POSTMAN'S address

Postman’s Address

Kabhi Kabhi khat bhi naraz ho jate he

Sahi pta hote hue bhi gum ho jate he

Band lifafo me kai arman hote he

Na jane kitne hi shbdo me uljhe hue paigam hote he

Un shbdo me ke darmiyan kitne hi ehsas kaid hote he

Dua bas itni he rab se har khat ko sahi anjam mil jae

Shbdo me kaid ehsaso ko azad karne wali ek awaz mil jae.

The story belongs to that era when there are no emails and phone which only delievers emotionless messages. Even in recent time also many of us being well educated may prefer email and phone over letters which have a long reach in every sense. A letter can reach the place where those fast paced emails can’t. This reminds me of the great human being, the postman and the above written lines told to me about him by my grandpaa in childhood.

It was the year 1945, Sumitra Singh “the postman” and famous with name “Mitra” in the whole khushalpur, a village near pakistan border now. The village was unique in many ways. Village had good population of every religion and collectively was a home of only good peoples irrespective of their cast ,creed and religion. Live with harmony and celebrate every festival with same enthusiasm was the identity of people living there. One more thing in common that every villager have is the Address of Mitra “The Postman.” Actually he was one of the educated man in the village who knows to write and read. There were many other who had also had some education but they were all in cities for some job purpose. So Mitra was only person who writes and reads letter for the whole village.

Mitras house was deep in the village near his little piece of land where he used to grow grains in part time. His family don’t have so many members he had only ailing old mother. His day always begins with collecting letters from railway station where the postoffice was established and then upto eve he used to distribute all the letters irrespective of the no. of letters. Sometimes he also had to skip his lunch in order to do his job perfectly. And for skiping lunch he had swallow same but with scolding words from a caring mother. He loves his mother very much instead of being a grown up man, he was still a little kid to his mother. He was very calm and gentle to everybody and loves everybody equally. One can find Mitra in every group occasion of village whether it was sarpanchs grandson’s birthday or Mungiram’s cows death. He was everywhere at correct time. He also used to read newspaper, when there was something special in newspaper. This was the time when the whole India was preparing for the much awaited freedom in the leadrship of Bapu. But Khushapur was little untouched from the freedom turmoils going in the centre of the country.

Mitra received a letter from one of his childhood friend Sukhbir Singh who had joined police in Jalandhar, just looking at the address he went to his house to deliever the letter. He read the whole letter before his family, as the letter finished everybody was in confusion and was unexpectedly bothered. Sukhbinder Singh had told to his family to come to Jalandhar as early as possible, reason was not mentioned in the letter. Actually this was just the beginng of the turmoil which just bothered Mitra and was shaping to become a tornado. Another letter came from Lahore by Jallaluddin who had a shop of sweets there, and he usually comes to home during Ramjan and Bakra Eid. Jallaludin had also written samething and told his family to sold everything they own in Khusalpur and come as early as possible in Lahore. So many letters came in following days with different address but the same content of concern. Some families had decided to leave and some decided to live.

Next morning Sarpanch called him, whole village was gathered and worried. Mitra was asked to read the newspaper which was one week old, it contained the news which can be summarised in one line “ India will get freedom, but with partition of Pakistan.” Panchayat further announced that if our Muslim brothers want to leave, they should go in direction of Lahore and if others want to leave Khushalpur they should go in direction of Delhi. First time Mitra had seen this kind of decision which was based on religion. It was easy for him to decide because he never wanted to leave Khusalpur in any condition neither his mother. People had started migrating towards Delhi and Lahore. Before leaving khushalpur people used to come to Mitra’s home and take his address on paper in hope, that oneday they will be able to return unaware of the fact “What partition is all about”?

Gradually Khushalpur started loosing its loyal residents. Now only few families are left in the village which no other option to choose but to live in Khusalpur, where they have seen all beautiful seasons and festivals. I was just watching people going to diferent places leaving Khushalpur all alone with me. Now every morning when I was making my way towards station to collect mails, I used to meet people waiting for train just to leave their forefaters house to go to unkown place, well I couldn’t do more then wishing them safe journey and giving my address so that they can write to me when ever needed. Uptill now almost whole village was vacanted for an unknown threat called “Partition.”

