Saturday, March 3, 2007

Chapter three

Nikhil was sitting up, his blanket over his head. He knew what it meant. It was no good news. Vikram was lost in his thoughts. Aman and Sohail sat in pensive moods, sharing food. Dhananjay stared out of the door, at the moonlit foliage. Finally Vikram broke the silence. “We have to leave”, he said shortly. He calmly walked over and packed odds and ends into his rucksack. Aman looked at Sohail; he didn’t know what to say.

Dhananjay was still looking at the leaves that danced in the soft wind that blew through the forest. At 43, he was the eldest of the group. He had faced more than any of the others. He had fought valiant battles, taken part in crucial army operations. But more important than anything else, he had seen death. He knew what it felt like to have the arm of a soldier next you, ripped off. He knew what it felt like to have your best friend shot through the head. He had faced all of it. It was what had fostered his nerves of steel. He also knew one thing, that neither Aman, nor Sohail could face death. They were young blood; youthful and enthusiastic. Vikram’s decision would be particularly hard on them.

No one would have foreseen such a circumstance when they set out. A group of 5 Indian soldiers, on-board a supply plane. They had been assigned the task of carrying supplies to the Indian army base in west Myanmar, and bring back wounded soldiers. Troops had been sent there to help flush out terrorist camps in the region. The forests on the border were full of them. The move to wipe out the terrorists had met with some resistance, mainly from tribal villages in the forest. Not only had the terrorists brought them under their confidence, but also dozens of innocent tribes had got killed in encounters. The result, the tribes had turned hostile to the indo Burmese army. In fact, for an Indian to step out into these areas, was playing into the hands of death.

Into such a sensitive region, the plane had crashed. Luckily the plane didn’t blow up, and all of them survived with minor injuries. Unable to establish contact with any civilization, they had been left to fend for themselves. Hitting upon a hut, they had decided to make it their temporary base. And there they had stayed for 3 days.

Dhananjay cast a glance at the direction where Sohail had cited the fires to be. They could be tribes clearing out tracts of land, or worse, Maoists. Either one was dangerous. Vikram was right; they had to move out of this place. The longer they stayed, the more they risked their lives. And Dhananjay knew the value of a life. With a deepened brow, he stepped back into the hut.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Chapter two

It had been a few hours since the moon had begun to glow in its complete glory. Nikhil had retreated under a blanket. Vikram was in no mood to sleep. He had slept through the day, and most part of the evening. He was wide awake, tendering a deep gash on his right thigh. His ears were alert to any suspicious sounds that arose. Suddenly, he became still. Pulling his trousers back over the wound, he reached out for his trusted Nighthawk. “Nikhil”, he hissed. His partner was up in a flash. It is not in any soldier’s book to drift into heavy slumber.

Vikram gestured towards the door. Nikhil could hear it too. There was definite rustling amongst the bushes outside. It could possibly be just a stray animal. But, the duo was not into taking chances. Nikhil grabbed the Leone shotgun that lay by his side. Both of them retreated into the darkest corners of the hut, guns aimed at the doorway.

“You can put the guns down, Vik “, said a slow voice through the door. Vikram relaxed his grip. Nikhil set his gun aside and disappeared under his blanket again. “It’s you”, said Vikram stowing his weapon back into its receptacle. The tall, dark figure of Dhananjay Mistry slipped into the hut.

“What took you so long? Nikhil has been eagerly awaiting your arrival”, said Vikram, waving a hand out at the lump on the floor. Dhananjay suppressed a smile.

“it took a while to find the baby again”, said a shorter figure who had just entered the hut. Aman was a decade younger than Vikram, and had very deceptive looks. Young and smart, he hailed from a small village in eastern Assam. He might look harmless at 5’ 6”, but he was one was the deftest machete wielders around. A skill he had acquired from his part-tribal nature. It was rumored, his machete could swing out and return to its sash before the victim realized he was dead. Give Aman a sharp piece of metal; he could bring a battalion to its knees.

He lowered a large rucksack he had been carrying.

“We brought everything that was worth its weight”, said Dhananjay. He drew closer to Vikram and said softly, “got Nikhil’s beauty as well.”

Vikram nodded curtly. “Where is Sohail?” he asked, glancing at the door. In reply, Aman held up a little finger. Vikram smiled and bent over Aman’s rucksack, rummaging through its contents.

Aman meanwhile walked over and gave the lump on the floor a sharp jab in the back. Nikhil let out a sleepy groan. “Ass!” he said wearily, and turned away to sleep again.

