RAGNI VOL 2 eBOOK

“The target is on a very difficult spot,” Air Commodore GS Multani said. They were having a strategy meeting in the conference hall of a fifth- story building facing the ocean. Mr. Multani was looking at the distance of the hospital and the schools from pictures that Kanwar was sending as he flew a Lockheed U-2 spy plane fifty thousand feet above sea level. “What could be an escape route of Mr. Khan?” he asked Mr. Taneja. “Two-stories down, in the command center, he has a steel bunker attached with five hundred yards of tunnels. One part goes to a submarine dock, while the other side goes to his private airstrip. It’s more than one mile long and runs parallel to the coastline. One side is all hills, and the other side is thick with trees. Along with the coastline, it is difficult to see from space. He has an advanced technology control tower in his compound; he has very powerful generators and an oil reserve. He has enough of a food supply, water, and medicine. He can survive at least a year along with all of his security personal,” Mr. Taneja said. Kanwar completed his mission by one o’clock in the morning. The pic- tures confirmed that the target was in the compound. “Here is the strategy,” Kanwar said as he was sipping whisky and look- ing at GS Multani. “You and Hermanjit fly an F-15E tomorrow at midnight and drop ten laser-guided bunker-buster bombs of five thousand pounds each. It is a very precise mission. There should not be any civilian casualties. These are very tough instructions from the prime minister given to me by the air marshal. At the same time, Dilawar, Kishan, and the navy divers follow Mr. Taneja underwater to close the submarine passage from the tunnel. The other tunnel would remain open, which leads to the airstrip. The plan is that as soon as he comes out of the tunnel, the army will take him dead or alive. Bunker-buster bombs have a massive ordnance penetrator, so after repeating the mission a few times, the compound structure will be shaky. In this situation, the target should try to escape through his submarine passage, but it will be closed. His only option will be to go toward the airstrip. At that time, the control tower and ground security should be completely destroyed. Arrest him in chains and transport him by air to hide in an undisclosed location that should remain secret.” 199

CHAPTER 16 Everybody put buoyancy compensators, swim fins, scuba gauges, swim masks, and scuba octopuses with a tranquilizer gun, and extra air tanks on the sub. They also packed in some plastic explosives along with machine guns and lowered themselves into the ocean led by Mr Taneja. “All set?” Dilawar asked Kishan. It was late at night, and while visibility was difficult, with the light on the front of the sub, they were able to make their way through the black water. Moving closer to the bottom of the ocean, so the light wouldn’t be seen from the surface, they were able to avoid the mines, which were placed much closer to the surface to stop any boats trying to enter the island’s waters. They turned off the engine’s switches, changed to fresh air tanks, took out their flashlights and bags with their machine guns, and swam toward the cave entrance. Reaching the entrance of the underwater cave, they tied their diving gear into some netting and left it near the surface. Once they were out of the water, they replaced their fins with sneakers from a dry plastic bag so telltale wet spots wouldn’t be left behind as they walked. Kishan tucked the plastic bag of green explosives and a little pouch of charges into his belt and pulled the machine guns from the bag. The surveillance camera was still sweeping back and forth, and the same caution had to be taken as before in the corridors. 200

As a guard walked by one of the hallways, they ducked into a doorway until he was gone. As they turned a corner down the hallway, they could see Dr. Chakravarti strapped to the steel rack; his neck was a little bent indicating he was either asleep, unconscious, or dead. After the guard left the area, Kishan crept underneath the viewing range of the sweeping surveillance camera and, with his pistol and silencer attachment, shot it once; pieces of lens and camera flew about the corridor. Taneja pushed the button to disconnect the submarine dock and closed the passage of the tunnel connected to the dock. At the same time, Kanwar and Hermanjit set off the second sorties—four bunker-buster bombs—each five thousand pounds. The deep penetration into the compound caused flames that could be seen on the ocean’s surface for several miles. The radar system and control tower were completely destroyed. Khan’s security communication channel was dead. “We only have a few minutes until they come down now, hurry!” Mr. Taneja said as they ran to free Dr. Chakravarti. As they started to undo the straps that held him, he woke up groaning. “Good, he’s still alive. Dr. Chakravarti, we only have a few minutes. Can you lead us to where Mohamed Khan is?” Dilawar asked. Groggily, the small man nodded his head. “Yes, I can show you. It’s around that corner, but he’s heavily guarded. You will also need a special card to open the electric door.” “Let us worry about the door, come on!” Kishan said. When they un- strapped him, he fell to the ground. “Can you walk?” Dilawar asked. “Yes, I think so. I may need a little assistance, though,” he said, rubbing his wrists and flexing his knees gingerly. Dilawar and Kishan each took an arm and half-dragged him around the corner to the corridor where Khan was. 201

Five sorties, fifty thousand pounds of deep penetration explosives, leveled the compound of Khan. As they neared the corner, they could hear the guards talking. Peeking behind the wall into the corridor, Dilawar saw three guards armed with machine guns in a panic situation with the roaring sound of the bunker-buster bombs. Taking careful aim with his machine gun, he fired quick shots into the chests of the standing guards. Kishan then fired another shot at the surveillance camera that was over their heads. Dragging the bodies away from the door, Kishan quickly slapped a handful of the green plastic explo- sives in the crack of the door opening and then more on the electric control panel next to the door. He inserted the charges. He ran behind the corner before the charges exploded, leaving a thick grayish cloud of smoke. A deafen- ing alarm began to ring throughout all of the hallways. Waving their arms so they could clear it away, they were able to pry open the door with their hands. A hail of machine-gun fire zipped through the doorway, and they plastered themselves against the side of the wall to avoid being hit. Stuffing a charge into another fistful of the green explosives, Kishan tossed it in, blasting everyone inside. After the smoke cleared, they could see the bodies of another three guards lying in the rubble from the explosion. One final door remained between them and Mr. Khan. Placing heavier charges against the panel and crack in the shiny chrome door, they exploded it, this time not needing to pry open the door since the blast ripped it off the hinges. Ready to run through the opening with his tranquilizer gun drawn, Dr. Chakravarti grabbed Dilawar’s arm. “Wait!” he shouted. Then, grabbing a gun from one of the dead guards, he tossed it through the opening. As soon as it flew through, a tremendous explosion rocked the room. “There was a booby trap on the other side of that door—a broken light beam sets it off,” he explained. “Let’s go now! Mr. Khan is in there, but, by now, he has probably entered the submarine dock through the other passageway in his room.” As they entered the plush control center and living quarters, they found them empty. Running through a passageway on the other end of his room, 202

they found themselves in a long, narrow corridor—at the end, they could see the submarine dock passage was closed by the steel door. A crew of three security guard Cobra leaders were scaling the ladder to enter the tunnel to go to his private jet, which was already destroyed by the ground forces. “That is not safe,” one of the main security personnel of cobra shouted. He used an electronic device and opened the steel door, and connected the submarine dock again. “Everybody hold it right there!” Dilawar shouted. The Cobra leader drew a handgun and raised it to fire, but Dilawar fired his tranquilizer gun first. It passed over the head of the cobra leader. They opened the submarine dock. Kishan shot a burst of machine-gun fire into the ceiling of the cavern, and the remaining three crewmen raised their hands in surrender. Running to get into the sub, they ordered the crew members to proceed to take off. Khan was hauled down below into the sub, but just as Taneja climbed down the hatch, Cobra guards came rushing through the entrance, machine guns blazing. Kishan was the last one left on the deck of the sub and began returning the fire as the bullets zinged off the metal sides of the sub. “Get down here!” Dilawar shouted. “They’re going for the controls of the sub slip—if they jam it, we’ll never get out!” Kishan screamed back. Pulling out the rest of the green wad of plastic explosives, he set a short charge and flung it toward the Cobras. But just as he climbed down the hatch, his body jerked spasmodically as more bullets ricocheted off the metal hatch cover. The explosion from the plastic charge echoed and shook the whole underwater cavern, sending pieces of the Cobra guards raining down with other debris. 203

“Move! Let’s get out of here!” Dilawar barked at the sub crew. Without the threatening presence of their leader, the sub crew became docile and did as Dilawar demanded of them. Turning his attention to Kishan, whom he held in his arms, he saw that he was badly injured. Dilawar looked into his face and saw that he was breathing. They surfaced thirty minutes later in the shallows of the other island where police boats awaited them. Later, an army helicopter lifted Kishan’s wounded body and transported him to the hospital in Male, the capital city of Maldives. He was under the high security of the Indian Army. The army surgeon removed the bullets from his stomach and other parts of his body. A transfusion tube to supply blood and glucose was connected to his veins immediately. When Kishan was out of the life-threatening situation, the army’s supersonic jet transported his body to the defense hostal in Bombay under very tight army security. At four o’clock in the morning, Mohamed Khan was arrested. He was chained and brought by submarine to an unspecified place in India and kept under the watchful eyes of the Indian army. At the United Nations Security Council’s meeting in New York City, China tried to intervene and said that Khan’s trial shouldn’t take place in the Indian Supreme Court but that it should take place in Geneva under the security council’s supervision. However, the USA, UK, France, and the Soviet Union rejected the Chinese proposal on the basis of the homeland security issue of India. After the long fight between the supreme court of India and the legal team of Khan, he was sentenced to hang to death with his closest associate. On the day of the supreme court’s decision, a crowd was gathered around Kanwar and Ragni. Dilawar gathered the papers into his briefcase and prepared to leave when he saw the solitary figure of Moheeni. She had given her congratulations to Ragni and Kanwar and was now leaving the courtroom alone. Quickly getting the rest of his things together, Dilawar rushed after her and caught her at the door. 204

