Sahityasetu

‘God knows what a strange country is this! ‘Israel.’ Its name had been heard since last fifteen years’, said Suresh and brought out passport and looked at the visa that bore strange language Hebrew.
I too had been somewhat baffled like Suresh. It was a late night flight. The reason to arrive at the airport three or four hours before was the security check. The officers would start ‘why do you go to Israel?’ and asked other questions to the travellers. Only when half an hour was left we could reach to the boarding place.
The travellers dozed after meal as it was the late night flight. I had a great attraction to see a new country and that too was Israel. Since our decision was made I went to the British Council and brought many books for reading. Read them. Saw maps. After millions of Jews massacred in the Second World War the UNO handed them back their motherland. But this land also belonged to the Arabs. It was their country too. They called it Palestine. But whose native land? The Jews and the Arabs often fought wars against each other and still it’s on.
Suresh says, ‘Leave it aside. Go and see the land and come back. Jesus was born near Jerusalem the capital of this country so the Christians too call it as their native. Small is the land and big is the pain – pain of thousands of years. Why do you puzzle yourself in the long history of pains and problems?
Suresh too loved travelling. For him no more tight and teasing facts of history and geography of the place. For him a few sightseeing place and that’s all. For him diamond business tour and come back to home, that’s all. But I possessed deep desire to see Israel -the country that’s struggling to keep its existence against the big Islamic enemies like Jordan, Syria, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Lebanon.
So, when Chintan, our friend Kiritbhai’s son, started a new business in Israel he said, ‘Uncle and Aunty, now don’t go to Antwerp for buying diamonds. Please come to my office at Tel Aviv.’
Chintan came to receive us at Ben Gurion Airport. I saw around on the way to hotel and felt I was in the USA. Eight lane highway, towering office buildings on either side, greenery everywhere, and smoothly flowing traffic. Neither noise of the traffic nor blowing horns, nor auto rickshaw noise.
As if Chintan understood my mind he said, ‘Everything seems to be peaceful but it seems. It’s surficial. Recently numbers of suicide bombers have grown. Fifty people were killed before three days in a bomb blast at the Tel Aviv bus stop.’
‘Gujarat’s not lagging behind right now. Where’s safety there? Godhara and Gulmarg Society do exist’, I said. So that such talks don’t continue Suresh said, ‘Bloodshed everywhere in the name of religion. As it’s here so does there.’
A cry suppresses within me as I begin to get meaning of ‘as it’s here so does there’. Did the people leave the society of their prophets and great saints?
My mind wandered here and there but the eyes saw the world outside – lime farms, and innumerable trees. What a great determination these people showed in shaping the country!
Chintan stopped the car at Dan Hotel on the banks of the sea. Here we were to stay. Hardly the bell boy opened the door of our room with a cry ‘O My God!’ I rushed to the window. Why shouldn’t I? Before me was the blue sea – the Mediterranean Sea.
‘Aunty later on you see the sea. First of all you refresh yourself quickly. We are to go to my home. Within no time everything will start closing’, Chinatan said.
‘Closing? A strike here too?’ Suresh was surprised. I too was surprised but then it came to me ‘Sabbath. Isn’t it Friday today? From today evening Sabbath begins, no?’
‘Dear Chintan, can’t get it. Let me know what’s it?’ Suresh asked.
‘According the religion of these people God created the world for six days and after it He took rest. That day of rest is the day of Sabbath. Friday evening to Saturday evening. If God didn’t do anything on that day then how the Man could? So on this day radical Jews won’t do anything. Nothing they would do. Neither write, nor cook, nor drive a car. Not even pressing the lift button.’ Chintan explained.
‘That’s good. We too should have such a Sabbath’, Suresh laughed and said. We got refreshed and started for Chintan’s home.
Indeed everything was closing. Shops were closed. Traffic thinned, almost none. ‘What you see is nothing. Let Monday come. Yom Kippur on Monday. The city will observe complete closure’, Chintan said.
‘Yom Kippur?’
‘Yes, Yom Kippur on Monday. Mark the beginning on Sunday evening. Nowhere will you see such a thing. Not in any country.’ – Chintan.
