A Lesson

14th July 2025

"Ha.."
"Chachu, Ha... Jaldi song batao na..." cried 9-year-old Kartik. The Gupta family had been traveling to Delhi, leading the baraat for the most eligible bachelor, Aditya, for the last few days.
"Hawa me udta jaaye
Tera Laal dupatta malmal ka...", came a lyrical voice from the troop boarding the same compartment from Sant Hirdaram Nagar Railway Station. Kartik and the rest of the family looked happily surprised and openly included in the family antakshari.
The tea vendors started making frequent rounds and then snack baskets opened at around 5 pm, as the pyaaz and aloo ki kachori could not stay wrapped. The paper plates started getting passed and hesitation sneaked as they reached the army men. Sandhya, Karthik's mother, insisted they had her special Kachoris. The journey felt so smooth to the army men, but that feeling did not last long.
"Sir, what is your name, and where are you from?", asked curious Kartik.
"I am Col. Mohammed Basheer. I am from Ajampur.", replied the Colonel in a commanding voice. But the next moment, his heart melted when he noticed Kartik's palm moved from Colonel's palm to his thigh as if he consciously tried to maintain a distance. The colonel was prompt to ask, "Kya hua Beta?" Before the family could prevent the damage from happening, Kartik blurted out, "I have heard big people in the family talk. They say Muslims are not good." The colonel could scan the embarrassed faces and guilty eyes of the family members. A joyful compartment buzzing with Bollywood numbers had turned into a sombre one.



Colonel Basheer rose from his seat and walked towards the end of the compartment, standing holding the bars of the door. His eyes welled up, with innumerable missions, being completely skilled, he had his struggle climbing up the ladder. The colonel's post did not come easily, it had cost him two bullets in the Uri attack. Every time he introduced himself to the civilians, he had to put in efforts to convince them of his patriotism. He wiped his eyes when he sensed a hand on his shoulder. It was Vijay, Kartik's grandfather. He took all the responsibility for the incident that happened. "The hatred is so ingrained in us, at times we forget that many of our protectors also belong to that religion. I am sorry, I apologize for whatever Kartik said. He is just a child, please ignore whatever he said."Please uncle, you should not apologize. He only said whatever he had heard. I don't know when this difference is going to end. But, I only feel like saying, "Every terrorist may be a Muslim, but not every Muslim is a terrorist." This generalization of the whole religion should stop. Don't you think so?"
"You have opened my eyes, Basheer. Come, share the stories of your bravery with Kartik and help him make new memories", Vijay suggested.
Basheer returned to the compartment, and tea and tales continued.

Disclaimer: This story is written with the sole intention of bringing a revolutionary change through literature. I do not intend to hurt the sentiments of the people of both the religions. If any of my statements have done so, I apologize.

This post is a part of The #TricolourTalesBlog hosted by Sukaina Majeed and Manali Desai under #EveryConversationMatters.