28th May, 1940. Dunkirk, France.

It was 3:00 PM in the afternoon, Manjyot tapped his wrist watch to see if it still was working. His bottle was empty, lips dried in the salty winds and throat hankered for fresh water. 

It had been a month that his infantry was stuck on the Dunkirk beaches. The Allied forces were surrounded by the Germans, the evacuation was in process and Manjyot was just another soldier among the 3 lakhs trapped in the town. Serving the Royal army, Manjyot never had imagined that he would end up one day on some beach in France. 

The days were tough and the nights chilly, loaf of breads he ate that came from the supplies, but survival wasn't the only thing that crossed his mind. His heart yearned for something else.

He along with some of his comerades had taken shelter in a bomb-destructed building. The walls dripped and the slabs fell. Some used to die in their sleep with the roof falling on their head.

Manjyot slept next to his British comerade and friend John. Both became friends here in entrapment and shared a bond in survival times. One was from a colonized nation of India, and the other from the ruling British, but it meant nothing here between the two, for survival levels any form of human descrimination.

John hailed from a small town near Swindon, England. And Manjyot from the city of Bombay, India. Both serving the same objective, first the Royal army, but now survival.

Manjyot and John spoke about their families and most importantly about their lady-loves. John was a married guy with two adorable daughters. Manjyot on the other hand was in love with a girl he hasn't even met yet, but already promised in marriage to her with agreement of both families.

Manjyot and John shared all that was there. From running for food and water supplies to running behind the evacuation boats in the hope of leaving the place for good. 

During night both would think of how life was before. Both would read out their letters to each other that had come from their respective women.

Manjyot had never met his girl, "Shreelata". But he had a small picture of her in his diary. His bag consisted of many letters from her and this one picture. John was always awestruck by the love of Manjyot for Shreelata. For John, love was his wife and his two daughters, but for Manjyot it meant the 2×3 inch picture and some words on a letter.

Shreelata hailed from a small city of Kanpur in India. Her father worked a clerical job in the Kanpur cantonment. She had finished her school some years ago, but wanted to pursue a Law degree and aimed to be a barrister in the Bombay Highcourt. She wrote about it to Manjyot in her letters, to which Manjyot had wholeheartedly agreed to.

One stormy night, Manjyot asked John, "what would you do first when you go back to your town?

"I would make warm love to my wife and kiss my daughters like it's the last day." said John.

"And what would you do?" asked John to Manjyot.

Manjyot smiled and tried to shy away from the question, but John insisted. "I would go and meet Shreelata and touch her hand for first time, she only is in my imagination right now, I want to know how it would feel to see her and feel her in real. I have imagine that day in my head a million times, I just want to live it one day for real soon." said Manjyot.

He pulled out her picture, and his fingers ran across it, as if it caressed her cheeks for real.

Both John and Manjyot laughed and went to sleep.

Next morning the radio was on and every british soldier stuck their ears to it. Churchill addressed the nation and he promised the evacuation soon of his soldiers. 

The afternoon that day, rescue ships had arrived and thousands of soldiers were taken back to England. Manjyot and John were waiting eagerly that they would be next. Their regiment leader told them that tomorrow at sunrise the next boat shall come and their team will be evacuated. They were rejoiced with that announcement and it felt like they were born again.

It was the last night, both Manjyot and John were happy but unsure if this could be their last night together in this wrecked building. They promised each other to write letters and let each other know of their well-being when they reach home.

The night was chilly and stomach was empty, but the heart was filled with amorous joy of meeting their loved ones. John wasn't keeping well, Manjyot had sensed his agony. When it got too chilly, Manjyot offered his blanket to John, saying "I am from a warm country, you take it John." John was hesitant but honoured his friend's offering, given his health condition.

6:45 AM, 6th June 1940, the first sun light had hit the grounds of Dunkirk. The Allied forces woke up to welcome the evacuation ship. Everyone packed with their bags were getting ready to run to the beach for the boat.

John woke up and nudged Manjyot to wake up, Manjyot didn't react. He pushed a little harder, still no response. Shocked in the moment, John started to push and yell at him that the ships had arrived. But Manjyot had already left.

Manjyot died of Hypothermia. John cried and kissed his friend on forehead in goodbye. He pulled out Manjyot's diary from his bag and took his ladylove Shreelata's picture out and kept it on the chest of Manjyot's body. The letters from his bag too he pulled out and kept them close to his heart where his hands were folded. Just when he was about to put blanket on top of his dear friend, he saw a letter in his side pocket. It was a letter from Shreelata. It was the last letter from her that Manjyot had received in the camp in England.

"Dearest Manjyot,

It would be the least to say that I miss you every moment here. I long for you to come and take me with you. Everyone here says you won't comeback, but I know you will. And I will wait for you. Even if you don't, I will wait for a lifetime. I believe we are meant to be together. May be someday, somewhere or in some other life, in a less miserable time we will be together again.

Yours

Shree."