Against Time

1. I had a dream

When Sang was 6 years old, his father was brutally beaten up by the military and his mother was held captive in their local jail. He was the only one who escaped, from wretches of the carnivores called the military. He had never seen his mother since then. It has been forever, and yet it still pangs his heart everytime he thinks about what actually happened to his parents. The world wasn't what it was decades ago. Everything had changed. A military guerrilla was taking place against the military, but everytime the result was a defeat. Blood was shed, tears evaporated and the ambition of freedom was just an illusion. There was nothing that could be done, or so as people thought.

Sang's town was no less but under the brutal oppression as well. The shops would open 5 hours a day. The products sold had all to be approved by the military. The language spoken, the words uttered, the voice was moderately controlled too. You could never know who might be a spy for the military. All was said and done in secretion. It was nothing less than a dictatorship and yet, hardly people ever dared to utter suck words.

Sang lived on the edge of the valley, adjacent to a pristine stream of a lake, that had been formed by a tributary of the Himalayas. His father bought that house when he was an infant. Those had been happy days as people said. The house was wooden made up of Kashmir wood, the heating was sustainable even in winters. There were two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room and a bathroom. It was a modest house and yet looked majestic from every angle you looked at it. The lake wasn't much impressive after all. The military started setting up coal factories on the foothills, large blokes of smoke that polluted air and the rivers to the ground. The fish had all died. Fishing wasn't even a viable option anymore.

But, nome of that was concerning enough for Sang as compared to the day his parents were taken. Or the way things had turned out to be. Sometimes he question the very existence of people like them if all they had to go through was duffer for years for crimes they didn't commit.

Sang barely had any friends. He was self taught. Hunting, fishing and going out to buy supplies, that's all he ever learnt. But then came, Mark. Mark was one of a kind. They were both of the same age but Sang saw it in his eyes. That gleam for freedom, that thirst to break out of this cage they'd been for the last 18 years. Suck emotions of they cease to exist was rare especially at an age of 18. Sang had a mission, to get his parents out, to meet them for one last time. To be free for once. But Mark was different. He wasn't the kind of person you'd meet everyday. He had a calm demeanor, a grinning smile everytime he was able to do something. Such things didn't go well together. But, they became good friends. The duo was deadly. Sang often questioned Mark where he had come from and what his game was. Everytime he did, he had only answer.

"I just want to feel the fresh Himalayan air across my lips and breathe in the warm sun."

Sang didn't knew if he was just being poetic or his words had some other complex interpretation. He had seen the Himalayas for as long as he had been here. The only thing that they couldn't take aways from them, atleast for now.

Mark lived on the other edge of town, near the forests. It was an excellent place for hunting. Wild board and deers roamed the muddy layers of grass, sometimes even come close to the street.
Deers were abundant running around in packs of two or three. Sang hadn't been hunting since last summer. The markets opened limitedly and the food was fine. It was the last thing on his mind anyway.

The evening sirens came in shades of red, blue and maroon. Voices of indecent laughter, carnage of people all gathering to warn the townspeople of any sudden threats made by them if they didn't comply. And, such was one such day. The sun was setting on the corner of one of the hills. The blaze of fire in Sang's backyard had begun to burn. The crowd were branched on the fir and spruce trees all shedding snow on the street. The street itself was nonchalant as ever. Not a single soul in the fading distance of uncertainty.

And then, came someone running like a madman, arms flailing out, voice on full pitch. He crashed against the mailbox of Sang's front yard. Sang came out with a small carving knife. But it wasn't anybody hostile. It was Aadesh; the town messenger.

"He's here, he's here!" His voice shook off all the crows across the street. They lifted off against the dusk of the evening horizon.

"Calm down, Aadesh. Who's here?" Sang was curious as to what caused such commotion against somebody who was always a depressed rut living on alcohol.

"The- th- the general. He's here. And, he..he says that he has a suprise for us."

Without another word, Sang ran in the opposite direction, towards the forests.

~ Thank you for reading the first chapter of this project.

• next chapter coming soon!