I was excited for my first international trip.
A bit disappointed I got, when I realized we weren’t travelling by aircraft.
But a boat ride across the blue ocean, from Mannar to India, with all our neighbors seemed fun.
Sadly, Appa wasn’t here and I hesitated to embark on this journey without him.
I was relieved when Amma assured me that he would join us in India.
The sea was rough though, and huddled together, many of us were seasick.
Touching down at Rameshwaram was exciting, as Grandma had mentioned that Lord Rama had begun his journey to my country from this point.
My happiness soon vanished when we were harshly reprimanded by some military officers.
Amma consoled me saying that they were only doing their job.
I somehow wasn’t enjoying this outing as we waited in long queues under the sun and were lodged in a dingy shanty.
But it was peaceful here, sans the sounds of exploding bombs or constant shelling.
Amma was in tears the other day when I asked her when we would return home.
Soon, she had said, when the battle for freedom that took Appa and our home would cease, for a new beginning.
(This story was featured in the August Monthly Writing Contest by @Beyond the Box)
