freedom fighter..a tale !!

‘Freedom fighter, yes he was a freedom fighter, I had known this about him since I was not even aware of what does that word meant. And now when he was on his death row, I felt that I am going to lose one of my fine teachers. He stays in the temple, comes out only to buy vegetables or to collect his pension from the bank, which was provided by the government of India to all freedom fighters. Most of the time it was us who use to go to him and listen to his stories about the pain which Indians faced, the stories about self respect, stories about getting the thing which belongs to you, stories about the great revolution which made us today what we are.

I have always seen sadness in his eyes but never able to understand why was that. Maybe the loneliness as he was never married. People say that no girl wanted to marry him, because he was mentally retarded, if not completely than for sure partially. But then they say that these people were so much in love with their country that they found others worthless of their love. I never felt that, neither do any of our friends; we all had a great sense of respect for him not because what he was but because what he talks and what he thinks about rights and wrongs. He always taught us to stand for the right no matter what.

I went near him, he was lying on the temple floor, I never saw him sleeping on the bed, he used to say that the touch of the ground makes him feel happy, gives him peace of mind. Many people were still sitting around, hoping best of health for him, but the expression on the face of doctor was clear as water, he has lived his life and there was not much time left. I held his left hand into mine; these were the hands which patted my back when used to say I have helped someone today. He opened his eyes to see me; a faded smile appeared on his face.

‘I want to talk to you, I want to tell you something’ he said in his weak voice, ‘alone’ he added. He wanted to talk to me in alone. What can be that matter? I thought. Meanwhile, everyone left us alone, but never left the temple, they all wanted to be with him, I was with him, and I told him that. 

He started, ‘You are like my grandson and there is something which I need to confess if not in front of all, but at least to one, I chose you because I can see the faith you have showed in me and my teachings.’ He took a pause, a deep breath and held my hand tight, ‘I am not a freedom fighter’ he said, I was shocked, there was nothing I was able to think about, just the sentence that ‘I am not a freedom fighter’ I was a thief and they put me in jail for stealing money from one of the generals in English army. It is my fate that in few months we got our independence and everyone, who was in jail got a letter of honor as a freedom fighter. My whole life has been a fake but I don’t want to die a fake. Whatever good things I have taught you, was a lesson to me. I want you to tell this to everyone once I leave this world’ Be a good man always’ there was no more strength in his arms to hold mine. There was no breath in his lungs. There was no more blood flow in his veins.

I looked at the doctor, he came running and in next moments all went silent. It doesn’t matter what you have done in your past, it can never be changed, what matters is what you are in present and what you are going to be in future. People asked me what was his last statement, 
I said, ’Be a good man always’