PUTREFACTION

             The winds were chilling down the spine of Khorang Khing, as he patrolled the snow-clad mountains of the Himalayan range on the dark night. The bunker was not well equipped to withstand the cold breezes, but as any other brave Indian soldier, Khorang stood there keeping an eye for the trespassers. The night had just begun and each soldier was single handedly patrolling the vast outskirts of Kashmir. The silent night seemed dreadful with only occasional howl of a Himalayan wolf in the distance. The night was not a regular night Khorang felt...

It was past 2 am when Khorang sensed some movements at the cliff. He zoomed in with his binoculars to see clearly. Three young boys were crawling with heavy baggage in the dark night occasionally halting and looking around for anyone observing them. At once Khorang's hand reached out to his gun and rested on the trigger while his eye's searched for a perfect range and aim to hit the intruders. Just then he saw a man waving at him from the hill top from where the young boys had started crawling. Khorang released his grip on the trigger.

He recollected his recent deal with Mahmoud and was lost in chain of thoughts while still seeing the terrorists moving forward, slowly and gradually, "I have been promised a huge sum of which quarterly I have taken. That amount is enough for me to live lavishly for 3 months compared to this meager pay by our government for staking my life at such inhumane conditions..."

"These countrymen don't acknowledge our efforts. They question our hard work, our campaigns, they mock us!" Khorang thought; still lost in his bad memories. "Let them see what happens if we are not at the borders doing our duty faithfully, patriotically. Let them face once what we face daily! I have served my motherland for more than a decade now staying away from my family- my wife, little daughter, my mother" Khorang thought as the terrorists were approaching the last hill to be crossed and now at a faster pace. "But this is not what my mother would be proud of. Even now, I can see the pain in her eyes when she would know from where all the pleasures came all of sudden." Khorang was in dilemma now. He had to take a decision. In a matter of moments, the terrorist would be gone from the sight and he would be soundly rewarded by the people across the border or may be mocked upon by the people within the border! He would be a disgrace to the country! Khorang tightened the grip on his rifle, BELGIAN-FN FAL, .30Caliber(7.62mm), and aimed at the terrorists; watching them nearing the basement of the mountain and would soon be gone behind the wall beyond his view or any army postings patrol.

"No! I can't forget the insult I faced", Khorang thought. A wry smile flashed across his face as he watched the first terrorist go beyond the wall...He had let go of him...

***

The cries and yelling of women filled the tiny dingy room in the small village named Tsungiki in Nagaland. Boyra Khing, a sepoy in Indian army was martyred on the battlefield recently during the attacks at the border by the terrorists. The body was draped in a tricolor and respectfully brought at Tsungiki to his home. During the procession to graveyard at a nearby Baptist Church the army men carried his body reverently and after he was buried, fired their guns giving slogans of "Shaheed Boyar Khing amar rahe..." Little Khorang was watching all this and his eyes flooded again, which had just stopped crying, at the sight of the tremendous veneration to his father.

Few days had passed and this events revolved in little Khorang's head. One fine evening as he was standing at the post at Dongti, viewing the scenic beauty of the valleys and mountains just behind Tsungiki village, his mind still wandered on the thoughts of the cremation day of his father. Khorang decided to be a brave soldier just like his late father. Khorang grew up to be a tall and sturdy youth. He already had a quota in the Indian army due to his father and when Khorang applied for the position he was readily selected in the Indian army's 2nd Battalion, 9th Gurkha Rifles. Thus, began the journey of a new Indian soldier dreaming to serve the nation and fellow countrymen.

Years passed in the service of mother India for Khorang at the Indo China border close to his village and eventually he got married to a beautiful young girl in his village. Then in the year 2016 the war at Poonch LoC, Kashmir broke and Khorang was unexpectedly transferred to the war. Teary eyed his mother bid him good bye wishing him luck. The soon-to-be-mother, Khorang's wife was not ready to leave him on a journey where the person would return or not was unsure! But she was married to a person who was not just her, he was more of his nation, he cared for India before caring for his family! She had to let go of him...Eyes welled up of even Khorang as he touched the 8-month-old kid inside his wife's belly.

***

The battlefield was daunting one with firing from the enemy at random. No etiquettes or rules of the battlefield were followed. The enemy was ruthless and so were the Indian army men. The desultory attacks by the enemy were what disturbed Khorang and on top of that it was his first experience at the actual battlefield. Albeit, well-trained personnel, he was disparaged by the events he came across one after another. The dead bodies of his fellow men laid beside him in hundreds; and thousands were injured.

