It was the sound of the incessant rain that woke him up- that and the muezzin's call for prayer. He woke up and made his bed . It was too dark to know if the sun had risen , but he knew it was six in the morning or thereabouts and very soon it would be the time for role call. He walked to the other end of his spartan ten by ten cell and made a mark with the chalk he had somehow managed to smuggle in. It seemed like eternity since he had been living in the cell , which he had dubbed as Kaal Kothri but the marks on the wall would indicate that it had been 37 years and 3 months . He had entered the premises as a strapping 30 year old army major but now wondered how he looked as a 67 year old . He knew that he had not put on weight , thanks to the physical routine in the camp but often wondered what time had done to his face ; whether there were wrinkles around his eyes , whether the cleft in his chin was still pronounced and so many other things , but sadly prisoners of war weren't allowed mirrors.
The Muezzin called out for the faithful to join the prayers and he snapped out of his thoughts. He had to get ready to tend to his flock - the other Indian POWs in the camp all junior to him in rank and age, captured during the 1971 war as he had been or during minor border skirmishes or espionage operations. He was their commanding officer and had to keep the spirit going in them , the spirit of returning home alive however contrary that might be to his belief. Strange was the ways of the armed forces . One was supposed to follow the discipline , decorum and chain of command even if one was in Pakistan , in a prisoner camp. He had remarked on the same to his commanding officer , Brigadier Purohit , during his initial days after capture , who had retorted back that Pakistan main Kya , Narak main bhi protocol follow karna padega.
He came out of his stupor as he felt something on his leg , a scorpion actually. Must be the rains he thought. He moved the poor thing from his leg and stood up and went towards his bed . He retrieved his thread bare uniform from under his pillow and exchanged his prison fatigues for his uniform. He remade his bed and sat on it waiting for the bugle to sound and the guard to open the cell.
Some where in the vicinity , some one was playing a mehdi hassan ghazal . The song reminded him of when he first met his wife . His memories took him back to Delhi in the winter of 1964.He was there to attend the wedding of Arjun Ranaut , his best friend from school days who incidentally was in his regiment too. They were in the terrace of Arjun's place playing Mehdi Hassan's ghazals on the gramophone , when it started raining all of a sudden . Rushing down from the terrace , he had banged into her in his hurry to escape the rain . She had been irritated and asked him if he was blind , to which he had jocularly replied that she was not such a stunning beauty to blind him. She gave him a sarcastic smile and told him that beauty lied in the eyes of the beholder and people like her had an inner beauty which was not visible to shallow men like him. Before he could reply to the retort he heard Arjun shouting for him and went down admiring her wit.
Later , he came to know that she was a relative of Arjun - his cousin to be exact. As hours passed by his gaze was drawn frequently to her as she took part in the ceremonies involving the groom's sisters. She was not a striking beauty , but somehow she became the most beautiful woman in the world for him within a day . He was irrevocably in love with her by the next day , yet it was a week later that he came to even know her name. Her name was Shagun - Shagun Randhawa. He was brought back to the earth as he heard his cell door creak open.
He was a bit confused as he had not heard the bugle which signaled daybreak at the camp . The orderly who looked at his confused expression replied that it would take another fifteen minutes for the bugle to sound. He had unlocked the door as Major Khurram wanted to meet him. As the orderly left his thoughts went back to Shagun. He did not have a chance to confess his feelings to Shagun at Arjun's wedding and it had been a year and a half before he could meet her again - this time at Dehradoon at a party hosted by one of the army wives within the cantonment. He had been waiting to catch her alone , when to his surprise she walked towards where he was standing with a small smile on her face as Mehdi Hassan crooned in the background over the gramophone.
" Din ba din badti gayi , us husn ki raanaayiyaan
Pehle gul , phir gulbadan , phir gul badama ho gaye "
She introduced herself and shook his hand , reminding him of how they had met during Arjun's wedding. It took a minute for him to gather his wits and obvious to the fact that she was waiting for him to match her gesture , he gulped once and then said " Hi , I'm Sukhdev ! Capt Sukhdev Singh Rathod "
He was jerked back to reality as he heard the sound of boots nearing his cell. The door creaked open and he turned back to see Major Khurram enter . " Major Rathod . I have news for you" said Khurram. Khurram's face was solemn and devoid of all emotions , therefore he was not really able to guess what kind of news he was going to bear to his comrades. He really hoped that they were not to be shifted elsewhere. The prisoner camp at Sialkot had been home to him for 37 years and he had become accustomed to his surroundings.
"Major Rathod! are you listening " asked Khurram , breaking his stream of thoughts. He got back to Khurram who then gave him the news
" We have got news from the command center that all Indian POWs are going to be repatriated in exchange for Pakistani POW's captured during the Kargil Conflict. Badhaai Ho Major . Your repatriation is scheduled in another week ".
-To be continued
