Hot Shali Ne Jija Ke Land Se Masti Karke Chudvai

I think that period in my life formed a hardened shell around me for years to come. The death and destruction we witnessed ate at us bit by bit. As I lay in my cot at night, I would force myself to remember happier times in college with the women I had encountered. I wondered what I would do with myself after this madness was over. We were winning, we were told. There was little evidence of it, other than our slow northward progress up the western side of Italy.Any idea we would engage with the women of Sicily had been knocked out of us quite promptly. The nasty gangs that effectively ruled the island had no allegiances to either the Allies or the Germans. While they never interfered in our operations, they made it clear that their women were off-limits. Based on the number of missing or cut-up soldiers that ignored these warnings, I wasn't about to tempt fate.The mainland was another matter. The further north we moved, the more congenial the population became. They had no love for. If one of the countless nanoseconds of events since had occurred sooner, or later, or here instead of there, or even—not at all. If one of the acts of intent, of negligence, of animal instinct; the acts of rage and sorrow and love and laughter; the acts of God ... if only one had been different.But Rome fell, the Santa Maria sailed, Krakatoa erupted, the Holocaust happened ... and that day arrived. Still, one of them might have stayed home; having left home, the one who walked might have taken another route; having taken that route, he might have looked down as he passed. But he did not stay, did not go another way, looked up instead of down—and was instantly lost, as he was lost.As was the one who happened to be watching in that same instant.The watcher who watched thereafter as they saw each other once, twice every working day. Watched as a package was dropped, retrieved, returned with the barest brushing of fingertips. Watched as words were murmured then ... and on other.
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