The letter down my door

Beneath the Banyan Tree: Time's Embrace

Both my brothers and I had left behind everything that we owned. The East India Company had taken control of Visapur Fort, strategically bombarding the lower Lohgad Fort where the Marathas stood their ground. Over this someone had betrayed the marathas by making our cannons unprepared. Sensing the futility of our situation, we fled, knowing there was little we could do to resist. Cannonballs rained down upon the forts, and even our humble homes were not spared. Amidst this chaos, we hold on to our precious heirloom—an ancient book passed down through generations and was passed to us by our grandfather. It held sentimental value for us, a cherished memento of all our beloved ancestors and even more importantly personally for us of our grandfather.

Exhausted and disheartened, we ran towards the river in a desperate last bid for survival. Beyond the river, there lied a relatively safer territory, which had been untouched by the ravages of war. It was a place where no one lived and supposedly no battles were fought. It was just barely beyond the reach of the cannons on Visapur Fort. My elder brother carried our younger brother, on his back, while I followed closely behind him, using the cover of the tall grass to hide ourselves from the enemy's watchful eyes.

We didn't have a boat to help us cross the river and thus we had to take a tough decision to cross the river by swimming ourselves. Just as we thought we were almost able to safely traverse through the treacherous currents of the river, a small red-hot crimson sphere hurtled towards us. As it came close to us it got bigger and bigger. We were all in panic, we knew this wasn't good news, we had to make our escape. The cannonball narrowly missed us by a mere ten metres, but its tremendous impact generated waves that tossed us towards a massive stone structure. All three of us suffered all sorts of light to high level injuries. Dizzy and disoriented, I found myself in a pool of water stained crimson by our wounds. It was then that I noticed my elder brother's grievous condition—a sturdy branch had penetrated through his hand. He tried to remove it with his own strength but it didn't help much. With no other option, he broke the branch itself and kept walking, taking a firm hold of our brother.

We stumbled upon a hidden cave under the massive stone structure, which was camouflaged to blend into its surroundings. There we decided to seek refuge, as none of us had even a bit of strength to continue running. I tore a piece of cloth, I removed the branch forcefully from my brother's hand, used a leaf as a bandage for him, and tightly wrapped the torn cloth around it. It was the worst day we had ever got to live, and somewhat death seemed to loom ominously close to us. Clutching on to the ancient book of our ancestors, my younger brother, Kuber, asked me a question that he had in his head for a while.

"Didi, are the stories in 'Antim Iccha' true?" he asked, reading the title aloud.
"I do not know, Kuber," I replied, my voice showing how uncertain I was. "But if this is where we meet our end, I hope that they are true."
Overwhelmed by this feeling, my elder brother expressed how he was regretting, "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you both."
"It is not your fault, bhaiya," my younger brother said , his voice tinged with guilt. "I was the one who slowed you and didi down."
"The fault does not lie with us," I cried, rage coursing through my words. "We are nothing but the victims of our situation, our leaders' failures. It's none of our fault."
Silence descended upon the room, I couldn't help but interrupt it only by my own sobbing, as the pain embraced me, convincing me that my death was inevitable now. Using somewhat of my little strength I had left, I clung to the book, holding it tightly against my chest.
"Grandfather, I wish to witness a world without any wars, where these flames of conflict do not consume our beloved" I whispered, my words punctuated by tears. "I wish I could alter the course of history, to protect the lives of thousands of people and shield them from all unwanted artificial calamities. That's my antim iccha."
"I wish I could be of any help," my younger brother chimed in, his childish voice filled with struggle. "If I could soar through the skies, I would not have hindered us. Instead, I could have assisted our elder brother in finding a safe place."
"Do not blame yourself, dear Kuber," my elder brother's voice was filled with both pain and affection. "It was never your burden to bear. If only I possessed a fraction more strength, I could have shielded you, Kuber and Anasya both from this situation."