Happy Birthday, Andy.

The bell rang. And there was a stampede. A stampede, as hundreds of young children rushed out of the school as it gave over for the summer vacations. Andy was particularly excited. It was his birthday! As he walked down the street to his house, he waved back at his friends, and kept wondering what his family might be up to. One thing’s for sure… it will be a Surprise.
The twelve year old walked up to the front door and rang the bell. No reply. He was going to ring it again, when he stopped himself and wondered, “Ah! Who’s in for a surprise? Not me, no!” He giggled. Then he crept along the wall, keeping a low profile, until he safely reached the back door. “Ah-ha! Guess who kept this open! “ exclaimed Andy as if he just won a bet. He slithered down the kitchen and made it to the drawing room when…
…” OMG! This is amazing! Loads of balloons, cake and hell lotta presents.” Was the obvious expression of a bubbling Andy. “That’s it, no more Mr. Spy… and no more Surprises, I guess”, grinned the Surprise-loving twelve year old. He stood up and screamed out loud, “Hey, mom, dad, sis, I gotchya red handed… you can come out now… thanks a lot you guys, I love you… uhmm… hey, mom… MOM?”
Andy always knew his dad was a busy person, so he might have left for work and perhaps Jennifer went out with her friends. No Surprise. But his mom would never do something like that. No Surprise regarding that, either. Once Andy had come home early as school gave over due to some Government Inspection; his mom had left for shopping, and was so surprised to see Andy sitting on the door mat with his head lost in his hands, she apologized and almost smothered him to death.
But this time it seems serious. This time, the back door was open. This time, the cake was out of the oven. He knew his mom was there. She had to be. He ran upstairs and checked the rooms. And there were tears. Tears of happiness. They were all there… his mom, dad, and Jenny too. Now that’s a Surprise. They were taking a nap. “Aww, that’s so sweet. They tried to make the party special for me, and now they’re all so tired. I guess I’ll wake mom up.” Smiled Andy as he walked up to her side of the bed.
“Mom… wake up mom, I’m here… hey, mom?”
Now that’s strange.
“MOM!!! Wake up!”
Mom wasn’t listening. Andy didn’t like that.
“MOM, this isn’t funny!”
Mom just crossed her limit… Andy pulled her towards himself. But he felt her back wet. Then his fingers touched something. Something which felt like a handle, and something sharp… which seemed to be partly inside his mother’s back. He jumped back. And stared at his hands. They weren’t as he used to know them. They weren’t the soft hands his mom and dad used to hold. They weren’t the hands with which he pinched Jenny all the time. They were different… they were wet… they were red. Yet another Surprise… Happy Birthday, Andy… Happy Birthday.
-Arka Prabha Paul

Au Revoir Part 1

A blank face. A four-storied marvel. A drop of sweat silently sliding over my cheek. An angel at the doorway, with a smile that cannot be forgotten. She held my hand, and welcomed me inside. It was a new world for me. Perhaps another dimension of life which I had not been able to perceive before. I was nervous. I wished the angel, and tried to make myself comfortable by getting myself a seat. To my surprise, there were many more like me in that weird chamber filled with desks and chairs aligned in rows. And they all kept beckoning me to take a seat beside them. I felt better...

...so the class v final examinations were fast approaching and I had absolutely no idea how I'd be able to finish so many chapters in Mathematics! Besides, I'm such a loser when it comes to Mathematics. And then there was this Unit Test the next day! I told mom that I won't be able to make it through to the Senior Section at this rate! But mom had faith in me. That evening she forgot everything else and started helping me out with my math... Two weeks later, we got back our scripts. I crossed my fingers. Before Sir distributed our scripts, he said, "I'm really disappointed with your performance. Only five boys scored above ten out of twenty..." I was like, SHIT! He continued, "...and JUST ONE STUDENT scored a twenty!" Whoa! Some student he is! One by one, the boys received their scripts as if they were death sentences, and they broke down to tears. Only one smiled as he scored a fifteen. Damn! Even the class-topper scored an eleven. Then it was mine. Jesus! I wish I didn't open the fold and peek in. TWO OUT OF TWENTY??? That's IMPOSSIBLE!!! Then my partner came to my rescue. He exclaimed," OH MY GOSH, Arka, you scored A TWENTY!!!" WHAT??? But it was a two wasn't it? I checked my marks once again! I summed them up! OH YES! YES! It IS A TWENTY... didn't notice the zero. I scored a 96 in Mathematics in the Final Examinations. That one evening changed everything...
(to be continued...)

A page from the diary of a soldier.

October 12th, 1942: It was just another ominous day today, without food, water or care. But, not without love. The love for our Mother. The Nazis keep draining Her, but we will continue rejuvenating Her with blood; the blood of Her children, hoping to bring her back to good health.
At 4 am today, a coward comrade Commissar pulled his own trigger at his head. That coward! Even dying to a brother is much more respectable than losing hope. Anyone touching his corpse was to be shot dead, as he was only fit to be devoured by the scavengers.
At about 10 am, the firing intensified; the Nazis were closing in on us. They must be a few yards away from the Volga, and if they walk past, Stalingrad will be stripped of freedom. But may the Gods curse me for even thinking so.
It rained bad news today, and a drop among the others includes the death of comrade Vladimir, our Mother’s valiant son. You have fought well, brother and I promise to shed more tears when we meet again up there somewhere. Hundreds died today, but you dared to take at least 10 Germans along with you. Mother Russia is proud of you, and so is Father Stalin.
My pace of writing seems to decrease day by day. Who knows? Maybe it is significant. I lost my left hand today. It was a sniper. I was lucky to have saved my head. But luck is dying out with time, and before it does, I hope to see the Nazis being chased out of Stalingrad. Tomorrow we will march to the City Center, if we are fortunate enough to make it through the night. Tomorrow, another page of this diary will either be filled with ink or with blood…