Dear mother,
Hello. I am sorry to tell you that nothing here is going well. We have been fighting very hard for a week now, but we are losing strength. Our regiment headquarters are compromised. Our battalion has dwindled in size to an almost shameful extent, and the negotiations for the peace treaty are proving to be incredibly taxing.
The enemy is just too powerful. They command all authority by virtue of being who they are, and they refuse to hear us out. They send unit after unit, fire gun after gun, and they don’t listen when we tell them that we want peace. They don’t hear us out when we tell them to fulfil one meagre condition in the treaty, give us one thing that doesn’t even matter to them — out of sheer ego. You can tell in how they talk to us, how they look at us and our RH, that they want to destroy us. Smash us to bits. That they are trying to be the most unkind version of themselves to break our spirit.
If it was up to them, we would silently resign ourselves to their injustice. Tell our soldiers to lay their weapons down, and stop meeting them ten times a day to negotiate for their fairness. But my heart will never forgive me if I stop here. I know I am as much of a citizen as everyone else. I have done my duties, and I have paid my taxes. I have not done anything wrong, Ma. I deserve everything they give to everyone else. They can’t keep it from me any longer.
I know this and believe in it wholly — yet, everything I do seems to be futile. I know you said the path to justice, to a better life, will be tough, Ma. But it really cannot be this hard. I am tired. I feel it in my bones. Every day is a cycle of endless strategizing and sleeping for as little time as we can, so that we can get up early to negotiate with the enemy and mourn the loss of our soldiers. I am not sure if we can do this anymore. All of us in the RH have not been able to eat or sleep for days. Ira’s resolve is breaking everyday. So is mine, if I am being honest. I hate seeing everyone suffer so much. Especially Ira. But I am trying to be strong. I hope you both are well. I will write again when I can.
Yours,
J
My child,
You have been fighting for so long now, beta. Everyone back home is rooting for you. We pray for you and Ira every day, and we know that you will succeed ultimately. The good always win in the end. Keep going. Whatever the outcome is, it will be in your favour. They are being so unkind because they are scared. They are starting to see cracks in themselves and their systems. They are hoping you are deterred by their behaviour. They are hoping you give up on your feelings, your ego. The worse they get, the closer you get to justice. They are offering new things that you don’t want because they want you to give up, to stop fighting, to close the matter by giving you anything except the thing you are asking for. But you shouldn’t stop until they give you what you rightly deserve. Don’t be afraid. If they are cruel in their injustice, you be just as cruel and persevering in your justice. Keep going. Now is no time to stop. Have heart. Mumma and Papa are here if you need anything. Say the word and we will be there, regardless of the circumstances. Update us whenever you can. Take care of yourself and Ira.
Warmly,
Mumma
Mumma,
Things seem to be working in our favour. The enemy came to our RH today morning and said they are willing to let us discuss the peace treaty with their monarch. I think they will let us live here. Something good is going to happen, I know it. I can feel it. All the soldiers are looking up, you know? Singing songs and laughing. Ira is happier today, too. I heard the birds chirping for the first time today. The world has more colour now. We can build our home here, maybe. Live happily and peacefully. Finally, be equal citizens in our country. Pray for us.
Love,
J
Jaiden,
How is it on the other side? I know we won our RH, but it feels like we lost. I always envisioned that we would live together after the war. Live happily in a world that treats us fairly. We live in a fair world now where we get everything everyone else always got but it feels like a hollow loss. What version of fair is it if I don’t get to live with the one I want to live with? What version of fair is it if people who love and care about each other are forced to separate in order for our enemy to be able to fulfil our rights? It feels like fairness matters much less than I thought it did. Everything matters less than I thought it did without you. I wish we could live together, even if it was in the bloody, filthy, sooty RH; it was livable with you. The air is nicer here, the birds sing more, and the grass is greener, but it isn’t livable. None of this matters. The air, the birds, the grass, the clean floors. You aren’t here.
I am sorry for being this negative, I don’t mean to make you sad. I just wish you were here. I wish the first home that was truly ours to make was one that we made together. But Fate will continue to work the cosmic machinery in her weird ways, and I will keep thinking of you. They promised they would change this arrangement after a year. It’s only twelve months. We can do twelve months. And then, we can make our home. We will have everything we thought of. The windchimes, the rugs, the tea-making station in the corner of the kitchen.
I am just tired of not being with you. Or being with you without being able to enjoy your presence. First, we had the revolts, then the war, and now this. I just miss making jokes only you will understand. I hate laughing with my four empty walls. I hate not being able to make tea together. I hate not being able to say good night and good morning. But we will be okay, eventually. I would wait a lifetime to build a home with you. What does twelve months really matter, then? I am sure we will figure it out.
Come here soon. Visit often. Write back to me. Don’t settle into a new life without me.
Yours always,
Ira