Suresh and I asked together, ’But what’s Yom Kippur?’
Chintan didn’t speak for a while but then said, ‘I don’t know. Better you ask Nelly. We are to take dinner at her home.’
‘Who’s she?’
‘Daniel’s my partner’s wife. Daniel’s a staunch Jew. At his place is our Sabbath dinner. For us only they are to cook vegetarian food.’
‘Yes, but they have their Sabbath, no?’
‘By five thirty Nelly will finish cooking. Aunty you are fond of knowing and seeing that’s why I’ve specially arranged this.’
‘Thanks.’
When we reached to their house in a suburb, Daniel and Nelly were at the door to welcome us. They were white, blonde, and blue eyed European Jews but on a close look Daniel’s face somewhat resembled to an Arab face. Why not similarity? Ultimately the Arabs and the Jews are brothers. They all are descendants of Abraham who migrated from Mesopotamia and settled over here.
Daniel put on a traditional Jew cap that looks like a saucer and Nelly a long black skirt. Daniel introduced us Nelly’s sister Rachel who was standing behind Nelly. According to their custom both of them in turn hugged and kissed me on both the cheeks.
We chatted in Gujarati for a while. I came to know that killers in Israel weren’t called suicide bombers but homicide bombers. The issue of bombs and suicide attacks rose. Nelly vigorously spoke, ‘Let them attack the way they can but we’ll never bow down. We will teach them a right lesson. This is our motherland. We had been pushed out before thousands of years. We have been tortured. Save to your India, everywhere we were humiliated. We were compelled to live in ghettos. Over this earth we continued to wander. No home, no motherland. But we never forgot our religion, customs, and culture.’ Nelly’s face showed terrible feelings. Rachael was silent. It seemed she too felt the same within herself but she suppressed it.
‘Nelly, the military power of your country, your army, and your fighting spirit are matchless. We have to learn a lot from you people’, I said.
Daniel began to sing Hebrew carols. We kept silence and listened to him. An unknown language it was. But the songs in this very same language they continued to sing since ages and survived their religion. After this we started the Sabbath dinner. Fresh but hot bread, Italian pasta, and tomato soup were served.
While eating the issue of war again returned. Daniel said, ‘We are from all direction besieged by our enemies and so we are vigilant always. We are prepared for terrible war any time. You mark the Yom Kippur War.
The word second time struck to my ears. ‘Yom Kippur? What’s it? Any festival?’
‘Festival? No, no. Yom Kippur is... Yom Kippur. You can call it as the Day of Repentance. In our religion one day is considered as the day of repentance. On that day we observe 24 hour fast. Go to synagogue and read holy books. Pray and we regret for our sins whatever we’ve committed. Repent for sins.’
‘Oh... then it’s the day of purifying the soul’, said I.
‘You can take it that way. See how the city changes on that day!’ Rachel said.
‘Going out of home allowed?’
‘Yes, but one has to walk. Can do skating, ride a bicycle but can’t drive a car.’
‘What about hotels? Restaurants?’
‘Everything remains closed, Aunty. On that day you come to my home from your hotel. We’ll take dinner together’, Chintan said.
‘Do this Neha, I think your name’s Neha’, Rachel said to me. ‘Neha, I’ll come to pick you up. We shall walk and see the city. Then I’ll drop you at Chintan’s home.’
‘Very good but I don’t have any interest in your walking journey. I’ll manage to reach Chintan’s home’, Suresh said. ‘Thank God!’, I said.
‘Then is it okay Neha?
‘Yeah Rachel, thanks’.

*** ***

Sabbath ended on Saturday evening. On Sunday for half day hardly shops opened. By the time of evening Yom Kippur effect began to be noticed. Many of Jew festivals are celebrated from sunset to the next sunset.
Sunday evening was spreading and I was looking through a Dan Hotel window. Like a magician begins to wrap up his folded things before the audience, some unknown hands too began to wrap up the city as Yom Kippur got on its way. Shops closed. Roads de-peopled. Hardly few people were noticed. Traffic was almost none. The sun dipped into the Mediterranean Sea. And the city too became still. No single sound. Neither of man, nor of birds, nor of vehicles. As if the city begged to God to pardon of its sin.
