Battlefields are a testament to blood and courage defending pointless pursuits of power and ideals with contexts lost in time. The sight of crimson red set out a frenzy in the field. Panic gripped the heart of the novice soldier.
It’s nothing, the Major commanded. Man your post, the command bellowed.
Violence was across. The scarce pastures of green were left soaked wet in red. The clutter, the chaos , the speed at which actions followed were all too daunting for the novice to keep up with. Giving up was not an option anymore. The field had people who had volunteered their choice. There was no going back.
A neat strategy was outlined. The conquest was planned in calculated sprints. Timing was of the essence. Maybe they felt that the gods were on their side. It did boost their confidence and speared their drive to conquer. The enthusiasm stayed for a while. Armed with arsenal, the novice soldier marched on. Just like clock work, the mission was broken down to sizable chunks which were to be checked off systematically.
The uncomfortable fires of hell kept the field hot and sultry. Sweat poured across corners. The day was not meant to be reveled in comforts and luxury. It was a battle for integrity. There was pride at stake. Egos had been bruised and it was the day to set the records straight.
The novice paired with the veteran major. Veteran. Funny life. Veteran stood to represent the calm disconnected numbness which the mind and body accepts over time. The major did not feel the need to revisit the days of youth and innocence. The major had once felt nauseated by the dripping rubies. That was a long time ago. Today, none of it mattered anymore. Battles are meant to be won, and the major was not in the business of losing.
The novice shadowed the major. Survival instincts kicked in. There was a certain safety to following a grayed hair. Obedience was both voluntary and a necessity. The novice had no thoughts of rebellion housed in the heart. It was not the time to question. It was a matter of life and possible death.
They did not carry maps. The major’s mind was a treasure of information. The major barked out orders. The novice took a while in listening and comprehending the asks. Like all students and their capable teachers, the student started the day with an condescending confidence of arrogance which soon was left shattered. In mind , a total surrender was reached. Over time, it became a quick routine.
Things worked like a charm for a while. It was then the violence introduced itself. How does one react to cold steel meeting tender softness? Blood flowed like a spirited river. It ran it’s course and set out a panic in the air. The moment wonderfully brought two words together. The major, who had grown numb to the battlefield, and the novice soldier who had witnessed the first ever draw of blood.
THERE WILL BE BLOOD, the major screamed.
The soldier’s heart sank. The major did not really indulge in care and pamper in the battlefield. The hand was left immobile. With an arm short, the soldier tried , but the spirit had already started to succumb.
‘It’s just a cut, baba’,’At this rate you’ll never learn to make RASAM’. ‘Come, take those tomatoes that you mercilessly squashed over the coriander and dunk it into this boiling mix’ , the mom ordered.
The eager teenager looked at her mom with disgust. She had cut her finger chopping them stupid tomatoes, and her mom was more interested in getting that Rasam done!!!!! What a cruel life, the little girl wondered!!!!!
Meanwhile, a dad was found watching the news in absolute bliss. His time of horror was yet to come. He didn’t yet fully realize the magnitude of the events conspiring against him. His daughter had just learnt to cook. He had a lot to endure.!