Side by Side

By Beatone Hajong

Evan Knor, who is more into sports than academics, makes his choice on what job he should land. The long failure in academics compels him to join the US military. That changes him and makes him a better-disciplined man. Among all this, he bridges the gap between him and his father. Meeting Sarah is the best thing that ever happened to him. His only desire is to spend the rest of his life with her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Sep 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543701111

Beatone Hajong

The book depicts the deep social relation that we encounter each day. Whether it’s the relation between Father and a Son or the one we seek to love. It gives us every element that we once in our life come across. Followed by dreams to chase and finally learn the meaning of life.

Book preview

Contents

Foreword: Ebica Hajong

Acknowledgments

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Foreword

Ebica Hajong

S omewhere, between those tenderly innocence that we’ve shared in the years, our hearts and memory still holds the same with every rising beats to those unforgettable race that are chased, and here today we’re, how far we’ve come up outgrew the best we could. As, I hold my pen to write this foreword, it occurs to me, how less I have known about this person, with whom I shared my childhood and played as well. No, I am not talking about any of my friends here but my dear brother, Beatone Hajong.

It’s not always an inborn attribute to be able to write something good, it is sometimes the inner instinct that pushes us to be one. Not so long ago, as it seems to be, he mentioned of writing a story, a book rather, back then who would have thought he wasn’t actually amusing us with that whim. That sudden desire of yesterday and here today He’d just published a Novel "A Turn in the Road", a breathtakingly beautiful story of a girl named Poppy Lyne. The kind of story, the kind of love one desires to have but cannot express to have in this generation of short speech. I remember thoughtfully, you must have experienced this rush of adrenaline to have put every moment into words so precisely. As deep, thoughtful and considerate as he appears, he does have taste of unimaginable creativity to explore.

As they say, you are to follow your heart for nobody but yourself and to be able to do so is the greatest gift one can achieve. I remember once how his prolong awaited manuscripts which he once showed to me, allowed him to look ahead. He just didn’t write about anything but the admirable stories that could compel us to a thoughtful moment. It is much more than just to appreciate the kind of work he opted but regardless of any risk he followed to conquer his dreams.

Side by Side, a piece of profoundly crafted story about family, love, loss and hardships one must go through in this long journey of short life. This book that you are about to read, I admit I could relate the difficulties, the pain and the suffering and the joy and happiness this life is to offer us and I am honestly rattled to find something deeper in my course.

It is a privilege for having me write this foreword. My brother has always been that enthusiastic person about literature and it only gives me pleasure to write down few lines about his work. I assure you the journey you’re about to take off is worth the way. In silence between his words, there is a world I have experienced and I hope you will too.

Acknowledgments

B efore I continue with my words of thanks, I would like to take the chance to talk about the person who beautifully crafted the foreword. It’s hard sometime to honestly confess, what’s the best they’ve got in them. And I’m talking about my sister, Ebica. I, profoundly express my gratitude to her for framing such beautiful words of foreword. I couldn’t be more happier than this, asking her to write. And she surely justified with her words what she could do to bring the best out of this book. Secondly, and most importantly, my parents, their constant support are the major ingredients of all. Without them, I would be nowhere on this earth. It’s their effort and love, caring that I could bring the best out of me. My little brother, my another small sister, who always encouraged me are the integral part of my life. I feel blessed to have them in my life. My grandmother, my uncles and all my family people who showed support and asked me to keep up the good work deserved all the credits.

Not to forget, my friends, Chettupalli Anil Kumar, Debashis Kumar Bhoi, Gokul Prasana who always showed support to my work and endured me even during late night disturbances while editing. My unforgettable friend in life, Samadhan Koli, who witnessed me from the time I began to write this book. He was always my constant support in every way, and a wonderful friend I ever got. I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to be grateful to them. I’m deeply moved by their love along my side.

Lastly, to my publisher, who believed in me and supported me to make my dream come true. Without them, this book wouldn’t have come into life. It’s their constant effort and hard work that I could see finally what I had waited for. I’m immensely grateful at the same time glad to have them in support. They’re the real people behind the birth of this book, and they deserved every single credit of their work. My readers, you’re my strength, who kept me motivated to work. I’m grateful to you all, for having me as your part. I feel blessed to have your love and support in every walk of life. Thank you.