Now my mother had no complain because my work was almost finished as I have nomore mails to deliver, actually hardly anybody was left in the village to receive those mails. It was more then one month since people have left the village, that morning I was on station to collect any mail which were almost stopped now. After waiting for two hours, i went to postmaster to enquire he replied “Train from Delhi and Lahore are running late, just wait a little more it is about to reach in few minutes.” After few minutes I had seen from distance Train from Delhi crawlling on the railwaytrack. Train stopped before , I saw all the windows and doors coaches were locked which were usually kept open for passengers. Then I saw a dark red line of a bood steeping down on the wall of that coach. I was shocked to see that, but clear my doubt I went up to the window and knocked it to open. As I opened the window suddenly a hand came totally dipped in blood. That hand was cut brutally from the body. The fist of that hand opened hand I saw a piece of paper which got totally red in blood. I shouted in fear and grief, then I heard another scream, and then another and then so many. Every coach of that train was full dead bodies, which were cut in pieces, everywhere was blood and blood. Then I heard somebody talking of riots due to this Partition. People were killing the people brutaly who were going from Delhi to Lahore and Lahore to Delhi. Then postmater came to me and told me that yesterday evening train from lahore came which was exactly same to this, full of dead bodies and blood. He then handed me another piece of paper which was exactly similar to the one I had got from that cut hand earlier. Today I returned home without any mails but with the two piece of paper which was unknowingly familier to me. While I was on the way to my home I got the identification of these papers, these were the same which I have given to the families of Jallaluddin and to Sukhbir Singh who had planned to move towards Lahore and Jallandher respectively. I was shocked, people who moved in search of the safer places were nomore. In the following days I recovered many such paper dipped in blood which contained Postman’s Address. At that time I realised what my mother said to me while people were vacanting there home their village in order to search a safer place. She said son

“Nothing could be safer then your own broken nest in worst condition, as it is your own. Why people of Khushalpur cant understand that”?

My mothers those words may sound very limited but their meaning is vast, if same thing could have understood by the people of whole country no few leaders could have ever made this decision of partition. Togetherness and unity can change every decision, sometims even decision makers too. People of Khushalpur if tried once to stand agaisnt that unknown threat of partition all this wouldn’t had happened. Well I wont leave my motherland in any case, I will live for it, when needed fight for it and the my address will also remain same ever.

Postman’s address is a fact and will never change.

Written By

Azam Khan

Last Journey Of A Soldier

I am Rijwan Khan posted in jammu and kahmir since 1999, I am a proud Armymen. Protecting countrymen from invaders is my priority and a proud job. I have completed thirty years of my life on last Friday. When I was a child I remember that my Abba used to take me Masjid early in the morning for Namaz with reciting so many duas during the walk of 3 kilometer to Masjid. I was just four years old at that time and while returning form the Masjid he used to take fresh flowers from Masjid garden and used to give his friend Sombhai Patel. Sombhai patel belongs to a brahmin family and he was highly religious person just like my father. He used to take tution of school boys after returning from the office. Being a clerk in government and having a good load of work, he was very particular and punctual for his mini school(tution classes). He had a great interest in indian culture and have a good knowledge of all religions. He knows the method of namaz, prayer of church and gurubani of guruduara. On my birthday with all his blessings he used to give me books as a gift. And on my 30^th birthday I received the first gift from him, as expected. Abba was nomore with us, now he is watching me from heavens. To take care of my mother I have only my wife Zareen and my little princess Aisha.

After Kargil war it was little tensed situation in J & K, as now we don’t want to give our enemy second chance in any ways. It was more then a year I have met my family, in every letter and phone call Ammi, Zareen and Aisha wanted me to come home. I have applied for leave and waiting for the approval. Last time when I have seen Aisha, she was just one year old and learnt to speak papa. I was in my room and then the good news came that my leave application was approved. At the very moment I called my mother and told her the good news of my coming home. I was off to a three day journey after which I will meet my family and my inspirational teacher Mr. Sombhai, my chacha jaan.

