“ Jai Hind, Saab!”
The Colonel jogged past with a brief nod to the saluting jawan. Fifteen years ago, this would have been embarrassing. Now it didn’t even break the rhythm of the jog.
As the Colonel rounded the corner, the sun pushed over the ridgeline. The first rays glistened through the veil of tall chir pines that flanked the north-western city, a few valleys from the LoC. The warmth crept in, chasing away the night’s chill. From somewhere up the slopes came the sharp, echoing crack of early morning training fire. A jawan trundled by on his cycle, a huge drum of tea strapped behind him, ready to be served to soldiers on duty. The Colonel waved him down.
“Jai Hind, Saab!” He handed over a steaming steel cup.
The Colonel took a sip of the chai, fingers wrapped firm around the cup, drawing warmth from both.
“Woh outer fence repair hua?”
“Kaam chal raha hai Saab. It will take a couple of days .”
The Colonel nodded. A few nights ago, a massive boar had crashed through the outer fence. Crossing lines was routine. Sometimes by animals. Sometimes by men. The patrols were trained to handle both.
The Colonel checked the watch. Three kilometres done in under fifteen minutes. Another ten, and the Colonel was back at the ASC quarters. Maria was in the garden, pruning a stubborn rose plant adapted to mountain soil. Inside, the day’s uniform lay neatly pressed. After a quick shower, the Colonel sat down to a breakfast of indori poha and boiled eggs.
“Ameer, is Pranav up? ” The Colonel had barely asked the cook, when a tiny pair of feet wobbled across the floor. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Pranav gave his mother a dazzling smile.
“Mumma…” He ran straight to Colonel Smita. She swept him up in a bear hug when her phone rang.
" Hello, Ashish. Yes, I’m about to head to the office, right after I give Pranav a tight hug.” Smiling into the phone, she pulled her son closer and kissed him on the forehead.
“Pranav, talk to Papa. I will be back by lunch. Be a good boy and don’t trouble Ameer bhaiyya and Maria didi, okay?” Tousling his hair, she handed him the phone and briskly walked out.
#
Rain drummed on the aluminium roof of the shelter, its exaggerated rattle jarring against the pristine snow-draped mountains. Ashish got out of his sleeping bag. A cold shiver sent him straight to the bukhari at the centre of the room, still warm from the night before. Coaxing the fire back to life, he rubbed his hands over the rising heat, his thoughts already on the urgently called Commander’s conference.
Ashish stepped into the adjoining room, where a bank of screens and a digital whiteboard glowed in the faint dawn light. Faces flickered on the screen — men and women in uniform, many seated at similar makeshift setups. Brigadier Subramaniam’s voice cut through the static.
“ Ladies and gentlemen, let’s keep this tight. The aggressive cross-border firing in the north-western zone yesterday has led to some heavy casualties on both sides. The pattern is different; probing fire rather than random bursts.”
An officer from another sector chimed in.
“ Sir, we’ve doubled sentries on the western post. Routine drills at 0200 went smooth. Local intelligence suggests no mass build-up yet, but we’re watching.”
Ashish leaned forward, rubbing warmth back into his knuckles. “Brigadier, any new instructions for our side? If things heat up, we may see movement here too.”
“ Nothing changes yet for your sector. Routine drills. Maintain the watch and stick to scheduled supply runs.”
“ Sir, any word on a counter-strike?”
“ Nothing you need to plan for right now. Just keep your men sharp.”
Ashish nodded. “Roger that, sir. Jai Hind! ”
Forty-eight hours after the briefing, the situation had escalated. The screens in the conference room flickered with breaking news: “Heavy shelling reported in civilian belts near north-western border towns… Power blackouts… Civilian airspaces shut down… Passenger trains suspended… Eyewitnesses report fighter jets crossing the LoC…”
Ashish studied the news crawl, his eyes flicking between the headlines and the quickly changing screens. Face set, he reached for his phone — just as it rang.
#
The red alert warning cut through the sleepy night – a long, rising wail that peaked to a crescendo, dipped, and rose again, relentless. As if on command, the lights blinked out, stripping away every distraction. The siren’s cry filled the void, now louder in the dark. Distant flares threw a ghostly light across the room, slipping through the narrow, curtained windows. The faint drone of fighter jets threaded through the siren’s rising wail. Somewhere, a muffled thud of shelling rolled closer, rattling the window frames.
Getting up from her desk, still cluttered with open files, Colonel Smita strode to the door and called sharply, “Maria!” Footsteps echoed on the concrete floor, then a head scarfed woman appeared.
“ Ma’am?”
“ Where’s Pranav?”
“ He’s asleep, ma’am. In his room.”
“ Take him downstairs. To the basement. Keep away from the windows.”
Maria’s eyes darted to the curtains, drawn by a sudden flare. “Should I wake him, ma’am?”
