Sunday Story: The Thread of Protection

Almost every person in the Manekshaw household was bustling with surprising early morning energy for a holiday—and why would they not be? It was Raksha Bandhan, the one festival when the entire family got together under one roof for one whole day during the entire year and spent time together. Everybody was teeming with enthusiasm and excitement to meet the family—everybody but Atishi. 

Atishi had eagerly been looking forward to Rakhsha Bandhan this year. Unlike other times, her elder brother was going to be home this year to celebrate the festival with her in person. Everything was planned to perfection—the decoration (everything was in his favourite colour, right from the curtains to the crockery), the music (his favourite bands), and of course, the food (his favourite sweets). She was ticking days off the calendar with much anticipation but little did she, or anybody else, know that the day would never come.

Atishi’s brother was serving in the Indian army—it had been his dream to do so since he first attended the Republic Day parade with his mama when visiting him in New Delhi. He grew up;  went through multiple changes, but this dream remained constant throughout. And he did fulfil it! He graduated from the National Defence Academy top of his class and was commissioned as a lieutenant in Arunachal Pradesh for his first posting. 

Ever since then, his visits to his home decreased. He did drop by whenever he could find the time, but it was mostly never around Raksha Bandhan. Consequently, Atishi had to post the rakhi to him where he would get it tied by one of his mates. This year, however, luck seemed to be on his side—he got the chance to take a few days off around Raksha Bandhan, which meant that he could visit his sister and get this year’s rakhi tied by her.

Everything was set—the tickets were bought, the backs packed, and most importantly, the gifts wrapped. However, just a day prior to his sanctioned leave, a terrorist group attacked their base and caused unfathomable damage. A lot of soldiers were martyred, and Atishi’s brother was one of them.

When the Manekshaws received the terrible news of the passing of their son, their whole world came crashing down. While they felt proud that their son laid his life for his country, the grief of losing him at such a young age broke them into a million pieces. The most shattered was Atishi’s heart. It was as if a part of her was ripped off from her body and in its place, an open wound was left to rot for the rest of her life.

As excited as she had been earlier for the festival, she was equally, if not more, aloof and uninterested. Even on the day of the festival, she lacked the energy that she usually had around that time. Everybody had tried a lot of things to lift her mood, but nothing helped. It seemed as though she had given up on a life without her brother altogether.

Around noon, the doorbell suddenly rang. Atishi went to answer it. At the door was someone she was least expecting to see—her brother’s best friend from the army. After he had entered and settled, in his hand, Atishi saw a familiar-looking package—it was the rakhi box she had sent her brother.

For a moment, Atishi was left paralysed. She did not know what to do or what to say. It was then that her brother’s friend told her that in his final moments, he had called him and asked him to promise to visit Atishi, ask her to tie the rakhi on his wrist, give her the gift he had bought for her, and swear to protect her as if she was his real sister.

It seemed as if words were failing her—Atishi could not come to speak anything without feeling choked. Such was her brother, protecting her while he was with her, when he was a thousand miles away, and even when he was not around anymore. 

Liked this story? Here is another to warm your heart—Ajji, the One Woman School