Choices

He walked across the garden towards the South entrance of the majestic structure which seemed unending on either sides of him. The sun dipped slowly behind him, inching its way to the straight line waiting to consume it. As he strolled in the passage, walking towards his office, he watched his staff slowly flitting out at the end of the day into the comfort of their warm homes, closer to their families. He smiled as he reminiscenced the easy, care-free days he had enjoyed with his family while working a desk job at the Income Tax Department. Surprisingly, even in those years, he considered the pressure of his job to be unbearable. Maybe it’s an aspect to the beauty of life that it increases difficulties in our present to accentuate the happiness in our past, he thought as he entered the inner chambers of the annexe. Life as a President had turned out to be precisely what he had expected before he had been elected. He had known that he would be trading his life and his family for a service to his country. His morals, decisions, likes, dislikes — none were to be included in his personal space anymore.

He walked through the office space of his staff, whistling a tune he heard on a traffic light once. He had been very small then, having been sitting behind his father on his scooter. He remembered turning his head in all directions, trying to search for the source of the tune that no electronic device would ever be able to justify. Some of the fresher staff looked up from their screens, surprised to see him like this walking with an untucked shirt, hair ruffled from the east wind and feet without the shells of leather. Most of the veteran staff knew that this was his way of relaxing, of taking a break — something he rarely did.

As a young boy, he was arrogant, egoistic, passionate and hot-headed. He had always envisioned protecting his family, having been pampered by his parents and his two sisters. He could never have had predicted that he would be protecting a family much larger and much closer to him. He had protected this extended family for more than eight years now. The job was not easy. Dilemmas were in abundance and absolute amity was nowhere to be found. Having to resolve disputes between people of his own country broke his heart, when he knew that each side stood correct in its position.

As he reached the teak doors, he looked around to find the area completely deserted. The silence could have had suffocated a man here. He turned the lever, leaning on the door slightly, opening it with his body weight rather than by the force in his hand. He always found it much more relaxing, though he was never able to find out why. The door creaked open and shut as he entered the room. This space was his home field, his territory, his zen space. This office had motivated him to keep pushing harder to make sure he completed his duties and did justice to them. He walked over to his enormous, ornate table and picked up the solitary file which had been the focus of his attention for weeks now. Unlike other files he generally received from his staff, this one was not marked confidential, for the file did not contain anything different from what everybody else knew.

The other side was getting uneasy. So was their own. Recent riots had increased the temperature of the country. External affairs had reached an all time high in its importance as a branch of the government. Some say the other side brutally tortured and killed people from the villages lying near the border as well as soldiers from the army. Others claimed that they were developing advanced artillery in preparation of a war. Various stories, but none of them had foundation. But he had realised early in his term, that a country ran on emotion much more than on pure logic and that rumours held much more power than true facts.

His army was advising him to mount a defensive measure immediately. But today he had received a personal call from the leader of the other side. He, much like him, was unsure of how to handle tensions of this level but warned that if the citizens of his country could not calm down or if the opposite side set up any kind of indications towards war preparations, he would be forced to declare a war.

He was walking on a tightrope. His people were demanding for justice to be served to those who had lain their lives for the country in the various alleged attacks by the other side. They demanded him to show how much of a man he was. But he knew for one that that’s all those attacks were — alleged. The members of his party knew that public support was essential for the next elections. He knew that no matter which step he took, he would end up resigning from his post at the end of the day — may it have been “for being a coward” and not attacking first or for attacking first and starting a war that could have been avoided.

He felt a conflict in his mind which put the want for justice for his family against the need to protect them. He knew that a war would cause the loss of lives of millions of patriotic soldiers and citizens. And this was not just on his side, for on the other side lay another family, another country of millions, angry and distraught at the injustice done to them.

And here he was, standing helpless, unable to make understand both the countries that their anger was not because of each other, but due to years of misunderstandings, a memory of the ancient and “third men” who in their misguided attempt to achieve their goals, forgot about the price of their actions. He may have been a man of power yesterday, but today he had turned out to be the most helpless man on the planet.

War was inevitable. He could well enough deny any provocations and simply not react to the angry public letting them cool down. But his party would not support him for they had vowed to take the demands of the public at their beck and call. Irrational confidence on their military power and the vision of a future where their name was written down in the history as the vanquishers of the other side blocked them from ever reaching the point of serenity where they would realise the bloodbath that would take place on both sides.

He looked out the glass pane as he saw an old man return with his, what looked like, grandson. The little child was pulling at his rather slow and knobbly grandfather to move faster. The child was looking irritated of the old man. But the old man had a smile on his face. He could see why. The park, that was a block down the street, was filled. If they reached there, they would have to wait. The child may get irritated or start fighting for a chance at the swings. This way, the grandfather made sure that by the time they reached the park, the little child would have a much better chance in getting a chance to play.

He felt like that old man. No matter what he did, he knew that for his family, he would have to take the brunt of all the blames and the curses he would be a recipient of. He walked to the edge of the table and dropped the envelope in the little basket kept as an obligatory trash can. He had made his choice. He slowly walked behind the table and swivelled on the cushioned chair. He took a deep breath and slowly dialed the extension of his secretary as his ears touched the receiver of the telephone.

“Get me a line to the other side..”