Henry

For the past four months, every single moment has felt longer than centuries to me.

Just a few more days, and my Heer will be with me, beside me, forever.

I cannot even express in words how happy I was that day, how many times I thanked the Almighty, when Baldev Singh invited me to his house to tell me that he had accepted my proposal.

He accepted the match with great respect and honor. There is a grand festival celebrated here called Deepawali, and our wedding date has been fixed for after that.

Since that day, I have been longing even for a single glimpse of Heer. But she has not appeared in the market, nor in the library.

My heart has been restless, constantly wondering whether Heer is truly happy about this marriage. Or not?

Iqbal eased my worry somewhat when he explained that here, once a match is confirmed, girls are not allowed to go out much until the wedding. Hearing this gave me some relief.

Yet one question still troubles me. Is Heer truly happy? And if she is not?

No, that cannot be. Baldev Singh loves her deeply. He would never take such a major step against his daughter’s happiness.

Today, like every other day, I began my morning in the usual way. It is the month of November now, and the weather has started turning colder. I remained occupied with the routine duties of the day, and before I even realized it, evening had arrived.

I was absorbed in my work when a soldier came running toward me.

“Lieutenant Colonel Caldwell, urgent news from the High Command!”

“What is it?” I asked with concern.

“Sir, the war is over. The armistice has been signed. Effective from the eleventh hour today.”

The moment those words left his mouth, I froze for a second. The war was over.

At last, the war was over.

Those words echoed in my mind again and again. I could not hear anything else the soldier said after that.

My heart and mind were filled with only one thought, now I will be able to see my father again. My mother will be able to return home, because the war has finally ended.

For a few moments I simply stood there, motionless.

“War is over.”

The words kept repeating in my head, again and again.

I slowly rose from my chair, because even now it was difficult for me to believe it. But the officers around me had already burst into excitement.

They were congratulating one another, shouting loudly. “To the King! To victory!” Their voices echoed with celebration.

But me?

I could barely understand what I was feeling. The happiness was so overwhelming that I could not even express it.

For me, this war was not merely a war. It was the story of my own family.

My father was somewhere in the frozen fields of France, fighting with his regiment. And my mother? She must be sitting in some small farmhouse in America, praying every day to God that both her husband and her son would return alive.

“When?” I asked the soldier. There was a strange restlessness in my voice.

“Today. The eleventh hour,” he replied before leaving.

Until this morning, that land had been a temple of death where men were falling one after another, and now upon the same ground a declaration of peace had been issued.

Had everything truly ended? Or was this merely the beginning of a new chapter?

I took a deep breath and looked at my palms. My life was stepping into a new phase. On one side stood my country, my home, and the joy of my own family… and on the other side stood Heer.

And the moment I thought of Heer, a strange uneasiness surrounded me. For a moment I wondered if perhaps Heer would not be happy to hear this news. And if she is not happy… then would this victory truly hold any meaning for me?

But surely she would feel glad to know that the father of her future husband is returning home, would she not?

Yes, she may not be particularly fond of the British, that much I have understood after seeing her put the arrogant children of British officers in their place more than once. But I also know that humanity means a great deal to her.

I still remember that day when I was walking through the market and she helped a British lady and her daughter.

For Heer, humanity comes first, no matter who stands before her.

Thinking all this, I stepped out of my office and saw that the atmosphere outside was full of celebration. People were rejoicing, dancing, and cheering.

The General had already announced a grand celebration at his house tonight. I had no desire to attend, but unfortunately I had to go. All the British officers were present there with their families.

Everyone was laughing and joking. The room was filled with noise and celebration. Some were raising their glasses of brandy, while others were banging their hands loudly on the table in excitement.

My own hand reached for my glass of brandy as well, but then something made me pause and I did not touch it. My heart was tangled in a strange confusion.

On one side, a voice inside me was shouting with joy.

We have won, Henry. Everything will be alright now. I will be able to meet my father again. My mother will finally sleep in peace.

But on the other side, my heart was filled with another voice.

Just as the British here were drowning in drink and song, the people of India must also be hoping that now their demands would be fulfilled, because they had supported Britain.

But would that truly happen?

I am a part of this government myself, and I know very well that many of the promises made to the Indians in exchange for their support may never be fulfilled.

And perhaps that might even affect my own personal life.

Heer is a girl with independent thoughts, and I had begun to realize that perhaps I might have to face these political tensions even inside my own home someday.

But for now, at this moment, I pushed those thoughts aside.

Today, a son was giving thanks for the news of victory. And today, a man who was soon to be a husband could not allow that joy to fade.

What happens after the wedding will be seen later.

But tonight, a celebration was necessary.

With that thought, I took a sip of my brandy and stood quietly in a corner, watching and absorbing the atmosphere of the celebration.

