“And I remember how you were wearing that vertical striped shirt which unlike other times, wasn’t tucked in. You were carrying a bag in one hand and the suitcase in the other, which you finally put down after seeing me. You were tired, exhausted, and for the lack of a better word, haggard.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I just tried to help you with the bags, and mom rushed to get you a glass of water. My memory is hazy in parts, but I remember how I hugged you and told you that we’d thought you were dead. We couldn’t begin to tell you how devastated we were by that news the army had told us.

But you told us what really happened- you told us that you had got lost and wandered into enemy territory, walked for days on end to finally get to our side, and although injured, you had survived. Didn’t you say that the thought of us kept you going? You made it through the ordeal. When you finally crossed over to our side, you asked the authorities not to inform us.

“You wanted to surprise us by yourself, and see the look on our faces when you returned. We probably should’ve been angry but we were far too relieved and elated to entertain any other feeling.

I said, “Daddy, you won’t believe it! But Mummy has learned how to drive now and she (pointing towards my little sister who was just eight) can speak in ENGLISH! She can form sentences on her own and all that.” “See, so something good did come out of the whole ordeal after all, isn’t it?” you replied.