The loss of innocent life
They say time heals every wound, even the biggest of them but for me and my family, time seemed to be very cruel, bringing back the memories and leaving a trail of hope everytime. More than 20 years have passed but still the memories haunt us every day. All these years every day seemed to bring new hopes with the rising sun, but the rise of dusk made the ray of hope fainter. Even today I regret letting Arnish sneak out of the house that ill-fated day. It was during late 1980s, the uprising against the Panchayat system of government was at its peak. We lived in the streets of Mahaboudha, in the small white painted house adjacent to the street through Bir Hospital that led to the other side of Sainik Manch. The protest started from Ratnapark went around the city and as they reached near Mahankal temple the police shot gun in air several times and few rounds of teargas to disperse the crowd. Arnish and I often peeked through the window hole and watched the protesters running towards M...