Coming to terms with life--bravely

By K.V.S.Madhav

HYDERABAD, JUNE 16. Nostalgia is a long distance runner. It catches up with you with its far-reaching magical wand. Wherever you are, whichever corner of the globe.

One full year after the euphoria of the Kargil war and the wave of jingoism--remember those chest-beating men taking to the streets with the tricolour in hand--have died down, dependents of the martyrs pull on their lives bravely. Like the martyrs themselves.

How they wish putting back the clock of time that much back and perhaps, make their future the past. It is these memories of the past that are their constant companions. And yes, their source of strength and hope too.

And there can be no bigger reflection of hope than this cute baby girl, Aparajitha. It means one who cannot be defeated. She was all of seven months in her mother's womb when her father, Major Padmaphani Acharya, died fighting for the nation in the wilderness of Kargil.

"How I wish he was there to see the baby," his wife Charulatha says quietly, a melange of sadness and longing in her voice. "We see him in her," his mother Mrs. Vimala Acharya says. Life in the Acharya household in Hastinapuram Colony on the city outskirts revolves around Aparajitha.

"Whatever has happened has happened. We have to give strength to each other and live together. And we are living for Aparajitha," say the Acharya family in unison. Charulatha smiles, "His sister, Amrapali, is just like him in thinking and behaviour. So, she laughingly keeps saying that she is Aparajitha's father! It feels nice seeing everyone trying to rally behind me. There are moments when I cannot control myself, but we have to console each other. They (her in-laws) never let me be alone out of fear that I might break down. If I was alone, I'd have been a nervous wreck by now. Emotional support is crucial."

Charulatha, who is now teaching tailoring to handicapped children at a voluntary organisation, comes tempered with lots of fragility. But, look closer. She has something in her that makes her one with a steely resolve too. Her father had died while she was young while her mother was the sole breadwinner for the family working for the Tamil Nadu Electricity Board in Chennai. A commerce graduate, she got married to Major Padmaphani Acharya in 1995.

What is the fondest memory Charulatha has of her husband? "Everything," she muses. "There was never a dull moment when he was around. He was very humourous. He loved animals, particularly dogs and birds. In jest, he always used to say that he was a true warrior and wouldn't die hiding in the bathroom. The end will be on the battlefield. I used to cry asking him not to say so and the doting husband he was, he used to quickly console me," she smiles.

And letters? "Ah, he used to write four or five every week. One for everyone. He was extremely articulate and a keen observer. No letter was similar," she reminisces. "At times, I take out his letters and read them. That is when I am not myself."

Mrs. Vimala Acharya chips in, saying, "He left his wife behind with us. She is like our daughter and she shall live the way she wants to. We'll get her married if she wishes so." She observes that families of martyrs have broken down owing to the deluge of monetary benefits that were extended to them by the entire nation.

"This is sad. It is in times of crisis that a family should be together. Many people came to us assuring that they would run the gas agency given to us by the Government. We thought they were out to help us, but alas we were wrong," she says bitterly. The family would soon be managing the gas agency named after the martyr. By June-end, it should be operational, she said.

A blizzard of memories assail Charulatha when she is reminded of the last time she saw him. "We went to see him off at the railway station early in the morning. As my father-in-law had to reach the office we rushed back hurriedly after he got into his compartment. Though there was more time for the train's departure, we just left him and came back," she stops. As fate would have ordained, he never came back.

Amid the humdrum of the railway station, the fleeting glimpse from above her shoulder while he leaned onto the train entrance turned out to be the last one. One that will remain frozen in her memories forever. And ever.

Send this article to Friends by E-Mail

Section  : Southern States
Previous : Noisy scenes mar public hearing
Next     : Govt. to network 785 hoblis by March next