Baazigar

 Splashing some water on her haggard face, she raised herself to admire the rising sun. The ochre rays worked tirelessly to dispel the burgandi, orange hue. Emerging from the brine waters, it never reflected the saltiness. Slowly the sun will scale to the heights and conquer its position in the vast expanse of sky, overpowering the last night's defeat. Maybe, purposefully every night the Sun God lets his sisters twinkle and shine in their own glory. The defeat is meaningful as he paves way for all his kinship to wallow in victory. How worthy is the win if you have none to celebrate with? 

"Shaloooo.... " Bapu's call was louder than his speeding figure emerging towards Shalini from among the swaying corns about to harvest. The field looked every bit of gold mine decked up by the early rays. 

"Shaloo... Your tickets for Chandigarh have arrived!" He spoke between gasping and panting heavily. Age had started showing its homecoming in his stamina but spirits were undeterred. He thrust the train tickets in her firm hands and pated her backed like a jockey thumps his mare before the race. 

For Jaisingh, both his daughters were nothing less than the son he pined for. Driving himself crazy over their training he had forgotten what he himself was. State level boxer who couldn't make it a national win. The defeat had made him bitter but his better self still survived.

"Don't be so hard with them. Girls have to be married one day." Parmeet his wife complained but with no success. She was long back defeated by her husband's determination and more of stubbornness to win. Do or die, was his living mantra. Now he was dying with shame and guilt. The National Championship was life for him. Shaloo as he fondly called her, for Shalini sounded too feminine to him, had made to the Nationals but lost it at the semi-finals. This time she had reached the finals. But he cowered in fear because the opponent was known to him. Not muscle might, but the melting heart would lead to Shaloo's defeat. Only time would tell who would win and the loss be taken to whose will! 

The train halted and Shaloo with a heavy heart and back stepped in. This was the first step she was taking to competing with childhood memories and emotions; to the wild races in the corn fields; to the lassi drinking competitions in Biji's courtyard and the quilt pulling tug of wars fought for Bapu's amusement. As the train bustled, she wiped off the wind tears and shut the windows making her feel weak. 

The girls' hostel buzzed with overenthusiastic bees who had come to watch the Khandani rivalry. 

"Psst.. Look there she goes! The Lost National Champion."

"I'm sure this time she will win. "

"You can't be so sure, I bet her opponent is stronger this time."

The girls fixed up as potential betting investors. They invested their time, energy and more importantly hope. Hope was something, she too had come with. Hope of reconciliation within the ring. Hoping the ring binds them together again like Biji plaiting strands of hair into a thick tail. 

The D-Day arrived. She was seeing her after a whole year of turmoil. No calls, no letters seemed to convince her that she too was Bapu's girl. No pleas seem to break the rigid walls of misunderstanding. But today stood a strong chance. 

The referee blew his whistle. Shaloo looked into Lajoo's furious eyes. Bouncing on her able feet, she forced first punch directly on Shaloo's face.

 'Silly girl, bad move.' Shaloo thought to herself as she escaped the blow. Shaloo went for an abdominal blow before Lajoo could recover the next blow hit her on the nose. 'What are you doing Shalini? She is your own blood. You are repeating the old mistake. Remember what you are here for.' Self talks had always helped her think clear. 

The punches were showered liberally with whistles blown intermittently. The audience jumping and vouching for either of the girls, the ring too shook vigorously. 

Finally, Shaloo brought her face in front of Lajoo's punch and let it hit her hard. Very hard to let off the brooklet of frozen blood meander its way down her nose. Shaloo rejoiced her win. She had won with the defeat in the Nationals. 

'Lajem Jaisingh Sethi- the pride of Punjab conquers the National Championship by defeating her own sister, Shalini Sethi!' The newspapers boast of a purposeful defeat. 

Lajoo hugged her sister tight for her heart knew who the real winner was. Shaloo was her real hero who had lost the battle to win the war. 

*  *  *  *  *

By settling under the horizon, the sun merely lets his kin shine. Allows every cosmic dust showcase its identity. Not all defeats are a sign of weakness, for some show the vigour of holding to allow the feeble rejoice in the win. 

Har ke bhi  jitne wale ko BAAZIGAR kehte!!!