Inked In Crimson #13 (He)

The rumble around me is growing every single moment, and my ears cannot take the beating that they are getting exposed to. But it is not the violence that is making me fatigued.

The musket is still intact within the folds of my right fives. He is fully loaded, and raring to be fired at the enemy. But it is his deranged owner who is hesitant.

He knows that he is not going to be fired again. At least not by him.

And when a gun realizes that his master is lost in thoughts other than his target, he shall accept the reason to be bondage.

A gust of sand-filled wind allows me to shut my eyes for a moment. And I take this opportunity to close my view of the war zone and open one of bliss.

I am transported back to my quarters.

I realise that all the while, it has been an enemy who has treated me with utmost care. It has been an enemy who has filled the void of a friend in my life.

All of a sudden, my mind holds me by the scruff of my neck and takes me to today’s morning.

I can feel my legs walking – no, running – towards the General. I hear the Major at a distance, but continue my steps. Eventually, it is the First Lieutenant who catches sight of me. He runs, holds my hand, hands me the musket, and drags me to the troop assembled for the battle.

I can still recall what he said –

“Hey, Second! Where have you been? Here, take this. It’s fully loaded. Your arm’s okay, right? Yes it is. Now listen. We’ve terribly fallen short of troops, and Meade has ordered to recall soldiers with minor injuries. I know it’s monstrous of him, but you are healthy, right? Yes, you are. And you have to fight today. For the good of the Union. Now come on, everyone’s assembled…”

“…But where’s the General?”

I took off my hand from his in haste.

“He’s lickin’ sand at Culp’s, waitin’ for us. Now don’t be a hot-headed jerk. They need you and many more like you, who are fit to battle. Come on, there’s no time. You do not want the Confeds to win again. Quick, the troop’s gettin’ ready.”

And I was dragged along the uneven stretch to the assembly of soldiers.

My task was left incomplete. My duty of reporting an enemy infiltrator to the Union General was left unfinished.

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I manage to lift my hand and wipe off the dirt from my face. I squeeze my eyes and open them after blinking thrice. But another streak of red sand finds me unguarded.

This time, my closed eyes recall my life and times with an enemy eavesdropper.

And out of nowhere, your arm lifts my tired elbow and rests it on its warm surface. Just then I notice your dove eyes that have in them a startling naivety. And then my focus shifts to your voice, which is even more poetic than my letters.

Why did I not let you read my letters?

I did not have time, Katherine. I’ve never had time. I did not have time to find a family. I did not have time to report to the General. I did not have time to tell you how much I cherished every single moment with you. I did not have time to tell you that your love is complete; that it is bound from both sides; that your letters do have a meaning. I did not have time to tell you that even I write letters to you without thinking whether or not they shall reach you.

But I did have time to discover the Daniel of your life.

Words longed for falling from my mouth, but tripped and stumbled when they reached my lips. And when I found your words timidly hidden in inked letters, I was astonished at how timid I was for being unable to express my adoration that till today remains concealed and suppressed under bits and pieces of paper.

What worth is love,

If its freedom limits only to ink splashed on whiteness?

What worth is relationship,

If relatives do not proclaim what their relation is?

What worth is voice,

If it hesitates to burst before someone close to your heart?

What worth is soul,

If it does not understand that there is a soulmate close by?

The sun tries to emerge out from the clouds, but it just cannot.

I gather courage to lift my right hand and caress that part of my chest that screens the heart. I touch the breast pocket of my uniform. But it’s no good. I place my right palm back to its initial position, knowing that it is stained with a dark red color that will eventually dry up. The bullet is still inside, sheepishly smiling at the fact that it had found the right man at the right place.

Yet, the bullet has not achieved anything great. What worse can a bullet do to a heart that is already punctured with innumerable wounds?

But don’t you worry, Katherine. Your portion of the heart is as safe as before. It is still thumping with full pomp. I did not allow the bullet to hit your region. Why should I? I do not want to lose your memories and your remembrances. I do not want to lose whatever is preserved in that ‘secluded corner’ of my heart.

Nothing shall be more painful

Than losing your presence in me;

Nothing shall be more disillusioning

Than disregarding your presence in me;

Nothing shall be more catastrophic

Than forgetting your presence in me;

Nothing shall be more lifeless

Than killing your presence in me.

The only mistake that we committed was that I was a Union, and you, a Confederate.

We are star-crossed.

Therefore, the time has come to tell you that although we were torn by the ruins of war, our love wasn’t. For years, I yearned for a companion that would walk with me on the path of roses. But God gave me so much more than I desired.

He gave a companion that would teach me to walk on the path of thorns – transcending all borders, barriers and showers of gunfire…

Time, for me, is short, but life has paved its way to unification, and unify we will, be it in afterlife. For me, you were born as my platonic love, and for you, I shall die as your platonic love. But you shall live on as the legacy of my existence. You shall be the memoir of our love that will long be revered by every element of romance. You shall represent the force of compassion, and the will of love.

I know that this letter will never reach to you, for it is not ink that says what is written in it, but the thoughts of a dying soldier that paint it with emotions. This letter is unharmed, and will always be unharmed in my mind, protected from the cruelties of the blood-stained battlefield. This letter is written in my psyche, and shall be destroyed only when nothing of me remains but a piece of flesh.

Let the heavens hear what I’ve written hence,

Let them know how I defied their laws,

Let them understand how I went against their dimensions of Destiny,

Let them realise how I changed the road of Fate.

We may succumb to the ravages of time,

Which viciously wipe away our existence from mankind;

But survive our love will, till time immemorial,

Braving the wrath of circumstances, day by day…

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The sun finally finds its way out of the clouds, as I close my eyes for one last time…