Spirited Promise(SUDESHNA MAJUMDAR) It was in 1992 that I along with my parents landed in the picturesque city of Kashmir. I soon fell in love with the place. Among the unique features of the city were the local people. They welcomed everyone with their cute smile and a unique way of saying “Salaam-wale-kum!!"

It was at one shop that I met “Tasleem”. Kashmir was her home town. She was very beautiful. Soon we became close friends. Tasleem helped me get a rented accommodation next to her own house. Her parents were happy that she had got another non-Kashmiri family who loves Kashmir. She appeared to be extremely fond of sweets.

A few months later, Tasleem started complaining of tiredness and her frequent urination. A doctor was summoned and he diagnosed it as Diabetes. Tasleem was told not to touch sweets any more. Her condition worsened as she could hardly abstain from sweets.

I felt terrible about being unable to help her who had so naturally accepted me as her younger sister. “Can’t you give up sweets for my sake?” I pleaded with her. “Do you seriously think that I can’t give up sweets?” she asked defiantly. I asked mockingly, “can you …?” Tasleem was furious. “I promise you I will never touch sweets again,” she proclaimed loudly. I was skeptical about her promise. She read my thoughts. “Have you ever seen a Musalmaan break his promise?” she asked in a harsh tone. “No, not yet. But it may not take more than a few hours,” I said. Tasleem was hurt but did not utter a word.

Tasleem skipped her sweets that day. However, she was soon gripped by terrible withdrawal symptoms. Probably she had a high level of psychological as well as physiological dependence on sweets. She started complaining of uneasiness. A doctor was called and he injected a lot of sedatives into Tasleem and kept repeating the dose for two days. But there was little change in her conditions. She was suffering from acute pain also.

There was no sign of any improvement over the next five days. The doctor wondered whether gradual withdrawal from sweets would have been more appropriate in this particular case. Of course he was not suggesting anything. But after the doctor had left, I quietly took out a small bar of chocolate. “Tasleem, the doctor said that you may have a chocolate,” I offered, expecting her face to beam with pleasure. Tasleem just smiled. She wouldn’t have it. She had to keep her promise.

Tasleem died the next morning when I was by her bedside. I am not sure whether her death could be attributed to sweets or to the abstinence during her last ten days. Whatever the fatal cause, I still carry the guilt of having killed Tasleem.

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