On Sunday Chintan brought spicy roti and subji - very simple Gujarati food for lunch. We took it and slept. There were no TV shows. No man was found in the hotel. May be some to manage the hotel but we didn’t see any. Not only Tel Aviv city but as if the whole country Israel went within her conscience for repentance for the sins.
It was Monday morning. We had no hope for breakfast in the hotel. After refreshing himself Suresh went to Chintan’s home. I took Rachel’s company and walked out to see the city. Surprise! Deserted and terrible looking city that I had seen yesterday now became live with children noises. Several children on the roads are riding their bicycles. On the traffic-less roads they are rolling on skates and enjoying themselves. Elders have gone to synagogues for prayers.
We walked slowly and left sea shore. We were on the way to Kikar Hamedina, situated in the midtown. The sun was on the zenith but I knew such things won’t be seen again.

*** ***

‘This is a monument’, Rachel showed a square case filled with black stones. Nearby it was furling the Israeli flag. I asked, ’Monument? Whose?’
‘Yitzhak Rabin’s. He was our Prime Minister. He wanted to make agreement of peace with Palestinians.
‘Who killed him? Why?’
‘A Jew young man. He didn’t wish that our country fall into the hands of our enemies.’ Rachel spoke very harshly. Little far away from the monument were some benches, arranged on the footpath of the Municipal offices. We sat on one. A tall, healthy man around fifty sat on the next bench to ours. ‘Come, we sit here’ said Rachel and sat beside that man. She hinted me to sit down beside her.
On the roads ran the fun and frolic of the children. We three watched it in silence. Suddenly Rachel turned to that man and asked angrily, ‘Today’s Yom Kippur, Colonel Dove! Today you’ll have to repent of your sin. Tell me you are doing it or not? ‘She was talking in English. Dove asked, ‘What? What do you mean? Do you know me?’
‘Yea, I know you. You are an enemy to our country. You have committed sins. During Yom Kippur war. During Lebanon war. During war you mixed up with the enemies. It is treason. Dove, for your sins will you repent or not?’
Rachel was shaking with anger. She turned to me and said, ‘This man has cheated us. A betrayal. Betrayal of the country.’ She spoke as if she attacked him. ‘What? This impressive and bright looking man commits a crime against the country? Is he a spy of some other country or a collaborator? If so why your vigilant government so sensitive for security of the country doesn’t arrest him? No, no... I can’t believe this Rachel.’
‘Neha, he’s a sinner.’
Dove looked at me and said, ‘Rachel is right, perhaps. I am a sinner. On each Yom Kippur I don’t go to synagogue. I sit here and watch children playing. I say to God ‘Did I commit sins? If so punish me’.
‘Our religion- all religions say that if you regret your sins God forgives’, I said. What else I say?
‘But to this man God won’t forgive. Because of his sins thousands of our people die’, Rachel almost shouted. ‘Yes, man dies, young dies, and children too. In bloody attacks, in bomb blasts. Wailing of their relatives fill the earth’. She stopped for a while and again began, ‘You missed your duty.’
Dove looked at me. ‘Neha, you’re an Indian. You come from the land of Buddha and Gandhi.’ I wanted to say, ‘No... no. In our country too...’ but couldn’t speak. Dove continued, ‘I’m Lt. Col. Dove. My name’s long but all call me Dove. Dove is a bird, isn’t it? My name’s right. When I was young, I wished to fly like a bird. I wanted to fly rhythmically like the lines of a poem written rhythmically in the air. As I grew, I took training to become a pilot. Then I joined the Air Force.’
He didn’t speak for a while. I had a different feeling. A feeling that refused to believe this. In the country where I just landed yesterday, an unknown man –a high official was telling me his tale of treason. ‘I joined the Air Force and within no time became a squadron leader. It was followed by the Yom Kippur war. Do you know about it?
‘A little only. You became victorious, that I know.’
‘Behind the victory the terrible destruction takes place on both the sides that’s not known by all. Yom Kippur is the day for all Israeli Jews. On that day our enemies thinking that we won’t be alert, all our neighbouring Arab countries made a heavy attack and began a war. But we weren’t sleeping. Our army, our Air Force, and our Navy was prepared. We fought well and defeated them. Pushed them back to their position.’
