Cries Of War

chapter 1

"3...2...1...that's it get up boys!" The coach tells us. I wipe the sweat on my brow. I slowly walk towards the river and amir joins me. "Where are you heading to brother?" He asks me in a very bold voice. That's the thing about amir. He is always bold and strong. I never have seen him get scared. Even if you tell him a bad news he could manage it with a straight face. That's what I liked about him. His bravery and his confidence. But that's what scares me the most too. I fear thinking about how a human cannot live without fearing anything g. Fear is a basic subconsciousness. Fear what keeps you going and that's what makes your limits. As much as being brave is good, you also need fear to keep you awake. "Shakeer" he says waking his hands in front of my face. "Oh I just zoned out" I reply casually. He chuckled. "keep up with the world buddy. Race you!" He says and starts to run. "Wait!" I shout and decide to Sprint behind him. We run to the river and take some what in our filter bags. Shakeer! Don't go near the river. It's poisoned she tells me. I run towards my mom and she hugs me. Why is this happening mother I ask her. Greed ego. That's all she answered. I shake my head. What is happening to me. Why am I feeling so nostalgic all of a sudden. I decide to shake it off and run behind amir. "The break is over. Now I need you all to go jogging around the campus 20 times" our trainer tells us. I know 20 times around this campus is too much but I can't groan. I am used to living like this. Away from home. First the gurukul then the army training.
--------------------------------
I go back to my room and jump in to my bed. Life is so cozy in this room. Just me and my thoughts for sometime. I stretch out my knees. I hear a very common sound. Yet I forget to recognize simple things like all other human beings. I open my room window and see that it is a train. How could I forget the sound of a train. Remember this sound Shakeer. This is the sound of our departure and this will be the sound of us meeting again. I feel tears rolling down my cheek. I am not a crybaby but my memories are something which are stronger than my willpower. I wipe of my tears and decide to go down for eating. I lock my room and go down the steep cemented steps. I see that already all the army boys are there gobbling up the tasteless stew. I rush to the counter hoping to get at least a scrape. I open the pot but I see nothing. "Here my boy. I saved this for you" says ziya ma. Hiya ma is like my second mother. Ever since I joined this camp she has looked after me like a child. I smile and how as a sign of gratitude. I sit down in the corner. You must always pray before you eat. Thank god that you are getting this food. So many people go hungry without food. You have this to keep you alive. Be grateful. That's what my papa used to say. I wonder whether he has eaten. Or has he been hunted and eaten? Asks my dark part. I shake my head in disbelief. I pray to my protecter and start eating the stew. As soon as I put the spoon in my mouth I realise that it is very cold. Probably I deserve that for coming late. I swallow it. It tastes so stale but yet it fills my stomach. That's the thing about life. It's the circumstances that make you. If I were born in a rich family I would probably act like those spoilt kids and throw this away. If I were a street beggar I would probably gulp it down immediately and like the bowl to the last drop. If I were a contented sash I might give it to the poor. I realise that I have finished eating my stew completely. I thank ziya ma and go back to my room. Tomorrow we have pull ups session. I had to wake up early. Before I sleep I pull out a picture from my bag. I see a picture of my dad, my mom, my little sister Shameen and me. I look like a geek in that picture. I have a crooked smiled and a broken tooth. Yet I am smiling like a toothpaste model. My sister is very calm. She was just a baby at that time. My mom and dad look as handsome as they always were. I kiss the photo and just decide to go to sleep.
-------------------------
I wake up panting from my nightmare. What a wonderful start to the day my inner self mocks me. I reach for my water can nearby. Realise that we have pull ups practice and I have to go early. I rush to the bathroom where I brush my crooked teeth and take bath in the ice cold water. I run down and see that I am not the last too come. A feeling of condemnation fills inside me. We start doing the pull ups. I like to do pull ups. They are extremely hard in the beginning but as you go on it becomes easier and better. It's like you put all you effort to pull yourself to your goal and then come down with satisfaction. It reminds me about life. This army camp has taught me so many things. The main thing is to never back down. I always had this dream to fight for people. To fight for peace. To stop the cries of war. And this is one of the steps I take to achieve my goal. "Done sir" I hear akshar telling. I still have five more. I pull myself up to my most and finish. I then run and join amir on trekking for 20 miles. "Had hot stew yesterday?" He says to mock me. I punch him back friendly in the stomach. He backs behind and gives me a look. I smile and shrug my shoulders.
In time we are done trekking and go to the hall where we all help ziya ma cut the vegetables and cook. That is the basic thing our camp teaches us. To help others and importantly to help ourselves. Me and amir fight for who will cut the tomatoes. I like tomatoes because they are clumpy and juicy. It is their flavour which makes the dish complete. I give it up for him and he offers it back to me. Then we have this whole conversation offering the other to have it. Finally he takes it. I am left with these brinjals. I think about how people are like your mirror. They do what you do. I you fight, shout and slap they will do the same. Sometimes they will do more than that. If you are kind then they are also kind. They become gentle Angel and selfless warriors. We have the power to change people. A good word or a compliment could brighten their day and a quarrel could do quite the opposite. Funny how we have the power to change but we never use it. Ouch! I feel some part of mine bleeding. I look down to realise I accidentally cut my finger. I run immeadiately to the nearby washroom and wash my wound. Blood keeps oozing.
Run Shakeer my mom says. Come with me I tell her. I hear her scream. I run forward to catch my sister shameen. Nothing happens to her. But I see my mother has a deep cut in her leg. My father lifts her up. The train makes a sound signalling that it will leave. My father gives me his bag and tells me to go to hasampur. I refuse but my father slaps me then kisses me and tells me I have to obey him. I take one look at my beautiful sister who is smiling in her dreams unaware of the atrocities happening in the outside world. I kiss her and hand her to my father. I run to my coach and I shout I will come back for them. That was the last time I saw them. The last.
The burning of my wound wakes me from my unpleasant memories. I wash my finger once more and get back work. The rest of the day goes in a flash like all other days. The same workouts, the same sessions, no living. I head towards my room after having cold porridge which manages to quench my hunger and lay down on my bed. Tomorrow is my birthday. And then years since I dead from the inside