Page 89 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

We rumbled up the decrepit road for another one hour. The vegetation changed. The densely-rooted
trees, up along the foothills, thinned out. The dust-covered leaves became fresher and greener. We drove
along the paved road to the border-gate. The soldiers in the watchtowers and bunkers brought me
immense relief.
“Finally,” said the old man.
The driver rolled down the glass and passed over the documents to a policeman.
“Five hours to cover thirty miles?” I uttered, glancing at my watch. “I wish I hadn’t come to this place.”
“What’s the big deal?” said Parshu. “We can do it.”
I shook my head in consternation.
From there, it took five miles to the Nganglam town. The school was above the road and the truck
entered the school gate. It stopped beside the dining hall. A man was passing by.
“Excuse me?” I said. “I am a new teacher. Where should I put up tonight? Any empty rooms or a guest
room here?”
“The office assistant would show you the room,” he said.
“Where does he stay?”
He pointed at the two-story wooden structure behind the dining hall. “That house.”
I knocked on the door.
A thin man opened the door. “What a pleasant surprise, Uncle.”
“Goodness me, Pema Rinzin?” I said, giving him a handshake. “Long time no see. How’re you, man?”
“Fine, how come you’re here?”
“I am placed here.”
“Really? How was your journey?”
“The road is horrible. I am exhausted.”
“Haha… you all must be hungry. I’ll prepare you dinner.”
“Yeah, we’re hungry.”
Early the next morning, Parshu Ram and Tashi Tshering left for their school. Mr. Pema Rinzin and I
escorted them to the endpoint of the road.
While returning to our place, I glanced around the ghost town. “Is the street always empty, Pema?”
“Yeah, except for the office-goers, people stay indoors.”
“Because of the Indian insurgents?”
“Yes,” he said. “It sucks.”
“But they don’t harm our people, do they?”
“Not till now, but they pose a great threat to our national security.”
“Why wouldn’t they return to their land?”
Weeks later, I shifted away to a cottage next to the kaput bridge for Nu. 500 a month. The walls were
painted red, and it had four beautiful rooms. The ground shook, and the broken planks on the bridge
creaked and squeaked as the vehicles passed by. But I liked the house as it was right beside the river. I
would swim and wash my clothes there, anytime. Even friends would come to my place for a bath.
But the water level rose high in summer. Incessant rain brought down the flood and shook the entire
house. The waves crashed against the kitchen walls. So, I would go to my friend’s place. One night, I saw a
man at my door carrying a rifle. He smiled when I flashed the torchlight at his face. But that didn’t subside
my mortal terror. Knees like rubber, I locked the door and scuttled away.
“You know what, Pema?” My voice trembled. “I saw a man with an AK–47 at my door.”
“He could be an insurgent,” he said.
“What the hell are they doing at night?”
“They’re nocturnal. They travel at night.”
“Why?”
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