I was waiting for the train at jammu station and in Ahmedabad at my home whole family is busy in prepration to give me a warm welcome, I guess specially kitchen department will be very. I can smell the fragrence of that biryani, kabab, and meethi sewaiya many kilometers away from home. Finally the train arrived and got seat in neighbour of a sikh family. Kulwant Singh sitting in front of me was returning to Delhi after spendig vacation in Jammu. During conversation with him he thanked the Armymen for bringing peace and expressed his proud over wining kargill war. I was very happy to see that common people respects us so much. Mr. kulwant was very humble and an great human. He told his painful story which was really shocking for me. He had lost parents and grandparents in Anti- sikh riots in Delhi. He said those were the unfortunate days, it shouldn’t have happened, its better for us to forgive and forget and move ahead. He said what I will rememeber throughout my life that, “its our choice to choose good or bad, flower of life or fire of distruction, happiness or sadness, humanity or devilness, its better to choose humanity and happiness in every condition. Taking revenge never ends the issue.” Mr. Kuwant Singh was a great human being for me then anything else. At Delhi station he left the seat empty with a very warm goodbye full of love and humanity. It was a very chilled winter morning of February in Delhi, I brought a newspaper which had the headline “One of the coaches (Coach #S6) of a train "Sabarmati Express" was set on fire in Godhra, 58 Hindu pilgrims (23 men, 15 women and 20 children) who were inside, were burnt alive, and the coach was completely gutted by the fire.” I expressed my deep grief over the whole incident and called Zareen. Luckily in the Ahmedabad everything was absolutely fine and Zareen told me that Ammi was eagerly waiting to see her son and praying to Allah for your safe journey. From Delhi it was some 12- 14 hous left to reach home.

In Ahmedabad things were getting worst as the day was proceeding and I was completely unaware of that. Towards the evening whole Ahmedabad was burning many houses and factories were set on fire by uncontrolable mobs. They were killing peoples and it was curfew in the city. Next morning when train reached Ahmedabad station so many many peoples were caught hold on station by local police as it was curfew, whole city was burning in fire of hatred.

I called Zareen to enquire about there safety she told me “ everything is safe here nothings to worry and told to wait untill things gets normal.” I thanked Allah for protecting my family. While waiting on the station i got the remembrance of Mr. Kulwant Singh and his forget and forgive attitude. I was praying to Allah deep in my heart to give same thinking to city people as possesed by Mr. Kulwant Singh and to choose humanity instead of hatred, in such critical situation.

It is 2 PM now and situation is still very critical outside, I called Zareen again to enquire the condition in our locality she replied “ it was all fine here nothings to worry at all, Ammi and Aisha are in deep sleep.” I was relaxed by her answer and continued waiting on the railway station.

It is 5 PM now and decided to go out neglecting the warning of police. As I stepped outside station I saw black clouds of smoke, roads are empty, buses, cars, some houses are burning and no fire brigade to set off this fire. Instead of vehicles on the road there are police vans and baricades. I started walking on the road which leads to my home. I was getting the remembrance of the last time when I visited my home, it was festive time, it was diwali followed by meethi eid. I had celebrated diwali with chacha jaan, those beautiful phuljahdis and different colours of lightings every made the everything unforgettable. Now it is fire every where which is again unforgetteble for me. This was my home town and it is burning in fire of hatered, I was helpless and deeply hurt to see all this. I don’t know how many kilometers still to walk to reach home, but with each step I am realising that condition inside my country is more worst then on the border. On border we have enemies to fight against and inside country we have our own people who are behaving worst then enemy on the border. I am getting closer to the society where my house is located, and from the distant I can see huge flames of fire, I ran faster leaving all my lugage on the road. As I reached closer to the fuming place I saw it was the Masjid where my father have prayed many times for humanity and peace. Every flower which he used to give chacha jaan for his puja is now converted into ash. Nothing was left everything was destroyed.