          “Moheeni, are you going back to Jullundur right away?”           “I’m in no particular hurry,” she replied.               He could tell that her brother’s brush with death struck her hard. “Thank God, Kishan is safe,” he offered. “I am glad he is,” she answered.         “I was thinking of having some lunch. Would you care to join me?” he asked.           “Sure, why not?” she answered, managing a small smile.         As they walked from the courthouse into town, he said, “Without Kishan, it would have been very difficult to achieve this mission. He showed outstanding gallantry, which is admirable.” “How long will it take to get him better?” “A couple of weeks, I think. He has to fill all those commitments which he signed in the plea bargain.” “He will; I noticed his life has been changed dramatically by losing his own love.”            “Moheeni, I know you’ve lost a lot in these past four years, perhaps more than many others could stand, but the loss of loved ones doesn’t mean your own life must be over,” Dilawar said.          “Of all the changes I have gone through, there has been one thing that has remained a constant,” he said. “What’s that?” Moheeni asked. Taking her hand in his, they walked a while in silence. A warm current surged from his hand to hers, giving her a subtle but pleasant start. “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” he said. When she remained silent, he continued, “Moheeni, I know emotionally there is a part of you that is depleted, and you may think I want something of you, but it’s not true. When 205

I look at how I was in the past, perhaps I was only interested in taking from you, but that’s not how I view life and love now. Moheeni, I still love you— very much so, but it’s a love that I want to give to you so you can be happy and feel free, not drained. It’s a love that I want to give you to help you forget the past. Life and love do not exist in the future or in the past. Life and love can only exist in the present, and that’s where I want to always live. and- and I want you to live there with me.” He felt a light squeeze from her hand, and she looked up at him, her face filled with a light that glowed from within. Her eyes met his in a soft, steady gaze. Her heart was open to him, accepting his eyes. They walked in silence now, and she took his arm and held it with both of hers, drawing closer to him. There were no words between them, but both knew it was the beginning of a new life together. The wedding was planned with haste, not so much because it had been delayed as much as everyone was afraid something else was going to happen to prevent it from occurring. It was a huge affair, and because of the losses of DGP Mohinder Partap Singh, the party members seemed to celebrate that much harder, as if by throwing away all abandon, they would help to erase the memory of the bad times. The ceremony completed, the huge crowd gathered around Kanwar and Ragni. Music started, and the banquet began. Both families were there, as well as Air Commodore Multani and several of Kanwar’s military friends. “Not bad. Two weeks ago, this man was ready for the hangman’s noose, and now he’s free as a lark and happily married!” Hermanjit said to Kanwar and Ragni. Anita was with him, and the four had a good laugh. “So when are you two going to join the ranks of us old married folks?” Kanwar asked, making Anita blush. “Well, actually, we were talking with Anita’s parents, and a wedding date has been arranged in another month!” Hermanjit said. 206

Kanwar and Ragni hugged them, and more congratulations were exchanged. “By the way, where were you planning to go for your honeymoon?” Hermanjit asked. “We have reservations in one of the hotels in Srinagar overlooking Dal Lake. It may be a little on the cool side this time of year, but better late than never!” Kanwar said. “Ragni, is there something wrong? Aren’t you happy with the way things have turned out? Is it the hotel or something?” Kanwar asked. “No, my love, the hotel is lovely, and being married to you is a dream finally come true,” she said, turning to him on the balcony of the hotel. For three days, she had been getting progressively moodier until now; she seemed to have lost all enthusiasm for everything. At a loss for what to do, Kanwar leaned on the railing of the balcony and looked out over the lake. It was November, and though it wasn’t freezing, the air was chilly. The snow-covered Hindu Kush Mountains, the western part of the great Himalayas, rose above the clouds, while closer to them the shikara boats were paddled by vendors selling food and other goods as they glided in and out of the houseboat hotels. “Please tell me what’s wrong, Ragni—I’m your husband now. We’re supposed to share everything—our love and joys, as well as our troubles. Let me try and help you,” he said, softly stroking her face. Taking a deep breath, she sighed and said, “Kanwar, it’s not over yet.” “What’s not over yet?” he asked with a confused look on his face. “There is a terrible feeling in my heart that something is looming over our love—something dark and threatening. I’ve tried to put it out of my mind, but it’s no good,” she said with resignation. 207

“What can we do about it?” “I’m not sure, but I think if we can go back to Heidelberg, I’ll know,” she answered. A look of disbelief crossed his face, and he started to question her but held his tongue. Then, thinking it over, he realized that once Ragni got something in her mind, there was no power on earth that was going to change it unless she satisfied whatever it was that was bothering her. “Okay, we still have a little more than a week left on our honeymoon. If this is that important to you, we’ll go,” he said finally with resolution. “Oh, thank you, Kanwar!” she said, hugging him and showing the first signs of any life since they had arrived. 208

CHAPTER 17 E arly November in Germany showed traces of snow on the ground as the late fall was already turning to early winter. Kanwar took two rooms with the request of Ragni in one of the local hotels in Heidelberg and rented a car. The first thing Ragni wanted to do once she arrived was to visit the same house again, which was not taken care of for the last few years. There was a little damage on the boundary wall on the river side by the American planes in the Second World War. The hotel was located on the bank of the Neckar River, very close to her past life residence. Ragni went into her room, took a warm shower, and put on her night- gown. She was sitting on her bed with her back touching the headboard, listening to the voice of her soul, and praying. She half-closed her eyes, and the heavenly light started emerging in her room. “This is the message from God,” the Angel’s voice moved through her.  “Life is full of secrets beyond the human imagination, but you will be able to unfold your secrets with your own internal power of your soul. I have chosen you and others like you to be my messengers. During this time imme- diately ahead, the world will need many trumpets to sound the angels’ call. The world will need many voices to speak the words of truth and healing for which millions wait. The world needs many hearts joined together in the work of the soul and prepared to do the work of God.” 209

“You can’t deny that this is why you have come here. Are you, therefore, ready to decide and declare your own internal truth? To announce my glory?” “This is the opportunity for which you’ve waited all your life times. It takes great courage to announce oneself as a man of God. Every one of the messengers has been treated badly. Instead of gaining glory, they gained heartache. Are you willing to do this? Are you prepared to give up glory on earth for greater glory for your soul in heaven?” “I tell you all of this to keep you focused and centered. When you choose something, choose it with all of your heart and do not take your mind off of it until it has produced reality. Keep moving forward, be determined. Always remember: The soul creates; the mind reacts.” “When man needs his connection to God most, is when he stays away from God. Never do they stay close to God, every moment pay attention to your soul. Remember that I am always with you, and most of the time, you are not aware of that.” “Life is an ongoing process of creation. The decision you make today is  often not your choice tomorrow. Yet, here is the secret of all the masters: Keep choosing the same, do this over and over  until your will becomes  conscious of your reality. For some, this takes years. You can tell you are on the way when you see the space close between willing and experiencing; when you make your mind up about something you set the Universe in motion. A process begins of which you are only just now beginning to understand. These forces are God.” As they pulled up to the house and parked in front of it, they didn’t get out but sat in the car for a moment. “Well, we’re here—now what?” Kanwar asked Ragni. “I—I’m not sure now. Ragni answered. “Something just told me to come here, but now that we’re here, I’m not sure what it is we’re supposed to be doing.” 210

        Kanwar remained calm and patient. They had come over five thousand miles to this place, and now that they were here, he wanted her to take her time in understanding what was going on. He opened his mouth to say something to her when a shiny car pulled up behind them. A young man in his early twenties got out of the car and walked to the Steiner’s house. Without a word of explanation, Ragni opened the car door and got out to follow him while Kanwar’s mouth hung open. All he could do was jump out of the car to follow her.         “Excuse me, sir, do you speak English?” she asked the young man just as he reached the front porch.            “Yes, how may I help you?” he answered with a slight German accent.              “I was wondering if you could tell me whatever became of the family that used to live in the house next door,” she asked, pointing to the house next door.               “I’m not really sure, but my great aunt would know. I was just about to call on her. She could tell me, and I could translate for you, as she speaks no English,” he answered. By now, Kanwar reached the porch as well and introduced himself and Ragni.        “Hans Steiner is my name. Pleased to meet you,” he said as he rang the doorbell.          The old woman answered the doorbell and, surprised to see Kanwar and Ragni with her grandnephew, greeted them and invited them in.          “My great aunt says she met you briefly this summer,” Hans said as they entered her parlor.        “Yes, we were visiting with the India field hockey team during the world hockey cup in Frankfurt. We were driving along here and noticed that old house and took an interest in it,” Ragni explained.           “I see...” Then, turning to his great aunt, he asked her some questions in German. After she replied lengthily, Hans relayed what she had said. 211

        “She says that she and her husband used to be close friends with the people next door. His name was Karl Mannheim, also a general in the German army. He died early on in the war. Shortly before his death, his English wife, Margaret, and her daughter, Sophie, left for England to stay with Margaret’s mother who was living on her family’s estate outside of London. She doesn’t know all the details of what happened to them after that, except that Margaret died just a few months ago in London. That’s why the house has been left in the shape it’s in—there was no one to take care of it all these years. Now that the original owners are dead, I suppose someone from Karl’s family will take care of it.” Ragni asked Hans, “Could you ask her if she has Margaret’s mother’s address?” After he asked her, the old woman rose and shuffled to her desk. She flipped through an old dog-eared notebook, copied something from it on a piece of paper, and handed it to Ragni. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said, accepting the paper with the address written on it. Then looking at her watch, Ragni said, “We didn’t mean to take up so much of your time. We really should be going. Thank you so much for translating for us—and please thank her for us as well.” Nodding, Mrs. Steiner rose to see them out the door. As Kanwar said goodbye to her, a thoughtful look came over the old woman’s face, and she touched his hand as if she were trying to remember something long forgotten. Her inner vision sparked with light. Her eyes were full of tears; she was feeling her son’s presence and the answer to her long-time prayer. She wanted to touch him, but she was far away—a lifetime away. Nature is full of suspense. With an embarrassed look on his face, Hans said something in German to her, but the old woman just looked even more confused. “You’ll have to excuse her,” Hans apologized. “Gunter was her only son— lost during the war. I guess she’s a little sensitive and misses him sometimes.” 212

