As we approached the giant national flag hoisted at the memorial, fluttering away in full glory, our hearts sank when we saw that what lay behind the memorial. At the back, on the sandstone wall was a brass metal plate with names of all the martyred soldiers engraved on it.
I missed him wearing his fat Eskimo jacket (which I hated considering it was totally out of fashion), shielding him from the cold. I felt my eyes getting moist as I thought of him lying alone in the cold grave, and my shear helplessness whimpered me.
His daughter’s face floated in front of his eyes. When he’d seen her last she’d clutched his hand, her little fingers unable to curl around his big palm. She told him that she believed in him.
Yesterday we were explorers, not knowing where the road would lead us. But today, we knew exactly where we were heading, and what the journey had to offer us. Even amidst adventures, from familiarity stems belongingness. Today we were shareholders in Nubra’s giant scheme of things, and so free of worry, we decided to open all our senses to this barren old one hell of a land!