FF: Ishq-e-Watan *Chapter 78 Posted*

CHAPTER 1

GHAR GHAR MEIN SOLDIER

“Kartavyah, sahaas v balidaan. Desh ke khaatir, desh ke naam. Desh ki mitti sar aakhon par. Desh se hai apni pehchaan. Jai Hind.”

The quiet murmur from the soldier stopped. His hands clenched into tight fists and he jumped from the stack of boxes he was hunched on, grabbing the man who stood guard. A hand clamped against his mouth tightly, a strong grip restricting his movement.

He gave a sharp twist and the man slumped in his hold. The soldier stepped over his body, walking around the corner. The boots he wore were as silent as him, a dangerously quiet tension following him.

He pressed himself tightly against a box when another guard looked around, burying himself between the boxes. A beat. Then, another. He peeked out. Clear.

His hand clamped against the man’s mouth quickly and he gave a sharp twist to his neck.

“Aye!” A loud shout from behind him alerted him.

He twisted his and the man’s bodies around. A hand held the dead man up, the other yanking his gun out and pulling the trigger. The bullets rained down on him, some flying past him and some lodging themselves in the corpse shield he was holding up.

His finger pulled the trigger. Again. And again. And again.

Brown eyes scanned the unmoving bodies on the ground. He let go of the corpse. Blood seeped on the ground from their hopefully dead bodies, and he held his gun for a moment longer. He lowered it when no one moved for several seconds.

Lesser than he had expected.

“Special Agent, come in”, a voice said in his ear com.

“Go for it”, he said in it.

“Hume hostages mil gaye. Par they’re all dead. I repeat, hume hostages mil gaye. Par they’re all dead.”

His jaw clenched. “Copy that”, he answered gruffly. “Koi bhi terrorist yahan se bach kar nahi jaana chahiye.”

“Copy that.”

The soldier walked out of the warehouse several minutes later. The place bustled with activity behind him. Ambulances were parked, taking the dead bodies out and army officials had sealed the area, picking evidences up.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and pulled it out. Colonel Batra.

“Jai Hind, Sir.”

“Special Agent Major Karan Shergill, mere paas tumhaare liye ek mission hai.”

---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---

“Arey, baby, suno, na”, a girl whined.

A man hummed. “Bolo, na, baby.” He frowned a little, before rubbing a spot on his gun aggressively.

“Main kya keh rahi thi...” She smiled, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Tum apni Ammi se humaare baare mein baat kab karoge?”

His head snapped up. “Ammi se? Kyun?”

“Tumhaari Ammi se puchhe bina thodi naa shaadi hogi, baby.”

“Shaadi?” He spat out. “Kiski shaadi?”

“Humaari shaadi, of course!”

He blinked. “Humne kya tumhe neend mein propose kar diya?”

“Nahi. Par real life mein karoge, na?”

The man smiled slightly. “Tumhe pata hai? Humaari Ammi kehti hai ki humaari feelings hamesha sahi hoti hain. Humaare andar future ko feel karne ki powers hain. Abhi pata hai hume kya feeling aa rahi hai?”

“Kya?”

“Ki tumhaari shaadi kisi doctor se hogi.”

She blinked. A chuckle escaped her. “Par tum toh ek soldier ho.”

“Exactly.”

Her smile dropped. “Kya? Tum... tum kya mujhse shaadi nahi karna chahte?”

“Hum kisi se bhi shaadi nahi karna chahte.”

She scoffed. “Mujhe laga tum bhi commit karna chahte ho. But... whatever. Main jaa rahi hoon. Thak gayi hoon main tumhe shaadi ke liye hints de dekar. Mere parents kara denge kisi aur se shaadi. Bye!”

“Waapas mat aana”, he called after her.

“Meri jooti bhi naa aaye. Call mat karna.”

