A dried fern, a set of utensils, a bed, an old blanket and a ceiling fan. That is all that could fit in his small room, which he was about to leave forever. He had tears in his eyes. He was always confused about why only his room always looked very crowded and others didn’t. His was room no. 11... of the Criminal Cell. 

He was about to be 'discharged’ from his exile. His mother was sitting in the front row of the waiting hall. She was holding a steel box wrapped in her old saree.  She looked tired and rusted. The wrinkles on her cheeks deepened as she smiled to her son, coming from a distance. He did not smile back. He came closer and stared into his mother's eyes.

 'You cried last night.' said he, wiping his tears.

'Saanj baba, englis pura seekh gaya!'  She almost fell in his arms, not able to stop herself from crying out loud. They hugged after a long time... a long 3 years.

'Chal ghar chal, Rani aaj ischool nahi gayi hai tere liye.' She said, waiting for his answer.

'She will loose studies of one day.' He replied, again in english.

'Englis seekh rahi hai wo bhi.' A satisfied mother said as they stepped onto a rickshaw.

'Saanj bhai, kaisa hai re? Pehchana mujhe?' asked the rickshaw wala with a big smile.

'Anup. How are you?' said Saanj, remembering him this time.

'Very fine, very fine.' His smile curved even more.

They got down in front of a little snack shack. A short girl, with a book in one hand, waved to them from inside and came running to the rickshaw. She was about to hug his brother, Saanj, but hesistated. She asked instead, 'Bhai, kaisa hai tu? Patla ho gaya hai. Aman bhaiya sab kaise hain?'

He looked puzzled. He stared into nowhere for a moment and suddenly jerked his head and screamed, 'AAJU, AAAAAHH! Aaju ko bulao!!' He screamed with pain as he held his forehead with both hands! Anup and his mother held him tightly.

Rani started crying in despair. 'Aaju mar gayi hai, bhai!! Bhool ja usko!!'

Anup and maa kept holding him. Saanj’s screams slowed minutes later. He sat down teary eyed. Saanj's mother asked Anup to invite Karim chacha.

After a while, Saanj was lying on the bench behind the shack while Rani helped their mother in preparing lunch.

They prepared rice and baigan bhaaja, Saanj's favourite. Rani went behind the shack to call her brother, but he wasn't there. She screamed to her mother, 'M-Maa, bhai kahin chala gaya hai!' She instantly ran towards the two ends of the street and returned. There was no sign of him. She felt guilty of herself about not being careful. Rani then ran up to Anup bhaiya's place to inform him about Saanj’s absence. Anup, without second thought, went on a search and suggested Rani to go back to the shack.

After about an hour or so, Anup returned with Saanj in the rickshaw. Saanj got down and straightaway went inside the shack and started eating the rice and bhaaja kept on the table.

'Wo bus stand me baitha tha. Muje pehchanne se bhi inkaar kar raha tha.' said Anup in a low tone. 'Karim chacha?' asked Rani. 'Aayenge raat tak... clinic band karke.' said he, dissapointed.

Rani went to Saanj and asked, 'Bhai, chess khelega?'

Saanj replied, ' No.. I will win you.'

Rani laughed, 'Haha! Bhai galat bolta hai. I will win over you bol.'

Saanj tried to smile. 'Dukaan... Open when close when?'

Raani said, 'nine ko open, nine ko close.'

'You are in five class?' Asked Saanj.

'Six' she corrected.

She corrected him with the same answer fourth time that year.

'Are ek chai milegi?' They heard from a distance. It was Karim chacha.

'Karim chacha! Aao baitho. Laati hu chai, in two minutes!' Raani ran towards the kettle.

'Saanj beta, welcome back home.' Chacha said.

Saanj starting feeling uncomfortable again. He jerked his head again, this time vigorously.

He screamed, 'AAJU KO NAHI MARA MAINE! AAJU ZINDA HAI. AAJU KO BULAO!'

He was shivering and shouting. Chacha held his hand tightly and gave him an injection. Saanj slowly went in a trance, unconscious state. Rani and his mother watched from a distance.

The time Saanj was up, Karim chacha was sitting beside him, writing something in his diary. There was nobody else around.

'Aman taught you English?' Asked chacha.

'Yes. Aman thinks i am good.'

'Aaju. She is dead. Do you accept?' Chacha asked.

Saanj was quite.

'Do you accept?' he asked again, trying to push his feelings.

'Your question hurt me.' Saanj said, closing his eyes.

'It is good that you are feeling it, you have to feel Saanj. Let it out. You will feel good.'

'Chacha, I know I need medicine.'

'I will help you with it. Hindi me baat karen?'

'Haan.' Saanj said.

A few days later, Anup and Saanj went to their junior school to meet their teachers. Saanj was an obidient and curious child back then. He always wanted to learn speaking english. But due to their low financial status and problems with father, he could not complete his schooling. He wished to see his mother and sister happy... always.

'Did they keep you in very bad condition?' asked Mishra sir.

'No sir. I learned to live there.' Saanj replied.

