Page 57 of Mrs. Pandey
______
A Few Days Later - Kupwara Sector, Line of Control
The valley was silent, as if holding its breath.
This silence was not ordinary; it was ancient. A silence that echoed through time. Rishis had spoken of nothingness, the peace before creation or destruction.
Light snow had just begun to fall, sporadic flakes landing on the tall deodars. The trees stood like sentinels, oblivious to the presence of humans and the intrigues of nations. The cold was no longer a feeling. It had become an existence. A force. It was walking with us, going through every layer of our combat gear, seeping into the bones, testing our willpower. But pain was not the enemy. It was an attachment.
We had been dropped the previous night. A silent entry. No light, no sound. Five shadows slipping into the underworld surrounded by the forests of the Line of Control. No glory awaited us. No headlines. Only the weight of duty.
Every step forward was a wager with destiny. Every breath was a prayer beyond words. But I felt no fear. There was no place for it.Only focus, as sharp as the blade of a Rajput sword. And beneath that, a strange peace. The peace of a man who has already made his peace with the gods. If this was to be the end, so be it. At least it would be a meaningful end.
I turned my head slightly, eyes scanning my team. Five men in all, including me.
Two young soldiers, Sharma and Qureshi. Eager, brave, and still untouched by the quiet despair most warriors feel after their first kill.
A trusted Havaldar, Rawat. Hard as Himalayan granite and loyal as Rama's Hanuman.
And then there was Major Nadeem. Calm. Cerebral. A man who carried not just a rifle, but centuries of combat wisdom passed silently from soldier to soldier. He didn't speak unless necessary. But when he spoke, you listened.
We were now deep inside the jungle, moving slowly, thoughtfully. Our mission: confirm enemy movement across the Line of Control. Intelligence was grim, heavily armed insurgents, trained and dangerous.
Technology had failed. Satellites showed nothing. Drones were grounded. Now it was up to us.
Five mortals in terrain where even gods might hesitate. We were no longer men. We were ghosts.
I crouched behind a fallen pine tree. Snow had settled on its bark like ash on a funeral pyre. The forest was too quiet. Even the wind had paused.
I raised a fist. Stop. The team obeyed instantly. No words. Only instinct, honed by fire, forged by loss.
I patted the patch on my chest. Frayed fabric. My name was still stitched under the fading rank, Lieutenant Prashant Pandey.
But not for long.
Promotion was approved. Paperwork pending. But I no longer cared. Ranks are given by men. Respect comes by deeds.
Captain or not, I had made peace with fate. If I returned, I'd be a hero. If I didn't, I'd be a story. Or a name carved into a cold wall.
But it didn't matter.
There was only one name that still echoed in my heart.
Ira.
She didn't know I was here. Probably never would. She had stopped taking my calls. Never once asked if I was okay.
But still...In the quietest part of my soul, I prayed that someday she would hear the name: Captain Prashant Pandey.
And maybe then just for a moment, she would remember the boy who once walked beside her in the rains of Uttarakhand. Who brought her sandalwood bangles from a roadside stall. The boy she used to ride with through nights that now felt like dreams.
The boy who died trying to prove he was enough. Not just for her. But for his motherland. For the gods watching from above.
A sharp crack in the distance.
Not loud. Soft. Like a twig snapping under the weight of intent.
I raised two fingers. Stop.
