All Alone at 4500 meters

“People don’t understand what it means to be one of us” – I have heard it many times from seniors. And even if I agree, this is the first time I am introspecting this remark. All alone in the dark, I have become aware of my reality.

My fingers are reaching their limit. I am constantly rubbing and bending them, but the sensation is gradually leaving them. When I tumbled down the cliff during the fight, my tarp and gear dropped and vanished in the valley, along with the three dead enemy soldiers. 

It is over. With no help coming, the fall was fatal. Both my legs and left shoulder were crushed entirely in that. And even though I am not bleeding, I definitely suffered some haemorrhage. 

I cannot climb up anymore. I don’t have anything to protect my body from this piercing cold. I have tried to sleep in hopes that I could pass away painlessly in my sleep, but this pervasive pain’s agony wouldn’t let me. And in this delirious state, I am having all these thoughts.

I am all alone at a height of 4500 metres, away from my loved ones. People who are not fighting for our country in this frozen hell think of it as some romantic honour. They can’t possibly fathom what it means to be a soldier. As one gets closer to the border, the willingness to fight another person dampens. We are humans only – we also want to be with our families in times of joy and sorrow. I wish I could have worn a kurta on Diwali. I wish I had been there when Sudhir got married. I wish I had been there when Mother got admitted. Oh, how much I long for those.

But it surprises me to no end that I don’t regret being here. Not a single part of it. I understand my duty, and now, facing imminent death, I can honestly say that I didn’t betray my duty. This is such a weird dichotomy. I want to be with Mother and Sudhir now. I wish this conflict had never happened, and I believe the three soldiers I killed wanted that, too. But then again, it has never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have been here. 

I am even seeing things now. In this raging snowstorm, I am seeing Father. It is not possible, but here he is. I guess this was inevitable when I ran out of things to write. My mind is going blank, but I can hear his voice. He took his last breath with my name on his lips, but I couldn’t make it back in time. 

“Well done, son.” I think that is what he just said. Maybe my addled mind did this, but I have tears in my eyes. Perhaps it was all real. Perhaps these were his final words.

It’s cold. My left hand is frostbitten already. My mind is going blank as well. But I know one thing now after seeing Father – I don’t want to die yet.

The darkness surrounding me is terrifying. The cold is terrifying. But I no longer want to die. Yes, I must keep writing this over and over. I need something to keep going. And for not dying, having something to keep going is crucial. And this will be my mantra.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want t