Page 16 of Mrs. Pandey
And in that instant, beneath the uniforms, beneath the grit and the tension of the patrol, we weren't just officers and subordinates anymore. We were just two people who had once shared history standing side by side under a vast, ancient sky that had seen everything: all our battles and all our unspoken words.
He looked at me like he wanted to say something more, something dangerous, something that could unravel everything I had meticulously stitched back together. But then, the radio buzzed, a harsh, welcome interruption.
"Bravo Team, all clear. Resume convoy formation."
And just like that, the moment was gone, shattered by the mundane reality of our duty. The ghost of our past retreated, replaced by the disciplined present. We were back to being Captain Pandey and Lieutenant Solanki.
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Chapter 8
PRASHANT
The sun was a brutal hammer, striking down. Sand, gritty and hot, clung to my sweat-drenched uniform.
Bravo Team. They were pushing through another round of combat conditioning: low crawls, wall climbs, sprints. Full gear. Their breath was ragged, skin blistering. I watched them, every muscle in my body coiled tight, feeling every one of their struggles as if it were my own.
I stood like a statue near the final checkpoint, my arms crossed over my chest, sweat bled down my temples, stinging my eyes, but I didn't flinch. My gaze was fixed, hard as iron.
"Move! You're not here to survive training. You're here to survive a bullet between your ribs. Faster!" My voice was a roar, cutting through the heavy air. Pushing them. Pushing myself. They needed to understand. This wasn't a game. This wasn't about looking good. This was about living and protecting our country. Our honor.
Then, it happened. Sepoy Rishi. A young recruit. He stumbled off the last low crawl. His knees buckled, and he collapsed face-first into the sand, kicking up a small cloud of dust. He didn't get up. My jaw locked. Tight.
A few nearby soldiers slowed, exchanging glances. Their hesitation was a dangerous crack in the discipline I was forging. I couldn't allow it. Not here. Not ever.
My boots crunched across the field, the sand a fire under my soles, but I barely registered it. I stormed toward him.
"On your feet, Sepoy." My voice was a low command. A warning.
Rishi groaned a pitiful sound. His body trembled as he tried. "Sir... I can't..."
I can't. That single sentence was a trigger like a match dropped into gasoline, igniting something deep inside me. At that moment, it wasn't about Rishi anymore; it was about everything.
I grabbed his vest, rough fabric scraping my palm and hauled him halfway upright, his body lighter than it should've been, too weak. My voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl, barely a whisper, but sharp enough to pierce him to the core.
"You can't? What happens when five men drag you into a dark room, tie your hands behind your back, and crush your knees until you forget your name?"
A sudden, heavy silence fell over the training ground. Every eye on me. Every breath held. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ira. She was near the logistics tent. She had turned sharply, her gaze fixed on me. I knew she was listening and judging. But I didn't give a toss.
I didn't stop. The words poured out now, fueled by a deep-seated rage. A chilling memory.
"You think fatigue will kill you? It won't. Cowardice will. Get up!"
Rishi tried, pushing himself against the sand, muscles straining. But his strength gave out, and he collapsed again. My vision blurred. Not from the searing heat. A different kind of heat. A cold wave of memory washed over me.
FLASHBACK:
Darkness. A concrete cell in Kashmir. The smell of damp earth and stale blood. My hands were bound behind me with rusty wire, digging into my wrists and pain throbbed through my entire body. I could taste my own blood as it coated my mouth, thick and metallic.
There were five men. Their faces were covered. Their eyes were laughing, mocking, breaking me piece by piece. They kicked my ribs until I couldn't breathe. They held my face down in the cold, wet mud, forcing me to choke. They were saying vile and disgusting things about my mother, about my country, our honor, and about how heroes scream like dogs when they were truly broken.
I hadn't passed out. I hadn't begged them, but something inside me had broken quietly that day. A part of my soul that never stitched back together. It was a raw, jagged edge I carried. A constant reminder of what 'can't' truly meant.
"Run!" I barked at Rishi, the word tearing through the haze of the memory. My voice cracked as I tried to control the searing anger burning inside me, choking me to death. When the past came to the forefront, I couldn't hold it back, I couldn't stop it from taking over my head. I just lost my mind.
"Ten laps around the compound. Now! No water." The words came out sharp and unyielding.
"Sir..." A Havildar began cautiously, taking a hesitant step forward, trying to intercede.