After having dinner that night in the hotel, Kanwar asked Ragni, “Would you like to go out for a stroll or see some nightlife?” “Kanwar, I don’t know what it is, but after that dinner, I suddenly feel so sleepy. Would you mind if we just went back to our room for the night? Maybe it’s the jetlag.” “Sure, I’m a little tired myself,” he said. She had no sooner changed into her evening gown and washed up for bed when she fell into a deep sleep. As the darkness enveloped her, the vision of the old house came into her view, only this time it wasn’t old and aban- doned, nor was it cold outside. It was warm and summery, and the house was fixed up and lived in. She saw herself now as Sophie, and her mother was there, along with her father, who was home on leave. However, not all was peaceful. Her mother and father were having an argument. “You are the one who wanted me to do something about the Rosen- bergs; well, now I’m going to do it!” Karl Mannheim shouted. “You don’t have to send us away!” Margaret retorted. “It’s too late. I have made arrangements and have risked much in doing so. If I am caught attempting to assist the Rosenbergs, I don’t want you in Germany to share the same fate that would befall me! Now there is nothing more to be spoken of! You will leave tomorrow for Calais, and there, you will board a secret ship to Dover that I have requisitioned. If all goes well, I will send for you once again,” he said. “But there is a war between Britain and Germany! Who knows how long that is going to last, or if we’ll even be able to get back!” she screamed. At that moment, Sophie came down the steps from upstairs. “What has happened to the Rosenbergs?” she asked. A dead silence fell between Karl and Margaret. “Sophie –” Karl began, but Margaret stopped him in midsentence. 213

“Margaret, she must know sooner or later!” then, turning to Sophie, he spoke in a quiet but deliberate tone of voice. “Sophie, the Rosenbergs have been taken to Dachau, outside of Munich. It is a concentration camp for political dissidents and Jews. They are extermin- ating all the prisoners, and I am going to try to get them out. I am sending you and your mother to England until things get straightened out here,” he said. “But why must we go? What would they do to you?” Sophie asked him. “There is no telling what might happen to me, but you must not be around in any case,” he said. “But why?” she persisted. Karl’s face tightened into a grimace, torn between remaining silent and telling her the truth. Finally, he spat out, “Because the Rosenbergs are your natural parents! If the Gestapo found out that you are a Jew by natural birth, you would join them in the concentration camp. Do you understand now why you must go away?” he shouted at her while holding her tightly by the shoulders. Her brows knitted in confusion, she turned to her mother. “Is this true, Mother?” “Yes, he is speaking the truth. We were never able to have children of our own. Effie Rosenberg was my closest friend for years, and when we realized we would never be able to have children, she gave us her fourth child. You are that child,” Margaret said. “Your father is going to try and break them out of the concentration camp, but if his plan fails, he will be accused of being a Jewish sympathizer, which would carry dire consequences for himself as well as his family. If it ever came out that we harbored a Jewish child, all of us would suffer terribly. We must leave tomorrow for Calais, where father has arranged a secret boat to take us to Dover. Once we arrive in England, my mother will put us up in her estate outside of London until the war is over and it’s safe to come back,” Margaret explained. 214

“I-I don’t know what to say or think..,” Sophie said. “May I go out for a walk? I need time to think.”          “Of course, dear. However, remember, we must be ready to leave very early in the morning. We must pack and be ready to go,” Margaret said.          Stunned, Sophie wandered out of the house while her parents looked on with concern.        “Hey, Sophie. You look like you’re walking around in your sleep.” It was Gunter, just arriving home on leave from the northern French border. Running to meet him as he pulled his duffle bag from the cab, she gave him a hug and kiss.        “Oh, Gunter, a terrible thing is happening,” she said, her arms still around his neck.           “What’s going on?”        “I have to leave with my mother to England tomorrow morning. We’re going to have to stay there until the end of the war,” she said.           He dropped his bag on the ground in a heap, and his face fell. “What do you mean, England? Don’t you realize we’re at war with them?” Gunter said, both angry and surprised.         “It’s true. We’re going to stay on her mother’s estate outside of London,” she replied.             Gunter stared off into the distance. “Sophie, we are attacking England in a week. I am a bomber pilot. I am going to be asked to drop bombs on the very land that you are going to.”             Sophie let go of his neck and stood away from him as if he were diseased. “What do you mean; you are going to bomb Grandmother? Are you really going to do this? How could you after you visited her and wrote her letters? How could you kill her after she treated you so nicely? Have you forgotten our visits to her home? What has this army done to you?” Sophie cried out to him. 215

          “Sophie, the war in Britain is not going to last long. They cannot hold out against us—no one else has been able to. Why are you going there in the first place?”            “Gunter, I am a Jew,” she said.             Gunter’s mouth hung open in disbelief.             “It’s true. I just found out now. That, among other reasons, is why I must leave Germany, perhaps for good,” she continued.                 “And what will happen once we overtake Britain? Do you think you will be safe there?” he asked hotly. Sophie’s face knotted, and she suddenly burst out crying, clinging to Gunter. He softened up and held her close, stroking her hair. Then, taking her face in his hands, he spoke gently to her. “Sophie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you. Forgive me; it must be this war. There is so much killing and bloodshed; men in Germany have gone mad with the power they are acquir- ing. Now, listen to me. I remember the location of your grandmother’s estate. I will land my plane in the field behind her house. The British army will want to take me as a prisoner of war, but if you tell the local authorities once you get there that I am landing as an expatriate, they may allow me to go free. From there, we can escape together to Canada, Australia, or America. The war has not touched those places yet, and they are far away and large enough that we can hide and be together.” Gathering her in his arms, he hugged her, but neither of them could shake the cold feeling in their hearts.                “General Mannheim, the court of the S.S. has found you guilty of treason for conspiring to assist Jews to escape the concentration camp in Dachau. You must realize that due to our position in the army, such news cannot reach the public. Therefore, you are to enter a prescribed room in the army camp, where 216

there will be a pistol with one bullet in the chamber. You will then have one hour in which to reconcile your actions. Your relatives will be notified that you had succumbed to death honorably in battle. That is all. Court dismissed!”             The general was led away by two armed guards from the military court. His efforts to free the Rosenbergs, though gallant, were in vain. His plan to bribe the concentration camp guards had found its way to the Gestapo, and when a team of armed Jewish guerrillas tried unsuccessfully to storm the camp with weapons he had provided them, the S.S. broke up the uprising, torturing the captured guerrillas until they revealed his name. It would soon be over for him, as well as for the Rosenbergs. However, this would be just the beginning. In another year, the Nazi Party would adopt the “Final Solution” as national policy—genocide of all Jews in the world.                                                          The first attacks on Britain began on July 10th, 1940, off the southern and eastern coasts. It was during this period that the German Air Force discovered an invention the English were beginning to use that would spell the difference in the battle—radar. By locating the masses of German planes attacking inland, the Royal Air Force was consistently able to meet them head-on and inflict heavy losses. The German plan was to destroy the British Fighter Command—the planes used to defend Britain against air attack. By doing so, the Germans could then start “Operation Sea Lion,” the cross-channel invasion of German troops into England. But to do so, the Germans needed to gain air superiority to fight off the naval blockade the British would use to challenge the invading German barges. On August 13th, the Luftwaffe sent almost fifteen hundred planes against England and followed up two days later with almost eighteen hundred more to bomb radar stations, airplane factories, and airfields. However, their losses were too heavy to continue. Field Marshall Hermann Goering decided to 217

concentrate his attacks on the inland airbases and control centers, hoping to cripple the English defenses. On August 24th, the Luftwaffe sent masses of bombers guarded by hundreds of fighter escorts to try to knock out the airbases that held them in check. By sheer force of numbers, they consistently broke through the British defenses and destroyed many British planes while they were still on the ground. The English were reeling under the attacks and ready to collapse. In a desperate move, on September 6th, they staged a long-range bombing raid against Berlin. The actual damage was minimal, but the shock on the German people as well as their high command was huge. They had been ensured that they were too far away from the war to actually be bombed, and it caused great rifts in the morale of the German people. Furious, Hitler ordered attacks on London.        General Goering called off the attacks on the British airfields and started attacking London, the plan being to break the will of the British people, eventually forcing them to surrender. It proved to be a decisive move in favor of the British, as their fighter command had been dangerously close to breaking under the heavy attacks from the Germans. If the Luftwaffe had continued their attacks on the airfields, they would have won the Battle of Britain. However, not knowing how close they actually were to winning, they called that attack off and began bombing London. “So, tomorrow is your first mission, eh, Herr Steiner?” Willy, a fellow pilot, asked Gunter as he readied his flight gear. “Yes, my first...” he answered, his mind working out the details of his own secret plan.  “How do you feel about dropping bombs on civilian targets?” Willy asked. Exhaling deeply, Gunter stared off into the distance and said, “I don’t know. I just don’t know,” but in his heart, he knew very well the thought of dropping death from the skies on innocent civilians revolted him. This had nothing to do with the chivalry or honor that he first saw in the German army. 218

