Let’s not Forget

We are a forgetful bunch. All of us. That’s how we have been programmed; that’s what we’ve heard growing up, “Time heals all…”

With time, we tend to forget that which was once important and that which wasn’t, the one who mattered then and the one who’s now in a box.

It’s nobody’s fault, I think.

Amidst the 10 year challenge, the new hard-hitting Gillette ad, and the news of a certain nobody marrying a somebody, I received devastating news; something that was up close and personal.

An update on an online page told me that a certain officer was martyred in the line of duty; a certain someone who was a few hours away from us, a certain someone who wore a rank I was way too familiar with.

I had once seen disturbing visuals on television, of families mourning their martyred son, husband, and father; daughters and sons pledging their service to the motherland, the tricolor being handed over to the families. It pained me to see how the family was made a spectacle of, how the immediate family was asked for a message they wanted to give to the world, on national television.

Sure, one must know what it takes to don the uniform, but must that necessarily come at the cost of a life?

I instinctively called the husband who in turn asked me to stop reading up online. So, it was worse than I had imagined. My stomach hurt and my eyes welled up. It was not the first time I was asked to “be strong”. This is how it is, you either put up a brave face and pray with all the faith that you have or, you succumb to the pressure.

The next morning I woke up to my mother’s tensed face who asked me if I knew anything, and the news of a procession being held to pay tribute to the martyred officer.

Was I angry?

No. I was scared, I still am; scared to death.

I just have a little something to ask of those who’ve paid their respects, of those who’ve been grateful for them, of those who’ve kept their families in  their prayers.

Please don’t forget. Not this time.

I am writing about it because I do not know what else to do, how else to help. I am writing because I must not forget.

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Published by: ofyesterdayswine

We are all storytellers; some say it as is and some narrate it with a pinch of salt. It's fascinating to observe everyday life and weave little somethings out of it. Mine is one such story nutured with love, laughter, little bit of spice, and lots of exaggeration.

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