It was quite dark now may be the worst night which I am going to witness, I reached the street where I used to play cricket with my friends. It was blood and burnt deadbodies everywhere on the street. During combat with enemy on border I have seen such things, but the difference between two was the cruelty. I can see the turn in the street where chaha used to take tution classes and straight to this turn is my home is located. On that turn a board used to hung on which I have learnt many lessons but now there is a human body hanging with neck tide to the iron wire. Oh Allah! Is this my hometown. My eyes cant believe this, my heart was beating faster as I was getting close to the turn. My feets have almost stopped moving because it was my chacha jaan Sombhai hanging in place of the board. Suddenly I heard the scream of a woman totally naked, half burnt, running and screaming for help with a burning tyre hung around her neck.

I went up to help the women and removed the tyre from her neck, as I removed the burning tyre, I saw what I could never imagine, she was Zareen. I was sreaming help somebody help! But there was nobody left. Zareen was dying before me and in unbearable pain. My house was almost burnt. Zareen told me that a voilent mob attcked they killed Ammi and Aisha they were sleeping at that time. Chacha jan tried to save us from the mob but they killed chacha jaan also. They all are very cruel , they killed our daughter and Ammi. I told them my husband is in army we are good people don’t kill us. They killed every body, they were in huge number. Sorry I failed to welcome you, Allah hafiz…….And she closed her eyes for ever…………

After 5 years I left army with a voulteer retirement and started My Last And Never Ending Journey Against the enemy which lives inside us. I opened a school at the same place where I have learnt the lesson of humanity and love. I have faced the worst in my life and lost everything but I don’t want to happen this again to anybody. At this time it reminds me of Mr. Kulwant Singh And his Words

“Those were the unfortunate days, it shouldn’t have happened, its better for us to forgive and forget and move ahead “its our choice to choose good or bad, flower of life or fire of distruction, happiness or sadness, humanity or devilness, its better to choose humanity and happiness in every condition. Taking revenge never ends the issue”.

And I believe that I will kill the enemy hatred which lives inside us with power of love.

Written by

Azam Khan

Tides

TIDES

KILLER WAVES OF TSUNAMI

Many of you don’t know me as I am not so popular as I am not a rock star, sports star, politician or scientist. I had a small beautiful house……………yes I had that but not now. I have those memories when I used to sit with my Anjel in balcony sharing the cup of coffee and watching tides roaring love songs now and then. They used to come close to the entrance of my house and then returns leaving the message of love on the ground. Those were the blessings of tides which were always cherised by Anjel. Wind full of warmth and love coming far from the sea never allows us to end this coffee time. It was so beautiful moment but not more then my Anjel whom I love a lot. This could be the dream place for anybody in the world. That cool breeze coming from the sea shore gently touches the Anjel and every time she gets closer to me holding my hand gently and I can listen her heart beat clearly which was repeating only three words I LOVE YOU. Drowning sun far away in the sea spreading heavenly colours all over the sky and blue water. This realise both of us that nature is so beautiful and its beauty goes beyond our imagination when we are in love. Yes we are in love and sharing the most romantic time with each other. I was praying in heart God! please stop the time wheel for while, I don’t want to come out of his moment and I know that Anjel was also praying the same. We are lost in each others love and she was dreaming of her future with me keeping her head on my shoulder. I was just looking at her face and doesnt want to blink once.

There were almost 100 families living on the beach we were the yougest among all. This place was the home of specialy old parents left alone by there children. There was an orphanage for blind children where Anjel used to visit every morning with Mrs Agarwal. Mr. and Mrs. Agarwal are in mid-thirties and had no child. They had every luxury but not of being parent. This orphanage given them a family with many children and in that they never missed there own child. I am workng as a jounalist in a reputed news channel. I have to go to Delhi often leaving Anjel alone but I am not worried at all because I know Agarwal couple and this huge sea will take care of everything. I was off to Delhi with a good bye kiss on my cheek. This time I really don’t want to left her alone…I don’t know why but I have to. As I have to work on my dream project which will going to impact the people so hard. This report will going to change peoples thinking regarding the enviroment. This project was very close to my heart and I had put my soul in it.

