posted on Dec, 11 2022 @ 01:15 AM
August 1946
Major Baker of the Indian Army is a veteran of the fighting in Burma. A lanky bean pole with blond hair, pale skin and blue eyes, he stands with
Havildar Nayuduon at a deserted Calcutta intersection. Nayudu is built like a tank.
Yet Baker enjoys an unusually frank relationship with Nayudu. Baker was a newly minted 2nd Lieutenant and platoon leader three years ago. But he was
quick to heed Havildar Nayudu's battle-hardened won wisdom.
Baker surveyed the two-story buildings and charcoaled overturned truck. The stench from uncollected rubbish and the death toll under the midday sun
fills his nostrils.
Like the arrival of the monsoon, India's fate is breaking around communal riots and bloodshed. I owe my life three times over to Nayuduand others
like him. I can't repay them by taking my quittance from my duties with my fellow officers and abandoning them.
Baker turns to Nayudu's turban. "The rest of the men assigned to burial details are due to arrive soon."
"The bodies by the
Studebaker are too badly burned, so we won't be able to identify their religious denomination. Who knows what side of the
deranged hatreds they might have come from and fallen victim to?" Nayudu grits his teeth and buries his cheeks.
"Such
beastly acts...What awaits us." A lump forms in Baker's throat. Baker and Nayudu slip on facemasks.
A gust of wind lands newspaper scarps at Baker's feet. Glancing at the fragmented headlines,
Unified India, partition, deaths.
The End
edit on 11-12-2022 by xpert11 because: (no reason given)
edit on 11-12-2022 by xpert11 because: (no reason
given)
edit on 11-12-2022 by xpert11 because: (no reason given)