Scribbled thoughts – 3 “Compassion”

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The most intricate task I face now days is to meet people, to feel their sympathy and their wish to help me, when all I really want is to be left alone. Sympathy is a very bizarre emotion; it’s a reaction of superiority, a reason for people to show their arrogance by helping others. It is the same reason of superiority which leads us to wars, which leads to massive killing and bloodshed, a crime for which no one is ever held responsible to.

I am an anti war person and being a woman and a mother, Nothing less can be expected of me too. I hold no complaints against god, my life has been thorny and I always had to zigzag my ways out the tunnel of pain, Something I have been proud of. Although I do nurse a grudge, I lost my son and I believe no reason in the world can be good enough to explain me, why. I hold god responsible for it. We are told he is our master, he is our creator and that if we accept our shortcomings and bare our naked souls to him, he will be appeased. He will grant us moral freedom and forgiveness, But in spite of done everything I have been punished, and castigated in the most cruel manner.

My son was an exultant character; there was something in him which was a cult above the rest. He was made of a different color, when children of his age were busy with games; He used to talk of pride and his love for mother land. Our family ties have always been closely knitted to the love for one’s country so he grew and blossomed completely in it. He grew up to be a man, one who would always seek his brain before his heart and emotions would be ignored when the question came to his responsibility.

He was very pretty as a kid and a very obedient one too. I used to laugh and ask him the reason for being so calm and quiet when kids of his age were rampant and full of naughtiness. He never gave me an answer but the smile on his face always told me he was unique. I always have had empty churnings of my heart telling me I had failed as a mother, at an age when kids should be interested in the most superficial things around them, my son had grown, Grown up his age and his responses. He was a very good student and never did I need to remind him of his obligations.

He was a Son a mother should be proud of, which I was. After the sudden death of my husband my world revolved around him. He was the reason I was living in this world but he was very offended by my unwanted attention. He never beloved in emotions, and hence rendered me to be an emotional fool. His life was all about duties, Tasks and Jobs. He had a complete different set of ideologies, He had faith in himself and he wanted to make things happen, for himself and for others.

I was very much against his decision of joining the army, but knowing this was something he wanted for all his life I obliged. I can still remember the doomed day of his death, the start of that which was nothing but ordinary. I had completed all by daily chores and it was then the phone rang. The voice on the other side of the machine rattled all my responses. I shook wildly and fainted with a gasp.

My world had ended, I had lost my son in war and events leading to his death were not that pleasant either. I was narrated the story and later as I came to know , My son had defied the order of his superiors, In the sudden rush of blood and an adrenaline action he did what he felt was right , he lived and obeyed his impulse when he should have sought the knowledge of those around him. Not knowing where to go in a UN explored land, he had set on a land mine and killed himself and his troops.

An enquiry committee later decided that my son was to be blamed for all the damages concurred in the accident and his medals were taken away. I was ridiculed in front of the entire world for having a son like him, a son I had been proud of all my life. My masterpiece was claimed to be forged and of no respect to the entire world.

He death was never remorsed, blamed a turncoat by the army he never received a proper interment. I was shocked to know the truth, and it was very hard to believe that such my son died the death of a traitor. What If he made an honest mistake, was his mistake so immense not to be forgiven? He lived his life for this country and his fellow beings who now take pride in mocking him and his bravery, his valor. Why does a sin register so deep in our memories that all past actions are forgotten? Why can’t we weigh every action on a scale and then decide the character, the nature of someone?

I have turned weak, and I die a new death everyday sympathetically. My heart cries to see my son being ridiculed in people’s eyes, he was a great soul, he was the perfect son and his one action cannot be the reason to make him an object of sympathy. He was a soldier, he fought and died a great death, But no one expect me believes that and that hurts a lot.

My wish to life has subsided; I exist in this world knowing my absence will not affect anyone. I have lost the light of my life, the sole purpose of my existence. I do wish to rectify his mistake; I want everyone to recognize him for the great man, the great solider he was. Given a chance , I would want to be a soldier , Not for my country , Not for my pride , But for myself , And for the demons I have to fight within.