Disclaimer: All characters, places and other entities appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, dead or alive, places, or other real-life entities, past or present, is purely coincidental.
With the address in my hand, I managed to find out Dheebu’s house, an 80-year-old man living his life all alone. When I inquired about Karuna, his hands trembled for a minute and dropped the coffee cup he was holding. He said that Karuna was in the war ridden Yazhpanam. He was with the Lankan Tamils Freedom Organization and was fighting for the rights of Sri Lankan Tamils. When I said I wanted to go there, Dheebu refused instantly and said that it was a very risky thing. But I stood my ground and made him agree. But he said that he would drop him on the outskirts of Yazhpanam and I would be the sole responsibility of my life from there.
I went into the forests of Yazhpanam, looking for the camp where Karuna was living. When I walked in, I found a camp and heard a gunshot beside me. I saw a man with a gun pointing at me and I raised my hands up. When I looked closely, I saw the man looking like Karuna. “Karuna?”, I asked. He too was quick to recognize me. “Mano…You? Ok, let’s not stay here, we will go to the camp first…”. We sat down over a coffee in a cozy tent. “What brings you here…so far?”, asked Karuna. “You. The curiosity to know where you were in all these days took me here”, I said. “So, what have you been doing all these days, after the military training?”, I asked.
“I was sent to train in the Indian army academy by Mr. Balaiah, our leader. The basic thing that a man needs for living, is the earth. Every man has his own country, his own identity. But we were forced to fight for it and till now we have not won our land back. We are identity-less people now. As I said, my father was shot in a shoot out at Yazhpanam. While dying, I made him a promise that I would kill at least 1000 Lankan Army officers before I die. Till date I have managed to kill 500 of them. Now I’m going in as a suicide bomber, to make the count tally and keep my promise. Only a few minutes left my friend”.
We were alone in the tent. As he planned to wear the suicide bomber kit, I hit him on his head with my walking stick, just a mild blow that was enough to make him unconscious. I wore his bomber kit. The kit was fully covered so that no one outside recognized me. I walked straight into the war territory. A speeding bullet thrashed into my suit and I was on the floor. I am a Colonel from the Indian Army and one small bullet was not going to stop me. With blood flowing, I moved into the opposition camp and activated the bomber. I couldn’t count but the count should have been more than 500. Before leaving the tent, I kept a note, “I will tally the 500 for you, you tally the 500 for me at the tea shop in Dehradun and join the Indian Army as a Trainer…you have to do this, for me”.
It is so amazing that how long friendship can take you. I did this for him, my only friend!
The End
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