31 miles

Just a short story i've been working on. i hope you enjoy it.

31 Miles

The sun shined on the veranda, past the poppy fields, there was the ancestral home, two families, separated by just 31 miles and 1000 soldiers. She was over there, he was over here. Asif’s heart was slowly crumbling into dust. Priya, his love, was due to be married, or marred, as she thought, to Harirama. A rich landowner accustomed to the city, who’s life was alien to the farm raised Priya. The lights of Amritsar could not be seen in Lahore. Both Asif and Priya knew their love for each other, but there was a lingering uncertainty in the gulf between them. They had no idea how strong the other’s love was. Had it become stronger? Or weaker?
‘They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder’ Asif thought to himself, ‘wouldn’t our love be stronger?’

It was a bright and hot day, as was the norm this time of season. But the water was flowing healthily through the creek, flowing into a great pool before continuing to its destination. This beauty spot was the frequent haven of Asif’s, on lonely days when life caught up with him. He’d lie in this place, remembering days with Priya, of which this creek and its surroundings ironically reminded him of, with a heart shaped pool and the brightest flowers, which contrasted with the bleakness that Asif felt.

He lay here on warm summer nights, reminiscing to times before Priya was forced to leave, where to him, the sky seemed bluer, the sun shone brighter and his heart felt warmer. Not even the difference in religion could destroy what they had.
Then they came, extremists, preaching hatred and reddening the streets, tearing families from their ancestral homes, beating and butchering them along the way. Priya had to leave, her father had to be carried, he was beaten so badly by mobs taken in by the scaremongering of these extremists. ‘Them kafirs, they should be like us, if they are not, we are better than them, they become dogs to us, we should kill them if they stay, with god on our side, we know that killing kafirs is a good deed.’
Asif’s heart broke as Ahmedullah, leader of these men, announced this to a crowd in awe of him in the town centre. Priya was better than him, better than his daughters he refused to acknowledge, even better than his sons.


And as the boarded the train to Amritsar, Asif tried to go, only to be held back by the attendant, who knew that he was expected to return home. He even tried to run through the border, but was beaten back by members of the Pakistani army, only to return home and be beaten by his disapproving father.
Asif sent letters every week, but received no replies. He refused to let his hope fade.

Thanks for reading, i'll post more when i have time.