The Cold Night

                                                                            

By Bikas Pandey

The Cold Night
( The real story based on the event of 2058/08/08)

Unpleasant sound suddenly woke me up. I assumed it as the sound of the stones as if they had struck with each others while being unloaded from the tractor. I turned on the light and looked at the watch, it was about to 11 p.m. My assumption turned wrong after my maternal uncle asked me if I had known about the sound. Since it was the time of maoist moment, it was not difficult to guess about such a terrible sound. May be it was my teenage of seventeen years to make me curious and courageous. Despite the appalling situation outside, I peeped from the door. It was my first experience to view the horrible war closely.Rattling of the bullets, bombs, shouting of the soldiers and codes of the maoist like ” Jaljala”, “three number” disturbed me. Moreover, the scene of some cadres of maoist climbing up the windows and looting the ” Rastiya Badijya Bank, Narayanpur Branch” made me restless.

It was tough to sleep keeping all these in restless mind. So after a few hours, when I realized that the war had ceased, I tried my best to lay on my bed though the previously viewed egregious pictures of the battlefield were whirling in my mind.
At 2 p.m. I heard someone crying “doctor”, “doctor”. “Who may be the person in such a henious situation” I started guessing. I guessed the person might be maoist cadre. Actually, it was like inviting the death to be irresponsible towards such calling immediately after the battle. When I noticed my uncle walking down the stairs, I couldn’t leave him alone and I followed him holding an emergency light in my hand. When we opened the gate we found a small group of soldiers. Among them one was wounded badly.

We could do nothing except providing them with the pain killer. The wounded soldier’s pain made me realize the bitter effect of the war. After a while they requested us to go to the battlefield. My uncle refused to go there and asked to bring their injured friends. To be honest I was disappointed with his response. Despite the fear in the mind, my heart was eager to visit the place” Narayanpur Police Camp” which was attacked by the maoists before two hours. The pleading of the soldiers made us go to the battlefield. My uncle was carrying some medicines and I was holding the light. The soldiers were empty handed since they had nothing to lose. I was in great dillema, on the one hand I was longing to see the battlefield, on the other hand I was scared with what was going to happen. After three minutes walk we reached to the destination where many of the gammy soldiers were prying for their life, remembering family members and waiting for the death. The pathetic moment moved me a lot. When I saw the tragic situation I wished I would be the soldier. I wished I had a gun instead of light in my hand. The soldiers who were lucky to save their life in such war carried water from the stream, my uncle provided the injured soldiers with medicines and I kept on helping all of them with my light. The situation was so indifferent that we could do nothing for the injured soldiers.

The lamentation of the soldiers made us speechless. Nothing was in our hand except to sympathize on their grief. The mourning of the injured soldiers with bullets in the chest made us highly depressed.
After a while the soldiers planned to find the body of dead ones. Perhaps the situation had made me bold, this time without fear in the mind I walked forward to find out the dead soldiers. Though the night was dark and cold, the circumstance had made me hot inside.

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