All You Need is Love

(I had written this story for a competition on a given topic but it never made the cut. So sharing it with you all...slightly long but enjoyed writing it, hope you like it too.)

Year: 2004.

It was spring in Srinagar. Deodar and Chinar trees covering the skyline, the flowers in full bloom, the flowing Dal Lake and the majestic view of the Pir Panjal Range truly made this the Paradise on Earth…hamin asto hamin asto, hamin asto.

Shagufta considered herself to be destiny’s child having somehow cleared the state Pre-Medical Test. First day at the Government Medical College, she stepped in with a heart that was beating so fast that she could have easily been admitted to the cardiology wing of the hospital. She was excited beyond words both in terms of a career as a doctor and, after years of slogging in school and coaching classes, she was longing to meet someone here, to fall in love madly. Love was truly a priority and not just in the air.

Shafi was from a well to do family most of who were settled in the USA.  He had an academic career which was among the brightest you would find anywhere. Shafi looked very much like one who had stepped out from the Roman Pantheon with flowing hair, aquiline nose, tall and handsome. His dream was to be a famous doctor, apply a soothing balm to all those affected by intermittent cases of death and violence in the city caused sometimes by the so called jihadis and at times by the armed forces. He wanted to be a doctor with a cause.

It didn’t take long for them to hit off. Not a day would pass when they would not spend an hour or two in the cafeteria. He loved cappuccino and she was fond of ice cream…the chocolaty kind. Funnily they hardly had any fight in the six long years at the medical college. During internship they made sure they were put in the same unit so that they could spend days and nights together. The pressure on their other unit members was all the more tremendous as they were taking the load of the two perpetually missing interns. But no one ever complained, for both Shagufta and Shafi were liked by all. Their love was looked upon by the friends as what an ideal love ought to be…just made for each other.

Year: 2010

No sooner had they turned doctors, than they decided to get married. Post graduation was an ambition both had but were willing to set it aside for a year to settle down. Life, which so far seemed beautiful, suddenly took a turn…an awkward one. Shafi’s family would agree to their marriage if Shagufta converted herself, something to which her family would not agree. It may sound clichéd, but that’s the eternal truth of Indian Secularism in which many a love story gets cruelly crushed and lost.

Shafi got his admission to PG in Surgery at India’s premier institute, AIIMS, Delhi. Shagufta stayed back at Srinagar and started working at the Government Hospital. Even though distance separated them, they initially stayed connected as in their undergraduate days. The only difference was that connect would now happen thanks to Skype and Vodafone. Their talks and chats would be endless. But there was a pain in their hearts, something they knew for certain, that no matter how much they loved, the schism was too big to cross. Shafi would often suggest that they should go away to another country where they did not have to explain anything to anyone and then live together happily.  It was wishful thinking and no more.

Gradually Shafi got more and more busy with his PG which hardly gave him a couple of winks a day to rest. It was work, work and more work with endless patients coming through the doors of the hospital. Shagoofta would dial his number many a time during the day but in vain. She too got busy with her life.

Year: 2013

Three years passed soon and Shafi was back at Srinagar for a few days of break when the two met, held hands and cried together. Their love was deep and they decided that they would always stay connected and of course will wait endlessly for one another, wait for the spring to usher one day in their lives. Both Shafi and Shagufta believed the day would soon come when they would be together forever. Till then they would pursue their own course of destiny.

Even though her family had lived in Srinagar for three generations, the political conditions kept deteriorating. Her parents had moved to Delhi but Shagufta stayed behind in their ancestral home all alone. She would go to the hospital everyday and would work non-stop at the Casualty Wing taking care of those injured by accidents and blasts that echoed through the city at frequent intervals. Love, care and service were synonymous with her. She soon became a legend in the hospital and everyone loved her.

Shafi suddenly vanished from the scene.  Shagufta was worried as there was no news of him and he also stopped calling. Months went by and the silence was complete. She would read the morning newspapers everyday for some news…she even learnt to read Urdu for his sake. But he was nowhere to be seen or heard of.

One night, as Shagufta lay in her bed reading A Thousand Splendid Suns there was a knock on the door. She was reasonably brave to be living alone in an atmosphere of insurgency but this was quite unlike any other night. She looked at the watch…it was 11.14pm!

“Shagufta darwaza kholo jaldi…”. She knew the voice well and so she rushed to open the door. The moment she opened, a bearded Shafi limped in. He had a backpack and was bleeding profusely on his left leg.

Tum yahan..is haal mein…what happened?

I will tell you everything but first help me take the bullet out of my leg.

How did this happen? Why didn’t you go to the hospital…why here?

I can’t go there. Just get some hot water and bring your medical kit quickly…I don’t have too much time. I will tell you everything, I promise.

Next couple of hours seemed an endless struggle to take the bullet out with little equipments at home. He had stuffed two pairs of socks in his mouth to prevent his cries from being heard outside as the operation was underway. Finally, she managed to extract but not before he had lost a lot of blood. As Shagufta finished dressing his wound, Shafi fell down on the carpeted floor and went blank.  She waited till he came around and offered him hot stew and some leftover rice. No questions were asked, no answers given…just her serving, him recovering, slowly but steadily.  

In a few days he left with an unfulfilled promise. But to her it did not matter for she had seen his backpack as he lay unconscious for over 24 hours. There was an automatic pistol, spare magazines, 3 different passports, packets of resins and figs, a copy of the Holy Koran and a bunch of letters neatly folded in a packet. She opened the packet and completely froze, for inside were the letters she had written to him during college days. She felt a lump in her throat and her eyes started watering. She staggered onto the armchair and sat down. The tears just would not stop. She always knew he loved her but even now, though times had changed and Shafi had taken a new life, at heart he remained ever so loyal to her. He was hers and hers forever!

