Rehan-Ayesha: 06.12.1996


06/01/2014 by Siddiqui Fayesal


It was a mine. We were encamped just outside the perimeter that was full of them. We knew of their presence but weren’t sure of their exact position. It was a sad day, Ayesha. Ram wasn’t the only one who we lost. The list is long, and it would pain me to go through them again.

What makes it even worse is the fact that it happened during a cease-fire. It was an exercise. A game, Ayesha! We carried the dead on our shoulders minutes after we did a victory lap with them. To think that I was sharing my bunker with Ram!

There was too much on my mind and writing about the details was the last thing on it. Ram, Balwinder and Rustam; we lost all of them. Within a matter of minutes the camp was a different field altogether. Tears were shed, Ayesha. We men cried our hearts out at the loss. Losing a friend in battle is very different from simply losing a friend. Losing your friends with their heads turned towards you and seeing their smile die on their faces is different. It is just as difficult to reconcile with yourself if you knew that it was just a twist of fate that it was not yourself.

Ram had called out to me, just a few moments before the mine blew up in his face. The other two were just a couple of yards behind him. Ram’s wife had sent over the family album. Balwinder and Rustam just wanted to tease him a bit. In the mad rush they didn’t realize that they were way over the boundary. The captain called them out to order. The captain’s second order was perfectly timed with the blast.

Ayesha. I did not think too much about Jr. and you that night. My heart went out Ram’s family. Balwinder was an orphan. He had no loved ones apart from our company. Rustam came from a big joint family. He was the son of a rich man. I was the oldest amongst the four, Ayesha. I was used to being called Professor by Ram; very cheeky fellow he was. You ask me why I didn’t tell you. You ask why I didn’t prepare you to face her.

I was lost.

You expected me to help you overcome your inhibitions and face the woman who lost her husband! Is that even possible? From thousands of kilometers away how do you expect me to put into words?

I haven’t been able to master that art yet. I don’t think I can. I don’t think I will.

Take care of Jr. I will be back soon, Ayesha. Hold on to hope until then.


8 thoughts on “Rehan-Ayesha: 06.12.1996

  1. Tame SheWolf says:

    dude, please work on the titles.

    • Arre re. Titles take too much time :-p

      It’s a series of letters exchanged between a husband and wife. What title should I give?

      • Tame SheWolf says:

        Categorize kar na. Tag kar. Kuch toh kar. I am sure so many of your series is lost in your archives.
        Fayesal, what if I want to follow this series on your blog?

        This is the first post I read of the series, and the title was Post- 4. I read it accidentally. I thought to myself, I should just read it before I delete this mail. I had postponed reading this for god knows how long bcz this blog title didn’t intrigue me.

        Then I read it, and I loved it.. and it’s your lack of title’s fault that I didn’t read it immediately.

        • Whaat???

          You didn’t read it becasue of the unconvincing name? I have a seperate category “Letters” for these posts. Only letters exchanged between Ayesha and Rehan are filed under it.

          Not good enough kya? Kya karoon? Bol Bol Bol!

  2. Thank you for the categorisation! And your write one letter in a year? Should’ve read it after it was finished. 😦

    • I left it half way re. Like I said, I am planning to change their names because I have a Rehan and Ayesha in my original full length story. It was intended to be a background for them.

      Now, when I’m typing this It’s coming to me: Why can’t it stay? I don’t even remember why I wanted to change their names! Heck man!

      I’ll continue along these lines. Let’s see where it goes.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.


  • 11,290 hits

Click! Click! Click!

Join 234 other followers

Jump to…




You will die the way you lived.

Aamil Syed

altered reality

The Mundane

Finding poetry in the ordinary.


...a whole buncha Tian'ness.


book reviews and more...


Indian Book Blogger | Poet | Short Story Writer

Get Out Harish

The world within three walls


لفلسطين الحرية

Murphy's Law

Musings from a Literacy Coach

Literature Is My Porn

"She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live."

Three Magical

Welcome to the inside of my head.

Scattered Brain

Musings about life and politics


Bridge the Gap , Bring the Change

| Ramble On |

And now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods

The writer gives life to a story, the reader keeps it alive.

Ashish Shakya

Writer. Stand-Up Comic. Gulab Jamun Enthusiast.

schizophrenic dreams

It is Dark, and I like it that way...


... well we're going to die anyway!

Pulp & Fiction

We all change when you think about it. We’re all different people, all through our lives, and that’s okay, that’s good. You gotta keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be.

reading interrupted.

because reading also involves the way your head rests on your hand as you lean over a book, the damp mark you leave on a page when reading in the tub, or being interrupted by a

--- Grumpy Comments ---



Sharing knowledge benificial for duniya & akhira

Dad, the idiot

anchoring households for thousands of years

Yeha, Whatever

I'll write it anyway.

My Musings

Simply Put....its a conglomeration of my thoughts as & when they occur

%d bloggers like this: