Jimmy

Night sky in the mountains is spectacular. Its like a billion eyes are focused on you screaming for attention amidst quiet and stillness of deep sea. Still spectacular but it wasn’t like that in May of 1999. Not on Tiger Hill.

“Lieutenant Rajveer Tomar, reporting for alpha company sir. We have taken position in ‘Parion ka Talab’ sir. There is heavy arty fire from enemy lines”
“Rajveer, you have to move on. Tiger Hill is only half a kilometer away”
“Yes Sir. But the jawans are suffering, its really cold sir”
“The Pakis can see the highway from Tiger Hill and have stopped all our supplies lines. That position is really crucial. Do your duty to the nation soldier”
“Yes Sir.”

The night sky was lit with tracers and gunfire from the Paki bunkers. He had to scream to be heard over the radio.

Explosions all around them were enough to demoralize everyone.

“There.. These bastards won’t let up even at night”
“Tomar Sahib, now my water bottle too is empty and it’s getting really cold. What should we do?”

He had lost twenty men. As he sat their in the lee of a rock he smiled as Kenny Rogers came to his mind, ‘There’ll be time enough for counting when the dealing’s done’.

“Its only 400-500 paces now. Once we start moving you won’t feel so cold Harikrishan. This mission has come directly from the HQ. We must win this post for our country. Jawan stop whining. Get up, let’s rock this post”

They broke cover, dashed to the next rock, firing all the while. The bunker was now within RPG range. Rajveer loaded up and fired. He saw it bounce off the solid concrete bunker and explode without causing any damage. As they were loading it up again there was a massive explosion.

The Pakis had located their meager cover and blasted them off.
***
Jimmy, as Lt. Rajveer Singh Tomar, 8th Sikh Regiment, was known at home got up bathed in sweat in the middle of the night. It was ten years since Kargil. He still got these nightmares. Sometimes a bright light from behind his eyes, sometimes a feeling of warm fluid dribbling from his mouth and sometimes an acute claustrophobia would wake him up.

He had led the initial company of brave soldiers in May ’99 who were naively sent up to Tiger Hill. He was the only one to come back alive. Severely injured, his hip shot and mentally scarred for life.

He started his car that morning from his Dad’s farm just off Jeolikot. He enjoyed the drive in the hills. He drove off in a cloud of engine revs and calming notes of his favourite, Kenny Rogers.
His Dad kept worrying for him even after ten years. Jimmy had refused to marry too, so he was only one to worry for him. Tomar Senior remembered Jimmy as a feisty young kid always full of beans. Their Chandigarh house was a bee-hive of activity; Jimmy’s friends would be in and out, at all times of the day.

“Hi Uncle, Is Jimmy at home?”
“Isn’t it time for your classes? What are you all doing here at this time?”
“There’s a strike in our college Uncle”
“So, now you all are going to be gallivanting all day then. Why don’t you spend time in the library?”
Gitu giggled loudly, skipped through the drive-way, entered from the side-door and went straight to Jimmy’s room.

She was a bright girl, always chirpy, and was very pretty. She was doing well in her studies too. Tomar Sr. and Gitu’s father were Bridge partners. He was very fond of her but always sensed a streak of recklessness in her. He also could see a little twinkle in Jimmy’s eye whenever she was around. He hoped, as these two grew older and sensible, they would settle in their careers and hopefully get married too.

They had both come rushing out. Jimmy started his bike and waved to his Dad.

“Bye Dad. We should be back by afternoon. We are going up-hill”
“Drive carefully. Wear your helmet. Give one to Gitu too”.
“Yes Sir” he said as both of them put on their helmets.

They both laughed and went off. You could hear their bike screaming with excitement.

Ten years on, he was driving from Jeolikot to Nainital. He was enjoying the warm sun-shine, as Kenny sang the Gambler. Now he saw a broken down Qualis and some people sitting on the road side. He drove past slowly even as Kenny Rogers moved to ‘Islands in the stream’ his duet with Dolly Parton.

Three years of Jimmy’s graduation seemed to have passed in a jiffy. His love for the Army was well known in the family. When he appeared for CDS exam, no one was surprised. He had done well and was selected for Indian Military Academy, Dehradun. He was to undergo one and a half years training at Dehradun and then would be posted somewhere.

When his first posting was announced as Amritsar, he was very happy. He was going to be an Infantryman.
***
Then he saw her. The same silky brown hair; the same little arrogant tilt to her shoulders; the same doe-eyed face; the same impish smile. She was standing there trying to shield her eyes from the sharp sun-shine. A tan leather bag was lying on the ground like her floppy Golden Retriever. She wore a light-blue Punjabi-suit with white churidar and a printed colourful dupatta. The same statuesque posture. Last ten years flashed though his mind. He had seen that figure so many times.

Jimmy had loved Gitu ever since he could remember. Those heady college days were a breeze. They had been a pair at college. When he had been commissioned as Lieutenant, the Bridge partners decided that their children should get married.

No one among their friends was surprised to hear of their engagement. It was a small, family and friends affair at Lake Club in Chandigarh. Gitu had worn a brocaded pale blue Lehnga and looked like a film star. She had a thing for pastel blue. Jimmy was his dapper self, tall and handsome. He had begun sporting a moustache at the Academy.

He was at home in Chandigarh when the call came. Forces were being mobilized. It was time.

***
‘Gitanjali?’ He whispered to himself and screeched to a halt. He slowly reversed his car, came abreast, took off his sun-glasses and rolled the car window down.
‘Gitu?’
‘Jimmy?’

There was an un-perceptible hesitation in her step but the weight of an avalanche of memories and images was too much. She stepped into the car.

‘Can you imagine, seeing you here after so many years’ she said. ‘My God! It must have been, what ten years? Tell me all about yourself. How has life been? You must be married. Children?’

She was flowing like a mountain stream. That’s how she had always been. Kenny Rogers changed tracks and began, ‘Ruby, Don’t take your love to town..’ He turned up the volume from the buttons on the steering wheel.

You've painted up your lips, And rolled and curled your tinted hair
Ruby are you contemplating going out somewhere
The shadow on the wall tells me the sun is going down
Oh Ruby… Don't take your love to town

“Yes I am fine. No never married. Live on my Dad’s farm. Help him out a bit. Tell me about yourself. You’ve clearly done well for yourself”
“Yes no regrets. I became a model, roamed the world, enjoyed my life. You remember Sachin?”
“Whose Dad was a shippy?”
“Yeah same. We were living together for a while. I just broke up..”

Jimmy was slipping into one of his quite spells while she was going on and on about herself…

It wasn't me, that started that old crazy Asian war
But I was proud to go, And do my patriotic chore.
And yes, it's true that, I'm not the man I used to be
Oh, Ruby I still need some company

“You know its good that we didn’t hitch up” she was now analyzing their relationship. “Even though we enjoyed our time together, I don’t think we were made for each other”

Something gave way in Jimmy’s mind as he slipped into those days. Gitu had never visited him even once in the Hospital. He had been slipping in and out of consciousness for the first six months but after that he had asked his Dad many times about her.

‘She’s now a model and needs to travel a lot for her work. She’ll be here soon’ he had said.

Finally he came home on a wheel chair after a year. All his old friends came to see him, there were flowers and chocolates every day. It was Varun who finally spilt the beans one evening over a drink.

‘She has changed a lot man. She’s become a celebrity and behaves like one. I met her at Bombay airport last week. She just looked through me man. Can you believe it? I still went up and said Hi. She seemed embarrassed to see me. She was with a hunk who kept nibbling at her ear’.

I am sorry Buddy but I think you should forget her and get on with your life.’

That day his life had drained out from him. He had started drinking and went into a depression. It had taken six months of therapy to bring him back to normal. His Dad had decided to move with him to their farm in Jeolikot that day.

He turned up the volume further and increased the speed of his car. These were serious hills for driving but Jimmy’s eyes were focused as the car ate up hair-pin bends.

Its hard to love a man, Whose legs are bent and paralyzed
And the wants and the needs of a woman your age, Ruby I realize,
But it won't be long I've heard them say until I’m not around
Oh Ruby…Don't take your love to town

The car was now doing 70. The vehicles coming from the other side screamed past. Gitu too realized now that something was wrong. She became quiet. The loud notes of Kenny Rogers were the only sounds other than the swish of the cliff on their left.

“Jimmy slow down” there was a little bit of fear in her flippant voice. The car’s speedometer kept climbing slowly. They were now doing 80 Kmph. And he was quiet
“Jimmy, what are you doing? We’ll crash. This is dangerous”
“Jimmy please. Why don’t you say something?”

She's leaving now cause, I just heard the slamming of the door
The way I know I've heard it, Some 100 times before
And if I could move I'd get my gun, And put her in the ground
Oh Ruby…Don't take your love to town

The windows were rolled down and the cold April wind was biting at their faces. There was sheer terror in Gitu’s eyes as the car touched 90. They had just passed a small car whose passenger’s screamed at them. He was taking the bends at break-neck speeds.

They hit a straight stretch and car accelerated again. Then she saw the turn-off towards Kilbury. It was the highest point on the mountain.

“Jimmy no. Jimmy please. Jimmy stop, I am sorry Jimmy please stop.” Even as she was saying sorry, the car did not take the turn and leapt off the road into the ravine below.

There was complete silence; it was as if time stopped. Kenny Rogers notes echoed in the valley..

Oh Ruby… for God's sake turn around.

Mephistopheles

Nazi patrol had been especially active that night. It was now a week that the dreaded SS had been looking everywhere for members of the French resistance. Little boys had been bringing news as one after the other of his comrades was picked up.

He heard the screeching noise of trucks stopping in the street below. Jaque looked down from his sixth floor flat and immediately blew the candles. He saw soldiers spilling out of the back of the truck on to the snow lined street, like black ink being poured on a white sheet. He knew then and quickly tried to wake her up,

‘Yvo.. Yvo get up. We have to move.’

Yvonne had been suffering from consumption since last winter; she had seemed to recover a bit in the summer. Petain’s betrayal in June had destroyed all their hopes and future. It had been six months now. Nazis controlled everything in Paris. Jaque struggled to get food-tickets and her medicine.

