The Hero

This is basically a sequel to "Memories of a Lost Night", but it can also be read as an independent story, so reading the previous post is not necessary but it is helpful.... As always i hope you enjoy the story and do post your valuable comments...

The Hero

My dad used to say that the State needed Heroes, Heroes to guide people, to lead people, to fight in ‘The War’ and to give their lives for the State. Every evening after the visiplate news, father would sit with his friends, smoking his pipe, and they would talk about ‘The War’ and Heroes. After a few hours, they will all be drunk and they will fight till the early hours of morning, when they will disperse, each one swearing that the State needs heroes. My father was no hero though. He was merely a clerk in The War office and he died in a streetfight, while I was 12. The official report was that my father wanted the other person to acknowledge that he was a Hero, but the person stabbed him with a knife and ran off saying that not my father, but he was a Hero. But who can blame him, such are the times that we live in.

It all started 30 years ago. An officer named NAMSSIN222901, Grade 8, tried to bribe the State into giving him a huge sum of money. When the State did not comply, he launched a nuclear missile on State US, thereby triggering ‘The War’. It is said that his intention behind this act was the destruction of the States. But during the early days of the conflict, it was mutually agreed by both sides that nuclear arms would not be used in the war. With the use of nuclears, the States would not have survived even a year of war. But after 30 years of pain and suffering, it now seems it would have been better if the World had ended that day.

30 years of ‘The War’ has changed everything. Not that I know about it, I was born after ‘The War’ started. But old people used to say that there was a time, when there was no war, there was enough food, everyone was happy, and people did not go around killing other people. It must been a good time to live in, with no fear of hunger, death, disease. But I find it hard to imagine such a world, it must have been perfect.

After my father died, I decided that I would become a real Hero, one who fights in ‘The War’, not like my dad who only used to talk about heroes. I grew up in my aunt’s house and by the time I was 16, I was ready to join The Forces. The selection was tough. Everyone wanted to be a Hero, but not everyone was suited for this job. As I saw the dejected looks on the faces of the rejected candidates, I could see my father’s anguish, at not being a hero, in their eyes. I could see their future, they would spend their days in the War office filing reports and their nights, getting drunk and dreaming of being a hero, a dream that they knew will never be fulfilled.

But I was selected. During my days with my aunt, I met a War veteran. He taught me a lot, helped me build my body, hone my fighting skills and develop leadership skills. He was a good teacher, but he never talked about ‘The War’. At the slightest mention of the word, he used to get infuriated and I knew that was the end of that days training. Once, at night he was drunk and I asked him about ‘The War’, he started crying and asked me to not join the Forces. The next morning, when I brought up this subject, he said that he did not remember anything. We resumed the training and I forgot about the incident. So under the able guidance of this man, I was ready for the Forces.


‘The War’ was nearing towards its conclusion. We were making a last stand in Sector 3, the Russia of olden days. That night I called the troops to my office. They could all barely fit into my tiny office. I said, “Tomorrow is going to be the last day of this battle. This is the chance you have been waiting for all your life, this is your chance to be a Hero. We will all be Heroes tomorrow.” “We will all be dead tomorrow.” a voice called out from behind. He came forward and said, “Do you not know about the Juda’s curse?”

Juda’s curse, I knew about that alright. Juda, as NAMSSIN222901, Grade 8, was commonly known, was posted in Sector 3, when he launched that fateful missile. It was widely believed that the villain Juda had cursed this place. We had lost every battle fought in Sector 3 and the soldiers knew that we were going to lose the Final battle too and that will be the End.

I knew it was time to reveal a secret, a secret which I have been hiding since long, a secret which even I was ashamed to admit. I said, “Let me tell you a story.” The soldiers started murmuring, I ignored them and continued, “30 years ago, in 2229 A.D. to be precise, a young officer was enlisted in NAMS. He was the best officer that NAMS had ever seen. But his love for NAMS and the State could not match his love for his family. He was in love with his wife and his unborn child. He longed to see them, but he was a Grade 8 officer, so obviously he was denied permission to visit them. So one night, under the influence of sleep deprivation drug, he did the unthinkable. He launched a nuclear missile and the rest is history.”

The whispers grew louder. “He did not want any money; it was the State’s version. But how do I know all this? Well before dying, he sent a letter to his wife. The letter said that he had committed a grave sin and that he could never forgive himself for this sin. And he made a request in that letter, he asked his unborn child to correct his sins. So, before dying he promised a Hero to the State, a Hero who will lift the Juda’s curse and bring victory to this cursed land. And that Hero is me; I am the Son of Juda and in confrontation with me the Juda’s curse will fail….”

I don’t know how much effect my speech had on the soldiers, but the next day they fought like Heroes. By the evening, we had repelled the last regiment of the alliance of State US and Europe. It would be months before they can raise an army big enough to invade again. We had won the war, for now at least. I was declared a Hero of State along with many of my fellow soldiers.

That night, standing in the battlefield and looking at the chaos, destruction, misery and death around me, I realised that there are no real Heroes here.
I had once read a story about a boxer who threw away his medal, for which he had struggled immensely, because he realised that the values that he had fought for were an illusion. My medal reminded me of that story and I threw away my most prized possession, the medal. Being Hero did not mean anything to me now. I was only a Survivor now.

The ‘Age of the Hero’ was over and sooner the people realize that, the better. As for me, I am just happy that my stepfather died without having to face the harsh truth that there are no Heroes. It is very agonizing to realise that the only hope that keeps you going through life, is an allusion. The ‘Age of the Hero’ was over and The ‘Age of the Survivor’ was beginning…..

The End….

Note by Author:

i have exams coming up so i will not be able to post in the coming weeks.... but you don't have to worry, when a new post comes up... u will be notified...