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through the list of girls. He hummed, deleting her number. He shook his head. “Humaari sirf ek hi commitment hai. Aur wo hai humaare watan aur uski suraksha ki taraf. Bas. Special Agent Major Faizuddin Siddiqui ka sirf ek hi pyaar tha, hai aur hamesha sirf ek hi pyaar rahega- uska watan.” His grin widened. “Haaye! Agar watan se itna pyaar nahi hota, toh actor ban jaate hum. Andaaz toh hai hi.”

His phone rang. He pulled it out.

Karan.

“Arey, Janaab ji. Iss naacheez ko kaise yaad kiya aapne?”

“Faizi, Batra Sir ka call aaya tha. Mission hai.”

---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---

“27 ki ho gayo hai”, a middle aged woman snapped. “Iski sabhi saheliyon ke byaah ho gayo hain. Kachhu socho hai ya mauri ko poori zindagi ghar par bithaano hai?”

A young girl sighed. “Amma, humne aapko pehle hi kaho tha. Hume aisa pati chahiyo jo hume shaadi ke baad apni duty karne se roke naa. Dhoond kar le aao. Kar lenge shaadi hum phir.”

“Arey, kaunsa maura shaadi ke baad bhi apni patni ko itne lambe lambe mission par jaane dego? Tu jaayegi, toh ghar grahasti kaun sambhaalego? Bolne se pehlo kachhu toh socha kar.”

She rolled her eyes. “Amma, soch kar hi bol raho hain. Hume aise hi insaan se shaadi karno hai. Bas.” She looked at the man who was silently eating. “Baapu?”

“Re, Mauri di ek hi toh shart hogo. Kaho toh isne ki kis tarah ka vi ho, ise sab manzoor par is di duty ke beech naa aaye. Ab yeh shart toh maani padego, na?”

“Aap ne hi ise sar par chadha kar rakho hai. Arey, agar ek hi shart mein yeh chaand maang raho hai toh wo shart nahi, byaah naa karno ke bahaane hogo.”

“Chaand naa maang raho hain, Amma. Sirf apne faisle khud lene ka haq maang raho hain. Humaari pehchaan Special Agent Captain Sanjana Dubey hai, hum use shaadi byaah ke chakkar mein khone naa deno chahto hain. Bahut mehnat karo hai humne iss pehchaan ke liye. Je pehchaan naa mitne denge hum.”

“Par je-”

“Bas”, the man interrupted. “Mauri ki ek hi shart hogo. Hum wo shart poori karenge. Ab aur koi behas naa hogi iss par.”

The girl eyed her mother as she angrily tore a piece of roti and shoved it in her mouth. She sighed. Her gaze lifted to meet her father’s. He blinked assuredly and she smiled slightly.

“Aye, mauri”, her mother said. “Sirf itne se chawal kaahe ke laane liye hogo? Itne khaane se tera kachhu naa hogo. Le, aur chawal le.” She served a big serving of the rice on her plate. “Tu kamzor pad gayo toh dushman se ka, hum ladenge? Ab karno hai duty, toh khaa toh sahi se.”

Her smile widened. “Ji, Amma.”

Her phone rang on the table above her. She wiped her hands on a rag before stretching over and grabbing it.

“Jai Hind, Sir ji!”

“Sanju! Kahan ho tum?” Faizi asked.

“Sir ji, apne gaon. Ghar par. Chhuti hogo, na?”

“Chutti khatam, Sanju. Mission hai.”

She perked up. “Mission ke liye toh hum turant se pehlo taiyaar hain, Sir ji. Aap bas humaare laane order dijiye.”

“Tu wahan se nikal”, Karan ordered. “Aur headquarters report kar.”

“Ji, Sir ji. Par mission ka hogo?”

“Batra Sir khud briefing denge. Unhi ke paas details hain. Mujhe bhi nahi pata.”

“Ji, Sir ji. Jai Hind, Sir ji.”

She kept the phone down. “Bapu, mission hogo. Turant se pehlo nikalna hogo.” She sprang to her feet, running out.

“Arey, khaana toh khatam kar, mauri!”

“Baad mein”, she called.