It was the christmas eve and the whole beach was celebrating. Anjel was sharing this happiness in the orphanage, she called me and I couldnt hear her voice clearly as the music was on full volume. Whole beach was enjoing. I was little annoyed that everybody is enjoing and me with my team busy in making the report. Nevertheless this was my dream project and nothing could be important for me then making this project a huge success. Next mornning I called Anjel and I heard her refreshing voice which composed of words I Love you janu….missing you a lot……come fast I am waiting for you, its too long now. Suddenly the phone got disconnected and after that I tried so many times and every time failed to connect.

Suddenly my eyes glued to the news headlines of the morning that the beach was hit by tsunami. These were only the preliminary reports, and I felt a very unusual kind of pain in my chest. My thoughts were overridden by fear and sorrow, something unexpected and evil happened. I was continuosly trying to call her but failing every time. I just wanted to go back home to accompany my Anjel.

After few hours the videos of that dissater aired on TV. nothing was left, deaths and devastation everywhere. Thousnds of people died and countless people were engulfed by sea. All dream houses on the beach was converted into debris. I was very helpless neither I am getting any news of Anjel nor anyway to reach home. One week later when the conditions got normal, I managed to reach somehow to my home. But I couldn’t found any clue where my dream house gone, its all debris here. Non of those hundred families which were here nor that orphanage where Anjel and Mrs Agarwal used to spend there morning. I visited every rescue camp to get something about Anjel, but got nothing. Suddenly my world came to an end that coffee eve, Anjels last hug, and her last words “I Love you janu….missing you a lot……come fast I am waiting for you, its too long now” were echoing in my heart. I was standing near that sea and questioning about my Anjel. I pleaded to that cruel sea to return my love but it never replied. Why this beautiful sea got that much feelingless! This is the same sea to which looking at I have spend many unforgettable moments, I was pleading, crying but got no replies and went unconcious.

Next day when I opened my eyes I found myself in rescue camp where I could heard only crying of those who somehow managed to save themselves from those killer tides. There I met a blind boy who was from the same orphanage as he was also searching for the same Anjel and her pain was little more then that of mine. As I came close to him before I say anything he recognised me and said “I was waiting for you, my Anjel didi had told that you will come” she always keeps her promise and speaks truth, she won again, finally you came……..he paused for a while and started crying. I can feel the grief of that boy. He was the last person who had seen Anjel last time. I asked him “where is your Anjel didi”? Suddenly few more tears rolled down from his eyes…..his throat got choked and replied she gone with those tides far in the sea and promised me that you will come. I said ,Nobody tried to save her, what about the Mrs Agarwal. The boy told me whole story of that morning.

“After christmas eve party every body returned home from the orphange. Didi taken permission from the warden to take me home with her as I was crying and missing my parents whom I have never seen and met. Didi was everything to me. She used to talk a lot about you and I can feel the fragrance of your love in her every word. I cant see but I can feel that I had mother she has to be like Didi. Next morning she given me lots things to eat, and gifts. She was missing you a lot and then you called her. Yes I remember that and she said “I Love you janu….missing you a lot……come fast I am waiting for you, its too long now” I intrupted him. He continued “ when Didi was talking to you on phone suddenly everything started shaking….earth was shaking…….whole house was shaking……and I don’t know what was happening…she grabbed me her arms and hold me as strong as she can. When the trembling stopped she went out in balcony to enquire what was that moved all. Before she could decide anything I heard her screaming “ oh my God!.....it was coming. Well I don’t know what she is refering to! She picked me up and started running away from the beach as fast as she could. Mrs. Agarwal was waiting for her husband outside her house who went into sea hour ago for sailing. Huge tides of sea was approaching the beach, but the stunned Mrs. Agarwal was trying defy truth that his huband will never return now, sea had engulfed her husband. After a long silence Mrs Agarwal broked in tears, Didi somehow managed to take her away. We were running away to higher place where these tides couldn’t reach. We reached to an old building which is at good height and many other have also taken shelter there. Tide hit the beach strongly and we heard huge thundering sound. I cant see what was happening but Didi told me that every house on the beach was demolished by the tide and everywhere is water. But this was not over yet as people could have relaxed,they saw another tide coming which was even fast approaching and comparetively more dangerous. People was remembring God and screaming for help but it was all use less at that time, the best option would have been to empty this building and run away from the sea. Some ran away including Didi who was trying her best to save my life and many decided to quit, Mrs. Agarwal was one of them. Instead of running away from the sea she walked into the sea, into the killer tide, as her husband was calling her. Didi can’t do anything except crying and shouting “ come back Mrs. Agarwal, no one is there please come back. And Mrs. Agarwal vanished in the brown water of sea which was normally blue. As we went deep in the city, roads were flooding with water and everybody was leaving the city. People in cars, tempos, trucks everywhere was a restlessness nobody was listening other. Didi saw an Army truck, Armymen were evacuating the place, truck was jam packed with peoples. Didi ran behind the truck, it slowed down a bit and then people have seen another tide entering the city. Thundering sound, screming peoples this is what I had heard. Didi was shouting “stop” stop” please stop take us inside. After hearing her voice somebody outstreched his arm he was none other then Mr. Agarwal. Didi was shocked to see him alive, but time was running out she somehow managed to put me inside the truck. Truck started moving faster and it was more difficult for breathless Didi to run more. Chasing killer tide won the race and after that I haven’t heard her voice. When things settled down little bit Mr. Agarwal returned to the beach in hope that he could find her wife.