Meanwhile, Sohail had been welcomed into the hut by Vik’s and Dhananjay barrels pointing at him. The two put their guns away, recognizing their comrade. “Guess what I saw?”, asked Sohail hurriedly. Aman turned around and asked in a mock puzzled voice, “err, a stream of pee, maybe?” Sohail pretended not to have heard him. “A fire. A huge forest fire.” Aman put on his mock voice again. “Oh, now that’s strange. A forest fire in a forest.”

Vikram, however, was not amused. “We are in the middle of a rainforest, and it rained just yesterday. A forest fire here can mean only one thing.”

“Humans”, Dhananjay completed for him. His voice was calm. But his colleagues could sense the tension in his voice. Sohail shot a glance at Aman, part triumphant, part fearful.

Chapter one

The lazy evening sun sank behind the shaggy hills, away from an aura of deafening silence. No insect chirped in the distance, no bird cast forth its melody. Only the faint smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air.

Deep below the canopy, Vikram squinted at the tiny letterings of a book. He could sense the darkness closing in around him. But he knew better than to light a match. One wrong move in these sensitive pockets could be your last one.

Finally, he gave up trying to sight the print. Putting the book aside, he walked up to the door of the hut. Or rather, what remained of it. It seemed like forever that they had holed up here.

“they wont be back as of now”, said a voice, from behind him. Vikram continued to stare into the foliage outside the door. “I know”, he replied quietly. All was silent for a minute. The second man in the hut broke through the gloom, munching noisily on figs. “Vik, u wanth thome?” he asked, between mouthfuls.

“No, Nikhil”, Vikram said, without bothering to turn around. “you know I hate them”.

“These are delithious . Thry them.”

“No, Nikhil. Keep those damned fuits away from me. And make sure your mouth is empty before you speak. Those fruits smell really bad too.”

Nikhil contuined to chomp upon the ‘inferior’ fruits, as Vikram called them. Vikram now stared at the broken ceiling, his mind still racing.

The ‘hideout’ could not be inhabited for much longer. In fact, it was not even worth the name Nikhil had given it. He felt ‘hideout’ was a really a cool name for the place. But, ‘dismal hutment’ would have more aptly described it. The one room cottage had once, perhaps, been a shelter for a lonesome hermit. It seemed to have been unoccupied for years now. The wooden walls barely managed to hold the structure together. The door creaked upon a single hinge. The sense to make windows had not prevailed in the builder. Nikhil was reclining against the wall, seated upon the sodden earth inside the hut, his bagful of figs lay by his side. He looked up at Vikram.

“Anything wrong?” he asked. He could sense it when Vikram had ideas gushing through his mind. After all, they had been best pals since they had joined the army.

Vikram finally turned around to face him. The last rays of the sun shone through the doorway. The well built figure of Vikram was outlined against it. Any onlooker could have guessed his age, in his late thirties. He portrayed an unkempt personality. Four days of beard covered his chin, while his torn army clothes could tell their tale of a recent accident.

“Nothing”, he said curtly. He was a man of few words. He spoke only when necessary. And when he spoke, he got noticed. Perhaps, it was the air of leadership around him that did the trick. “Nothing”, he said again.

“You cant fool me”, said Nikhil, frowning slightly, noticing that his bag of figs was now empty. Vikram preferred not to answer. He took a step out of the cottage and smoked against the threads of light that broke through the canopy above.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Weathered Journey

Aman looked up at him. Fear was writ large over his face. Dhananjay knew better than to answer, he simply turned away. Vikram stood a little way off, facing away from them. He couldn't bear to look around at them. He could feel the entire burden upon himself. Cursing himself, he fought back tears.

Dhananjay walked up to him and put his hand upon his shoulder. Vikram blinked as he tried to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes. “Get a grip Vikram.” said Dhananjay, in his usual, deep, reassuring voice. “Don’t pretend as if it could have never happened. Let’s be prepared to face the worst. Come on, we have to move ahead now.”

Vikram nodded slightly. He still couldn’t believe he had faced the series of events. The two of them stepped away from the clearing. “Let’s go, Aman.” said Vikram quietly.

Aman hadn’t yet recovered from the shock. He had his face buried in his hands. “Come on Aman”, Vikram said again.

“Well, that’s all you can say, isn’t it? Come on. Let’s go. It’s all that matters to you. First Nikhil, now Sohail. And all you can bring up to your throat is, ‘Let’s go’.” His voice was low and threatening. “Vikram, let me ask you this, have you ever felt emotion? Doesn’t it hurt to know that Nikhil and Sohail are now,” he struggled to say it. “Are now Dead?”