I was standing in a corner, slowly swirling the brandy in my glass, when the General walked toward me. I gave him a slight bow.

“General.”

“Not enjoying the celebration, Caldwell?” he asked.

Taking a small sip from my glass, I replied, “Enjoying it in my own way, sir.”

The General chuckled lightly, trying to break my seriousness. “Come on, we won the war. You should be celebrating like the rest.”

“Yes, we won. But at what cost?” I asked. The uneasiness and sadness in my voice were impossible to hide.

The General patted my shoulder in a teasing manner. “Do not get too philosophical now, Caldwell. Wars are meant to be won, and your father played a major role in it. You should be proud.”

I tried to bring a faint smile to my face, though the emptiness in my eyes must have been visible. “Yes, sir. Of course I am a proud son,” I said, slowly swirling the brandy in my glass again.

For some reason, I could not feel completely happy inside.

“Well, I hear you are getting married, Caldwell. Congratulations,” the General said.

But those were not just congratulations. I could clearly sense the mockery behind them. After all, the things people say have a way of reaching my ears too, and I know very well that many officers are not particularly pleased about my marriage.

But it makes no difference to me.

Still, I replied politely, “Thank you, sir.”

“Marrying a native, Caldwell? That is… unexpected.” The General’s taunt finally came out openly.

Without letting it show that his words had any effect on me, I answered with a calm smile, “It may be unexpected, sir, but it is certainly not regrettable.”

The General burst into loud laughter, as if I had said something amusing. “Be careful, Caldwell. You might end up more Indian than British soon.”

I returned the remark with a broad smile. “Perhaps, sir. I believe I could do worse.”

When the General realized that his words had no effect on me, he made an excuse and walked away. I finished my brandy as well and quietly left the celebration.

It was already quite late at night, and I still had many tasks to finish in the morning before my wedding. The past week had passed so quickly between work and the wedding preparations that I had hardly even realized it.

When I opened my eyes on the morning of the wedding, I felt immediately that today was not an ordinary day. Today Heer would become mine. After today, I would never be alone again. The thought brought a wide smile to my face.

Outside, I could hear the sounds of activity. People were busy preparing for the celebration. Iqbal Ali was the most excited of them all. I have no family here, so he and his family had taken charge of all the wedding arrangements.

Sunlight streamed in through the doors, and the air carried the fragrance of flowers. I rose from my bed and went to sit at the small table and chair placed in the corner of the room.

Seven days had passed since the war ended, and I had still not found the opportunity to write to my father and congratulate him.

I picked up a sheet of paper and a pen and began writing a letter to him.

18th November 1918, Morning:

Dear Father,

It fills me with immense pride to write to you today. We have won the war. After four years of relentless struggle and countless sacrifices, victory is finally ours. This triumph stands as a testament to your leadership, your unwavering service, and the dedication of brave men like you. I extend my heartfelt congratulations to you on this historic achievement.

But today is not just about the war ending, it also marks a deeply personal milestone for me. Today, I am getting married.

I know this news may come as a surprise, and I wish I had written to you sooner. I am marrying an incredible woman: Heer. She is intelligent, courageous, and unlike anyone I have ever met. She comes from a world so different from ours, yet with her, I have found something I never expected, a sense of belonging.

As I prepare for my wedding, my heart aches for your and Mother’s presence. I wish you were here to give me your blessings. I long to see Mother’s warm smile and feel the reassuring grip of your hand on my shoulder. I know that by the time you receive this letter, I will already be a married man, but my greatest hope is that you will come soon, bringing Mother with you, so that you both can meet Heer and share in this new chapter of my life.

I miss you both a lot and often feel an emptiness within me, but now that emptiness will be filled as my wife enters my life, my Heer. When you meet her, you’ll fall in love with her too; she’s just that wonderful.

I hope you’ll come to see me soon because, due to my duty, returning right now is very difficult for me.

Now that the war is over, I hope you, too, will find peace. When I see you again, I will no longer be just your son, but also a husband.

Your son,

Lieutenant Colonel Henry Caldwell

I had just finished the letter and was about to place it into an envelope to send it, when a voice shattered my thoughts.

“Lieutenant Colonel Caldwell, an urgent letter for you,” a soldier said as he entered and placed a sealed envelope into my hands before leaving.

I looked at it with surprise. A letter at this early hour? A strange uneasiness gripped my heart.

Without wasting a moment, I took the envelope from his hand, broke the seal, and began to read.

“To Lieutenant Colonel Henry Caldwell, With deep regret, we inform you that Field Marshal Thomas Caldwell has fallen in battle. He was martyred in service to the Crown in the final days of the Great War…”

The rest of the words blurred before my eyes. My gaze stopped at those three words.

Fallen in battle.