"This is getting worse! It's been 2 days we are fighting these dumb heads. I have taken down just 3-4 people since morning I guess. I will show them what we are!" said sepoy Vikram Singh, sitting upright from crouching, weary of the long fight with the Pakistan army. The sun was setting far away in the west but still there wasn't any sign of ceasing the attacks by any of the military of the two neighboring nations. The loud noise of the guns and tankers was deafening every soldier at the LoC and a shrill cry of anguish and pain, amidst this dreadful atmosphere would weaken them for a moment, but would instill bravery in the soldiers to fight for the men that had fallen.

"DON'T!", screamed Khorang, as he saw his mate, who was more like a brother, getting up to face the enemy man to man.

But Khorang was late. Vikram had gun down a few more enemies as a bullet from the enemy found its way through the weak armor that shielded Vikram and pierced his chest, a couple of more bullets came from the enemy bunker and went right through Vikram's left arm and through the stomach. Blood came gushing out and wounded Vikram fell down right beside Khorang where he was crouching moments ago! Everything stood still and numb before sepoy Khorang as he watched his beloved brother lay beside him breathing his last.

"Now they know what we are! You saw I put three bullets right though the head of three enemies, gunned down two more and surely retired many of those creeps in a few minutes!" Vikram said breathing heavily. "Don't let them win! Go fight. Fire! I am alright. You need not worry!" Vikram said finding it difficult to breath yet worried about the battle of the nation more than his battle with death.

In a dilemma, Khorang stuttered, what to do next. His eyes met Vikram's and he let go off Vikram. Khorang let out the slogan "Vande Mataram" and resumed the firing. It was darker now, with reddish tint in the skyline, sun had almost set and Vikram closed his eyes...

***

The battle was won. Pakistan's army retaliated as their number reduced to few hundreds. Indian army lost few brave ones like sepoy Vikram Singh but their martyrdom led to victory. Khorang was in trauma and was traveling back home. He saw a young lady putting her little one to sleep in her arms at the Srinagar railway station as he waited for his train to go back home. Khorang looked around. Everything seems calm and serene which was drastically opposite to the scene at the battlefield where loud noises of the guns fired and roaring tankers would fill up the atmosphere. The only cries he heard was that of the little children demanding attention from their parents, the only smoke coming out of the sweet-corn being roasted nearby. He looked back at the lady, now with the baby in deep sleep. Khorang was overwhelmed. His hands quickly reached out to wipe the tears rolling down his cheek. Were the tears of joy to see his wife and baby soon or the tears of sorrow as far away in a small village of UP Vikram's wife and kid were now widowed and orphaned?? Khorang did not know...

Khorang boarded the train which had just arrived and sat by the window side looking away at a newspaper stall. The news of martyr Vikram Singh, his beloved brother, and few others on battlefield had had made its way on the first page.

"They deserved this death. The son of #%$%# harass us all the time. I wish there are more deaths coming their way", a Kashmiri youth abused the martyr Vikram Singh and others complaining about the conduct of Indian army with the Kashmiris, which he was clearly not aware of.

"Yeah, the Pakistan is gearing up for a bigger fight and soon we will have a good time", the other joined in.

Khorang heard this conversation and looked at them. The teenager kids, stepping in their youth, were hardly 3-4 years younger than Khorang. The two boys turned around and saw Khorang staring at them. They loathed at him and hurled even more abuses, spat on the floor and walked away. Khorang was already disturbed by the death of his fellow mates. On one side there was him and other youngsters staking their life for the nation and then there were these misguided Kashmir youths who despised the death of the patriots on the battlefield. Khorang gazed at the youths walking away with a pain in his eyes.

***

Khorang returned home but would still be depressed and gloomy most of the times.

"What's wrong Khorang?" Salthang, Khorang's childhood friend, inquired, seeing Khorang lost in chain of thoughts, as they walked through the weekly market of Tsungiki.

"It's nothing; just the usual worries", Khorang replied avoiding the gaze of his friend.

"No, you are lying. I can sense it. This is so not you!" exclaimed Salthang. He had known Khorang for ages and now could easily figure out that something was wrong with Khorang.

After some more goading Khorang opened up. He told the incident at the Srinagar Railway station and his helplessness during the situation.

"We spend nights and days at the border in the worst conditions a civilian can imagine. And we surely expect some respect from the people we are saving. If not respect, at least a humanly behavior." Khorang complained.