Now, he was glad that Sophie and her mother and grandmother were there. He had another reason for not dropping his bombs. The next morning, Gunter and his crew climbed aboard his Heinkel HE111 bomber and took off with hundreds of other bombers and fighter escorts from the airbase on the northern French coast. As they reached the white cliffs of Dover, a large force of British Hurricane Fighters and Spitfires met them, but the mass of German planes broke through easily. Ahead, he could see London, his target. As the bombers flew in formation, Gunter suddenly broke off, planning to circle around London and land in the western farmlands where Sophie’s grandmother’s estate was. “Gunter! What are you doing? We’re off course!” his co-pilot shouted. Gunter remained silent, his mouth drawn taut. “Gunter! If you don’t get us back on course, I’m going to have to-,” but his co-pilot never finished his sentence. Bullets splattered up the side of his body, causing him to jerk spasmodically while the windshield shattered and bullets tore through the cockpit, bouncing wildly off the metal cabin. Gunter shielded himself from the bullets with his arms and somehow survived the attack by the Spitfire that roared over his plane from his right side. His co-pilot slumped limply over the controls, dead. Turning around, he called back to his bombardier. “Franz! Franz—are you alright?” However, there was no answer. Franz laid face up, his eyes staring blankly upward. Focusing his attention on the terrain, he saw some familiar landmarks from the days when he visited Sophie’s grandmother. He was just a few miles from their fields. He prayed he could make it before the Spitfire banked for another pass at his plane. The British fighter plane swooped from behind and rattled off a steady barrage of deadly machine-gun fire until smoke began to pour from the rear of his plane. A fire broke out in the cockpit controls, and the smoke and smell of burning wires stung his eyes and made him choke. 219

As he began his descent to land, the Spitfire came in on his left, the guns on its wings blazing red and yellow flames of bullets. The glass of his side windshield shattered amid the staccato of flying lead, and in an instant, it worked a trail down from the top of the cockpit, ripping through the left side of his body. At first, he felt no pain, but the force of the bullets entering his body jerked him around in his seat. He was numbed from his chest to his legs. Struggling to hold the plane steady, he could now feel a burning sensation in his thighs and chest, but his main problem was a loss of feeling in his left arm and side. The Spitfire banked ahead of him and circled, seeing that he was going to attempt a landing. The flames and smoke coming from the rear of his plane caused the pilot of the Spitfire to break off his attack, seeing that he had made the kill. Blood filled Gunter’s lungs, and breathing became difficult for him as he lowered his plane on the grassy field of Sophie’s grandmother’s estate. As his wheels touched the ground, the jostling shot spears of pain through his body. He slowed the engine and applied the brakes with his good right leg as he saw Sophie running from the house toward his plane. He cut the engine, and his head fell back against the back of the seat. Watching Sophie running toward him, he closed his eyes and let the soft blackness take him away from the pain. “Sophie! Get away from the plane! It’s on fire and may explode any moment!” a neighbor shouted. “Help me get him out! He’s hurt!” she screamed as she climbed to the shattered cockpit. The neighbors yanked open the glass hatch, pulled Gunter’s body out, and laid it on the ground. Climbing into the plane, the neighbor then tugged on the bodies of the other German flyers and pulled them out as well. When he had dragged the other two a safe distance, he came back to where Sophie was holding Gunter’s head in her lap, crying. 220

Feeling for a pulse, the neighbor shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, Sophie, he’s gone.” Crying hysterically, he had to fight her for the body, so he could drag it to safety. “Sophie, it’s no use. Let me take his body to safety—that plane may blow up any minute, and I don’t want it taking you with it!” he shouted. “I don’t care! I don’t want to live if Gunter is dead!” she shouted in broken English. The British army authorities understood Sophie’s request that Gunter be buried on her grandmother’s land. A spot under a willow tree by a stream was chosen for the grave, and a picture of Gunter was placed in a rounded glass frame in the headstone. The Battle of Britain passed—the Londoners never gave in even though they were bombed day and night for months. Hitler’s plans for invading England never manifested, and he turned instead to attack Russia, a fatal mistake. The English will to resist and fight proved to be the turning point in the war. If the British had broken, the Nazi army would have invaded and taken over all of Europe before the United States even entered the war. Hitler’s plans for world domination came dangerously close to fulfillment. The rest of the war passed quietly for Sophie and her mother. News reached them of Karl’s death, as well as the deaths of the Rosenbergs in Dachau. Their neighbor and friend, General Steiner, was killed in action on the Russian front. Having no desire to return to a broken Germany, Margaret and Sophie remained at her mother’s estate. For days, Sophie cried on Gunter’s grave. Margaret left her alone to grieve but began to worry after two weeks passed. Then a month, and two months, and three, but still, Sophie would not leave the grave, even in inclement weather. Sophie’s once-rosy complexion turned to a sallow yellowish color, and she no 221

longer smiled. Her weight dropped dramatically, and she began to look more like a limp rag doll than a young woman. “Sophie, don’t you want to go into town with grandmother and me?” Margaret asked. “No, I’m going to go out for a walk,” she replied. “Sophie, I believe we need to have a talk,” her mother said, pulling up a chair in the kitchen. Sophie sat at the table with her and waited with a blank expression on her face. “I know how great a loss Gunter’s death was for you. However, it is time you faced the fact that Gunter is gone. He will never be back, and you must learn to accept this so you can go on with your life,” her mother informed her gently but firmly. Sophie looked at her mother and said, “But you’re wrong, Mother. I see Gunter every day. I meet him by the willow tree, and he goes on walks with me,” and she stood up to leave the house. “Excuse me, Mother, but I don’t want to keep him waiting,” she said, as her mother just looked on incredulously. Following the little footpath made from flat white stones, Sophie went down to the stream where the willow shaded its banks. There, by the grave, she saw the shimmering image of Gunter waiting as he always did, handsome as ever in his leather. 222

CHAPTER 18 Tension between East and West Pakistan reached a climax in 1970 when the Awami League, the largest East Pakistani political party, led by Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, won a landslide victory in the national elections in East Pakistan. The party won 167 of the 169 seats allotted to East Pakistan, and thus a majority of the 300 seats in the National Assembly. This gave the Awami League the constitutional right to form a government. However, Yahya Khan, the leader of Pakistan, refused to allow Rahman to become the Prime Minister of Pakistan. This increased agitation for greater autonomy in the East. On the 26th of March in 1971, the day after the military crack- down on civilians in East Pakistan, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman declared the independence of Bangladesh just after midnight on the 25th of March in 1971, before the Pakistan army arrested him. All major Awami League leaders, including elected leaders of the National Assembly and Provincial Assembly, fled to neighboring India, and an exile government was formed headed by Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. While he was in Pakistan Prison, Syed Nazrul Islam was the acting President with Tazuddin Ahmed as the prime minister. The exile government took oath on the 17th of April in, 1971, at Mujib Nagar, within East Pakistan territory of Kustia district, and formally formed the government. Col (retd) MAG Osmani (Muhammad Ataul Goni Osmani) was appointed the commander in chief. 223

In 1971, some three million people were estimated to have been killed in the genocide unleashed by Pakistan’s military government on East Pakistan, leading to a rush of refugees into India, drawing India into a swift and decisive war that eventually forced Pakistan’s hand. But all along, the Nixon administration sided with the military establishment of Pakistan over the democratic India because of Nixon’s very close personal ties with Pakistan’s military dictator, General Yahya Khan, and his uncontrolled revulsion for India and Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, whom he called “old bitch” a few times when he was talking with Secretary of State Henry Kissinger. In the white house cabinet meeting, President Nixon pointed out to the secretary of state, “Mr. Kissinger, why don’t you pitch the idea with the Chinese ambassador to the UN, Huang Ha to initiate troop movements toward the Indian border in coordination with Pakistan.” Mr. Kissenger supported the idea. “Mr, Ha, your country and Pakistan signed the treaty against India. Is your government ready to send the troop coordination with Pakistan and China on the India border and, assured of its support, in case the Soviet Union jumps into the fray?” Mr. Henry Kissinger, the United States Secretary of State, called to Chinese Ambassador to United Nations. “Mr. Secretery of State, it is not a game.” China took a couple of days to think about it and finally said no. Kissenger was disappointed with the Chinese decision. Separated by 1,200 miles, East and West Pakistan were hardly comfortable in the compact. Though the East was more populous, West Pakistan cornered the bulk of the Pakistani budget. The West was given more representation in the legislature than the East, and further fueling Bengali sub-nationalism, Urdu was made the official language. West Pakistan, with a 97 percent Muslim population, was also far less liberal than the East, where at least 15 percent of the population did not practice Islam. With Pakistan mostly under military rulers - all from West Pakistan - since 1958, any scope for political accommodation was limited. Successive military regimes tried to deal with the problem the only way they knew how - savage repression, adding to the spiral of hatred and tyranny. Dictator Yahya had the meeting with his general and declared, “Kill three million of them, and the rest will eat out of our hands.” 224

