Agastya : The War

11 : The Enchanting Sacrosanct

Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Let the eyes be opened wide, and let the world see with daze that Mother India has abandoned her long slumber and has awaken with a start to redeem herself from the shackles of subservience.
Let us all not forget, that we are all brothers and sisters, not by blood but by birth. We all have taken birth on the grounds of this holy land, which has not seen the rays of the liberal sunlight for decades. And, this is what connects our hearts, minds, bodies and souls in an infrangible string of beads. We are all those infinitesimal beads, which alone are invisible. But, when united, tied in an array, the beads can not only form an exquisite piece of jewel for the angel but also a halter for the evil. Let us not forget that we are all indebted to the Mother for she has given us her womb to be nurtured, her bosom to be cradled, her vast verandahs to play, her infinite skies to fly and her colossal rivers to fed upon. Years passed, so did scores, yet we as children of Our Mother, have not been able to liberate her, get her, her own much deserved emancipation. I can sense that she is unable to suppress her tears anymore, and if we delay any longer, the suppressed cries will soon turn into vehement wails, for she is tired and can no longer bear the groaning loads of dependence.
It is high time now, when we invite the epic apotheosis, and put a perdurable end to the treacherous conditions put on us. Let us emancipate our mothers, who fear of losing their sons to the evil, by abandoning the cause of their agony. Let us emancipate our sisters and give them the infinite colossal skies where they can fly high and higher and not weights attached to their wings. Let us emancipate our little children and give them the open lands to run, to play and to laugh. Let us promise to the elderly that they would peacefully breathe their last in independent India. Let us promise to our children unborn that they would breathe their first in independent India.
Inquilaab Zindabad!
Yours sincerely,
Agastya

Suhashini Bannerjee had written this letter aiming at reigniting the dying spirits of independence amongst the youth. She had scheduled the same letter to different parts of the country, hoping for a response from the masses. Until then, she waited. And, the magic happened. The transistor put a green tick on her expectations. The youth had suffered a little turmoil from the ultimate reality check from the letter, which spoke all facts.

----

"Didi?" Shoilo entered the room. "How are you?"

"Better now." Suhashini smiled.

Suhash looked as fresh as a dew. As pure as the driven snow. Her dark eyes had regained the glow that it used to have a week ago. Her white saree clung to her strong yet petite wet figure and complemented her complexion. She was neither too white nor too dark, but the absolute mid-shade of the range of black and white. But those subtle touches of grace and elegance, made her look innocent yet sensuous. After one long week of fever and fatigue, she had partially recovered. Usually Shoilo looked at Suhash as the epitomy of strength and power. But, this time, to Shoilo's eyes Suhash looked as the epitomy of beauty. Shoilo realized that Suhash was outwardly beautiful. But her charm was not only due to the that, but also, rather more, because of her enchanting personality - innocence, strength, purity and compassion, definitely made her the epitomy of womanhood, in particular and humanity, in general.

"What happened, Shoilo?" Suhash spoke up.

"You're beautiful, Didi!" Shoilo abruptly exclaimed. "So beautiful!"

"You're more Shoilo!" Suhash replied, her smiling voice, cradling more of a motherly touch. She lifted Shoilo's chin and said again, "You're precious and you're beautiful. Know it and learn it by your heart."

"Alright. But how are you so beautiful?" Shoilo childishly asked.

"Because I believe in what I told you a little ago, with all my heart." Suhash said.
When Suhash walked to stand in front of the mirror, silence prevailed, until Shoilo abruptly spoke up, again.

"See..this why you fall ill!"

"Why?" Suhash asked, while looking at the mirror.

"Because you don't dry your hair." Shoilo answered. "It remains wet for the longest period of time and gradually starts to cause turbulences in your body and you become confined to bed. Always, dry your hair after washing it." Shoilo ordered, her voice reeking of the sisterly rights that she possesses over Suhash.

Suhash looked at herself in the mirror with hints of glitter in her eyes. Her hair had grown up to her ears now.

----

The atmosphere was silent. Suhash was looking at the mirror, whereas Shoilo was looking at Suhash. Abruptly, Shoilo's wandering eyes fell on the table that was kept beside Suhash's dressing table.

"What's that?" She inquired. "What are these wires for?"

Distraction had struck Suhashini. She moved her eyes from the mirror to the table beside.

"Hey Shoilo....Don't touch that." Suhash ran towards Shoilo and snatched the wire box set from her hands. "That can be detrimental. These wires are not tamed. See...."

"Alright...My bad!" Shoilo immediately withdrew herself. "But what are you doing with these, when they can be detrimental?"

Suhash smirked and this irked Shoilo.
"C'mon Di...Why won't you tell me? Shoilo pleaded. "Don't you trust your Vashishtha?"

"That I do, but....." Suhash said. "Everything has a definite time. You will also have yours to know about this."

"Anyways...Can I see this book?" Shoilo asked, pouting her lips.

"That you can.." Suhash smiled, caressing Shoilo's hair with a motherly gentleness.

Shoilobala picked up the book in her hand.
'A King's Ransom'. A Bengali Book written by Major Som Shekhar Lahiri, the leader of the Swarajya Samiti, followed by a handwritten letter from the same.

---

If you like my works, then feel free to follow me. It's free, too. I promise!