April 2006, Kathmandu, Nepal.

    King Gyanendra had been into a direct martial rule in Nepal since February 1, 2005. The Seven Political Party Alliance had long been protesting against the tyrant demanding total democracy. Telephone lines were cut, many were jailed, many fled and many were put in house arrest. After a long turmoil, the Alliance announced a four-day strike from April 5 to April 9, 2006. It began like any other strikes,  but had no signs of ending till the fourth day. It was just growing bigger and bigger with people joining in from everywhere. The Royal government tried every measure from curfews to shoot-at-sight orders. They opened fires on public, beat up mercilessly and took the nation to a complete chaos. Hundreds of casualties every day were reporting to the hospitals. I watched gruesome videos of policemen beating protestors over CNN and the Internet. I couldn't help it. I wondered what the fate of the country was going to be like. Things seemed to deteriorate day by day.

I felt like I was required. Something from inside was asking to contribute whatever I could. I had a nice job here. The voyage was nothing less than 30 hours. It would not be easy to enter the city even if I landed in Kathmandu. But I was ready to take the risk. My colleagues tried to stop me but I would not. I grabbed my bags and on the third day of protests, I bid the USA goodbye and headed home.

    I landed in Kathmandu in the fifth day of curfew. Eight people had already died and hundreds were still in the verge of death. I called up my old friend, Dr Nagendra Khatiwada at Teaching Hospital. He wasn't at all happy to see me come back in the middle of a war. I went to meet him while the curfew had been lifted. He thought it was an insane idea but I said I wanted to go into the field and operate first aid. He said it was foolish, but I was ready to take the challenge.

    I volunteered entirely on the protest area with first aid and medication. I had never seen death so closely. There were people there, bleeding, people who had taken to the streets for a Revolution, people who loved their nation, people who were going to free her from the evil hands of personal prejudices. I saw the rich and the poor, the able and the handicapped, people who were in favour of change. You wont believe it but Daddy from New York had also joined the protests. He was somehow freed and had come to Nepal and joined the protests. A large tear-gas shell came flying in and hit him on his head. He fell on the ground and I rushed to him.

    Later that evening, as I moved around the emergency ward of Teaching Hospital, I was moved aghast by a familiar sound. "Hello there! How come you're here?" A young casualty with large bandages around the body greeted me in a very familiar way. I went closer to see who it was. It was him, yes, he was right there. But how on earth Veer ever reached the hospital bed?

    "What happened to you? How come you're here?" I curiously asked.
    
    He was smiling like he always did.

    "Don't ask me. I landed in London Heathrow after I left you. There, to my surprise I found Baba. Remember that person I came looking for the first day I met you? He revealed secrets about him that nearly crippled my senses. I had known him as a good person but I came to know only then that he was in fact, a runaway political activist. The Government had issued killing orders against him so he had fled to the US. When they found that he had been living in New York, he left the place without telling anyone, not even me. He lived the last five months in London secretly but was going to Kathmandu to join the uprising. He urged me to come with him. I said I wanted to see Phuchhi, but then he put me in a condition  - I had to choose between my devastated wife and the nation. I can see Phuchhi later as well, but I thought my nation is most important to me. So I flew to Kathmandu with him."

    Veer continued his story.

    "I came here and immediately joined the protests. I was in Chabahil the other day when five policemen caned me to death. But I did not stop. I continued raising slogans. I went to Kalanki the next day. I had been chasing away few policemen when this bullet came from nowhere and hit me on my back. I fell on the ground. Things around me began to grow dark. The burning flames of the tyres began to dim. The chant slogan began to bob into my ears. I was collapsing. Suddenly someone hit me on my head with a cane and I don't remember anything after that."

    I was taken aback by Veer's story.  He had fought so bravely. His priorities had changed and he had pulled his sleeves up to contribute for the people's freedom. The whole credit of making the people's movement successful were young men like Veer. He had large bandages around his head; legs plastered and fed on saline. He had reached almost death. Veer was, indeed in his last days.

    "Saurav, I am glad you're here. We need men like you - men who serve selflessly. I am proud of you." Veer tried to cheer me with his good words but my eyes were already filled with tears.
    "Veer," I continued. "You'd be proud to hear that your Baba too sacrificed his life in the riot in Gangabu." Veer closed his eyes and took a large breath. Two large balls of tears rolled out from his eyes. He had grew paler, thinner and looked absolutely shattered.

    "Saurav, will you do me a favour?" Veer asked.
    "Anything for the brave patriot." I said.
    "Can you go and tell Phucchi that she married a loser. Tell her that I love her despite the amount of troubles I've given. She would have been much happier with someone else than a person who wrecked her life? Her address is in my left pocket. I don't think I'll get to see her." Veer cried.

    "No Veer, everything will be okay. You'll be just fine. I'll find and bring her to you. Take my words. She will be very proud to see you. You're not a loser." I tried to convince him but he would not stop crying. Excess pressure could cause the damaged veins to collapse so I had to calm Veer. I tranquillised him and brought him to sleep. Veer rested. My duty was over. But I would return first thing in the morning to see him.

    Would Veer recover? His son died barely three months ago and now he was in his last days. How would Phucchi bear this loss? What happens to the mortgage? How will she pay that off? I looked back at how Veer worked hard to save as much as possible. I was thinking about him when I lay on bed trying to sleep that night. But I could not sleep. I was waiting for the morning - the most difficult morning of my life.



    Six thirty in the morning and already a bunch of people with Nepalese Flag had gathered in the street. They would defy the curfew, sacrifice their lives or take every measure for victory. 30 people had already lost their lives and many more were wounded. It was day 15 but there was no sign of end to the violent protests. I came out and talked to them for a while. They were all very energetic and youthful - the people who had set out to form a new Nepal. People, who represented the future, people, who would decide the destiny of the country.

    In the mean time, a large mass holding flags swarmed into the street. A truck followed the people. It was a funeral procession of another great patriot who had surrendered from life. I grew more and more restless as the procession approached nearer. Who could that person be? I gazed towards the crowd. The truck came and stopped right in front of me. I looked on. There was something strange about it. Young men chanted slogans. My heart pounded. I grew tense, my face turned red.

    I discovered the deceased patriot was my Veer, my best friend Veer. He couldn't make it to the morning. One brave patriot's life was sacrificed for the country. My heart filled with sorrow. I just bit my lower lips. I couldn't cry. I couldn't think about anything. I vacantly looked at the people, the waving flags and branches of trees. We had lost him, forever.

    

    Five days later, on the morning of the 24th April 2006, King Gyanendra announced the restoration of democracy in the country through national broadcast. People went into the streets with joy, they danced and congratulated each other for the victory. Everyone was celebrating but I was missing my friend. I couldn't find Phucchi either. I was sad, but glad that Veer's blood never went in vain. His sacrifice for the country had truly been worthwhile. Nepal was declared a democratic country again. People's power was restored. Things changed overnight but people like Veer will always keep us indebted by their sacrifices. It takes one moment for things to change. New hopes began to grow; new horizons began to show up. There was a reason to be happy.  We had won. The people of Nepal had won the war against a tyrant monarch.

    But Veer, I will forever miss Veer and all the good times we had in America.