One

Savannah, 2005

M y name is Evan Knor. I was born in 1979. I grew up in Savannah, Georgia. A small town, that proudly boasts of their scenic beauty and beaches. Often, the coolest thing one could do was surfing. Even the weather was good to appreciate. The town located not miles away from shore. The access was pretty much appreciated by all. Over the years, I’ve literally fallen in love with the place. The best place, where my childhood spent well. The beaches and restaurants added to the multipurpose income for the people around. In addition to that, every people around the country would give their valuable time to spend few of their holidays. When I was a kid, my dad and I would drive to the beach not miles away from home. Often, when the day would end, we wouldn’t drive back home but in return we would drive to Jacksonville. The best restaurant he had found in that small town. It was only after dinner, we would give a thought to drive back all alone the highway, to home. Jacksonville wasn’t the farthest away, just few hour drive from Savannah. Each weekend it was the routine for both of us. I would fall asleep on return. I do still remember how dad would carry me on his hand to lay me down on my bed. And, that’s the moment, where I felt the love of father and son bonded us forever. By the time, I grew up to be a teenage; I had learnt to surf myself. He would sometime compete with me. Dad was a good surfer, and much of my skills I got from him. He used to train me every weekend, no matter how harsh the ocean would be. Everything around were joyful and charming. We moved around a lot, we did crossed lot of bordering states. It was the memory to remember about all those adventurous days of childhood.

My dad is a retired Sheriff now. It’s been almost five years passed since he left the job. These days, he keeps himself silent and engaged into something else which until today, I haven’t been told about. As I grew up, I began to grow way lot different. My dad and I were two different people as possibly as we could be. He grew old, whereas I turned out to be young as years passed by. He was always passive and introspective; I was always in motion and hated to be alone. He placed high value on education while, school for me was like a social club with sports added to it. He had poor posture and movement. Our physical features were completely different too. He had sandy hair, hazel eyes and freckles. I had brown eyes and brown hair with white skin. As I grew older, I sometimes heard him say about mom. He used to whisper about mom, that she had run off when I was less than a year old. Though, I later suspected that by now she must have met the man of her life. My dad never confirmed about her. All he’d say that she’d realized, she made mistake by marrying other man. He neither heaped scorn on her nor praised her, but made sure he would include her in his prayer too. "You remind me of her," he’d sometime say to me. To this day, I’ve never spoken a single word to her, nor do I have any desire to know. I think my dad was happy with his life. He never dated anyone since mom had gone. I phrase him like; he seldom showed any emotions. Hugs and kisses were rare in my growing up years. But, that he’d make my day which would ultimately make me feel happy about him. I know; he loved me by the way he devoted me to care in my growing years. Part of me always thought that my dad would better be suited as monk than being a retired Sheriff. However, I didn’t mind him in whatever way he was; he was a perfect dad above all. He wouldn’t pay much to my attention these days. To the need, only he would rarely ask me if I required his any sort of assistance. By the time I was in high school, my dad would hardly come out of his room. No matter, he was always punctual in preparing the breakfast. He usually kept himself locked in his working room. There was no reason that I’d interrupt him in his work. I would leave him alone for the day. At school hours, I rarely would think back about home.

Dad would ask me about my day. It wasn’t the same anymore between us. Neither, I thought that he was the same person as used to be. At dinner, he’s silent and quiet. The only audible sound could be from the spoon and fork.

Goodnight dad I headed upstairs.

He nodded his head and resumed back into his working room. He rarely visits the beach anymore. Sometime, I’d urged him to come along with me. He wouldn’t agree to come but somehow, he would fuss about it later. Just the safety measures, he would ask me to take care about; I still loved surfing. But, I rarely had any friends around. Often, I would drive through the long way before my return to home. I still go to the same place at Jacksonville to dine whenever I make a visit to the beach. It didn’t bother dad even if I’d return late at home. I would still find him awake in his room, typing words through the typewriter. I would just peek at him silently and head to my room. He’d know that I was back at home safely.

Sunday wasn’t the rest day for him. To know, he wasn’t that religious person. When I was ten, he once took me to our school church. That was the last time I had gone with him. Now, he rarely spoke about going to church. I had intrigued thought to know exactly what he does inside his room. Faintly through the window glass, I would just see his typewriter kept nest to the window. He was writing all through these weeks. I know, he wouldn’t rather say about it or want the real thing to stay confidential. I wouldn’t insist him though but inside I knew, I was with him all through his life. He was the quietest man, I’ve ever known in my life. He asked few questions what was going on in my life, and while he rarely grew angry, he rarely joked either. He cooked me scrambles eggs, toasts and bacon every single morning and listened as I talked about school over a dinner he’d prepare as well.

