Page 82 - Love Story of a Commando

Virat would still haunt me in my dreams sometimes. I could feel his
warm breath and blazing eyes staring at me intently. He would hold me
softly and then suddenly his machine gun would start firing, shredding me to
bits and pieces, eliminating my whole existence in a second. I would get up,
sweating and breathing heavily.
How is this even possible, for a person to grip your memories, pierce
your soul and leave you haunted forever?
Time flew in a whoosh just like the wind and mist that disappear in
the grass. It was almost six months since I had come and I was quite
comfortable with the ‘new me’. Mr Durrani called me a few times to ask
about my well-being but never visited. He was a good man and I owed some
gratitude to him for providing purpose to my lost life again.
The same purpose which had been left there in the burning corridors
of the Taj!
Kashmir was burning those days over the killing of a terrorist. The
Indian Army was behind hunting him down, in what was considered a
revenge mission, since a young Kashmiri Army officer from the valley was
abducted and murdered brutally during his vacation to his own little village.
He was found in his father’s apple orchards, where he grew up playing and
praying to be an officer in the Indian Army. It was not a job but a quest to
lead a good life and serve the nation he believed in.
He was just twenty-three.
Can the dreams of a young boy hurt somebody so much so that they
plan to kill him brutally? They killed him and threw his body in the orchards
which was eventually found after a search and rescue operation by the
soldiers of his own paltan who swore on his blood to avenge his death. There
was so much agony and grief among the locals once his dead body was back
home for last rites.
A mother died and a sister lost her heart forever. A family destroyed
in the quest of bringing to life their collective dream.
There had been smiles and hope and now there was nothing left
except oblivion.
His body was wrapped carefully in a Kashmiri quilt famous for its
warmth. After all, it was cold that day. So what if his teeth and nose were
broken, and eyes punctured—the family members ensured that his body had
the warmth of the warmest quilt in the region before he got wrapped in the
tri colour and was buried deep in the soil he believed in, to be a legend
forever.
He made the supreme sacrifice and was given the supreme honour by
the state too. A wreath-laying ceremony was held on open grounds where a
huge crowd gathered to pay the last homage to the son of the soil. His
Commanding Officer, brothers-in-arms, his paltan and his buddies carried