Smita’s voice softened. “Yes. Wrap him in his blanket. Tell him it’s hide-and-seek again. He knows.”
Once Maria’s footsteps faded down the corridor, Smita returned to her desk. Under the dim glow of a small blackout lamp, she flipped quickly through the scattered files and reached for the field phone.
“ Major Singh, status on the convoy sheds?”
“ All vehicles tarped, ma’am. Engines cold, tanks topped, drivers standing by.”
“ Good. Double-check ration stocks in the north block. Move medical crates to the basement barrack — and keep passage lights off. I don’t want silhouettes in any window.”
She ran a finger down the logbook and keyed the radio again. “Signal team, confirm generator charge levels. If the main line stays down, I want comms up for at least forty-eight hours.”
“ Roger, Colonel. Batteries green. Generator tested three hours ago — testing again now.”
A dull boom rattled the desk. Without the faintest pause, Smita continued her work. Leaning over the map pinned under a half-empty flask, she keyed in the radio once again.
“ Operations, report in twenty-minute cycles. No black spots. We hold this line from our end. Over.”
A few hours later, a low, steady horn broke — the all-clear signal. Smita let out a short breath. Pushing back from her desk, she crossed the corridor in quick strides, reaching the basement steps. From below came the soft murmur of Maria’s voice, weaving comfort around a sleepy boy.
“Bas, baba , game over. You can go back to your bed now.”
Smita stepped into the basement doorway. Pranav looked up at once, blanket dragging behind him, eyes half-open. She dropped to one knee and scooped him up. He pressed his face into her shoulder, warm and drowsy.
“ Mumma…,” he mumbled as she carried him back upstairs to his room, “when will this end? I don’t like hide-and-seek in the middle of my sleep.”
She tucked him gently into his small bed, brushed his hair back, and kissed him.
“Soon, beta . Sleep now. I’m right here.”
Pulling up a chair next to his bed, she sat down, the adrenaline slowly ebbing, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness. Her hands lingered on his blanket, smoothing it again and again. Nights like this weren’t new — she had faced harsher postings, colder shelters, darker alarms. But this felt different. As she stared at Pranav’s sleeping form, her chest tightened at the gentle rise and fall beneath his blanket.
Forcibly pushing the heaviness aside, she keyed in Ashish’s number.
“ Smita —”
“ Ashish, it’s hit here too, though we are a little away from the LoC. Shelling all night.”
“ I know. I’m taking him out.”
“ I was about to say that.”
“ It’s a long drive – two, maybe three days. I’m leaving now. Keep the radio on. Tell him Papa’s coming.”
“ I will. Drive safe, Ashish.”
“ I will.”
Smita set the phone down, grateful that Ashish was at the LAC – a sector quiet for now.
#
Time slows to a crawl when pressed by worry. Smita kept replaying the image of Ashish taking Pranav – as though looping that memory could fold the hours in. Her pen drummed restlessly on the desk as she tried to focus on the supply ledger open before her. She knew Maria was more than capable of handling Pranav in any situation. And her home was only a few strides away. But, none of this could shake away the cold shiver she felt.
“ Ma’am, last report for the day. Fuel bunkers checked, perimeter watch doubled for the night.”
Smita nudged herself back to the present and forced a smile. “Good.”
After a final check, she slipped the files into the cabinet, locked it shut, and stepped into the night. Worry rushed back in like old vices; uninvited and persistent. She wondered how Ashish felt.
As she neared her quarters, she spotted a faint glow ahead – too cautious to be part of a regular patrol. Smita stopped. Her eyes adjusted, and then, she saw him – clutching a rucksack, inching towards the outer perimeter. His movements were hesitant, betraying more fear than intent.
“ RATHORE!”
He froze. The torchlight wobbled in his hand before dropping to his side.
Smita closed the distance in brisk strides.
“ I’m sorry, saab,” he murmured, eyes cast low. “I—I don’t know what I was thinking. I just… I got scared.”
Smita opened her mouth, ready to throw protocol at him, but the raw panic in his voice made her pause. She knew that feeling too well.
“ You were deserting your post. Do you know what that means?”
“ I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, still looking down.
She exhaled slowly.
“ We all feel it, Rathore. Sometimes, more than we can easily handle. But you don’t run. You steady yourself and hold the line. That’s the job. Even if no one’s watching.”
He nodded.
She gestured toward the camp. “Report to Shukla. I’ll inform him.”
“ Yes, Colonel Saab.”
As she watched him turn back toward the barracks, head bowed, Smita felt her own thoughts settle. She walked to her quarters, straight to Pranav’s room. On the way, she noticed Maria’s door slightly ajar — she was kneeling, hands clasped, lips moving in silent prayer. Her face was serene.
Smita felt a quiet pang of envy.
DoubleSpeak 