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You are here: Home / Social and Moral / Terrorist – Social Short Story

Terrorist – Social Short Story

Published by paulami dutta in category Social and Moral with tag childhood | death | father | husband | Love | terrorist

Terrorist - Social Short Story
Photo credit: wintersixfour from morguefile.com

Terrorist - Social Short Story

[Terrorist – Social Short Story]

I am Shanti Hazarika from Assam. Yes it’s in the North eastern part of the country and it is not a locality it is a state running over 78,438 km². Sad even after sixty five years of independence I have to give an introduction of my state. My father was working in a tea estate in Jorhat; along with Aman’s father. They were laborers there. We were not well off but happy. Aman? I don’t know what to call him. My wedding with Aman was fixed just after I was born and Aman was a little more than five then. I grew up in his shadow. He was always protective and possessive. I trust Aman more than myself. I love Aman more than life. Aman would take me to the corporation school and drop me back home. My parents, relatives, friends all believed I belong to him. I was only fifteen when I surrendered to him. I couldn’t say no to him. I was scared but I knew Aman would never leave me. He loved me and gave me such different sensations and dreams.

I was sixteen when our village was surrounded by the army. Why? Because they said we hid terrorists. I was so scared I was shivering. Not for myself but for Aman. The army men were hitting all the young men of our village. There was massacre everywhere that night. Aman pulled me to the jungle and to stop my cries he pressed his lips on mine. And eventually I fell asleep in his arms. In the morning Aman whispered, “You won’t go home? Or do you want to stay here away from everybody? Just with me? Hmm?”  His hands were all around my mekhla. I turned crimson. And he hid me in him, “Shanti I can’t stay without you I will not wait till you are eighteen I will marry you as soon as I become an army jawan.” I blushed further,  “deuta(father) will not agree!” “Hmm? Why deuta even God can’t separate Aman and Shanti. ” He claimed me in that forest again. Before next Bihu you will be mine Shanti…..

Hand in hand we went back to the village. And there we saw death all around. My Deuta was killed. They killed my Deuta. What had he done? What terrorists did we hide? Aman was blank my Deuta was like his own. Aman didn’t what was waiting for him. He didn’t know his sister was gang raped by the army. Baidoh (sister) was getting married next month. We didn’t even get her body. They threw her in the river and our little world crashed that day.

Aman followed all the rituals and then one day Aman left the village. He promised me he would set everything right. His Deuta was so shocked that he was immersed himself in country liquor. Deuta couldn’t work anymore and our village was never the same. But my Aman is the best. He got a job in Guwahati. He would send money home. And he would also remind me that before next Bihu I would be his. Aman would always do something which would make me happy. Everybody in our village was proud of Aman. He had also sent money to repair the village school. Aman had sent money to some other needy tea garden laborers. I was in a trance my Aman was blessed by all in the village……

Aman returned after four months and he wanted us to shift from the village. None of us objected. “Shanti I will take you to the city”, he whispered. In a matter of seven days we moved to Guwahati.

I didn’t know what work Aman did. He said he worked in a cyber café. God knows what a cyber café is. But it does not matter. My Aman can never be wrong.

What I didn’t know was that day when Aman left the village he met some men. They said Aman should avenge the army. Aman always adored the army. But Baidoh’s death and Deuta’s chita had made him hate the army. They took Aman to Nepal and Aman was trained in guerilla warfare. My Aman never killed an ant; how would he kill men? But he did! They had removed the railway track near Bongaigaon. Two trains were derailed and so many lives lost.

I realized I was pregnant. Aman was so happy. We were getting married that day. Aman had some work. He had gone to Pan Bajar. I didn’t know what work he had. I made a new friend Pompi after I came to Guwahati. She said on my wedding I should look the best and gift myself to Aman. She took me to a parlor in Pan Bajar. They were making mehendi patterns in my hand when there was a blast. My body blew up to a hundred pieces. Now I know my Aman had gone to Pan Bajar to plant the bombs. He went back home before the mahurat and got my dead body

Just now they were showing in the news that a twenty two year old man was killed in an army encounter. The description says it’s my Aman. But Aman how will you face me when you come up? How will you face our unborn baby? Deuta, Ma and Mamoni stay in the footpath now. There is no Aman to take care of them. People say my Aman is a terrorist. But who made my Aman a terrorist? My Aman wanted a little home, wanted our baby. But now my Aman is a terrorist. But no one answers me why he became one, no one…..

__END__

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