Page 226 - Musings 2020

himself who had bereft him of all words, it was Shiv who once protected him, had now
judged him because of his religion.

Dejected, he straightened his collar, held his briefcase firmly, went outside the hospital gate,
took a taxi and when asked where he wanted to go, the only words that came outside his
mouth were “home”.

“ Sahib, where is your home?” asked the driver.

Home is more than just a place. It’s also an idea- the one where your heart and soul is. It is
much more than just a shelter, a place where you feel safe and protected from the heavy rains
and scorching heat, it is rather a centre of gravity. Home is what he had found in the streets of
Lahore, in the mouth-watering jalebi which his parents always bought him, in the lap of his
mother and father and most importantly, in his brother and best friend Shiv.

“Kolkata”, Azaan said; a decision which was solely governed by his disconsolate heart
overruling his mind.

In the summer of 1984, there was a rumor of the number of riots rising in Punjab. After the
assassination of two of the leaders of the coalition party, Indira Gandhi and Dina Wadia,
daughters of Jawaharlal Nehru and Muhammad Ali Jinnah, by their Sikh bodyguards, an
anti-Sikh movement was rising. There was terror growing in Punjab as a majority of the
Sikhs lived there. Acid attacks and kidnapping cases were maximized on another level and
Sikh women were often treated like animals.

Azaan was asked to go to Ludhiana for a few days, keeping the state of such events in mind,
an offer which he accepted. His heart was now as cold as ice; he never could be seen
enjoying his work or his private life. He had accepted his stay in Kolkata as a permanent one
and could hardly be seen outside of his 1 BHK apartment unless it was something concerning
his work.

Shiv, on the other hand, had been living his life in regret ever since he saw Azaan leave. The
realization of him saying the wrong words at the wrong time hit him when he saw his empty
house when he longed to have his brother by his side in such a difficult time. A few months
had passed since Sangeeta’s operation, and even though she was fit now, her mind was
always thinking about Azaan. He was the noor of her eyes, but now even the glow of her skin

had faded as if it was searching for him.

In an emergency attack near the borders of Punjab, Shiv and his fellow commanders were
badly injured. With a sparse amount of resources available for their operation and fewer
doctors, it seemed like this was their last day. Due to excessive blood loss, Shiv remained
unconscious for a few hours. His right cheek was swollen, and both of the legs were
fractured. Not one doctor was available to fix his broken body. It was at this moment, when
some doctors came to the rescue, Azaan being one of them. Coincidently, he was assigned
Shiv as his patient. When he saw him, wounded and broken, he could not control his tears. It
was the first time in seven years when he had shown any kind of emotion. It was as though
nature had conspired to make them meet. Not wasting another second, he put all of his focus
on saving Shiv.

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