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Nothing Left But God
At first glance, this land looks picturesque. I see a beautiful land covered by grass in all directions, with small plants growing from the lush ground. Yet, as I look closer, I see this is no beautiful pristine land, and is in fact quite the opposite. In the distance, I can just make out a few mysterious shadows and I can make out gunfire. Nearby, I can see animals with various physical deformities. There is one monkey nearby with white, jagged, thin, and patchy fur spouting from yellowed and barren skin hiding in the grass. I see a fish coming out of the water. But it is not a normal fish. It has three eyes and it has scales that does not cover all of its body, and its scales are a dull white. I am no biologist, but I can tell these aberrations are no act of Mother Nature.

Across from me, underneath an anti-UV parasol, is an ascetic by the name of Manu Sharma seated in a yoga pose. He is alongside a blue idol of Lord Shiva about as large as a pot. At first glance, he looks like he is a part of the landscape. But as you look closer, this image flies apart. His ribs pop out of his body and it is clear he eats almost nothing, like so many in this war-torn land. His skin is coloured red as if he suffered from a bad burn that never went away, and there are scars all over his body, even on his face. For he is a survivor of the Last Indo-Pakistani War, and is one of millions to have been caught in the path of the nuclear bomb.

“I had a stable and well-paying job, kids, and a wife who loved me”, he said. “I had everything I could have ever wanted and more. I was, as I am now, a firm believer in India, and a man who believed deeply in God, and this feeling was common among many who lived in my city.”

“But did you not live in Kashmir?”, I asked. “And wasn’t it one of the most rebellious lands in the country? Surely it couldn’t have been a common belief?”

“I did not live in Kashmir. You Westerners may say I am a Kashmiri, but in reality I am of Jammu, and Jammu was proudly Indian as it is now”, he stated.

I promptly apologized, and he accepted it. Research at home tells me this sentiment is common among many in what remains of Indian-controlled Kashmir.

“As I said, I had everything I could want. I had anything anyone could want. When Pakistan invaded the mountain, I was not scared. Like most Indians, I wanted those Pakistanis to feel what was good for them, and be swiftly smacked down and shown that they cannot violate our sovereignty. I did not feel fear, despite being in a city that was directly in the path of nuclear war. I merely wanted my country to win, no matter the cost. So I continued my life unabated, and cheered on my country when we prepared for a counterattack.”

“How did you react when Parliament was bombed?”, I asked.

“The representative from my constituency was one of those who died in the blast and I truly mourned for him. I just knew the Pakistanis did it, I just knew it. We were at war, sure, but this atrocity was truly beyond the pale. I was one of millions who sent letters asking my government for revenge, and the government listened. We decided that Kargil was not enough, and we decided those Pakistani kaminaun needed to pay. Our troops crossed the Line of Control with all of our manpower and the war continued to escalate while we cheered our country on. I really should have known how close we were to going nuclear, but I did not. Mutually Assured Destruction was at the bottom of my mind that instant, and it must have been for the rest of India and Pakistan.

“When I woke up that fateful morning, I went to work, just outside of the city. While working, I heard a plane flying in the sky and with that, my world came apart. Ash and dust flew everywhere, coating everything. The building I was in collapsed entirely, and I felt like I was burning everywhere, in all of my body. Muscle on my back” – he points to some especially gruesome scars on his back – “were visible with the naked eye, and my skin around those areas had entirely peeled off. I lay on the floor, but I had to force myself to stand up to get out of there, for I feared the building was close to collapse.

“As the ash cleared, I saw that the building I worked in had been turned into a shadow of itself. The windows had shattered and all that was left of the building was the concrete. I could smell rotten flesh, and could see the bodies of my coworkers stripped of everything but their skeleton. The top of the building looked to have collapsed onto the street. I thanked God that I had not been there. Even the concrete on the lowest level, where I worked, was not at all solid. I could see that parts of it had been blown off in all directions, and patches looked like they would come off with a mere tap. Rebar had bent everywhere, over the floor, where walls once existed. I felt I was trapped, and I feared I could not escape a building that looked like it would collapse. But when I looked at an emergency exit, the doors had been blown off and nothing was blocking the resultant hole in the wall, so I walked through it.

“Outside, the scene wasn’t pretty either. There was dust everywhere, and almost every building was either stripped of everything but a concrete shell or turned to rubble. There were a few chaps who survived like me, trying to find safety, and we came together in a group, silently agreeing to find shelter together. After a lot of walking around, we finally found a building which seemed to be largely intact. Its purpose was obscured by dust on the outside, and by rubble. Upon going inside, we found it was a temple. The only priest in it was half-dead, chanting “om nama shivai” over and over again as he died. His face looked like it was peeling off and his skin was horribly burnt. When I looked outside, to the ruins, I saw that the temple was the only building in the block that was still largely intact. And in that moment, I knew it was God’s will that saved this temple. And I was forever changed. I was left praying to God as I waited for something to come and save me from this city.

“The Indian army in the city had been destroyed in the explosion. But in a few days’ time, a lot of soldiers came from the border to help and they came with clean water, not the dirty water flowing from the Tawi River. They also came with food, and we were saved from starvation and dehydration.”

After silence for a few seconds, I ask, “When did you learn about what happened to your family?”

He sighs and states, “The army had set up a camp a bit far from the city, where it was cleaner, and we were treated for our injuries with what equipment they had. Yet, there were just too many of us, and many died. Radiation made many others ill as well. After a few weeks, the Red Cross and some other Western organizations came in full anti-radiation gear, accompanied with other members of the army, and they had the equipment to treat us. They also came with some pictures of the city taken with satellites, and I saw that the house where my wife must have been, and the school where my kids were, had been replaced by a hole. Everything was gone. All my belongings, all of my family, and the woman I loved had all been turned to radioactive dust. I had nothing left. Nothing left but God.

“In times of struggle and despair, God was there and will always be there. Being in that temple reshaped me, and taught me that fundamental fact. The temple protected me from having to live in a destroyed, rubble-filled city with no protection. God showed his will and saved my life in the time of my greatest despair. And I will worship him for the rest of my life. He saved me for a reason and I must follow him wherever it takes me.

“My next step is to go to the ruins of the Vaishno Devi temple near Katra. It has recently been retaken from the jihadis, and I really must go there before another Dravidian revolt leads to another government retreat.”

“But Katra – didn’t that city get bombed? Won’t the radiation kill you?”, I asked.

“This murti of Lord Shiva is from the temple that saved me. It collapsed a few days after the military came, but not before we were able to take some murtis out of there. To die praying to God is surely not a bad way to die. He saved me, and I must love him for it. For without God, what do I have left?”
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