I spent most of my evenings alone. A regular stuff I had been doing for long. For dad, with the duties of the day finally complete, he would head to his den to be with his writing work. That was his great passion in his life. He seemed contented sitting up in his den and writing up. In case, he’d be late by night, he wouldn’t take the trouble to be back in his bedroom. He would sleep there itself. Sometime, I would often sense the petrified feeling when I would surprisingly find him missing in his bedroom. Then the only search place for him was his den. He’d sacrificed in his days, those feelings he still carried with himself. Getting back to dad meant me a lot. There was no such thing that he would be tired off, he tried everything in his younger days. In his bedroom, he still had the sheriff badge kept on his table. His job kept him well involved. Though he wasn’t in people’s business, he yet kept himself well aware about the society. Perhaps few of his traits, I opted to inherit toward me. He had very few friends just like me. It used to be few years back when granny would visit us here at Savannah. But, within last two years, she was diagnosed with cancer. After few months of survival, she passed away the last summer. She was a great loss for my dad. For weeks, he mourned for her until he satisfactorily healed from the traumatic loss of her. Since then, dad began to be more silent and quiet in fact, he was exploring something else in his private world. But, within these few years, he showed few improvements trying to get himself more socially involve. And, you know, how I was as I grew up to be a teenage. I wasn’t the kind of kid who showed rigorous interest toward academic section. I was more expert in sports activity. My solitary world; would be well spent at the beach. Surfing had become very important part of my life. During my senior year, my grades had fallen; my rebellion reached their high points. The conditioned arrived more from laziness and lack of care than intelligence, and more than once my dad caught me sneaking in late night with booze on my breath. He would say nothing upon my return instead scrambles eggs, toast and bacon, along with a jug of juice would be on the table in the morning. I bare would pass my classes, and I suspected the school let me graduate just because they want me out of there. I know my dad was worried about me and sometime in his own way would broach the subject of college, but by then I’d made up my mind not to go. I wanted a job, I wanted a car, I wanted those material things.

Each evening, he would try to engage me in his discussions about writings and college. Much of it I’d throw out of my mind.

Do you remember your childhood days? Jacksonville was your favorite dinner place.

I shook my head, with all the frustration of life with my dad coming to the surface. My dad said nothing instead; he just kept quiet. But, till this day, I’ll never forget his pained expression when at last he turned and trudge back to his den. I’d hurt him though, I never meant to, deep down I knew I was lying to myself. From then onward, dad rarely brought up the subject on writing and college. It became a yawning gulf between us; that left us with nothing to say to each other. A few days later, I realized that photograph of us was gone as well, as if he believed that even the slightest reminder about college would offend me. I assumed that he’d thrown it away, the realization didn’t bother me at all.

Growing up, I’d never considered myself entering into military. Though, that year, the neighboring state North Carolina was on recruit for the defense service. I used to think military life was for losers. Who wanted to spend his life getting order by a bunch of crew-cut flunkies? In the couple of years after graduation, I went through successions of jobs, worked as delivery boy, tearing ticket stuffs at local movie theater. Loading and unloading boxes of staples, cooking pancakes at buzzing house the restaurant where I’d received few dollars more to spent my days. I spent each and every dime that earned, and ended up getting fired from every work hold. For a while, I didn’t care. I was living my life. I was big into surfing late and sleeping in. Dad never took notice of me. He hadn’t even talked to me at least for month. As usual, he would prepare the breakfast every morning. Though we’d sit together, he rarely spoke about anything since then. I’d much appreciate that he never talked about college or on his writings. He would spend his time silently with me on table, when finished he rarely let me wash the dishes. I wouldn’t argue though.

I dated dozens of women within that period. Most were forgettable relationships. I used women, allowed myself to be used, and always kept my feelings to myself. Only my relation with a girl name, Jenna lasted for more than a month. And, within short span of time we inevitably drifted apart. I thought I was in love with her. "I care about you," she told me on our last night together. I actually thought she really meant that, but things weren’t what I expected. After we drifted apart, we rarely contacted each other again. Months later, I realized I have deleted her number too. A year later, I got her number from her parents, I called her and we talked for twenty minutes. She was engaged to an attorney, she told me, and would be married this June.

The phone call affected me. For at least a week, I thought about her. I bought a six-pack of beer and went to sit on the beach. It was the first time in years; I actually thought what I was doing with my life. And, I wondered whether I should take dad’s advice and get a college degree. I’d been out of school for so long, that the idea felt foreign and ridiculous. Call it luck or bad luck, but right then two marines jogged by. Young and fit, they radiated easy confidence. If they could do it, I told myself, I could do it too.

