War spells disaster – especially those that drive hatred between two sections of the human race.
We concealed our dwellings with black paper on window panes and skylights to avoid being detected by bomber planes. Those were the days when fighter planes were not as technologically advanced as today.
The sound of planes buzzing overhead infiltrated homes on the \top floors of high-rise buildings, inducing a sense of dread. And then the sound gradually ebbed away.
“Maybe it was an Indian plane,” sighed my Mom with relief.
The pounding at the front door came long after midnight and drove us all into a frenzy.
Who could it be?
Soldiers, terrorists or the police?
Years later, I pat myself on the back for opening the door.
Our neighbours from the minority community were seeking shelter as a mob attacked the residential colony.
We cherish those bonds after decades. Peace prevails in the hearts of commoners, and always will.
Politicians and their rabid followers can continue to settle scores.
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You’re absolutely right Reena that war benefits only those power hungry and greedy politicians. Common people want to live in peace with enough resources to buy daily meals.
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Thank you for sharing this story, Reena, in response to the story starter.
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Thanks, Fandango!
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Inspirational prose.
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Thank you, Diana!
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❤️
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What a powerful and deeply moving piece! 🌟
You’ve painted a vivid picture of fear, humanity, and hope — taking us straight into those tense moments and then gently lifting us with the reminder of compassion and unity.
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Thank you so much, Vermaji! I remember 1971.
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