On the night of the 25h of March in 1971, the Pakistan army launched “Operation Searchlight” to “crush” Bengali resistance in which Bengali members of military services were disarmed and killed, students and the intelli- gentsia systematically liquidated any able-bodied Bengali males who were just picked up and gunned down. Death squads roamed the streets of Dacca, killing some 7,000 people in a single night. “Within a week, half the population of Dacca had fled. All over East Pakistan, people were taking flight, and it was estimated that in April, some thirty million people were wandering helplessly across East Pakistan to escape the grasp of the military massacre. Mujibur Rahman was arrested, and the Awami League - which should have been ruling Pakistan–was banned. Possibly four hundred thousand women were raped. Women were attack- ed in two ways: firstly, Hindu women were raped and killed; secondly, Bengali Muslim women, who were perceived to be under the Hindu influence, were impregnated by force in order to create a “pure” race. Rape was used to terrorize both the  Bengali Muslim  majority and the  Bengali Hindu  minority of Bangladesh. Those rapes apparently caused thousands of pregnancies, births of  war babies,  abortions,  infanticide,  suicide, and  ostracisation  of the victims. Recognized as one of the major occurrences of war crimes anywhere,  the atrocities ended after the surrender of the Pakistani military. Prime Minister Mrs. Indira Gandhi appealed to the US administration, “President Nixon as East Pakistan bled, refugees began to pour into India, some eight to ten million over the period of the genocide. India could not cope with any more refugees, use your influence over Pakistan and rein in Yahya.” “Yahya is a good friend. I understand the anguish of the decisions which Yahya had to make. Strangely, in his eyes, the military dictator was the victim - one forced so much against the wall that he had to conduct mass murders and rapes.” President Nixon addressed the Pakistani delegation to Washington, DC. “Indians are the most aggressive goddamn people around there…” Kissinger had a meeting with the president. “Sure,” Nixon replied. 225

“We really slobbered over the old bitch,” said President Nixon, pointing to Mrs. Gandhi. “The Indians are bastards anyway. They are starting a war there,” Dr. Kissinger said. “While she was a bitch, we got what we wanted too. She will not be able to go home and say that the United States didn’t give her a warm reception and, therefore in despair, she’s got go to war,” he added “I don’t want him to come in with that kind of jackass thing with me... Keating, like every ambassador who goes over there and gets sucked in. Indira Gandhi seeing the Americans supporting Pakistan, had sought stronger links with the Soviet Union,” President Nixon said. “Those sons-of-bitches, (Bangladeshi) who never have lifted a finger for us, why should we get involved in the morass of East Pakistan? If East Pakistan becomes independent, it is going to become a cesspool. It’s going to be 100 million people; they have the lowest standard of living in Asia,” Mr. Kissinger said. “Yeah,” President Nixon replied. “They’re going to become a ripe field for communist infiltration,” Mr. Kissinger guessed. “Denounce the suppression of democracy. To denounce atrocities and for bending over backwards to placate the West Pakistan-dominated government. We, as professional public servants, express our dissent with current policy and fervently hope that our true and lasting interests here can be defined and our policies redirected in order to salvage our position as a moral leader of the world.” American Consul-General Archer Blood couldn’t take his administration’s position anymore. In an act of open rebellion; he sent a telegram “Don’t squeeze Yahya at this time.” Both the consul-general and the head of the United States Information Service were subsequently transferred out for their anti-Pakistan views to prevent any further negative reporting on the situation. Nixon’s answer: “Military aid to Pakistan is just out of the question now while they are still killing in East Pakistan and refugees are fleeing across the border. We are 226

on the threshold of better relations with the one stable democracy in that part of the world. They are making real progress and want to be more friendly with us.” US Ambassador Kenneth Keating told Kissinger on June 3rd, 1971: “In all honesty, the president has special feelings for Yahya. One cannot make policy on that basis, but it is a fact of life,” replied Kissinger. “Ambassador Keating, who went to India, fell in love with India. Some have the same experience in Pakistan, though not as many because the Pakistanis are a different breed. The Pakistanis are straightforward and sometimes extremely stupid. The Indians are more devious, sometimes so smart that we fall for their line,” President Nixon said. Prime Minister Mrs. Gandhi was not happy with President Nixon’s response. In 1971, Army Chief General Sam Manekshaw confronted Prime Minister Indira Gandhi on the Bangladesh issue. There was a very thin line between being dismissed and becoming a Field Marshal. In 1971, when Pakistan cracked down in East Pakistan, hundreds and thousands of refugees started pouring into India, into West Bengal, Assam, and Tripura. Prime Minister Gandhi held a Cabinet meeting in her office. “What are you doing about it, General Manekshaw?” A very angry, grim-faced prime minister read out telegrams from the chief ministers of West Bengal, Assam, and Tripura about the refugee crises from East Pakistan. “Nothing, it’s got nothing to do with me. You didn’t consult me when you allowed the BSF, the CRP, and RAW to encourage the Bengalis for revolution. Now that you are in trouble, you come to me. I have a long nose. I know what’s happening,” General Manekshaw replied rudely. “I want you to enter Pakistan,” Prime Minister Gandhi said, clearly upset. “That means war,” General Manekshah responded. “I do not mind if it is war, are you prepared?” Mrs.Gandhi looked at the general. 227

“I am certainly not. This is the end of April. The Himalayan passes are opening, and there can be an attack from China. Rains were about to start in East Pakistan, and when it rains there, it pours, and the whole countryside will be flooded. The snows are melting; the rivers would become like oceans. All my movement will be confined to roads. The air force would not be able to provide support because of climatic conditions,” he said. “The Cabinet will meet again at four o’clock,” the grim prime minister said through clenched teeth. The Cabinet members started walking out. “Chief, will you stay back?” Mrs. Gandhi said as General Manekshaw was leaving. “Madam Prime Minister, before you open your mouth, may I send you my resignation on the grounds of health, mental, or physical?” “Everything you told me is true?” she asked. “Yes! It is my job to tell you the truth, and it is my job to fight; it is my job to fight to win, and I have to tell you the truth,” he responded. “Mr. Chief, let us have a joint meeting of the head of the Eastern Command and Bangladeshi Force’s General JS Aurora, and you know what I need out of this meeting,” she said, smiling. “All right, ma’am, I know what you want,” he said. “General Aurora, what would be your strategy to free Bangladesh, a newly born nation under the atrocity of Pakistan?” Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was not convinced of the suggestion of Chief of the Army General Sam Manekshaw. “Madam Prime Minister, I did the complete analysis of how we can achieve our objective. Under my command, I have already trained one hundred thousand local soldiers, the Mukti Bahini (liberation forces), who have complete knowledge of the land, and many Pakistani army officers from this region already joined with the local army. The most important thing is that they know the secrets of the Pakistani army. We have enough strength—sea, land, and air—all we need is four hundred thousand ground troops to walk into the country.’’ 228

“General, what would be your overall strategy to wrap up the overall operation?” Mrs. Gandhi repeated her question again. “Madam Prime Minister, it is simple to cut down the supply over Indian airspace and the Indian  Ocean. Then if we cut down the communications control of the capital city of Dacca and the seaport of Chicagoan from the rest of the world, victory will be guaranteed,” General JS Aurora said confidently. The meeting was dismissed. That evening, all the pilot squadrons were assembled with their respective generals. Kanwar and Hermanjit sat together as the general prepared his briefing. India declared war against Pakistan. The sirens were roaring throughout the city streets everywhere, and it was pitch black at night; the lights kept off to keep the civilians safe from an enemy attack.                 “Wing Commander Kanwar Singh, you will take your squadron and fly to the Eighth Bomber Corps. Your target will be the roads that feed the supply lines into Lahore. Our job is to isolate the major ammunition supply lines with ground troops and tanks, but in order for this to succeed, we must dominate the air space above it. As you escort the bombers in, you will likely meet up with stiff resistance from the Pakistani fighter jets. They may try and get you to engage them in dogfights leading away from the bombers you are to escort. If this happens, they may have more fighters ready to sweep in and pick off our bombers, so don’t give chase any further than you have to. Our primary objective is to bomb the roads, not score kills in the air or bomb civilians,” the general said. As Kanwar listened and took notes on the maps of the area surrounding Lahore, an eerie feeling crept up his spine. It all sounded so familiar to him as if he had been in a situation like this before. He remembered Ragni’s dream, of how she said he was a pilot in his last lifetime. Trying to get his attention focused on the matters at hand, he shook his head to clear the vision and thoughts of the past away. “Are you okay?” Hermanjit whispered to him. 229

 “Yes, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me; I’m fine.” Early the next morning, while it was still dark out, the whole flight barracks was already scrambling. Kanwar and Hermanjit were walking briskly to their MIGs as the ground crews readied the jets for takeoff. “It’s a little different doing the real thing, isn’t it?” Hermanjit said as they stood in front of their aircraft. “Yes, all those hours of practice never prepared us for the feeling I have in my stomach this morning,” Kanwar said warily. “I know what you mean,” Hermanjit replied. “Well, pal, I guess this is it. See you back here in a little bit,” Kanwar said, extending his hand. Taking it, Hermanjit suddenly embraced Kanwar and hugged him tightly. “Good luck!” he said as they both climbed into their snug cockpits. Ground crews pulled the plastic bubbles over their heads, sealing them into the planes, and jumped away while more crewmen waved signals to them. They started the jet engines; their high-pitched whines grew louder and higher until they reached a deafening roar, blasting clouds of dust and exhaust behind them while the grounds crew squinted to protect their eyes from the swirling dust and fixed their protective headphones over their ears. On one of the farther runways, the bomber jets were already starting to take off, so they would be in the air and on their way to Lahore, and the faster MIGs wouldn’t have to wait for them. Kanwar was waved to the runway first in his group. As he waited for takeoff okays, he surveyed his instrument panel. Everything seemed to be new as if the intensity of real combat had cleared away all previous memories of his training. What used to be commonplace and second nature was now all starkly unfamiliar. He began to wonder if he would even remember how to fly. His attention was so focused and intense; he thought he could feel every organ, 230

