M T Muanding Guite
The wrist-watch was a token of remembrance of the time of peace
Not far up to the west of Churachandpur town, one can clearly see a tapering iron frame in the distance. Beneath the side of that high-rising tower is a residential school, flanked on either sides by a government tourist lodge and a CRPF camp. Once conceived by the late Rajiv Gandhi, it saw the light of day in his late grand-father's honour, namely Jawahar Navodya Vidyalaya, during the mid-1980s.
My brother has been studying there for five years until the virus of ethnic violence infected their vicinity. Since I left him for further studies in Delhi, we got in touch with each other through letters, rather irregular due to postal delays. Everytime he wrote me a letter, it is wrapped inside my Dad's, sometimes I received it along with that of my mother's and sister's. It was always his letter that I read last for its emotional and inspirational contents. I know I have to spare some time to ponder over it.
