Last Meeting in Mhow

I met him in a bookshop in Mhow. It was an accidental meeting. I had not recognized him. It was he who came forward and asked me shyly, "Excuse me, but aren't you Mukesh who was in Army School Mhow, Class XII, 1997 batch?" "Yes, are you Vikrant?" I had asked. "Yeah man," he had grinned as he shook my hand with vigour. "And what are you doing nowadays?" he had asked. "Oh, I am working with a software company in Bangalore," I had replied. "And you?" I had asked, "I heard that you had joined the Army". "That's right," he had replied, "I have come to Mhow for a three month course". "Listen Vicky," I had told him, "I am here only for two days. And tomorrow is Holi. So I will be busy visiting relatives and getting all laal-peela. But why don't we meet here in the evening? We can spend some time together and remember old times." "Done,” he had replied in his usual cheerful manner.

The next day I was busy visiting relatives, playing Holi and enjoying myself. In the evening I went to the bookshop. Vicky arrived there a bit later. We decided to go for a walk the way we used to when we were in school. Vicky had joined the National Defence Academy in Pune after finishing school and I had joined an engineering course in nearby Indore. We had lost touch with each other. That evening we walked all the way from the Garrison Ground to the Infantry School and then past the Ambedkar Memorial on the AB road and the golf course and came back to town. We bought four bottles of beer and some snacks and went and sat on the grass in the Garrison ground. It would have been embarrassing for Vicky if we had got caught by the Military Police but he was past caring.

He told me about his days at the NDA and the Indian Military Academy. His battalion was posted in the Kashmir Valley and they were having a tough time fighting the Islamic fundamentalists that Pakistan was pushing across the border. He told me that he had already killed eight such terrorists. Was this the same old Vicky who had fainted when he saw Ramesh and his bleeding nose on the cricket field? Vicky had changed. He had become tougher.

He told me that he and our ex-classmate Sunita were engaged to be married. He had met her by chance at a wedding in Delhi. She was working with an MNC. They were intending to get married once Vicky had finished his Kashmir posting. He planned to leave the Army and then both of them would migrate to the West. "Will the Army let you go?" I had asked him. "Yes, that's going to be the difficult part," Vicky had replied, "It is going to be tough to make my commanding officer move the papers forward. The old man is a real grumpy character." "Be careful Vicky," I had told him, "you need all the luck you have and more to survive Kashmir." "Oh, I am not worried," he had replied, "there is only one bullet with my name on it." "What do you mean?" I had asked him, "Do you believe in that shit?" "Believe?" he had shouted, "It is true man, do you know how many times I have been close to death? No bullet in Kashmir has my name on it."

We had got up and walked towards the club. But it was closed. "Oh shit, I wanted to have dinner here," said Vicky with irritation in his voice. "It is okay we will check some civilian restaurants," I had told him. "No, I wanted to eat here,” said Vicky sulking like a child. The club was deserted and we were standing on its lawns under the huge baobab tree. "Hey, have you ever pissed on a lawn?" Vicky asked me with a naughty smile. "Come on Vicky," I had protested, "somebody may see us." In reply, he had unzipped his fly and had started pissing on the green lawn. "Come on!" he had shouted at me "you want a f***ing invitation?" I was reluctant but my bladder was full. I unzipped my fly nervously, but once I started I knew that I wouldn't stop even if a general came and tapped me on the shoulder. The armed guard who stood at the gate pretended he hadn't seen us. We went to the town after that but all the restaurants were closed. So we decided to eat ice cream. I have never seen a grown up man eat as much ice cream as Vicky ate that day. Even the shopkeeper who had seen many a hungry subaltern was taken aback. After the ice cream session Vicky had left for his room. We promised to keep in touch through email. And he promised to send me an invitation for his marriage. I told him to be careful while he was in Kashmir. He had merely grinned in reply.

A few months later I was in New York when I happened to see Sunita at a party. She was happy to see me. But she was not the cheerful person I knew. Before I could ask her about her marriage somebody whisked her away for a dance. I stood there looking at her dance, her heart did not seem to be in it. "Poor girl," said the host as he stood next to me, "she is my niece. Was supposed to marry an Army officer last month. But he got killed in a bomb blast in a Delhi market. He had just finished a tough two year stint in Kashmir. She was supposed to be with him that day but she got delayed. She blames herself for his death. We are trying to keep her here permanently so that her scars heal properly. God help her. She is heartbroken."

Dev Kumar Vasudevan
A Meeting in Mhow

Bomb blast victim Delhi: What a tragic end to a brave Officer! Will he or his family be ever compensated. Dreams of Sunita shattered forever.