Memories of the Kuwait War~Chapter 4~ The Sikhs could go

Rescue operations were taking shape. The airports were still closed, but arrangements were being made to have people evacuate via road. There was a priority list to determine who gets permission to leave first. I heard Acha talk about it with our neighbours. It was something like this...”Pregnant women, women and children without their husbands or other family members, elderly and Sikhs!” “Why the Sikhs?? How did they make it to this list?”, I was wondering. “What about the Malayalees, Tamilians, Goans, Bombay-ites and the rest of us? Why did the government like the Sikhs so much?!” 

I started to feel envious of my Sikh friend who lived in an adjacent building...Harmeet Bhatia. She was called Meetu at home. I used to go to her house for Hindi tuitions offered by her mum. They were staunch Sikhs, and as we know, Sikhs don’t cut their hair. Harmeet’s mother, though, one day cut her children’s hair. I forgot Harmeet’s brothers name, but I remember him as the sweet little boy who always wore a kozhukatta-like ‘kizhi’ (pouch) on his head. He was too small to have the full turban, I acknowledged. Both Meetu and her brother came down to the bus stop with short hair one particular day before school closed for summer. They did look cute and Meetu couldn’t help flaunting her new hair cut. I had only one big question, “Woah!! You got a haircut! Isn’t that against your religion??”  “Well, sort of”, she replied,” Particularly in our family, my grandfather is so strict. But Mamma finds it hard to manage washing and tying our hair every morning before school. So Pappa also agreed. But our grandfather is angry with us. He has punished us and we cannot enter India now.”

I know I digressed a bit, but this story was in my head all the time when I heard that Sikhs could go first. I was worried about Meetu and her family. If grandpa has put a ban on their entry, how are they going to go now? Will they stay back and ‘die’ in the war?? Well....I couldn’t ask her that, so I asked Acha instead, “Acha, why are Sikhs allowed to go and not Malayalees?”. My father looked so puzzled, ”Sikhs can go? Who told you?” “You only said, no? That pregnant, old people and Sikhs can go?”, I argued. He broke into a loud laugh. “Oh, my dear....Sick!! The sick people can go first. They are given priority. Not the Sikhs!”. I couldn’t help smiling at my stupidity. Just picture the face of Ashokan (malayalam actor) when he chammi-fies. That was my face. 

Oh!! But soon I came back to my old doubt. So now Meetu and her family has to stay back? What will happen to them? While these thoughts were playing around in my mind, I could hear Acha in the background, talking to Amma regarding evacuation. But the issue was money. We needed more money than what we had at hand. It was the beginning of the month, and the previous month’s pay hadn’t come yet. It was that period of the month where all finances were drained out. 

Thomas uncle (Acha’s friend) came home that morning. He worked in the same company as my father, but in a different division. He was a regular visitor and our families were close. They sat talking about the evacuation, money, etc. Thomas uncle's wife and son had gone to India for the vacation and he stayed back that summer. As per the arrangement, bachelors should go last. Now with his family not around, Thomas uncle was counted as a bachelor. He was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go earlier, as he didn’t have any other close family around either. He was also concerned thinking how he was going to survive the indefinite period of stay in Kuwait without money.

“Let us go check again if the money has come”, Acha said and the two of them prepared to go out. If nothing happens we may have to sell something”, he said with a sigh. “But who would buy? We saw many people selling things the other day and nobody was buying. Nobody had money. Then how?”, I thought. Let’s hope Acha gets money, my little mind prayed. I was starting to see things more seriously now. 

There were a couple or more ATMs close to our Jamaiya (the cooperative society supermarket) area. It was a walkable distance from our building, though quite a walk. Since neither of them owned a car, Acha and Thomas uncle set out on foot. The first ATM was too crowded, they waited for a while and then decided to leave the queue and try the other one. Bad luck, that 2nd ATM was out of cash. “There’s another one across the main road. Let’s try there”, Thomas uncle said. Both of them walked to the signal. It didn’t seem to be working. Traffic was almost minimal too. “Let’s cross.” Acha said and walked ahead of Thomas uncle. Acha was a brisk walker, so brisk that we had to jog to keep pace with him. He almost crossed the road and put one foot onto the pavement on the other side when there was a huge noise....Like an massive explosion!

~priya~