Name was Prasad. He was fifty-three and hadn’t aged a bit since forty. He had black hairs turning white near his ears and beardless face with a hint of moustache that spread over his upper lip. The cheekbones and jaws made his face look bigger. A wrinkle had grown on to his forehead, advertising wisdom on his otherwise young face.
But his life—the voyage, was far more attractive and adventurous than his body. From Kashmir to Manali, his life was full of challenges that checked his patience once in a while. He was married to a decent woman named Mary. She cared about him and their two children. Amir was seventeen, hopefully enter college this years and Tessa, well, was his favourite. She was thirteen and reason for his smile when he came home after crappy day at work. Although he had to work at a pharmaceutical company under Daniel who was gay and that bothered Prasad, he was living happily with his family in Manali.
Then, one Sunday morning, when he walked out of the house for the newspaper, he saw a brown envelope at his door steps. Out of curiosity, he opened it. It contained all the information about Mary and her past life that could put her in jail. He drew a gasp and ran back into the house. He opened the letter inside it and read.
If you don’t want to spent rest of your life in jail, do as I say.
Prasad entered the bedroom and locked himself inside. A past that he left behind came rushing back to him. He was seventeen, young and courageous like his father who served in army. Long time had passed since he fled from Kashmir with Mary. When he saw Mary for the first time, she was heading toward a café where few army officials including his father had just walked in., he had just said goodbye to his father and this café was across the road.
In glimpse of second, he saw that Mary, a little girl back then, had a suicide bomb on her chest, although he wasn’t sure of that. But it was in Kashmir, 1989, time of Islamic insurgent and many of Pandit families had left the state because of this. Prasad quickly ran toward her and he pulled her in nearby alley.
Her eyes gazed at him through hijab and time stopped, ticking of the bomb faded in the background. All he heard was her breath, as loud as her heartbeat that synced with his own heartbeat. He put his one hand on her mouth and holding her from behind, removed the upper shawl, opened the bomb jacket from chest her, and threw it on the main road just before it was about to explode.
Bomb was about to explode in thirteen second, enough time for them to run but his heart was beating like it was gonna explode, realising that he had made a mistake by through the bomb so close to the café. He cleaned her face of sweat and ran away with her, holding her hand. Mary didn’t resist.
They heard the bomb sound after a few second and suddenly stopped, looking over their shoulders. In hurry, Prasad had thrown the bomb too close to the café and once side of it had totally destroyed. He was about to ran toward his father but Mary grabbed his hand from behind. He looked back at her poor eyes; fear spread all over it.
He had two choices, either ran to check on his father or save the little girl, who was forced into this unethical act, from torture. Army’s heart didn’t work like common people as Prasad had seen in his father. They couldn’t be selfish like us and for the greater good, they would torture anyone who had done something terrible like this, even a child to get more information.
Living with his father, all he learnt was bravery. His father would say, ‘bravery is not fighting war or fighting your enemies or dying doing so without fear, its being ready to sacrifice for the greater good. So, a common person who sacrifice for greater good is no less brave than a solider fighting war for his country.’ Prasad made his choice. He gave up on his father to save an innocent soul.
He hid her in the basement. He fed her and took care of her for days. His seventeen years old heart had been already falling for her. The innocence that her eyes carried lightened the sorrow in his heart for loss of his father. Over the years, he had coped with life where he feared for safety for his father. He loved his father more than anything and he chose him over his mother when she left them for a teacher in local school. He stayed with him, because someone had too.
He had no grudges over his mother for leaving them. He learnt humility from both his parents, even in toughest of the moment. He still remembered their face when they attended a party, after they got the news about his maternal uncle, who died in a terrorist attack. Vikram, his father and Shakuntala, his mother, were the bravest person he knew. Now, it was his turn to be brave. If he could save one soul and bring her on right path, life would make sense.
A seventeen years old boy turned into a man, to save a girl’s life, who could had been just fourteen years old lump of meat, if it wasn’t for him, to choose her over his own...