'We are sorry to say that you, being accounted as a murderer, we cannot file your name on our Alumni list.'

'It is fine sir.' his eyes were looking downwards.

'Are you comfortable now? Do you feel OK?'

'Yes. I need little time.'

'Ofcourse, you will have it. I am sorry about Aaju. She was one of my favorite students, just like you.'

'She was my favorite too sir.'

'Do you feel, ummm... Aaju changed you?' asked sir in a horse tone.

'No. Something else did.'

'What is it? ' sir asked with raised eyebrows.

'Alzheimer did, Sir.' 

“Tea?” I asked, like every other day when he is back from the office.

 “Ah! Sure. Today was again a stressful day. But you know, I figured out something really important today.” he was smiling.

“What is it?” I smiled back.

“Hehe, it relates to the research I am working on.  I was going a little off-track. But, today I fixed it. It was so obvious that I felt sheepish later. But, you see? It was all for the good.” It seemed as if he was talking in his sleep, as if he was in his own dreamland. I loved this thing of his. I couldn’t stop smiling.

And “That’s so good, Suru.” is all I could say.

“Yeah. I have to go back and continue even today.” Suru said.

“You have been doing this often lately. I just want you to take care.”

“Yeah, I know. I want to finish this soon and correctly. Ajay have been helping me constantly. We are good.”

“You don’t look good with dark circles.” I complained, only to keep the conversation going.

“I am dark already. And we are in the United States. Nobody can tell if I have dark circles. Haha!” the optimist joked.

“Don’t say that. You are the brightest thing in my life.”

“Aww... and you are mine.”

 “Come back soon, Suru.”

 “Of course! Thanks for the tea, Soni. I will see you tomorrow morning then.” he was all set to leave for the office again.

“Hmm... I will miss you.” I meant it.

“Aww.... No, you wouldn’t miss me. Because, you would be having a super tight sleep now. You too are working and you get tired, don’t you?” his eyes were in mine.

How does he always manage to make things sound so right?

“Yes... I do...”

“Good. Now, go sleep like a baby. Take care.” He gave a quick kiss on my forehead and went past the main door. I locked it and went to bed obediently.

----------------------

I woke up to see his sleeping and almost smiling face next to me. I checked my phone, got freshened up and went into the kitchen following the daily routine.

“Good morning, Soni.” said a deeper voice of Suru from a distance.

“Good morning. All well?”

“Yes. I had a lovely sleep. So did you. I came back around 3, took a bath and slept beside you. You did not have a hint.”

“Oh! I am so sorry....” I felt guilty.

“Hey, I am kidding. Even, I did not want to wake you up. Now, take the sorry back.” He said.

“Okay... I take it back. Wait on the table, I will bring your tea and the newspaper is on the console.”

“Thank you.”

I woke up at the same time each day but a few days, I don’t know why, I run late. Like, today.

“Can you help me pack the lunch?”

“Noooo... I can’t.”

“What do you always do this, Suru? Why can’t you?”

“Soni.... If I pack my lunch, I would know what I would eat later on. But if you pack it, I will have that surprise element.” He had his excuses.

I waited a bit to digest what he had just said. But then, I couldn’t control my laughter.

“Hahaha! You talk like a comedian.” I said.

He had his funny child-like face on.

“When we will be having a baby, he is sure going to look like you. Exactly this face of yours!”

“No, I would want him or her to look like you.” He said checking his phone.

“We will see.”

“My Whatapp friend’s group is full of messages. Ritvik is getting married, finally!”

“Ritvik from Mumbai?”

“Yes. He is inviting us.”

“Oh, let’s try and take a few days break then. Our long-thought India trip is yet to happen. Maa will be very happy too.”

“You are right. Let me see if I can get a leave.”

“Okay then. I am going to get ready. I am running late. Here, your lunch box.” I handed him the box.

“Anna datha suhkhi bhava!” he said, raising his arm.

He said this phrase every time he is elated with someone’s offering food to him. It sometimes feels so good to listen to our regional languages while living in the States. Detached, yet still very rooted. That is how Suru is. I always asked him if he misses his country or wants to go back because I knew he was one true and loyal citizen. But he was an optimist. He believed if we can live here happily, we should continue to live here... happily. He believed that unless we are good to others, others will be good to us.

----------------------

Later when I was at my office, I received his text-

Going to the grill and bar with Ajay in the evening. See you straight at dinner.

 Little did I know- that this was going to be a lie; that he was not going to see me at dinner that night; that he was not going to see me ever. He never returned. They say he was shot. An overactive ‘fairer’ man misunderstood him due to his colour. At first, it felt like I would go and take away his life. But then, what difference would this make? This wouldn’t bring back my Suru. And Suru would not suggest me to do this... if he was alive.

I did not realise, that I never thought how life would be without Suru. That is why I stay clueless even now... about what actually will happen with me. What made the guy shoot and kill another guy? Hate? Hate for a skin colour, for an entire race? Or was it intolerance? Does it have to do anything with co-existence? Why couldn’t he just live with the hate? How does this hate empower us to the limit that we loose our senses? What did he get out of this? He is going to sleep alone in an empty grey cell for the rest of his life. What a reward he got... for spreading hate.

