"Maya, come on. Faster, last one there has to be goalie,” Veer teased his sister.

    “Guys, I’m always a goalie. Please, ugh, wait up.” They ran so fast my little legs could barely catch up. I just want to play with Veer and his friends. Why does he always leave me behind and make me be a goalie? Everyone hates being a goalie when we play soccer. I just wish it wasn't always me. Maya ran after Veer and his friends. She held a beaten-up stuffed animal pig that her father had got her for her 7th birthday last year. A lot has changed since that birthday. There was now a curfew enforced every night. She had not seen her dad since April of 1971 because he was a military commander in the Indian army. Now, it was December and things seemed to be more relaxed. All the radios mentioned were the bombings, but Maya’s village in Myanmar had not seen the reality of the war. Drills to prepare and take cover for bombings had been randomly happening since March. All the kids and adults had gotten used to the screeching sirens by now. Their habituation made them view those sirens as serious as a routine fire drill. 

    While running, Maya heard her mom call out, “Be safe everyone. Veer, make sure to bring your sister back before curfew. Maya, Maya, can I talk to you.” By that time, Maya was too far away to hear. Her mother wanted to discuss an unfortunate event from the morning. Maya caught her mother and their neighbor, Mr. Ayakar, in bed together. Oh, what my baby girl must think. She adores her father. Sadly, I do not share that same adoration. Her mother was fearful that Maya would spread her knowledge of the affair to everyone in town. I mean all Maya really saw was the two of us unclad in our bed. We could have just been...oh, I don’t know. She tried to calm herself down, rationalizing the situation, and hoped Maya was still too innocent for this world. 

    After running for seven long minutes, Maya finally caught up to Veer and his friends on the soccer field. She grabbed her knees and threw her body forward. She huffed and puffed, trying to control her massive inhales. “Haha, loser. You’re so slow.” Veer taunted his sister. 

    Maya was hurt but laughed it off and asked, “Veer, Veer, which team am I on?”

    “Shut up, fat face. You were too slow,” he said mockingly. “Go and sit on the bench, you can be a scorekeeper.”

    “Nooooo, that’s even worse than goalie,” Maya whined as she stomped her feet on the ground. She hesitantly dragged herself over to the bench with her stuffed animal and started to draw the scorecard with a random stick she found on the ground. As the game went on, her boredom grew. She sang her favorite songs until her voice was worn out. At some point, she started to doodle hearts and stars in the dirt, completely ignoring the events of the game. And nobody seemed to notice her mind veering off. 

    Suddenly, an annoyingly loud siren goes off. Maya was so dazed and used to the excessive noise, she barely noticed it. Veer and his friends were a little more aware and ran back to their homes. One of his friends asked, “Hey, where’s your sister?”

    Veer replied, “Oh, I guess she’s still keeping score. I’m sure she’ll catch up. She always does. Even if she doesn’t, it’s just a drill, she’ll be fine there. We’ll get her later.” While running back, Veer heard a loud boom and looked up. He saw planes in the distance growing larger and larger. His heart dropped. Just keep running, just keep running. I’m sure it’s India’s plane. Veer and his friends were able to get home, but Maya was nowhere to be seen. 

“Where is your sister!?” Mom screamed at first. “Where is your sister?” She repeated over and over again, each time losing a bit of herself. With each time, her eyes grew, her tears welled up, and her scream soon turned into a hopeless shriek. She begged one last time, “Veer, honey, where is your sister?”

“Mom, I’m, I’m. My sister, mom.” Veer struggled to produce any sound. His throat closed every time he tried to release his words. His palms were sweaty and his head became so light, he felt like he was about to faint. 

“At least our secret is safe,” Mr. Ayakar laughed uneasily with a slight smirk and resistance in his voice. Mom looked over at him, her face red with fury and hands clenched. 

“What’s wrong with you? Are you insane? Is that really, really what you’re thinking about?” I angrily condemned him, but the truth is, I was thinking the same thing. Images of her scattered body crossed my mind, my beautiful baby girl, I felt terrible that a wind of relief swept me away. I guess my secret is safe forever, forever.

They all had an order to stay inside for another hour. It was the longest hour of their life. Everyone was glancing at each other but simultaneously keeping their head down. Out of pity, out of respect, or out of shock, whatever the reason, their eyes met the floor. Everyone was so silent that the sounds of the bomber planes amplified through their bones. An announcement rang that allowed everyone to go outside. Veer and his mother immediately dashed in the direction of the soccer field. They stopped when they saw Maya’s stuffed animal. 

Veer stood with his mouth gaped open. His hands shook as he removed some of the rubble. His mother came running, threw the dirt from his hands, and placed his head in her arms.

“Don’t look, baby,” her voice shook, “Don’t look, okay. It’s going to be alright.” She said with such uncertainty that it seemed like she was trying to convince herself. 

I couldn’t stop looking, mom told me not to, but something inside me compelled my eyes to the rubble. I don’t think I wanted to see my sister’s arms spread across the area, or half of her skull crushed. I needed to see it. So. I picked up the rocks to reveal her face and just stared. Well, I don’t think what I saw could really qualify as a face. Her right eye was no longer connected to the socket. Her ears still wept with blood. I never noticed how purple blood actually is. Almost as purple as her skin. Pale and purple was the new coloration of her youthful skin, it was no longer the olive tanned skin that everyone once knew. 

The worst part was that day was not labeled a tragedy. To the media, to everyone else, it was the last day of the war. The next day, December 16, 1971, the Eastern Command of the Pakistan military signed the Instrument of Surrender in Dhaka. 

It made me feel sick to my stomach. Here people were parading around and radio announcers celebrating with joy when what remained of my sister's body was being transported to the crematorium. She died among the ashes and will leave this world as ashes floating across the Ganges River. 

With tears in his eyes, Veer opened the rusted silver ern and rapidly tossed the ashes into the river. He threw them in with such force it was almost like he was pitching a ball. With tears welling up in his eyes, Veer whispered, “Bye, sister. My sister, I’m…,” he cleared his throat and choked up, “I’m sorry.” He promptly wiped his tears on his best suit and walked away. He never talked about what happened to anyone; after all, isn’t ignorance bliss? But he wasn’t ignorant; he thought about Maya every second of every day. He never vocalized her name, but there was always a background loop in his mind chanting. Maya, Maya, Maya. Some days it was louder and others so quiet, it became almost bearable for Veer. Even his own reflection was Maya, his hands, his feet, his eyes, would be Maya till the day he dies.