I mulled it for a couple of days, and in the end, my dad had something to do with my decision. He agreed willfully. However, he wasn’t like the old person anymore. Barely, considered me to talk to him. I was walking toward the kitchen one night and saw him sitting at his desk, as always. But this time, I really studied him. His hair was mostly gone and he looked very much weak. Wrinkles appeared on his face, which was clearly visible. I was struck by the notion that I had no right to keep letting him down after all he’d done for me. I realized it a lot later but somehow, I could after that day I had spent at the beach.

The summer of the year arrived too quickly. I still had no final opinion that came up from dad. He would sign me whatever job I would want to take on for my life. I had the idea for granted he had accepted me to join military. It was one summer night; we both as usual sat quiet for dinner. I could remember the long gap we haven’t talked to each other. He took the time to ask me about my job. Perhaps, that was the first case he had talked to me months later. I added my words to him. Much of his words and gesture anticipated my decision. I finally confirmed him to join in military. Likewise, he hadn’t spoken much about it, all he added was the good luck for my new life to begin. When the dinner was over, he shuffled again to his den. I seldom bothered what he was actually writing on his typewriter. Rather, I wanted to leave him alone at least from my crooked behavior over all these years. I didn’t want him to get worry about me anymore. It’s at the high peak of time, I must try in doing something to make him feel at least good about me, if not proud enough. I actually had the care about my dad, as I said earlier that we were two different people living in one way. Like father and son, we had shared all our ups and down fighting together, whether it was for life or work. He always took great care of me. I wasn’t the best son of a caring father. It did make me feel the guilt. But, I couldn’t undo the past; instead I could make the future better in support of him. I began to make up my mind about joining the military. Within few days, I had to leave home and dad for long months. It would be first time in life I would be staying away from dad. No matter, how much I’d hurt him but deep down I couldn’t stay without him. His absence would matter me a lot in the camp.

It’s the early morning of Tuesday, the day I was supposed to leave for the recruitment. I had to cover miles away from home to North Carolina. Before I left, I just mentioned dad about my leave. He stood in the veranda just to say stay safe. Hugs were very much rare from him. He spoke less even on that day. The posture he carried was quite improbable to look at. It’s the matter of age. He watched me as I walked out of the yard.

So, I joined military. I figured out I would be handed a rifle, in any way either I thought. On reaching North Carolina, I was finally into the recruitment section. Passing every examining section, I was finally listed, as one of the member in the team. The recruiter slapped at my back and congratulated me as I walked out of the door. I found myself wondering what I had gotten into. In less than a week, the session to train began. Once I got through it I could chose the infantry. We spent next few months doing lot of simulations, where we basically, learned the best way to kill people and break things. After a while as a part of the first infantry, I was sent to Bosnia. I had spent the rest of my initiative military career there. I had money then, I could fill my savings with quite a handsome amount. Life in the army didn’t pay much, but considering there was no rent, no food expenses, and really nothing to spend on my pay-checks. I had money for the first time in my bank account. Not a lot but enough.

I spent my first leave at home completely bored out of my mind. Dad seemed happier seeing be back however we were yet not that talkative like before. He still sits in his den with the typewriter. On my return to home, I had expected the change in him but I knew it wouldn’t be like what I would expect to be. Instead, all things are the same. I had spent my time all alone as usual. It was just a week leave, so I had to leave as early as possible. Dad came to drop me at the airport. I promised him, I would write to him when I reach. Calling was never a question to arise. The phone would stay silent untouched at least for months. If it ever happened to rang, it could probably be from a wrong number or the telemarketer. I know how hard it must have been for him to raise me up in his own way, but he never complained, even when I disappointed him.

The first thing I did after reaching Bosnia was to inform dad about my safety reached. I wrote a letter to him. But, not much mentioned about the real task. It’s whenever I would mention about our real work it seemed he was quite frightened about it to know. Because of the distance, dad and I seldom talked on phone. He wrote me back letters. They weren’t like the one my buddies got from their moms or sisters or wives.

Nothing too personal, nothing mushy, and never a word that suggested he missed me. Nor did he mention about his writings. Instead, he wrote about the weather changes and lot about the neighbors. When I wrote to him telling about a pretty firefight I’d been in Bosnia, he wrote me back to say that he was glad that I survived, but said no more about it. I knew by the way he responded that he didn’t want to hear the dangerous things I did. Since then I began writing to tell more about the things how my days ended. I omitted the scary stuffs. He ended his letter with a promise he would write me soon again, once again, the man didn’t let me down. He was, I’ve long since come to believe, a far better man than I’ll ever be. Likewise, our communication was only through words until I would come during leave where we would see each other face to face. And, there was no such thing, I began to dislike about the man. The distance between us was the main role that kept us thinking about each other.

