Gangaram

It happened such a long time back.

Like yesterday.

Gangaram wanted to die. He had lived once.

When Gangaram was young he had only one dream, to be a soldier.

He was born poor and was an orphan.

Rejected by his parents at birth.

It would have been so easy for him to embrace me. When nobody wanted him, I was there for him.

But he fought me from the beginning.

He hurt my ego.

Maybe to be a soldier was his destiny.

Gangaram, the foot soldier.

First in the line.

Challenging me, mocking me.

So close, still so far.

Always just beyond my reach.

It was not the time. I knew I will have him one day but never on that day.

He was never afraid of me.

Then a strange thing happened. We became friends.

We started riding together.

Other soldiers wanted to stand next to him on the battleground, he always came back.

He had new friends.

He was popular.

He was somebody.

He thought he was living.

But now he was scared of me.

I who was so close to him, his first enemy, his first friend.

This time he did not fight me.

He rejected me.

He had hurt me again.

Then one day fate dealt a cruel blow.

His lost his fighting arm.

His reason, his identity, his life.

If I was there I would have made it easier for him.

Soldiers want to die as soldiers.

He called me, he begged me.

Today he wanted me.

I refused to oblige the old friend.

Everyone doesn’t hope to live.

Some hope to die.

Gangaram. The proud Gangaram.

The soldier, now an object of pity.

I am cruel.

I am proud.

I wanted my revenge.

My revenge was to let him live.

We were again there from where we started.

We fought again and this time I won.

I waited till there was no life left in him.

I didn’t kill him, I killed his spirit.

He was born unwanted and he died unwanted.