lance corporal ajeet singh, aged 34 BY BALI RAI
I
t was a yearning desire to go home. That is how I survived the war. The reason I emerged alive from the prisoner-of-war camps, the Stalags. That sounds obvious, peculiar even, but it is true. I meekly closed my eyes, forcibly held my tongue. Ignored the fear, bore the hardship. Wondered how my village had changed since my absence. What remained of the place I had left behind? I saw my resilient father tilling the soil in readiness for a new season, water buffalo pulling his plough. My beautiful mother beating clothes by the village pond,
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