every molecule in his body. Breathing became a conscious effort, no longer running on automatic. Nothing was automatic anymore. As he was given the okay over the radio to take off, he gripped the throttle and plunged it, sending the jet into its roar down the runway. It was as if his body was now running everything for him from another dimension, as he was plastered against the seat of his cockpit while the jet screamed and whined faster by the second. He pulled the controls toward himself, and the jet swept up like an arrow shot into the sky. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, bursting into a golden light. “Such beauty— why haven’t I ever seen the sun like that before? Is this going to be the last time I’ll see its golden warmth?” he wondered. As he reached the squadron of bombers, he saw how small and insignificant they were compared to the vast skyline and thought more of what the old priest had told him. It was his job to fly this mission, but compared to the whole of life, how important was it all? In the supposed several hundreds of years he had spent wandering from lifetime to lifetime, what was his real purpose—to kill his fellow men? He had spent his whole life preparing to be a highly trained weapon. When the time came, would he be able to kill a fellow human? If so, what would the consequences be? Back at the base, they would slap his back and say it was a job well done, but what would the consequences be from a much larger point of view, like the view he had now of the bombers in front of the vast horizon? The things man considered important were like the little black specks he saw against the blazing gold sun to his rear. Lahore was just ahead, visible a few minutes after they had taken off. In the distance, he could see some little black specs. They were the Pakistanis coming to meet them. Making radio checks with the others in his squadron, he steeled himself for the onslaught. Though they were tiny specs at first, flying at jet speed, the Pakistanis were on them in a matter of seconds. Peeling off the formation to divert them from the bombers, the Indian MIGs swept down, firing their rockets and guns. 231

After the first pass, two of Kanwar’s squadron scored hits on the Pakistani jets, one of them sent down in smoke by Hermanjit while suffering no casualties of their own. The Pakistani jet hit by Hermanjit screamed back to the airbase outside Lahore, apparently damaged but still able to fly. The other jet was not so fortunate, bursting into thousands of fiery pieces in the air from one of the rockets fired by the pilot on Kanwar’s left wing. Banking, Kanwar flew to meet two enemy planes that had gotten behind Hermanjit. Turning wildly and dipping at blinding speed to shake the two fighters on his tail, Hermanjit got rid of one, but the other Pakistani, obviously a more experienced pilot, was able to follow and anticipate Hermanjit’s every move. Under a constant barrage of gunfire, the Pakistani waited until Hermanjit finished a banking turn and fired a round of heat-seeking missiles. One of them found his tail, exploded, and sent billows of bluish smoke and fire from his jet. Hermanjit was going down; he was losing control. A sheet of white-hot and icy cold rage blinded Kanwar. Without thinking or seeing anything else, he dove his jet toward the Pakistani fighter that just shot down Hermanjit. The Pakistani pilot never saw him coming, and as Kanwar fired his missiles, they slammed into the rear section of the plane. The Pakistani jet veered wildly out of control for a moment, a stream of white smoke trailing. Kanwar made a pass overhead and, seeing that the pilot was still alive from the way he was able to maneuver his jet, he closed in to make the kill. The Pakistani plane was crippled, and at best, would only be able to make it back to its base in Lahore, but Kanwar’s fury sent him zeroing in to destroy him. As he screamed in to finish him off, his finger ready to squeeze off the missiles that would doom his prey, the vision of the old white-haired priest came to him. In a split second, he remembered his words, almost as if it were a warning to him now—not to kill in anger, for to do so would send him bound once again to the chains of Karma that had ensnared him for so many painful lifetimes. Thoughts of Ragni flashed through his brain as well, and then a thousand pictures from his previous lifetimes passed through his mind. Inside that split second, he was back in his cockpit, his finger still ready to release his 232

rockets when he was able to envision the pilot of the jet he was taking aim at. He was perhaps a young man like himself, maybe with a young wife and children as well, waiting and wondering if he would come back to their warm arms and embraces. He saw that this man, too, in his own way, was on his journey back to the Creator. Who was he to stop this man on his journey? No, he would not kill today—not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Kanwar released the grip on the trigger and pulled his jet up, giving the Pakistani jet one last look as it headed back to Lahore. But he didn’t have time to look long—something exploded on the right side of his cockpit, slamming him against the inside, knocking him senseless. As his jet spun wildly, he groped through the thick blackness, fighting the pain and muddiness in his head for consciousness. Smoke filled his lungs, choking him as the instrument panel flamed and sent white and blue sparks flying off the metal parts. The memory of being in the German bomber returned to him vividly as he gasped for air. Still fighting for consciousness, he tried but was unable to open his eyes. He could feel himself slip deeper into the soft, fuzzy blackness of unconsciousness and knew if he let go of the struggle, his plane would disintegrate once it hit the ground. He tried with all his willpower, but it wasn’t enough. The pain was too great to fight, and the blackness was so quiet, so comforting. There was no pain there, no struggles— it was warm and welcoming. Please, God, please, not again. I don’t care about myself. It would be so peaceful and easy to die now—it’s Ragni—if I don’t return, she’ll be the one to suffer again. Please, God, help me. Slowly, the pain entered his head like a hot poker searing him down the middle. He cried out in agony, the blackness began to rush away from the corners of his awareness, and he could begin to hear the whining of his engines and the deafening thundering of the wind raking the gaping hole in his cockpit made by the enemy rocket. He was able to open his eyes to see the ground rushing at him at a fan- tastic rate. Without even thinking, his body yanked on the controls by 233

second nature, and the jet screamed upward, pinning him to his seat. As the G forces mounted, he began to lose consciousness again and leveled the plane out. Black smoke was pouring out of the cockpit, and the whole right side of his MIG was on fire. Gathering his senses, he looked for Lahore and spotted its location; he banked and flew toward Amritsar. The air battle raged on, but he was through. In a few more minutes, he saw Amritsar and the military airbase, and though his controls were shaky, he was able to land safely. A fire truck and ambulance rushed to his plane as soon as he came to a stop, and men pulled him out of the flaming wreckage while another crew of men sprayed a white foamy substance on the fire. “I’m okay. I’m okay. Let me down,” he mumbled incoherently to the medics who were putting him on a stretcher and wheeling him into the ambulance. “Looks like you may be through for a while, sir,” one of the medics said in the ambulance as it drove off to the hospital. “What are you talking about? I’m fine,” but as he tried to finish his sentence, he attempted to sit up. He saw blood on the pillow and felt something warm dripping down the right side of his head. The inky blackness started creeping in on him again, but this time he didn’t fight it Ragni began to panic as soon she woke up in the middle of night; her body was in pain, and her head was hurting. “Mother, Kanwar has been hurt! It’s not serious, but he’s in the hospital in Amritsar. I must go see him!” While she was getting ready, a man from the telegraph office came to deliver the message. “Ragni, there is a messenger here for you from you from the telegraph office.” “ Mother, I know the message.” Her mother was a little suprised but she didn’t say anything. “Take my chauffeur; you’ll get there quicker,” Sukhi said. “Oh, thank you, Mother!” she said, but Sukhi just waved her off and sent her to the car while she was shouting for her driver. 234

“He sustained a concussion, but he’ll be all right. We’re planning on releasing him in two days. We have, however, done some tests and found that the nature of his injury is such that he’ll be more likely to blackout when G forces reach a certain limit. There’s nothing wrong with him physically, other than the fact that as a pilot, I’m afraid he’s through,” the doctor said at the military hospital. As she entered his room, he was lying down in bed, his head band- aged. Rushing to him, she hugged him, the tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Kanwar, I was so afraid for you—never leave me again!” Seeing him wince slightly in pain, she backed off. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Is your head okay?” she asked, her hand to her mouth, horrified that she might have caused him pain. “It’s a little tender, just like a headache, that’s all,” he assured her, holding the right side with his hand. Then, looking at her, he started to laugh, and she joined him as well. “That would be ironic if the worst injury you were to get would be from an overzealous wife,” she said. Then growing more serious, she asked what happened. He told her everything—about watching Hermanjit being shot down and how he had almost killed the pilot in anger, but then he saw the old priest and remembered what he told him, and then images of all his past lives passed in front of him. “Just as I was about to pull away from his tail, I was hit on the right side. It knocked me out for a couple of seconds, and I was just about to go down. It hurt so bad, I wanted to just let go, but I knew I’d crash if I did. I didn’t care about myself; it was you I wanted to live for—after all that you’ve gone through, I couldn’t bear the thought of making you suffer anymore. I asked God to let me live, if for no other reason than to spare you any more pain.” 235

Looking up at her, he continued, “Ragni, something happened today in that cockpit. I don’t know if I can put it all in perspective yet, but it’s more a feeling that’s been left with me. It’s a feeling that of all the things human- kind is capable of doing, of conquering other nations, or flying machines through the air, all those things are paltry in comparison to the one gift God, the Creator, or whatever you want to call that strange It that seems to keep order in the Universe, gives us all, that one gift is the only thing that can free men from bondage to all the harsher realities of life on earth, that one thing is love.” Ragni had no words. There was no need for words. She took Kanwar’s hand in hers and held it gently. The bonds of fear that ominously loomed over their love seemed to dissolve in the clear, deep pools that were his eyes. The chains of Karma were broken. “Hiya!” a cheerful voice broke in, disrupting the tender silence Ragni and Kanwar were sharing. “Hermanjit! How did—I thought you—” Kanwar started to say. “I’m not so easy to get rid of! After that fellow shot me down, I bailed out just beyond our border. My MIG made a terrible mess in some farmer’s field, but I came out of it all without a scratch, which is more than I can say for you! I heard you received a rather nasty bump on the head!” Steam was rising over the glassy surface of Dal Lake—hovering, making sure the darkness of the evening would disappear, but knowing it would again have to hide in the coolness of the water when the new sun would arise. And when the first of the brilliant golden rays of morning broke the red skies that chased the deep blue evening, the fog then rested delicately on the water’s surface, retiring until the next daily cycle. The sparrows began talking to each other, picking up their chatty conversations from the day before, and the parrots, showing more reserved dignity, preened themselves and inched gingerly along the branches of their homes. 236

