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Entry number 1: Scotland, December 12th.

Dear mother, I suppose by this time that you are sound asleep in your bunk and enjoying dreamland. Well, I’m not going to “waste” much time over this so after a few little scratches, will hit the sheets myself.Did you ever receive the perfume that I sent you? A tent mate sent some home after I did, and he has just received a letter acknowledging it. Perhaps you have too, but it might be in another batch of letters that are taking a long time to get to me.Some letters ago I told you about my reasonings. Again, mother, I did not regret joining the British people. We may not know what their intentions are but I assure you they had never treated me wrong. The boys are quite fun to be around too, we drink and we sing when the fighting is done.

And mother, have I told you how beautiful the stars look up here?I wouldn't know, mother, if this letter is going to be another one of those letters of mine that started out as an exercise in two-fingered typing and became lost somewhere, again. I seem to hear you say, “Don’t be afraid, I’ll always under­stand.” You always have, so I keep pouring my petty troubles in your ears. Scratch that. Eyes, I meant. I'm sorry, I'll try harder to search for a way to telephone you.Well, back to the topic. Mother, believe you not but here I learned far more things than I did back in Nepal. They taught me how to read, write, and count. Proven by how well I write these letters to you, right?

I studied hard, mama, I never forgot.To be honest, it wasn't all that great too, after all this still is war. Sometimes in the middle of the operation, I’m hungry and thirsty, I’m tired and weary, I’m savage and beastly, I’m all that is wretched, but it is nothing compared to what you have been through raising me to where I stand now. It's tiring, I'm lying if I said I don't want to quit, but the sudden reminder flashing before my eyes always hits harder than the dirt.

Mother, why didn't you tell me sooner that living REAL responsibilities is hard.I see it all again now. The daily grind of you cooking, washing and sewing until your eyes were tired at night – long after I, as a kid, were fast asleep.There was the basketfull of socks to be darned and clothes to patch, lunch to be got ready for school next day. Perhaps you think I forget, but I don’t, at least not for long. How can I?And the many spankings, too, were not forgotten; the many were few in comparison with my deserts. I remember many instances, too, where I was forgiven, where you should have spanked. Mother, you always hit us with your lowest effort, right? I just realized it by now after series of spar I went through in the camp ground here. (Don't worry, I don't always lose.)

Do you? Needless to say, I do long for the time when I can return home and make amends by showing you how much I love you.Four days from this letter is written, the boys and I will be preparing to land straight into the mines. To be honest, I'm not afraid to die, I just hate the thought of not seeing you again. Buy Turkey Ranch with the money I sent you. Make liberal donations to brothers. See that Ishaar has a bicycle his first year.And Mother that is it for today's letter. I'm sorry if it went shorter and shorter day by day. Lights here went out earlier in winter. Can't blame them, perhaps there are people in the bunk who need it the most.
Not that I mind the cold.

N.

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Entry number 2: Glasgow, April 18th.

Dear mother, it has been months since I last letter you. I haven't found the time to do so, my apologies.There are so many things happening that I don't know where to start first. Mother, do you remember the last time I mentioned that we're going into the mines? Turns out, the event was a turn to downfall.It was a disaster. We lost a lot of resources and men. The north people were ruthless, as if they valued none of their life, as if they were only a weapon for war. It was scary, considering every one of them has a time bomb detached to themselves, which we didn't expect. It was a huge loss for us.But I shouldn't be ungrateful, not when your prayers kept me save. Yes, I'm the only one from my brigade who survived. I saw my tent mate, the one that gave the perfume to his lover, laid there with half of his face gone. I don't know why I did, but I can't leave him alone even if I knew he was already lost.

May perhaps the nuns and nurses at least bury him in his own land and let know his fiance to stop waiting.Mother, my guts are punching me, I feel like they're blaming me. They're not wrong though, it could probably be my fault. Had I been more braver instead, I wouldn't have to live this guilt. But again, maybe I'm still afraid of not being able to see you again.Believe me mother, I do hate this. I can't stand watching faces I know merging with the ground. I want to quit, to be your little helper once again in the rice field. I had enough too. But they promised me the rank colonel if I continue to fight. I honestly don't know what that is, but if it meant wealth, I perhaps can endure this maybe a little bit while longer.Please understand that I can't go back home yet.And never worry about me. As long as I have faith in your prayers, this feet of mine will keep on standing. I did survive after all, with only minor injuries.

I hope by the time war is over, we can have a big family vacation. People here at Manchester love to have a night parade full of food stalls and fun attractions. I bet Ishaar and Raj would love cotton candy.If I get respected enough, I can even perhaps introduce you all to the Queen. I did met her once, along with other nobles when I'm in duty near the palace. They have fancy gowns and fans. I hope by then you too, will wear the same. No more sewing patches, no more sowing rice fields. You will be one of the prettiest lady noble living without sweat.I promise you that, mother. Until death do me wrong.

N.

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adam clarke is portrayed by naib subedar from identity v.all arts belong to @kandumesss.

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