Shagufta was the daughter of Brigadier Rana. Her family had been serving the armed forces for generations and love for the country was something that came to her naturally. But she had gone weak at that moment. Had it been anyone but Shafi, she would have called for the army and would have had him arrested, but love, which gives you strength at times, weakens you beyond comprehension at other. He loved her so, how could she betray him. He was her life, her past and possibly her future that she tried to build in her dreams so delicately. She, too, had many a story to tell him. She had her secrets to tell as well, she too had her yet to be posted letters to share with him….Shagufta just stood still.

Soon Shafi became a local hero, a new Che Guevara roaming the countryside in his motor cycle, killing army men intentionally and civilians inadvertently. Many, wanting self rule, saw in him an educated person who had been pushed to join the rebellion due to excesses committed by the armed forces. There were posters of Shafi at all important buildings and streets, some read ‘Wanted’ and others hailed him as the Che of Azad Kashmir.

Year: 2015

Place: Starbucks, Saket, New Delhi

She sat in the Starbucks café, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. She picked up her mobile phone and dialed a number.

Hello Colonel, this is Major Shagufta Rana of Army Intelligence Unit. The Che-cken is cooked. 

Bravo Major…well done. Proud of you for having redeemed yourself. Jai Hind!

As she waited for the military police to come to the café, she took out an envelope from her bag. She opened the same and took out a photograph of a baby with light curls and sparkling eyes. She was Safia, her child with Shafi, who had grown up at a crèche attached to the hospital. The insurgency in the locality had gone up and those wanting azadi had been rampant in destroying everything that had anything to do with the Dilli Sarkar.

Government Hospital at Srinagar had become the place where the wounded Army soldiers and policemen were being treated after the insurgents had blown away the Army Base Hospital. Rumours were rife that the hospital was also one of the places from where intelligence information was going to the army and they would attack the insurgents with precision, killing many Kashmiri youth. Although the Government Hospital was well protected, those wanting to shake the government were far bolder. One day the truck that carried away the trash daily dashed into the campus and before anyone realized, six men in battle attire jumped out from the rear. Shagufta was, at that moment, in the Casualty Section when she saw the commotion outside. She saw the driver come down and give the orders.

“Jaldi jaldi karo…ooda do fauji aspataal ko…kuchh bhi nahin bachna chahiye…saale iske baad Dilli jayenge apni patti karaney..”

The team was swift in its action throwing grenades at the hospital and spraying bullets at security personnel posted there. Cries and shrieks were heard everywhere. Shagufta froze when she saw the driver, with a Balaclava mask covering his face, had a bad limp on his left leg.…it was unmistakably him…Shafi. How could he? He was a doctor himself…was the cause he was fighting for larger than the cause of humanity he had taken an oath for?

The truck drove away quickly leaving behind a trail of death and destruction. Shagufta ran towards the crèche and all she saw was smouldering fire and smell of burning human bodies…she searched and searched and finally found a little body. A mother had not failed to recognize her baby .She wailed at a shrieking pitch and kept crying till she couldn’t remember what happened after.

Soon after Shagufta passed her college, she had been recruited by the Army as a Special Intelligence Officer who knew the locals well and they trusted her. She could give the Army much needed information that patients and their relatives would give out unknowingly. She had been a great resource and had recently got her promotion as a Major as she continued her life as an undercover doctor at the Government Hospital.

Coming out of the trauma, heartbroken but not weakened, Shagufta had just one mission in her lonely life. She was able to reach Shafi through the interlocutors who managed some contact between the two opposing camps with a hope to bring about lasting peace. She knew they couldn’t meet at Srinagar. So she asked him for a meeting at Delhi.

Shagufta did not tell her superiors where she was going that weekend as she took the flight to Delhi. Shafi too did not tell anyone of his rendezvous. All they knew was that their leader was going on a special mission. Shafi always loved Starbucks for the ambience and its delightful coffee. He had told Shagufta about Starbucks at Saket which was close to Tughlaqabad where he had put up with a loyalist.

That fateful day they met at the appointed time. Shafi stood still but Shagufta was normal as she stepped ahead, held his hand and walked him inside. As they sat down and waited for their order, Shagufta excused herself to go to the rest room. She locked the door from inside and then took off her shoes, picked it up and pulled out the sole. Inside lay a small knife, the surgeon’s scalpel. She touched the blade once and felt the sharp edge. Yes this will do. She slipped on her shoes again and walked out. This time she was confident. Her eyes were shining bright, fingers tight and stable and mind crystal clear.

She had forgiven him many times. Forgiven him for not marrying her. Forgiven him for having joined the rebels. She even forgave him though she faced ignominy and had been reprimanded both by the army and her family who had come to know of the incident where she had helped him after the bullet injury. Her love for Shafi had been far more important than anything else, surpassing the love for the country, in whose service she had enrolled, keeping the family tradition alive. But now Safia was all she had, her baby was her light of the world, her Li’l Noorjehan. She loved her so, loved her more than anything and anyone. No Shafi, not this time. Safia was innocent and you’re not. No forgiveness, no mercy for you!

She took a couple of brisk steps towards the table as Shafi was checking his iPad. With military precision she gripped his forehead from behind with one hand and slipped the other hand through his thick beard and swoosh….one straight cut on the jugular vein..…blood oozed, splattered all over and Shafi’s head slumped on the table which soon turned into a pool of red.

Military Police came in quickly, cordoned off the café and made sure pictures and videos on people’s mobiles were deleted. All this while Shagufta kept staring at Safia’s  picture, laughing till tears poured and poured…somewhere diluting the stains of red flowing from the other side.

SS