Saddam, the hero

30

I woke up quite early, at about 5.30 am, just in time for the newspaper boy, about whom I have written earlier. He is my age, and has been delivering newspapers since I was in Class VII, or maybe even earlier. He is still our source for news back home. These many years, and I still don't know his name and he doesn't know mine too. That day there was a reason for me to get up that early. The Gulf War was on, and I wanted to know how Saddam Hussein, our hero, was faring. "Americans are paying for it. Saddam is no pushover," said the newspaper boy, as he threw the Malayala Manorama. He looked so happy, so proud, as if it was he who was winning a war against the US. I shared his happiness, his pride. We felt we were all part of one....