Peace activist Kusum’s body looked pretty even in death. It lay sprawled on the road.
Major Kishen had fought on well till the end came.
‘Hi, girl, are you the promised houri?’ the bearded man asked.
‘Hello, I am Kusum. You just killed me, you and that Major’ said the girl.
‘Hi’ simply said the dead Major.
All the three felt the same. The fight had gone out of them. They felt a strain off them and were relaxed.
‘How come I had been so foolish? That mad man Osama fooled me. Now I see he himself is a self deluded ass. How nice to meet you two!’ Dawood said.
‘I had been a fool too. Sorry Major, I thought you were the devil and Dawood an innocent victim. I should have tried to let Dawood see reason or allowed you to give him a whack in case he failed. I made things difficult for you, Major’ Kusum said and turning to Dawood. ‘sorry mate, I pampered you and egged you on.’
‘It seems it is confession time. You two seem nice folks, after all. After all this tension of living under the huge shadow of bullets, I began to, sort of, hate you fellas’ said the Major.
The three looked at the blooming chinaar tree.
‘Where all prospects please and man alone is vile’
Three seeds fell on the soft bed of the tree. They grew to be tall trees looking on wisely at the unfolding events in the country. The Major tree got cut very soon. The others waited for their chance in patience.
20 October, 2003.
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