LEG PIECE
Mint Mumbai
|January 03, 2026
Suri went away, borrowing Mukund Mama's money and leg, leaving his devoted wife in the care of her parents, until he returned to repay his debt. But life had other plans
His gaze moved in circles as he watched the frenzied whirl of leaves beneath the goji tree outside his window. The wind made the leaves dance and they danced.
Suri was not a leaf but he had danced, leaf-like, to the fanciful notion of being a hero. It was his only reason for enlisting in the military through the emergency short-service commission. He married a comely girl and departed two rapturous weeks later with the patriotic words of his impoverished family and his village ringing his farewell.
Suri proved his worth in physical stamina and mental agility; he aced it in gun-craft and hand-to-hand combat. Every time he wore his tough greens, belted up, worked his feet into the heavy boots and fed cartridges into the magazine of his rifle, excitement fizzed his blood. Mates idolised and seniors commended Suri. The certainty of victory yet to be achieved started to feel like an ally by his side.
The real ally by his side was Upen, an outwardly reckless fellow, simple minded and somewhat confused about the duties of soldiering. He thoroughly enjoyed the camaraderie and the josh of war. When the time came for their battalion to lead a sortie into the enemy trenches, Upen asked, “Why are we fighting this war?” “Soldiers don’t ask questions,” his mates quipped. “Our job is to rip the enemy to pieces! Cowards! Pigs! M***** f******!” Etc. Etc.
Suri understood the verities. Certain things were common to both sides. Inhospitable territory, mined stretches, the dire possibility of death or mutilation; amputation or evisceration. Swashbuckling youth and big men of strength and ruggedness being transported by ambulance; or shouldered away by pall bearers.
Some wars finish quickly; this one did. War-emblazoned Suri came home. What a welcome! An outpouring of love from everyone and his young wife feeding him with her own hands, her eyes spilling tears of devotion. Visitors offering fruits and salaams...some even attempting to touch his feet.
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