He would have moved her to the hills but Nazi pressure had forced Jaque to hide in Paris itself. Winter had set in now and Yvonne was struggling to even breathe. They would stay up nights as she sucked in short sharp gasps and spat out blood.

Now the Nazi vampires had reached their door-step. He woke her up and covered her with warm clothes and a blanket. They escaped from the fire-ladder and dropped to the street. As they moved from the shelter of the building, a gust of icy wind hit her and Yvonne collapsed. Jaque lifted her in his arms and ran. He crossed the back alley and came out behind the park. He carried her on his shoulder and moved towards the Seine.

It had been snowing. He saw flakes floating down to settle on the ground. It seemed like a dream painted by Delacroix with Mephistopheles clouding over France. As he gently put her down on a bench overlooking the river he called out to her,

'Yvo, Yvo, we are safe here for a while. These devils will not come out to check here in this weather. But we must move soon, this cold is not good for you'

She nodded and coughed once.

His only passion other than France was Yvonne. They had loved each other since they were kids. He had enrolled to become a doctor before the war broke out. He knew that TB was an even bigger threat than the war. Even though BCG had been developed, it was still not widely available. The disease had killed hundreds of thousands in Europe. The sanatoria were full of patients waiting to die.

'Yvo... Yvo! Wake up Yvo. Wake up'
He was now shaking her hard. Not believing that on this cold winter Paris night he would save Yvo from one devil and lose her to another.

The Shoemaker

Nakamura San was an old and frail man with hundreds of wrinkles on his face. He walked about very slowly and rarely spoke. No one knew how old he was. For the people of the tiny town near the ancient city of Kamakura he was known as Kutsuya Shinjin, a mystical cobbler. No one had ever seen his wife but he had two daughters Kimiko and the beautiful Miha. Some old-timers said that he had brought the girls one by one from the ancient Shogun temple at Okura as children.

He made women's shoes. Each pair was a unique piece of art. Some had pointed toes; some left most of the foot exposed. He lined some with fur, some had high heels. Each pair was unique for its colour. It was rumoured that he infused the soul of the lady in the shoe and it showed in its color.

There were strange stories about Kutsuya Shinjin’s shoes. Some said they were divine some called them boats of evil. This mysticism made them the most sought after accessory from Tokyo to Osaka and Kyoto. The belief among rich ladies was that the shoes would make them irresistible, there would be a glow on their face and they would feel lifted.

In the basement of his house was his secret chamber. No one was allowed to enter. Not even his beloved daughters. Many nights Kimiko and Miha would feel a strange hum in their wooden house and could easily discern some kind of an energy emanating from the basement. It was to be felt, couldn't be explained or even described.

They were used to his being gone for days at a stretch. Early one morning he told them, 'Have to fetch the right spirit. Tamashita-san's wife Izanami's feet will be here soon' and left. He returned after ten days with a small package under his arm, his face was glowing and he was humming a tune. He was always like this before making a new pair of shoes. He locked himself in the basement for days and came out only at night to go for a walk.

Lady Izanami arrived a month later and Nakamura-san had still not emerged from the basement. The daughters saw that she was an exceptional beauty and told her that their father was expecting her. She was shocked but decided to wait for him.

It took Nakamura-san another week to emerge from his basement. Lady Izanami was there when he came out. The shoes were exquisite. They covered her entire foot with translucent scales like that of a fish, there were dainty thongs to tie the shoes behind her ankles. They had high heels made of some silvery-shiny material. The translucent scales immediately took on the colour of her kimono.

Immediately after Lady Izanami left, Kimiko and Miha saw an anxiety on their father's face. He would go to the library and wait for Sunday newspapers. After nearly a month one Sunday morning he walked back from the library with a dark, scary expression on his face, but he seemed somehow satisfied. He left the paper on the shelf and went down to the basement.

Later that night he called both his daughters the beautiful Kimiko and Miha to the basement. For the first time they saw that it was laid out like a laboratory. Various tubes and burners were lying around and many books too. There was a cobbler’s bench with many of his tool neatly tucked away in convenient slots.

He was sitting on a sofa. He called them closer, gave both of them a pair of exquisite shoes. Miha’s were dainty, deep red with high heels, the shoe kind of rose upwards to the shin like a wave. Kimiko got black shoes, flat with the inside seeming even darker. These had a dull shimmer like the fading stars of pre-dawn sky.

‘These belong to your mothers. Whatever you may have heard about how you came here, you know I that have brought you up as my own children. I have loved you like my own heart and soul. These shoes have very old souls and today after twenty-one years they have been completely purified. I am happy to give them to you’.

He then waved them away and drifted off to sleep

Both of them came up from the basement completely perplexed. They sat in the living room looking at each other. Kimiko moved to the shelf and opened the newspaper Nakamura-san had left. She read something and tears started streaming from her eyes. Miha went across and took the newspaper and saw a small obituary of Lady Izanami. She had fallen from the tenth floor while sleep-walking. There was a strange pair of shoes on her feet.

Nakamura-san never woke up next morning.