The boy started weeping and I can feel the pain of losing Anjel in his tears too. I enquired about Anjel to almost everyone present there but got diappointment eveytime. Anjel was lost and my heart is not ready to accept this truth. Then I met Mr. Agarwal and told him to start life again and move to Delhi with me. He replied “ Mrs. Agarwal was gone for the search in the sea and I will wait for her untill she returns. I am not going anywhere I can feel the presence of my wife and her love.” I will live here only. I can’t argue more on this to Mr. Agarwal. I went to the Railway station and waitng for the train to Airport. That little boy was the only hope to live for me and he was sleeping in my lap. The train arrived and I started approaching toward the coach my last hope in my lap. Suddenly the boy waked up as he has dreamt something unusual. He paused for a while as he was observing something. And then he said “ she is somewhere here, I can feel her presence, I can smell her fragrance, she is searching for you”. I thought the boy got mentally disturbed with all this. I ignored his uttering, but he was continously repeating the same. The train was before me and all I could do is to get inside it and reach Delhi to start life again, which is very difficult for me. All the memories got enligtened as I was getting inside the coach. Suddenly the voice I heard a crackling voice “stop”, I thought that it was an illusion. Again I heard the same I turned back and saw …….. what I couldn’t believe. She was my Anjel and coming towards me. She was before me full of tears in eyes, which are not stoping at all. As the whole blue sea was shrinked in her tears.

We all went to Delhi leaving all memories behind that dream house, that beach,that romantic eves, blue sea everything. Anjel died in amonth after reaching Delhi. She was in contaminated and toxic water that came with tides for a week or so……she developed an uncurable infection in her lungs. Before leaving this world she donated her eyes to the little boy Rahul. Now he can see the world with her Didi’s eyes. Whenever I look into his eyes I found my Anjel’s face smiling and accompanying vertually. I can feel her presence, her love, her goodbye kiss, her head on my shoulders, her heartbeat repeating only three words I LOVE YOU. And in reply I have dedicated her this song on the Guiter………which was her last gift.

teri nigaho ke

teri hi raho ke

karib se gai thi jindgi

tune kyo dekha na

tune kyo jana na

sikayte karu ab ya nahi

thami he ye sanse kyo

bhari he ye ankhe kyo

sahu kese ab ye fasle

bin tere bin tere bin tere

kaise jiyo me bin tere

kuch bacha hi nahi darmiya

sanse leti he ab ye duriya

dil he ye nahi janta, raho me

hath se hath chute the kha

kyo nazar ke kinare

tute he khwab sare

kyo............. tu bta

suna suna sma he

khali khali jaha he

ab mera...................

bin tere bin tere bin tere

kaise jiyo ab me bin tere

written by

Azam Khan