My hands turned cold and breathing suddenly felt difficult. The hope I had been holding in my heart of returning home shattered in an instant.

My father would never return now. He would never see my mother again. My mother’s last hope had been broken.

How would she bear this news alone? My mother was alone at the moment when she needed me the most, and here I was, across seven seas, dreaming of a new life.

My father would never see the home I was about to build. Everything was gone. Everything.

For a moment I closed my eyes and the image of my father appeared before me, smiling just as he always did. I remembered the words he used to say:

“A soldier fights with honor. And if he falls, he falls with glory.”

But now those words felt hollow. Glory? How could that glory fill the darkness that had fallen upon my home? How could that honor ease the endless waiting of my mother?

Today, on the day of my wedding… when Heer is about to become mine, my father is no longer here.

Just when it seemed that everything in life was finally falling into place, everything had fallen apart.

With my eyes still closed, I clenched that letter tightly in my fist and took a deep breath. On a day like this, I cannot bring this turmoil before Heer. No matter how much I wish to, I cannot mourn the loss of my martyred father today.

If on one side a father had left me forever, on the other side another father was waiting to see his daughter depart in her bridal palanquin.

Outside the door people were still laughing, the sounds of wedding music echoed in the air, but for me everything had turned into a strange silence.

My steps faltered and I dropped back onto the chair. For a moment I could not understand how all of this had happened.

But I blinked my eyes quickly and held back the tears that threatened to fall. Taking a deep breath, I carefully placed both letters in my study… and began preparing for the wedding.

At Iqbal Ali’s insistence I wore a light white kurta and pajama, though it felt unusual. I had never worn anything like this before.

But out of respect for Heer’s family traditions, I accepted it without protest. Then Iqbal tied a deep red turban on my head with his own hands, a color meant to add grandeur to the wedding. A richly embroidered shawl of the same shade was placed over my shoulders, and my sword was handed to me.

It was already part of my uniform, but Iqbal explained that carrying a sword is also considered auspicious in Sikh weddings, so I quietly held it in my hand.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked completely different. It was still me, yet in a new form. Perhaps this is what it means when two cultures meet.

I did not understand how so many emotions could exist inside my heart at the same time. My mind was still repeating the words from the letter that had arrived in the morning:

Field Marshal Thomas Caldwell has fallen in battle.

But before me stood another truth.

Heer.

My Heer.

Today she was going to become mine. And as much sorrow as I felt for my father, there was an equally deep longing to see Heer beside me. Perhaps if my father had lived to see this day, he would have felt proud. Perhaps my mother too would have been happy to know that her son was not alone anymore.

But that day would never come now.

I took a deep breath and stepped out of my room with Iqbal Ali. I have no family here, and apart from my regiment and Iqbal, I hardly know anyone in this place.

So the wedding procession was small. A few men from my battalion and some women from Iqbal Ali’s household accompanied us. I have never liked unnecessary noise or spectacle, so we went simply from my residence to Baldev Singh’s haveli.

When we arrived, Baldev Singh welcomed us with great respect and warmth.

Several rituals were performed, most of which I did not understand, but I followed whatever Iqbal instructed me to do.

Then Baldev Singh gestured for me to come forward. There was a strange depth in his eyes, pride, responsibility, and perhaps a trace of uneasiness as well.

I was led ahead and seated before a large arrangement of items. There were gold ornaments, silver utensils, new clothes, bags filled with money, and many other things.

“What is all this?” I asked in surprise.

Baldev Singh folded his hands before me with a proud smile. “This is a small gift from our side. Our daughter will not leave her home empty handed.”

I took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I don’t want anything,” I said calmly but firmly.

For a moment surprise flashed across Baldev Singh’s face, as if he had never imagined I might refuse. “Sir, this is simply a father’s blessing for his daughter,” he replied gently.

I slowly shook my head. “I do not want anything else. You have given me Heer, and that is more than enough for me.”

Baldev Singh tried again to explain. “Sir, it is a tradition…”

“I do not believe in such traditions. Gold and silver have no value for me, only Heer does. And please, stop calling me sir. I have heard that here, after marriage, a son-in-law is considered a son. So your son does not need anything,” I said, interrupting him softly.

The moment he heard those words, Baldev Singh’s eyes filled with tears. The people standing around exchanged glances with one another. For them, this was something they had never witnessed before.

But I cared about no one’s opinion.

“The man to whom you have entrusted your daughter’s hand is now responsible for fulfilling all her needs, not you,” I said, gently holding his trembling hands in mine.

I had always seen this man as strong and self reliant, so seeing him this way for the first time left even me surprised. Is this how fathers are?

My own father had never been like this. Perhaps because he never had a daughter.

And if someday I have a daughter of my own, perhaps I too will feel this same helplessness on the day of her wedding.

A daughter.