But the hate remains... in every one of us. Millions of examples lie in front of us. They just lie- dead. Somebody pick them up! Somebody give them a meaning! Somebody show how powerful its antonym, love, is!

It counts as a bad manner to listen, interfere or publicise other’s talk. But it doesn’t fit in as a moral when you are travelling by train. In fact, I like it when unknown people sit together and talk about anything to everything just to pass the time. It is believed that people of my generation are involved with their gadget_freak_social_media_life. But! It’s hell not true, not with me at least... especially when the guy opposite you is a handsome army man. A tall, perfectly fair and perfectly built up guy... with lips more pink than usual. And it interests you even more when he is from Kashmir.

I was on my way to Bhopal when I heard this catchy conversation the jawaan was having with a lady (seemed to be in her forties) who was sitting beside him, a cool multitasking college dude next to him again who was talking & playing candy crush and a retired physics professor who was seated next to me.

The professor: I toured Kashmir last year with my beta, bahu and grandson. She surely is a heaven. (by she, he meant Kashmir.)

The lady: Is it safe out there? (What!)

The jawaan: Of course, ma’am. Yes, we can’t deny, there are still some restricted areas, kya kare yeh jung... picha nahi chod rahi. Nearly 11 lakh travellers visited Jammu & Kashmir in 2014, of which only 50,000 were from foreign countries. You must visit ma’am. (Damn, he talks like a dream.)

The cool dude: What is your job? Have you ever been in the border security? (That’s a good one, bro.)

The jawaan: No. It’s been 6 years I am living army. I have worked as security for ministers; have guarded many occasions like Delhi parade. Initially I was in Kashmir but later they sent me to Delhi. Now, I work in headquarters. (Mark his words... he said living army, not serving)

The cool dude: So, you serve Indian Army, that makes it obvious you have no issues with Indian government, but there are many who want a free Kashmir even today... how do you see this? (The dude is more than just cool, I see.)

The jawaan: Haha, I work for India not the government. Well, I love my country, the things that has happened and that are still happening are the after results of adverse opinions, conflicts and much more... Kashmir has suffered a lot, a lot more than what you and I can imagine, but no one alone but everything together was responsible. So I don’t blame people in Kashmir for thinking that way but I try they understand my point. (Deep.)

The lady: It’s really pleasing to see people of your age dedicated towards the country.

The jawaan: There are so many like me out there, ma’am. (Oh man, his smile.)

Pause.

The professor: You are going home or headquarters?

The jawaan: Filhaal, I am going home, I had been in Nagpur for a relatives wedding. I will be home for two days and will then return to cant.

The lady: Where do you live in Kashmir, beta?

The jawaan: Gulmarg. It’s a beautiful hill station. I am born & brought up there. You all can come and visit.

This time he looked at everyone including me. (OMG. Has he seen me gazing at him?)

The professor: I dint get to visit Gulmarg.

The cool dude: It lies near the LOC. (he is still playing.)

The professor: Yeah yeah.

The lady: There must be a Muslim dominating population.

The jawaan: Ji. The whole Kashmir is.

The cool dude: There are other Kashmiri with you in headquarters?

The jawaan: Not in headquarters. But there were many in my batch.

The professor: Is there any quota for Muslims in army?

The jawaan: laugh. There are no quotas.

The lady: Is there any discrimination that Muslims face?

The jawaan: Discrimination? Ma’am this is Indian army, our religions doesn’t matter. If it matters somewhere than only for celebrating our festivals together when we are away from our family. There are so many Muslims in our army, I myself am a Muslim... I have never experienced any discrimination or harassment for being a Muslim or for being from Kashmir.

The professor nodded in support, The cool dude was busy playing but did a hmm to contribute and The lady was stunned for some unknown reason.

The lady: You are musalmaan?

The jawaan: Ji, ma’am. Asraf Ali.

The professor: Tell me more about Gulmarg. Is it safe to travel...

And their conversation went on. They kept on discussing the army, Kashmir, government and I kept on listening to them but by this time my focus had completely shifted to The lady. Suddenly, she was not saying anything, had got shifted towards the window, and was not even looking at them.

This made me restless. Just a few moments ago he was a pleasing young man dedicated to country, he was interesting to listen to and he also was a beta. And being all this... all that mattered for her at last was... that he was a Muslim. He dint react. He didn’t say a single word to her again throughout the journey. May be, he dint care...may be, he was used to this... may be, it dint bother him... may be... may not be. I kept on thinking, I keep thinking even today.

It bothers me even today. The question might not hurt the person who said and the one who answered... but it hurts me.

Why is it necessary for us to know who is who, who is born as what? Isn’t it enough to know what one does and how right or wrong one is with whatever one does?

It is not just about Muslims, but I wonder how many of us Indians ask this one question to how many other Indians... We sadden them, hurt them and we may even provoke them...