Casualties Of War

Chapter 3: Dear Cheteshwar And Billu, Break Me To Heal Me

He was promised reliability.

He used a finger to rub the marked lines on his palm- the sturdy and confident palm used to hold a degree in woman psychology upon graduation. He absently thought about how it would feel like to have a lit matchstick running along those lines. Would it be liberating? Would I be feeling gleeful to punish these hands who held that degree that clearly wasn't used correctly?

Machines are made of metal scraps and then eventually they decay and are disposed of. Animals like humans are born to grow, to adapt, to become superior beings, to pass the mantle of maturity on to the next generation and return to their creator.

But they are also egoistical. Be it a woman or man, they believe to be haughty beings who were in perfect control of themselves and their actions. As a woman psychologist specialist, he was trained to identify and pick up discrepancies in words and actions.

How did I not realise this is none other than madam sir?

Constable Cheteshwar Chaturvedi was like a gentle river- flowing, bringing harmony and emitting laziness in its approach to life. Haseena though him how to brave the storm, how to turn that gentle river into a tsunami and how to find happiness in an affront to their misery. She thought him all of that by shoving the mirror of truth in his face. It takes a great deal of fearlessness to do that and he respected her valour. She sought to control to exert power- the power to make them virtuoso people. When tragedy struck he would be no defender. He would channel the river and roar, stand his ground, protect himself and others.

He likes the person he became and maybe the child version of me would too. I am the same boy, living to love and here to make a difference through this uniform I adorn.

A person who possesses the ability to change one for the better should be appreciated- a person like this can be relied on, to be honest with them. What changed?

Haseena was engaged to her job in a way not everyone could be. She sang its lyrics, hummed with the melody of authority and danced to the tune of guns fire. Being an officer was like listening to good music to her. He considered himself lucky to have been able to spend some time with Haseena malik- a woman who inspired him every day to continue dedicating his life to the nation.

So when Cheteshwar didn't lose this commitment for a single beat when she was presumed dead, he thought she was still here- watching, guiding, encouraging and in some way of form tangible enough to touch. It sounded cliche for someone who knew how the brain worked. But, he knows the heart is never wrong. The presence he felt around him was because Haseena was indeed around them this whole time in the form of Urmilla.

Urmilla was an illusion but he chose to believe it and that was where the phycologist in him failed.

Before assistant sub-inspector Mira was shut down, he had an interesting conversation with her.

"Khabhi soche nahi the ki esa bolenge. lekyn aaj...Jindagi main esa phela bhaar esa feel horaha hai na madam... kash hum bhi machine hote. Kam se kam itna takleef toh na hota jitna horaha hain."

Like all other machines, she would eventually decompose and be sent to the junkyard. Perhaps, it was better to be a disposal piece of metal with wirings because though it was humanoid in appearance, there were no emotions in them. They stayed in equilibrium without any effort unlike himself who was breathing heavily to control the frustration in him as to not lash out.

He didn't mean it then. Being racked by the pain of losing someone dear to him had caused the thoughtless opinion slip. But now, he isn't too sure if being a robot was that bad of an idea - a palatable solution to these irrepressible feelings emanating from Haseena's prodigious perfidy. At least as a machine, he was dependent on a bunch of codes and didn't need to experience this stinging sensation, unwanted cattiness and dejection. He didn't need to fight himself to be a good person- machines didn't have to worry about morality.