I had learned a lot in the army. I could see myself changed with every corner of my life. Although, I can’t tell in which disciplinary I changed. When I left for my second leave, I decided I would spend the days in Las Vegas at least for this moment. I had met up few of my friends. So, the second part of my leave was quite bearable to spend the days. When I had few more days to go, finally I showed up to my dad. Like as always, he was happy to see me survived. On the last day of my leave, he made me the dinner by himself. He seldom talked about his own life, he still spent long hour in his den. On that very occasion, I had the urge to know briefly, how he had been.

How your works are going?

He never elaborated what he had been doing. I had to content with what he would reply me at the end. Within few days with him, I had to leave back. This time, I urged not to come along with me to the airport. I assured him I would do it alone. He seldom spoke, even though it was time for me to part from him. Sometime, it gave me the idea that he never felt inside maybe or that he lacked expressions.

As I said, I had changed a lot. I went into the army as a smoker and almost coughed during boot camping. But, unlike practically everyone else in my unit had quit. I quit and hadn’t touched the things for at least over two years. I moderated my drinking to the point that one or two beer a week was sufficient, and I might go a month without having any at all. My records would go spotless. I had been promoted; from Army Sergeant to Staff Sergeant and then six months later, Sergeant. I learned that I had the ability to lead. Aside from surfing, I hadn’t exercised a lot before I joined the service, by the time I took my third leave I put twenty pounds of muscles on my body. I spent most of my free time running, boxing, and weight lifting with Ben, a muscle headed from New York who always boasted about his biceps. He was far away my best friend in the unit. He talked me about getting tattoos in both arms just like him, and with every passing day, the memory who I once had been more and more distant.

I read a lot in the army, you have a lot of time to read. People traded books out of the library that would stay for weeks until the covers would practically be worn out. I don’t want to get the impression that I became a scholar. I mostly read thrillers, horror and mysteries. I couldn’t help but to think if school were to provide such kind of books in English class, we’d have more readers in the world.

Unlike my buddies, I shied away from any prospects of female companionship. The military was hard on relationships. So, you could consider I’ve never dated since the time I was in the army. I’d seen enough divorces to know what- while I wouldn’t mind the company of someone special, it just never happened. Ben couldn’t understand it.

You got to come with me he’d plead. Man, you never come.

I’m not in the mood

How can you be not in mood he would be insisting.

I said nothing.

We’re just going to have some fun he provoked.

I had to agree at his final demand. So, I joined to go along with them. I shook my head, thinking that I’d rather be alone than to revert to the kind of person I’d been, but I found myself wondering whether I would end being a monkish as my dad. So, for that night, I’d spent few hours with Ben. When he was over with the girls in the bar, he finally reverted to camp. Of course, he was drunk. I had the control over me. Not more than two bottles of beer. Indeed, it lessened to much greater extend. For that month, we went through new intensive kind of simulations with the camp area. To say the fact that Bosnia was never like any part of America. I missed America very much there. But, more than it’s the weather that troubled me more, whereas dad talked a lot about the changes in the weather. Sometime I loved reading his letter though it wouldn’t content much anything about him but of the climate and about the neighbors. I must admit it was really hard in the beginning but with time I coped up with the unit. By the time summer arrived, I opted for my next leave. Within few days, lot many of my unit would leave for home. As the head of unit, I was the last to leave for the summer break.

When dad came to pick me up at the airport, he first failed to recognize me. I tapped him on his back, and almost jumped on his shoulder. He looked smaller than I did, even older than I guessed did. Instead of offering a hug, he asked me about the flight, and shook my hand. We wandered outside; neither of us knew what to say next. It was odd and disorienting to be back at home. However, the summer leave, I had planned my days to spend along with dad. Thus, for my next coming days, I wasn’t available anywhere but to my home land, Savannah. At home, I stowed my gear at my old bedroom. Everything was where I remembered, right down to the dusty trophies in shelf to the half-empty bottle of beer. Everything was the same in the rest of the house. As usual, dad would still make the breakfast for me each morning. I still do remember the smell of the scrambles eggs, toasts, bacons and the glass of juice. Often at the camp, I would miss those. But, on that pretty Sunday morning he had the same thing prepared on the table. I pulled the curtain slightly to watch him inside his den. He’d been working on his writings. It hasn’t finished yet. I didn’t bother yet to let