‘You were a pilot so you were part of air strike, isn’t it?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ said he. ‘But how were the attacks! In a city we destroyed thirty planes of Egypt. The areas below us begin to catch fire as we drop bombs. Thousands of innocent men, women, and children are crushed under the falling debris of buildings. They cry in pain and run to save their lives. We can’t hear their cries up above in our planes. But these sights shook me from within. It suddenly came to my mind ‘Dove, you wanted to fly in the sky. Your plane was a line of a poem in the sky. How did it happen that your plane turned into a war machine? A war began within me.
‘Our officials became merciless and ordered us to drop bombs anywhere whether it was a civilian place or a military one. Meanwhile I got a message: Destroy the big building on the hill before you. I asked ‘What sort of the building is? Military one? Hospital? School? I was told ‘It may be anything. Destroy it. We need destruction, so destroy it. I didn’t drop any bomb and returned from there. As I landed my officials called me. I told them ‘I don’t have any interest in your war. Let me go or give me a military target.’
‘Did they punish you?’
‘No. Because there were two or three other pilots, who also came back like me. One of them was ordered to kill fleeing Egyptian soldiers. He refused. He said you arrest them and put into prison but can’t kill them.’
‘What did you get with such a mercy? Did the war stop? Still their infiltration continues and creates terrible violence’, Rachel said and began to cry.
‘Yes, I know. But less do we create terror in comparison to them? Remember the Lebanon war,’ Dove said without anger. After nine to ten years of Yom Kippur war I retired from the Air Force. I studied architect. With my hard work I built my own house in Jerusalem. By the time I was called back again. The Palestine terrorists in a large number were hidden in Lebanon. It was a war either to draw them out or kill.’
‘Was it unfair? Weren’t the terrorists hidden there?
‘May be but with them were their women and children. These terrorists were to be wiped out. Entering the foreign country air space we were to kill innumerable citizens – those who weren’t in military uniforms. This wasn’t a war. And yet to betray our conscience we named it a war. There were thousands of women and children in Sabra and Satilla camps. Our tanks headed towards them. Because of a navigation error a whole Infantry tier was trapped outside of the city. They had suffered heavily. To save the Infantry I was ordered to make heavy bombarding upon the enemy areas. ‘But where to drop bombs? Which targets?’ I asked my officials. ‘Anywhere’, was the response. I lowered my plane. I saw a tall solitary building. I thought it a military head quarter and as I was to drop bombs I saw children running out of it. I made my target miss it. We had killed hundreds of women and children in Sabra and Satilla camps. At that time I saw them not as my target but as women and children striving for their lives.
‘It’s a lie! It’s a foolish feeling. The children you save are now suicide bombers and attack us. They weren’t children but seeds of Devil. My son Ronit was killed in killing them. Aren’t you responsible for my son’s death?’ Rachel challenged Dove. ‘Ronit was working in the Army. He lived for his country. He needed life not death.’ Rachel broke down. Tears ran on the face. ‘You peace lovers! You don’t know how terrible a son’s death for a mother is! Had you not shown mercy at that time all the enemies might have been wiped out. Today’s Yom Kippur, regret your sins. Because of your sins I lost my son.’
Rachel buried her face in her hands. Tears flew constantly. I gently put my hand on her shoulder. I had no idea of such a tragedy of Rachel. My senses became numb when I heard of her son’s death. ‘Let’s go’, I said and lent my hand to her. She staggered. It was very sunny day. Most children had gone to their homes. The road looked deserted.
Dove also began to walk with us. When the road diverted to Ichilov Hospital he stopped for a while. ‘Rachel, at what extent such violence will continue? We the human race can’t learn a new language? Our flying plane should be a bird and not a war machine. Our neighbours be our friends and not our enemies. And children not seeds of Devil but be children only. Can’t we do this? Rachel, can’t we?’
He parted from us and walked on the road to Ichilov Hospital.
Yom Kippur ended. Next day I read newspapers. ‘The Jerusalem Post’ gave a list of the dead who were killed in a bomb blast three days before. The list also mentioned the death of Col. Dove’s son.