IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 129 — THE BEAR TRAP. Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

 

Two fishermen stood by a river in full spate. It was dusk, and the fading light made visibility poor. Both men were excellent swimmers—confident, experienced, and perhaps a little too sure of themselves. One of them, Benji, suddenly pointed toward the middle of the river and said,
“Look there… a blanket is floating. Can you fetch it?”

The other, Donald, smirked with quiet arrogance, “In no time.”

But before jumping he took a moment to announce on X that he was about to perform a daring feat. Then, without hesitation, he leapt into the raging river. At first, everything went exactly as expected. Donald cut through the water with strong, confident strokes, reached the so-called blanket, and grabbed it firmly. For a brief moment, it appeared that he would return just as easily. But then something changed. Instead of swimming back toward the bank, he began drifting along with the object. What had looked like a simple task was quickly turning into a struggle.

Benji immediately sensed the danger. He shouted, “Leave it! Come back!”

From the middle of the river came Donald’s voice, strained but defiant.
“I’m not holding it… it’s holding me!”

There was a pause, heavy with tension. “And it’s not a blanket… it’s a bear… Eran!”

Then, almost eerily, as if the situation itself had turned surreal, he added, “It’s whispering… Hum to dubenge, tumhen bhi saath leke dubenge sanam. Do you know what it means?”

By now, a crowd had gathered along the bank, watching the drama. Among them was Munir, who, spoke to Donald through the earplugs he was wearing. “Jahan Panah, Donald, the best candidate for Nobel Peace Prize. I had a telepathy with Eran. He is terrified of you. He is about to surrender and give up, so don’t reduce the pressure.”

At the same time, a sensible friend, MBS, shouted urgently from the shore, “Donald! Twist out! Get free!”

But Donald, unwilling to accept the gravity of the situation, shouted back with aggression,
“Kiss my a**! I’m going to hit the bear hard on its balls—with the force of 50K! Benji, why don’t you come in?”

Benji instinctively stepped back, unwilling to be drawn into the chaos.
“No… I’ll support you from outside,” he replied.

A journalist standing nearby turned to Munir and said bluntly,
“I heard you. How can you tell so many lies?”

Munir responded with a knowing tone,
“Oh, there are two things about Goras. Firstly, they believe whatever you say when their arse is on fire. Secondly, the more painful it is to them, the more dollars they throw around. This I learnt when I was in ISI.”

Meanwhile, someone turned to Mudi, who was known to share a warm relationship with Donald, and asked,
“Why don’t you talk some sense into him?”

Mudi gave a faint, measured smile.
“No point,” he said. “If I advise him privately, he will announce it publicly. Sometimes he even creates his own versions. A statesman must know when to speak… and when to remain silent.”

A journalist, clearly uneasy, asked,
“So… what happens now?”

Mudi looked at the raging river for a moment before replying quietly,
“No one knows. But I am reminded of an old wisdom.”

“What wisdom?” the journalist pressed.

Mudi replied,
“No matter how powerful or venomous a snake may be… once it is wounded, even ants can devour it—leaving behind nothing but a skeleton.”

The journalist frowned, unconvinced.
“But he still has strength. Not many are openly against him in that region.”

Mudi nodded thoughtfully.
“Perhaps. But strength is not just about power. It is about how and where you use it.”

He paused, then continued,
“When you start abusing allies… when you stretch yourself across too many battles… when you assume control over forces you don’t fully understand…”

He let the thought linger before concluding,
“In such moments, others begin to watch.”

“Who?” asked the journalist.

“Those who never shout,” Mudi replied. “Those who wait. China… North Korea… others… They don’t jump into rivers. They watch the current.”

The journalist asked one final question,
“So how does this end?”

Mudi took a deep breath.
“There are only two possibilities. One—the man in the river realises that he is not fighting the bear… he is fighting the current. And he lets go.”

He paused.

“And the second?”

Mudi looked toward the darkening sky and said,
“The river decides.”

Then, in a softer tone, he added,
“In our tradition, there is a simple truth—when the mind is not under control, even strength becomes self-destruction. The Bhagavad Gita says: उद्धरेदात्मनाऽत्मानं ‘Uddhared ātmanātmānaṁ’—lift yourself by your own self. Because in the end… no one else can pull you out of the river.”

And perhaps the deepest truth of all remained:                                        

Some battles are not lost to the enemy…they are lost to one’s own illusion of control.                                                                                                                                       

 

Jai Hind.