"We do respect you soldiers, Khorang." Salthang responded and tried to pacify his friend.

Mahmoud overheard their conversation and his face gleamed. He started keeping eye on Khorang.

Gradually Khorang recovered from the trauma with his family around him, but not completely. Khorang would go for a stroll at his favorite childhood place, Dongti on some evenings. He would behold the vast stretch of the valleys and mountains, a poem of ups and downs in life. "It's the valley that makes the mountain beautiful, the downs in life that make the summits in life worth", he thought.

"Ain't it breathtaking?" questioned a man in his late fifties, breaking the philosophical thoughts of Khorang. "But alas you soldiers cannot have these tranquil moments in life all the time. You jeopardize your life at borders for people like us. We are thankful to you." The man was wearing an old Ratapfe, a traditional shawl in Nagaland and had grown a neck length beard with trimmed moustaches and squint eyes.

Khorang thanked the old man for his concern and tried to avoid the conversation. But the old man continued the conversation jumping directly to the point.

"I read about the demise of your friends at the battle and the things people are saying about them. Tell me is it worth fighting for people who don't even know what you face out there... Who mock your sacrifices? Well, the soldiers from rest of India, fighting for Indians is valid. But we, the North easterners are not even considered Indians. How many times have you been given the same respect as the rest of your Indian counterparts are given?" The pompous interrogative speech of Mahmoud continued with a deadly solution "You surely don't get paid enough for your sacrifices. Your family faces hardships with the paltry salary you get. I feel your pain and respect you tremendously and want to help you. I can entrust you a work; if you promise to do it, you would be handsomely paid and much more when you execute the task"

The patriot Khorang faltered before saying anything. The bewildered look on his face said all that ran through his head at that moment. Mahmoud ran for his help. "See, it is a corrupt world. The politicians who rule the country are corrupt, the government officials are corrupt, and the people you struggle for are corrupt. No one thinks twice before selling away their pride for the betterment of their family. You are not a God. You just have to let go of this pride and MY MEN. The reward will be worth it. Don't stake your family, who cares for you over the people who snigger at you."

Mahmoud had very well played his dice and was sure to melt Khorang's heart. 'Who on earth would risk one's beloved family's happiness for no one?' thought Mahmoud as he waited for Khorang's affirmation. Khorang gave in. Mahmoud gave a wide smile and leaned forward to hug. Khorang could just stay numb, not knowing if he had taken the right decision.

Khorang was back at his home and surfing the news channels when he saw the latest news of the CRPF Jawans' troop being assaulted by few Kashmiri youths and the insult they had to face. They were as helpless as he was. Now he knew he had made a right decision...

***

"I can't forget the insult I faced" Khorang was lost in the reminiscences of the painful past as he saw the terrorists were invading his nation's boundary in the dark. "But neither can I forget my duties. I have vowed my life to protect this nation, to die for it and sacrifice everything I own, even if it is my family. Civilians can be corrupt and lose their pride but that's not what Indian army is. Our pride is not to be sold" Khorang thought and a wry smile flashed his face and his lips muttered "Jai Hind!"Khorang held his breath while he took his aim, pulled the trigger and a terrorist was down. Long before the only remaining terrorist could assimilate what had happened, Khorang pulled the trigger and the bullet went pass the terrorist's head. The terrorist who had crossed the wall was now well aware that they had been betrayed by Khorang and ran as fast as he could. But the noise of two bullets being fired in the dead night set an alarm for everyone at the border and near the wall. The terrorist was spotted running and caught alive for interrogation.

Khorang still in his bunker looked up for the man who was waving at him when the terrorists started crossing the LoC. The man was now standing still, with a stern look on his face. Khorang now had to pay a price for his betrayal someday soon. But he didn't care... he never did. No soldier ever cares for the consequences!!

Note from Author: There are many men like Khorang fighting on the battlefield. They can behave like the civilian and give up their duties, get corrupt and risk our nation just like the politicians for their own benefit. But they don't. So, they do deserve tremendous respect from us and they really need our support in times of war or the attacks from the terrorists. During the Independence movement we had Gandhiji, Pandit Nehru, Bhagat Singh, Veer Savarkar and many others who fought for our freedom. But after gaining Independence there is the responsibility to keep it. Our army men, the defense forces have retained our freedom, the peace and harmony. So they are not even a bit less than our freedom fighters. A request at the end; please, respect the men in Armed forces, do what you can for them and say a small Thank You when you cross path with them! Jai Hind!