The two lovers gazed over this scene, in harmony with the rest of what life was presenting this day. Kanwar pulled Ragni closer to his side, and she met his gaze, the fire of the new sun dancing in the deep reflections of his eyes. “It has been so long—so long since we have been together,” she said. Even though they had not been separated long in this lifetime, he knew what she was talking about. Nodding gently and continuing, she said, “We have come far, and yet, in the journey of the soul, there is still so far to go. But it doesn’t matter how much further we have to go—for we have arrived in love’s embrace, and surely as God will clothe the new morning with sunlight, love will carry us throughout the rest of our lives, and yes, even beyond...” The new day had won out over darkness once more, just as it had done for eons—but the lovers were not aware of any of this. Steadily, rising higher into the tapestry of blues, the exuberance of the day fairly sang with life. Kanwar took her face in his hands, tenderly and preciously, as she broke into a radiant smile, warming the inside of his heart as surely as the golden sun warmed the earth The two lovers gazed over this scene, in harmony with the rest of what life was presenting this day. Kanwar pulled Ragni closer to his side, and she met his gaze. 237

CHAPTER 19 R agni and Kanwar thought they were now on a solid path to be to- gether in peace and love. But, the world had other plans. In December 1971, Air Commodore Gurujaipaul Singh Multani ordered Squadron Leader Kanwar Singh to lead a team for a spy mission from Dhaka to Chittagong in East Islamabad to Kashmir in northwest Pakistan to get all the target areas and strategic points for the attack. An American-made F-86A-1 shot the missile that destroyed the left wing of Kanwar’s spycraft. His plane suddenly became unbalanced before it caught fire. The plane crashed in the mountain range of Burma over fifty miles east of Rangoon. Kanwar saw that his head was bleeding very badly. Both of his arms were broken. With great difficulty, he touched his head with his broken arm, and his finger went all the way inside his skull. He was breathing hard, and he realized his lungs were ruptured. He could die any second. Out of the blue, a shepherd girl, who had been roaming nearby, saw the debris of the aircraft and that the pilot was lying on the ground; a parachute crumpled and extended on the ground behind him. He was barely alive and seemingly bleeding from his head and his entire body. The young woman opened a jar made of clay and poured some water into his mouth. Kanwar opened his eyes; he saw a beautiful girl pouring water into his mouth. She put her strong arms 238

around his waist and helped him stand. She helped him walk a few steps to make sure that he was okay. Kanwar looked around and saw herds of sheep and a very bright, white light all around him. She told him to lay down on the ground and close his eyes. She touched his head with both hands, and his bleeding stopped. Do not open your eyes, she repeated. The sun was setting behind the tall mountains, its golden glow spreading onto the small valley, which was now covered with the debris of his aircraft. “How are you feeling now? You can open your eyes,” she said. “I am fine.” Kanwar opened his eyes, but there was no shepherd girl or herds of sheep, but he saw an army helicopter that had landed near him. “Mr. Singh, how are you feeling?” An army doctor was kneeling next to him with his medical equipment. The doctor took his vitals and checked him over. Everything looks okay, but we still have a few tests to run back at the hospital before we can take off for Calcutta. We have to make sure there is no internal bleeding.” “It was very difficult to find you in these tall mountains and this small valley with its thick vegetation—it took us at least ten hours,” the helicopter pilot said. “What do you mean ten hours? My plane just crashed like half an hour ago. The shepherd girl put the water in my mouth to wake me up and helped me stand a few minutes ago,” Kanwar said, confused. “Who is this shepherd girl? Nobody can come here; there is no path for a radius of twenty miles; there is no village in this area,” the pilot explained. “How did you track me down then?” Kanwar asked. “A woman called the air force command center and spoke with Air Commodore GP Multani. She gave him the exact location of your crash site; if she hadn’t done that, it would have been impossible to find you. Your aircraft went off radar almost eleven hours ago.” 239

We came here in a Mirage HS145 at super-sonic speed from Srinagar and took the helicopter from Burma India airbase and after a lot of effort when we still couldn’t find you, we tried to track her down. We couldn’t find her or the number she called from. The number literally does not even exist. “We don’t know why she called Air Commodore Mr. Multani all the way in Kashmir at the border of West Pakistan or how she got his number. But he was more than a thousand miles away. We don’t know why she didn’t call the base in Calcutta just a few hundreds mile away.” Ragni sat down on her bed; she was in a lot of pain. She was thinking about the aircraft crash of Kanwar. As soon as she opened her eyes, the whole room was shimmering with light, and the angel was with her. When the heavenly light touched her body, the pain vanished. It was four o’clock in the morning, but she was wide awake. “In two hours, Kanwar’s aircraft is going to crash; can you stop it?” Ragni asked the angel. “No, I cannot go against free will; it is a part of the karmic debt.” “Is Kanwar going to survive this war?” Ragni asked with eyes full of unshed tears. “I knew you were going to ask me this question. Before I give you the answer, wash your face, hands, and feet, and sit down on your bed. Lean against the headboard and close your eyes. Recite the first five hymns of Japji Sahib five times (holy lines composed by the first Sikh Guru, Guru Nanak Dev Ji, for morning prayer). It will help to take you into a pure state of mind, and then I will walk with you to show you some glimpses of your past lives, which will make you understand karmic debt and the strength of pure love.” She sat down on the bed, supported her back with a pillow against the headboard, closed her eyes, and recited the first five hymns of Japji Sahib five times. She was quiet for few moments after she finished. 240

“Where are you?” the angel asked. “I am in a palace in Saint Petersburg,” she responded. “Who are you? Tell me some details about your life,” the angel requested. “My name is Catherine. My original name was Marta Helena Skawrońska. I am a peasant girl. My father’s name is Samuel Skavronsky; he is a Lithuanian peasant of Polish origin. Now, I can see myself in a wedding dress. I am getting married to Peter—she stopped. “I am the wife of Peter the Great!” Peter met me in 1703, and shortly after, I became his mistress. In 1705, I converted to Orthodoxy and changed my name to Catherine Alexeyevna. I married him in the year 1707.  My first child, Anna, was born in 1708. Peter had moved to the capital, Saint Petersburg, in 1703. While the city was being built, I lived with him in a three-bedroom log cabin where I did the cooking and caring for the children, and he tended a garden, as we were an ordinary couple. “I continued to accompany Peter on his Pruth Campaign in 1711. I saved Peter and his Empire. My husband was surrounded by overwhelming numbers of Turkish troops. I suggested that before surrendering, we could use my jewels and those of the other women in an effort to bribe the Grand Vizier Baltaci into allowing a retreat. Baltaci allowed the retreat, whether motivated by the bribe or considerations of trade and diplomacy. In any case, Peter credited me and proceeded to marry me again at Saint Isaac’s Cathedral in Saint Petersburg on the ninth of February in 1712. I took the style of my husband and became Tsarina.” “When Peter elevated the Russian Tsardom to an Empire, I became Empress. The Order of Saint Catherine was instituted by my husband on the occasion of our wedding. Now, I am looking at my crown in the mirror. I am the Empress of Russia. The year is 1724.” “Tell me about your husband?” the angel said. 241

“I remembered my husband’s birth name, it was Pyotr Alekséyevich, and he was born on the ninth of June in 1672, in Moscow. He was the four- teenth child of Czar Alexis by his second wife, Natalya Kirillovna Naryshkina. Having ruled jointly with his brother Ivan V from 1682, when Ivan died in 1696, Peter was officially declared Sovereign of all Russia. Peter inherited a nation that was severely underdeveloped compared to the culturally prosperous European countries. While the Renaissance and the Reformation swept through Europe, Russia rejected westernization and remained isolated from modernization.” “Peter implemented sweeping reforms aimed at modernizing Russia. Heavily influenced by his advisors from Western Europe, Peter reorganized the Russian army along modern lines and dreamed of making Russia a maritime power. He faced much opposition to these policies at home but brutally suppressed any and all rebellions against his authority: Peter implemented social modernization in an absolute manner by requiring courtiers, state officials, and the military to shave their beards and adopt modern clothing styles.” “After the death of his father, Russia was not a strong enough country to face the Ottoman Empire and Charles VII of Sweden—who took Russian territory. There was a Russian slave trade in Turkey for many years.” “And how did Peter manage it?” the angel asked. “Peter knew that Russia could not face the Ottoman Empire and Charles VII of Sweden alone. In 1697, he traveled incognito to Europe on an eighteen-month journey with a large Russian delegation–the so-called “Grand Embassy”—to seek the aid of the Europeans to improve his nation’s position on the seas. Peter sought to gain more maritime outlets. His only outlet at the time was the White Sea at Arkhangelsk. He studied shipbuilding in Zaandam and Amsterdam and later put this learning to use in helping build Russia’s navy. Nicolaas Witsen, mayor of Amsterdam and expert on Russia, gave the Tsar the opportunity to gain practical experience in the largest shipyard in the world, belonging to the Dutch East India Company, for a period of four months. 242

