The rain was starting again.

  After what the Katerya Checkpost just witnessed, the nature should have cut it some slack.

  But who are we to tell what nature should or should not do? She makes her own rules. And at the moment, nature felt there was no need to clear up the fog.

  The fog was accompanied by heavy smoke. There was a sharp chill in the air.

  But it did not effect him.

  He could still feel the fire roaring a few feet away.

  The flames from the burning car rose mighty and high, reflecting in his eyes, as he scanned the surroundings for the hundredth time.

  It’s been around fifteen minutes after the ambush. The sobs of the little girl had finally faded. Only her occasional hiccups disrupted the silence that hung in the air.

  It has been fifteen minutes since he had eliminated the last insurgent. But he had yet not let down his guard. He still scanned the surroundings. Or so it seemed.

  It’s been fifteen whole minutes since the firefight ended. But he still has not spoken a single word.

  Not when the officer handed him back his gun, and patted his back. Not when the mother thanked him with tears in her eyes.

  Not when a junior pointed out that his arm was bleeding badly and tied a handkerchief around the wound.

  Though he did attempt a faint smile at the little girl. And that was it. After that his face remained as hard as a rock.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The faint sound of a siren was reaching his ear. An ambulance. Or perhaps the police jeep. He hoped for the former. The little girl needs medical attention. So does her mother. Her forehead was bleeding.

  Empty cases of bullets littered the ground. The stench of burnt gunpowder filled the atmosphere. The gunshots were still ringing in his ears.

  His colleagues were busy recovering the bodies. Three of the bodies were laid down beside the road.

  They look so young. He thought distantly.

  Some more young lives destroyed because of religious conflicts. What purpose does it serve? They call us kafirs, but then who are those, who brainwash such young minds to choose the path of meaningless violence. It is because of them the common folk suffer, we live so far away from our friends and family, dreading for our lives every moment. So many mothers lose their children, wives get widowed. What purpose does it serve except for loss?

  The road has been closed off for other vehicles. But it seemed that somehow word of the attack has reached the common, for no car was approaching the site.

  At first, his buddy had come up to him, adrenaline still not fully gone, and gave his back a hard pat, loudly praising him for what he just did.

  An unbelievably crazy action. His buddy had called it.

  Yet he did not react.

  Now everybody else was maintaining a safe distance from him, as if he was some otherworldly being.

  He could feel their eyes on him, whispering in a manner as if some superhero was standing there. Not their colleague they have shared meat and mead with.

  He could faintly hear a few murmurs.

  It was the car of the local BSF IG. His wife and daughter. And two colleagues, on the way to an outing.

  * * * * *

  “Abbey, promotion tera hua hai ya fir uss buffoon ka? Tu idhar adha glass liye khara hai, aur andar use dekh.”[Are you getting promoted or that buffoon? You are standing here with the half filled glass, and look at him there.]

  He gave a small smile to the words of the company commander. Commander sir had come up with the news and the booze, sparkling the kindle of a celebration.

  He should be honoured that the company commander himself has come to celebrate his achievement. And honoured he was. But he couldn’t quite be happy.

  His mind was wandering in a distant land, like his eyes wandered the stars.

  The radio chackled with an odd celebratory tune. His colleagues, both seniors and juniors, laughed and jested. Everything was going on centering him, but he did not feel that he was the centre of it.

  When the news of his promotion was announced, everyone cheered, and congratulated him But he noticed something beyond the congrats.

  A subtle change in the facial expression of two of his senior colleagues, who were years into the service, and way ahead in the line of promotion. It was brief and discreet. But he noticed.

  They did not like the idea of him being promoted so quickly. Nor did they like the fact that Havaldar sahab had started to give him more attention, and his words more weight.

  He himself was not sure what to make of that even.

  “Abbey, chal.” Commander sir urged him to come inside.

  He did not budge. The music, the noise, the jests did not interest him.

  “Do you think they would be proud?” He asked quietly, looking out into the stars. A heavy hand was placed on his shoulder, “Ofcourse they are.”