GIRL'S POV

Another evening amidst the forest, we found a moment of leisure after an exhausting day. We need to remain close to our camp, so we came here which is near our shelter. If enemies attack, we can quickly join our team. I approached a neighboring tree where he sat on a moss-covered rock, obscured by thick foliage, behind bushes.

Want to know, who am I?

I am just one of the 1000 soldiers of  Rani Jhansi Regiment in Subhasji's great Army. Far from the familiar comforts and coziness of civilization, I forge ahead along a path lined with thorns. Billions of emotions work behind this decision. But, this is not the right time to discuss about it. I am here to recall those few yet beautiful days which were like a lotus in mud, forever etched in my heart.

It was love at first sight! I don't know, how it happened in such a situation of war and chaos, but it already happened. He was a lieutenant-ranked officer in the Subhas Regiment. Sculpted by rigorous training and discipline, his body reflects the perfect blend of athleticism and strength.  With broad shoulders and a strong chest, he stood tall and commanding, with confidence and poise. There was a sense of grace and agility in his movements that was impressive to behold.  His rugged yet handsome features, combined with a piercing gaze and a rugged jaw, added to his allure, making him irresistibly attractive. The first time, we met at a mission. How can I forget that day... I can say, that night.

In the soft glow of the moon amid the distant gunfire, I first laid eyes on him.  He emerged from the shadows, against the backdrop of conflict.  I, then, tending to the wounded with unwavering determination in the midst of the turmoil, was forced to keep my hand steady despite the chaos that surrounded us.  There he stood, the urgency of a vital recovery mission confronting us.  As we worked side by side, navigating dangerous terrain with shared objectives, a bond began to form between us—not just for shared danger, but for mutual understanding and appreciation.

In the quiet moments between missions, camaraderie and palpable excitement surrounded us.  In between, he used to recite poetry.  Our bond deepened with every passing moment.  His handsome features, his piercing gaze, spoke without words.  Through shared laughter and moments of vulnerability, our friendship blossomed into something deeper, something that defied the chaos that surrounded us.

In the uncertainty of war, in the ever-present threat of danger, we found comfort in each other's presence.  His words are my refuge, his strength is my anchor in the storm.  And in that turbulent landscape of conflict, amidst the harsh realities of war, our love story unfolded.

Oh no! how crazy I become when talk about him. Right? Leave it, return to the present, we are sitting behind the bushes, so that the enemies can't find us. The tree and the bushes will block the sight of their aircrafts. The sun of the day is leaving a tired body in the West.  We, two young men and women of the vanquished army, have taken shelter at the edge of Burma.  We are two creatures initiated into the Mukti Mantra - and the Mukti Mantra means the Mantra of Death.  Our lives are dedicated.  But still I can't deny life, still I can't say, there is no love in this life - youth has not come to us in this life.

Today, he seems lost in thought. I kept my hand on his hand and asked the reason. He fadely smiled, said nothing. A mystical emotion was playing on his face, that I couldn't recognize. 

—"I wished I would cross Burma and go to India and take you as my bride.  In independent India.  But it's not going to happen for this time." After a long minute of silence, he said.

I assured him,—" Netaji promised us that we will get an independent India. Believe him, we will surely -"

He interrupted me, —" No darling, you made a mistake. Netaji never promised that we would reach India alive. He promised that an independent India would be built on our dead bodies."

—"Don't be disappointed my love, everything will be fine." I tightened my grip on his hand.

—"What if I don't come back?" He asked while a stray tear escaping from his eyes.

"You will. You have to because I swear to you" I said, wiping his tear. " I will wait for you, the Independent India will wait for you. You have to come back to your mother, to India. You can not die, you have to fight for your mother. "

I said, wiping his tear.

Silently, he kissed my forehead and gently took my palms up.

"I will. I promise I will," he affirmed, his smile twinkling in a voice choked with emotion.

I don't know, how will I describe that feeling I have had then! It was a mixture of love and hope, intertwined with the harsh reality of our situation.  I felt the weight of our sacrifice and the uncertainty of war weighing down on us, yet there was an undeniable connection between us, a bond forged in the face of adversity.  In that fleeting moment, I was consumed by a whirlwind of emotions – love, fear and determination.  It was a moment frozen in time, where our love transcends the chaos around us, defining the essence of our journey together.

We didn't know, it was our last meeting. We, the female team got an order to go to Bangkok from Rangoon. We were going by train. Suddenly, we got the news that British guerrillas attacked our train. As our captain ordered, we started firing. Suddenly, something sharp hit my upper left chest but I didn't mind it. I kept firing. Soon, my nerves started paining, I felt dizzy. I was about to fall from the train but my companions held me. Another shot hit my abdomen. A black fog engulfed my sight. His image brightens up in that darkness. The sound of firing and caos faded away, but a symphony echoing in the depths of my soul— "Netaji promised that an independent India would be built on our dead bodies." I trust him, blindly.

BOY'S POV

I'm seated in a bustling tea shop, eyes fixed on the flickering image of the Red Fort in Delhi on the small television screen. Finally, This is the long-awaited moment we all were waiting for. Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru is hoisting the tricolour flag in the Independent India. A turmoil is going on in my mind. The uncertain days of INA flashed like a movie before my eyes. Despite the hardships, I cannot help but laugh at the court-martial held within these historic walls. Tears welled up as I reflected on the countless trials and tribulations we had endured. I wiped it off. Finally, now we can breathe in the air of independence.

I walked down on the street feeling the happiness all around. It was like the whole city was celebrating. People were smiling, laughing, and having a great time. It felt like a weight had been lifted off everyone's shoulders, and the air was filled with hope and joy.

I stopped by a lake, looked up, a mesmerizing scene was painted on the canvas of the sky.  Amidst the drifting clouds, a portrait emerged, depicting the radiant yet firm form of a dear girl – my beloved.  Our paths ended in Burma, where fate intervened to separate us.  Back in India, words of her ultimate sacrifice reached me, casting a solemn hue over our shared memories.

  Each cloud seems to carry a story, a fragment of our past encounters, etched into the vast expanse above.  Memories of her lively smile and unwavering energy danced across the sky, mingling with the threads of our connection.  At that moment, between changing shapes and colours, her presence lingered, a poignant reminder of love and loss.

  In the midst of the celebration, her presence looms large in my thoughts, her spirit intertwined with the essence of our shared struggle. The sky above serves as a silent witness to our journey, each cloud carrying the impression of our love and devotion.

Besides all of these, my mind was sulking over a painful thing. She promised me that she would wait for me. That day I promised her that I would come back... I kept my promise but what about her? Why couldn't she just wait for me for a few days?

At the same time, I chuckled at myself for such a childish complaint. She was a soldier above a lover. The wound her enemy gave, was the most beautiful rose for her. Her promise towards her team, her nation, was greater than mine. She did not die, she just became immortal. She became mine as her essence engulfed in the air, in the sky, in the mother earth.

—"I love you, Darling!" I whispered to the sky. A sense of solemn gratitude washes over me, honouring the sacrifices of those who fought and fell, including her, my beloved, whose memory will remain etched in the fabric of our mind.