During his stay, Peter engaged many skilled workers such as builders of locks, fortresses, shipwrights, and seamen, including Cornelis Cruys, a vice- admiral who became, under Franz Lefort, the Tsar’s advisor in maritime affairs.” “What is going on today?” the angel continued to guide her down the path he wanted her to go. “There is a farewell party arranged by Peter for all these skilled people who helped with his successful training. The Baltic Sea was, at the time, controlled by Sweden in the north, while the Black Sea was controlled by the Ottoman Empire in the south. Peter attempted to acquire control of the Black Sea. But, to do so, he would have to expel the Tatars from the surrounding areas. As part of an agreement with Poland, which ceded Kiev to Russia, Peter was forced to wage war against the Crimean Khan and against the Khan’s overlord, the Ottoman Sultan. Peter’s primary objective became the capture of the Ottoman fortress of Azov, near the Don River. He launched about thirty ships against the Ottomans in 1696, capturing Azov in July of that year.” “In England, Peter met with King William III, visited Greenwich and Oxford, was painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller, and saw a Royal Navy Fleet Review at Deptford. He traveled to the city of Manchester to learn the tech- niques of city-building that he would later use to great effect at Saint Petersburg. Next, he went to Leipzig, Dresden, and Vienna. He spoke with August the Strong and Leopold I, the Holy Roman Emporer; he was going to a lot of effort to make our country powerful.” “Even though Peter is a very successful ruler, and he was going to a lot of effort to make his country powerful, he still tortured many innocent people,” the angel said to bring the conversation back to karmic debt. “Yes. Peter was out of the country, but his visit was cut short in 1698 when he was forced to rush home because of a rebellion of the Streltsy. The rebellion was, however, easily crushed before Peter returned home from England—only one of the Tsar’s troops was killed. Peter, nevertheless, acted ruthlessly towards the mutineers. Over twelve hundred of the rebels 243

were tortured and executed, and Peter ordered that their bodies be publicly exhibited.”. “Who is the handsome man visiting your husband in the palace?” the angel asked. “He is the eldest son of my husband. His name is Alexie. Now, I can see Eudoxia, Alexie’s mother, my husband’s first wife, being punished. I can hear her screaming. Soldiers are dragging her from her home on the basis of false charges of adultery. A similar fate is happening with Peter’s beautiful mistress, Anna Mons. She is screaming, and the soldiers are dragging her through the street. I am feeling great pain. I am very sorry for these women.” “Let me show you more details of some incidents of the karmic debt from what your husband did,” the angel touched her head so she could have clear vision. “Catherine, what are you seeing?” “The young Alexei was brought up by his mother, who fostered an atmosphere of disdain towards my husband Peter, Alexei’s father. Alexei’s relations with his father suffered from the hatred between his father and mother, as it was very difficult for him to feel affection for his mother’s worst persecutor,” Catherine said. Catherine stopped for a moment before continuing again, “As a child, Alexei was educated by his tutor Vyazemsky, but after the removal of his mother by her husband to the Suzdal Intercession Convent, Alexei was confined to the care of educated foreigners, who taught him history, French, geography, mathematics, and fortification—to be used later in the war. It looks like he doesn’t believe in war...” “What are his interests?” “He has strong leanings toward archaeology and ecclesiology; however, my husband Peter had wished his son and heir to dedicate himself to the 244

service of new Russia and demanded from him unceasing labor in order to main- tain Russia’s new wealth and power. Relations between the father and son were painful, quite apart from the prior personal antipathies,” Catherine mused. “What about his marriage?” the angel continued to guide her. “I was at his wedding. Alexei married, greatly against his will, Princess Charlotte of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, whose family was connected by marriage to many of the great families of Europe. Alexei could have refused the marriage, but he had been encouraged by his father, my husband, Peter. The wedding was celebrated at Torgau, the palace of the Queen of Poland. “Can you see which year is this?” “This is the fourteenth of October in the year 1711. One of the terms of the marriage contract agreed to by Alexei was that while any forthcoming children were to be raised in the Orthodox faith, Charlotte herself was allowed to retain her Protestant faith.” “Can you tell me about his real love?” “Alexei loved his long-time Finnish serf mistress Afrosinia. He brought her to live at the palace at the end of the year in 1714.” “How did the idea form to kill his innocent son, and who was his consultant?” “Peter consulted with George I of Great Britain. Alexei suspected his father was harboring murderous plans against him. On the twenty-sixth of August in 1716, Peter wrote to Alexei from abroad, urging him, if he desired to remain tsarevich (successor or future emperor of Russia) and join him and the army without delay. Rather than face this ordeal. He fled to Vienna and placed himself under the protection of his brother-in-law, the emperor Charles VI, who sent him to the Tyrolean fortress of Ehrenberg and finally to the castle of Sant’ Elmo at Naples for safety. He was accompanied by Afronsia throughout his journey” 245

“How did Peter bring his son back from Austria?” “Peter used Count Peter Tolstoy, who was a famous Russian statesman, he met with Emperor Charles VI and Alexei and convinced them that Emperor Peter had solemnly sworn that if he came back, he would not be punished in the least, but treated as a cherished son and allowed to live quietly on his estates and marry Afrosinia.” “Today is the thirty-first of January in 1718. Alexei reached Moscow. Peter had already determined to institute an inquisition in order to get to the bottom of everything. They immediately took Alexei and Afrosinia to different torture chambers. Alexei was impaled, broken on the wheel, and lingering close to death. This was done to terrorize the reactionaries and isolate the tsarevich.” “At the same time, Eudoxia, Alexei’s mother and ex-empress of Russia, was dragged from her monastery and publicly tried for alleged adultery.” “Continue,” the angel said. “It is the month of April in the year 1718. Peter ordered Afrosinia to be tortured. She then turned state’s evidence in on Alexei. ‘I shall bring back the old people.’ She reported Alexei as saying. ‘...and choose myself new ones according to my will; when I become sovereign, I shall live in Moscow and leave Saint Petersburg simply as any other town; I won’t launch any ships; I shall maintain troops only for defense, and won’t make war on anyone; I shall be content with the old domains. In winter, I shall live in Moscow and in summer in Laroslav,’ Afrosnia was reported to have said.” “Was there any other reason to kill him?” The angel’s questioning was trying to make Catherine aware of Alexei’s murder being part of Peter’s karmic debt. “Despite this and other hearsay evidence, there were no actual facts to go upon. The worst that could be brought against him was that he had wished his father’s death. In the eyes of Peter, his son was now a self-convicted and most dangerous traitor, whose life was forfeit.” 246

“But there was no getting over the fact that his father had sworn to pardon him and let him live in peace if he returned to Russia,” the angel reminded her of Peter’s commitment. “He didn’t follow his commitment. The whole matter was solemnly submitted to a grand council of prelates, senators, ministers, and other dignitaries on the thirteenth of June in 1718,” Catherine said. “I had placed his confidence in those who loved the ancient customs and that he had become acquainted with them by the discourses they held, wherein they had constantly praised the ancient manners and spoke with distaste of the novelties his father had introduced. “There is nothing wrong with this statement,” the angel said. “Declaring this to be a civil rather than an ecclesiastical matter, the clergy left the matter up to Emperor Peter’s decision,” Catherine replied. “Today is the last day of this young prince’s life. Alexei has done nothing wrong. Yet, your husband tortured his beloved and separated their love. You are an eyewitness. I am with you, but I want to hear this from you so that you understand the value of karmic debt,” the angel said. “Today is the twenty-sixth of June in 1718. I am very sad. I am standing in the Petropavlovskaya fortress. I am near the glass window. I am sobbing. I put my hand over my mouth, so the noise won’t be heard. It is a very painful scene. On the nineteenth of June, the weak and ailing prince received twenty-five strokes with the knout, and then, at noon on the twenty-fourth of June, the temporal dignitaries—the one hundred and twenty-six members of both the senate and magistrates that comprised the court—declared Alexei guilty and sentenced him to death. He was subject to fifteen strokes more. I am watching him die. He is no more.” Catherine stopped talking; her heart was full of pain, and her eyes were full of tears. “What improvements are being done by Peter for Russia?” the angel asked, leading her to reveal more information. 247

“Peter was impressed with the west. He took the shipbuilding tech- nology of Holland and the architecture of Europe. He believed that the European customs were, in several respects, superior to Russian traditions. He commanded all of his courtiers and officials to cut off their long beards and wear European clothing. Boyars, who were very fond of their beards, became very upset. The Boyars who sought to retain their beards were required to pay an annual beard tax of one hundred rubles. He also sought to end arranged marriages, which were the norm among Russian nobility. He thought such a practice was barbaric and led to domestic violence. In 1699, Peter changed the date of the celebration of the new year from the first of September to the first of January. Traditionally, the years were reckoned from the purported creation of the world, but after Peter’s reforms, they were to be counted from the birth of Christ.” “Peter the Great, my husband, who is best known for his extensive reforms in an attempt to establish Russia as a great nation, created a strong navy, reorganized his army according to Western standards, secularized schools, administered greater control over the reactionary Orthodox Church, and introduced new administrative and territorial divisions of the country. Peter overcame opposition from the country’s medieval aristocracy and initiated a series of changes that affected all areas of Russian life.” “My husband focused on the development of science and recruited several experts to educate his people about technological advancements. He concentrated on developing commerce and industry and created a gentrified bourgeoisie population. Mirroring Western culture, he modernized the Russian alphabet, introduced the Julian calendar, and established the first Russian newspaper,” Catherine continued. “My husband was a far-sighted and skillful diplomat who abolished Russia’s archaic form of government and appointed a viable senate, which regulated all branches of administration, as well as making groundbreaking accomplishments in Russia’s foreign policy.” “Peter acquired territory in Estonia, Latvia, and Finland, and through several wars with Turkey in the south, he secured access to the Black Sea. In 248