The thought of a daughter of mine and Heer’s brought an unexpected smile to my face. I truly wished for a fearless daughter just like Heer, someone for whom I would bring every happiness in the world and lay it at her feet.

Baldev Singh took a deep breath and then slowly smiled. There was even greater pride in his eyes now.

“I was already proud of my decision, but now I am even more proud, Henry, my son.”

For the first time hearing him address me without the formal “sir” filled me with quiet happiness.

He blinked his eyes, perhaps trying to hide his emotions, then raised his hand slightly. There was a dignified depth on his face. “My daughter is truly fortunate to have a life partner like you.”

There was reassurance in his voice, the reassurance of a father and the strength of a warrior. I lowered my head respectfully before him.

Then Baldev Singh led me toward another part of the haveli for the Anand Karaj ceremony, where the Guru Granth Sahib had been placed and the granthi was reciting the sacred verses.

After everything that had happened today, the storm inside my heart finally began to quiet down as the sound of the shabad kirtan filled the air. It brought me a strange sense of peace. The men and women of Heer’s family had gathered together. I stood there with a few men from my battalion, while Baldev Singh and Iqbal Ali walked ahead of us.

I was seated in front, and after a few moments Heer was brought and seated beside me. The moment I sensed her presence, I turned and looked toward her.

She looked breathtaking in her deep red bridal attire. I could not see her face because it was hidden behind the veil that covered her head, and only her hands were visible. Yet I knew that even behind that veil she must be the most beautiful woman in the room.

I was seated on one side, and Heer on the other. Baldev Singh placed one end of my shawl into Heer’s hand.

The granthi began the Anand Karaj ceremony. He explained to us the Sikh code and the responsibilities of husband and wife. Then came the moment of the Laavan.

The first Laavan began. The granthi recited the sacred verses, and their meaning carried a deep message. This was not merely a bond but the beginning of a shared journey between two souls.

Heer and I walked together around the Guru Granth Sahib, and when the first Laavan was completed, I realized that a new chapter of life had begun.

The second, third, and fourth Laavan followed with the same calm and sacred atmosphere. With each step it felt as though I was being reminded that Heer was now my responsibility, just as I would also be her support.

When the fourth Laavan ended, the granthi blessed us both. Everyone raised the joyous call, “Bole so nihal, Sat Sri Akal.” Heer’s fingers were gripping the corner of the shawl tightly.

Now Heer was no longer only Baldev Singh’s daughter.

Now she was Heer Caldwell.

My wife.

Now we had to go before a British registrar and sign the documents. According to British law, the marriage would only be officially recognized after that. But Heer’s family had decided not to limit the wedding to only the British method. They wished to honor their own traditions as well. So the registrar had been invited to the haveli itself.

With trembling hands Heer wrote her name, and I placed my signature beside hers.

“By the law of His Majesty’s Government, you are now husband and wife,” the registrar announced.

Hearing those words brought a strange sense of peace to me for the first time. Heer was now mine. Completely mine.

The dream I had carried in my heart for so long had finally come true.

Then came the moment of farewell. The atmosphere turned emotional. Heer’s mother clung to her and wept, and her younger brother Sahib was crying as well.

Heer embraced her father and began to cry. Baldev Singh held her gently and said, “Child, from now on your husband’s house is your home. Your father’s honor now rests in your hands. Do not let it fall.”

Baldev Singh then took Heer’s hand and placed it into mine. For a brief moment her soft fingers brushed against my own. In that instant it felt as though everything in life had changed. Heer was now truly mine, not only in name but in every sense.

But her hands were cold and trembling. I tightened my grip around them, silently assuring her that she was not alone.

I helped her into my carriage, and we soon arrived at my haveli. Iqbal’s wife and daughter led Heer into my room, and after they left, I too entered a little later.

Heer was sitting quietly on the bed, nervous and still hidden behind her veil. I sat down slowly beside her. Many thoughts and emotions were swirling within me, but I did not want to frighten her further. She already seemed deeply anxious. The tight fist with which she held her dupatta was proof enough of that.

Gently, I lifted her veil.

For a moment my breath stopped.

Heer looked breathtaking. So beautiful that I could not even find words for it. The glow on her face outshone the jewelry she wore. Shyness and nervousness were clearly visible on her face, yet she shone brighter than any ornament.

I wanted to drown in those same eyes that had captivated me that night and then in the library. But her lowered lashes left that wish unfulfilled.

Softly I lifted her chin with my fingers so she would look at me. But Heer shut her eyes even tighter.

With a faint smile I asked, “Will you not even look at me now?”

But the tears that slipped from her eyes and the words that followed pierced straight through my heart.

“Why? Will you give me another punishment now? I have already suffered the punishment for speaking against you in the form of this marriage. What punishment will I receive now for not looking at you?”