aware how great a
debt we owe to those who went before us, who suffered blood and suffering, and
most of them have been our soldiers whose legacy we have inherited. I am still
determined to do my duty though I am aware that people may not bother about your
well-being after I am gone. I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my
joys in this life, to help my country survive, and to pay that debt which I owe
to the land of my birth.
But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down
nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with worries and sorrows. You
know that I have eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, and
if I die in this war, I must offer a similar life to my dear little children—Akshay
and Anita. While the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the
breeze, my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should
struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of the country.
Sangeeta, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to
you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my
love of country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on
with all these chains to the battlefield.
The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come
creeping over me, and I feel most grateful to God and to you that I have
enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes
the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and
loved together and seen our children grow up to honourable life around us. I
have, I know, but few and small claims upon the Almighty God, but something
whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little children—that I
shall return to my loved ones unharmed.
If I do not, my dear Sangeeta, never forget how much I love you,
and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your
name.
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you.
How thoughtless and foolish I have often been! How gladly I would wash out with
my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the
misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I
cannot. I must watch you from the Heaven and be born near you in my next birth,
while you face the storms with your precious little resources, and wait with
sad patience till we meet to part no more.
But, O Sangeeta! If the dead can come back to this earth and
flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the
brightest day and in the darkest night—amidst your happiest scenes and
gloomiest hours—always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek,
it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be
my spirit passing by.
Sangeeta, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for me,
for we shall meet again.
As for my little children, they will grow as I have done, and
never know a father's love and care. Little Anita is too young to remember me
long, and my shiny-eyed Akshay will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest
memories of his childhood. Sangeeta, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal
care and your effort for development of their characters. Tell my mother I call
God's blessing upon her, and tell my brothers and friends that I go for their
sake. My body might disappear, but I shall ever be around to look after their
well-being, and of course, the country's.
O Sangeeta, wait for me, we are bound to meet, here or in
heaven.
Lovingly yours
Kanti
--(based
on Sullivan Ballou's 'Letter')
No comments:
Post a Comment