MARWARI LOVE STORY. PART 2.
The soft morning breeze untucked few strands of hair from Megha’s ghunghat. She absent mindedly shoved it away from her face. Sourabh stole loving glances of her and sighed. Nothing justifies her beauty in this cold climate today. She brought him some tiffin to have before going on a venture together.
Sourabh and Megha went back to high school where they studied together and reminisced the memories from days of yore. Megha’s dream was to plan her own wedding, but it was next to impossible. However, that did not stop her from planning her best friend’s big day. It gave her immense pleasure to witness her friend’s matrimonial procession. ‘Someday, it’ll be my turn,’ she hoped.
They sat on their school bench at the hilltop by a huge old tree with little yellow flowers. When the wind blew strong, some of the yellow flowers would fall on them gracefully. It was a pretty sight to look at. Life seemed like a perfectly disguised fairy tale which may not falter.
He stared into her eyes. Something flickered. Light; joy or tears maybe. He slid his palm into hers and grasped it.
‘Is my love upset?’, he kissed her delicate inner palm.
No. She shook her head.
‘How is life at the borders?’, she enquired.
**
Indo-Pakistan Border military camp,
09:00 a.m.,
Gunfire ripped through the jungle. The neighbouring troupe Commander G.D.Sharma buckled his M16 against his chest as he returned fire.
“Cover…cover!” he shouted urging his men to safety.
Soldiers, half dressed, some busy shaving, spilled out of their tents.
Officers barked orders. Jeeps roared to life and pilots ran for their choopers.
Another mortar whined towards them. “Get down”, their battalion Commander Hamish Patil shouted.
The missile hit less than fifty yards away from them, taking out a small prefab supply hold. Running with their guns over their heads five uniformed soldiers charged towards an unmanned gun battery.
Another mortar hit, nearer this time. Then another.
As Sourabh rounded the trees and reached for his rifle, he realized too late that he was at the top of a steep embankment. There was nothing he could do to prevent himself from falling down the back of it. The mud and slick grass made it impossible for him to halt his slide. He clawed desperately at the ground, his hands and feet slipping in the mire.
As the sickening sound of automatic gunfire continued to punctuate the air, he realized that his fellow team mate Abhinay hadn’t fallen with him. Few other soldiers groaned in pain. In a wild frenzy, he punched and kicked his way back up to the top of the slope, desperately.
The first thing he saw were two soldiers from other battalion lying about fifty yards down the trail. The base took close to a dozen hits before it answered with heavy artillery fire. Giant howitzer rounds mowed through the jungle beyond the clearing, felling large trees as if they were hollow beneath their bark.
Another mortar hit, flipping an unmanned jeep onto its side. Sourabh breathed in the caustic smell of cordite. After carefully scanning some four hundred yards away, he immediately ran towards the nearest gun battery. The soldier manning it was firing wildly into the air. ‘Move’, he commanded. The soldier was visibly relieved to relinquish control. Sourabh spun the field gun around and opened fire. The ground shook as the giant rounds tore into a concentrated area on the hillside.
Within minutes, the attack was over. A sweep revealed shells and blood at half a dozen sites, suggesting the offensive might have involved as many as fifty soldiers but they found only ten bodies. All told, they lost four jeeps, two Hueys, an entire gun battery on the eastern perimeter, a supply compound, and the worst of it; fifteen men from their troupe. Abhinay was one of it. Sourabh’s best mate and one of the best, fearless soldier. He fathered a child, Rukmini. A bright eyed girl who must be around five or six.
Unlike any movie he had ever seen, he was the one who fathomed death this time. An intense, sharp pain heaved his chest, and sunk quickly through it to reach everywhere inside his body. The split second agony quickly faded, and before he knew it his sight had gone away. He couldn’t see anything, hear anything, and slowly, he began to not be able to think anything.
He bit back tears as he saw Abhinay’s eyes still open and the whites of his eyes outlined in blood. He squeezed his friend’s hands and shook his head. He felt sick. In the dying embers of the war, Abhinay might well have been Pakistan’s final casualty. At least among the dead.
***
‘Tu mhaare sobaat aila kai?’ (Will you come with me?) She asked sympathetically.
‘Kaathe se jaaon?’ (Where to?)
‘Our favourite meeting spot back then’.
‘Mm. Main thare sang aaula’ (I shall come with you).
And they left the place.
—-
Written by Ruby