The two shook their heads. “Kachho naa ho sakta hai iska”, her mother said. They sighed, but small smiles pulled through.

---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---

An elderly man sat on the chair, tapping on the table. Their arms behind their back and their gaze ahead, three agents in uniforms stood before him.

‘Attacks par attack badhte jaa rahe hain. We’ll have to do something. Do you have an idea?’

‘Hum civilians ko training dete hain. Give the civilians a chance to be able to protect their country.’

‘Maine apni zindagi mein sirf yeh kuchh medals kamaaye hain. Agar yeh program fail ho gaya, toh main sarkaar ko apne saare medals waapas kar dunga.’

“Do minute ho gaye”, the man said. “Kya socha hai aap teenon ne iss mission ke baare mein?”

“Sir”, Karan said. “Civilians ko train karna, mission nahi, punishment posting hai.”

The man stood up, walking around the table. His eyes laid on the name plate that rested there.

Colonel Pushpinder Batra.

The name had prestige. And the prestige was owed to his medals. Would he be as respected and honored without his medals?

“Aap dono ko bhi yeh hi lagta hai?” He asked.

“Yes sir”, the other two echoed.

“Sab maa ke pait se civilians hi paida hote hain. Soldiers wo training ke baad bante hain. Inn civilians ko underestimate mat karo.”

“Sir”, Faizi said. “Commando ki training koi mazaak nahi hoti hai. Bina basic army ki training ke civilians kaise karenge?”

“Mushkil hoga, par impossible nahi. Jab desh ke liye mar mitne ka jazbaa ho aur kuchh kar jaane ki zidd, toh impossible bhi ek baar ke liye possible lagne lagta hai. Yeh toh sirf mushkil hai, impossible nahi.” Colonel Batra leaned against the table. “Tum teenon ke paas sochne ke liye do ghante ka samay hai. Agar yeh mission accept karte ho, toh I want to know in 2 hours. Agar tum koi message nahi dete, I’ll assume tum logon ne mission deny kara hai.” He nodded to the door. “Dismissed.”

They saluted him again, taking a step back and moving out of the room.

‘Civilians ko kam samajhne ki bhool bahuton ne kari hai. Par yeh sab bhool jaate hain ki fauji bhi civilians ke beech se hi aate hain. Duniya dekhegi ki civilians mein jab desh ke liye kuchh kar jaane ki zidd hoti hai, toh har mushkil ko paar kar jaane ka jazbaa khud hi aa jaata hai.’

---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---

‘... Ek moment nahi hai jab yeh wish nahi karti ki Mumma aaj bhi zinda hote. Mil toh nahi sakte wo par agar kabhi mil sakte, toh bahut zor se hug karti aur unhe kabhi door nahi jaane deti.

Monami Mahajan.’

A young girl closed the diary after scribbling her signature on. She capped the pen, keeping it aside. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

Screams. Pleads. Sobs.

‘No, stop!’

‘I beg you. I am begging you. Main... main bheek maang rahi ho. Mujhe jaane do.’

‘Mat jao. Mujhe chodkar mat jao.’

‘NO!!’

Her eyes snapped open.

She rubbed her face with her shivering hands. She shook her head, taking another deep breath. She stood up, closing the door and walking out of her room.

The large house greeted her. Was it empty? Where was he?

“Yes, yes, yes!” An excited voice reached her on cue. “Monu! Arey, kamini, sun, na! Kahan hai tu?”

“Kya hai?” She entered the game room. A curly haired man was sprawled on a bean bag, a controller in his hand. He leaned his head back, grinning at her.

“Bro, terrorists are dead”, he sang playfully. “Level 45 done. Maine, pata hai, kitne terrorists maare? 22. Mera score beat kar sakti hai tu?” He held out the controller.

Her eyes narrowed. “Siddharth Ganju, you’re on!”

“Monami ma’am”, a voice said. A middle aged man appeared on the door. “Khaane mein kya bana doon aapke liye?”

Dread pooled in her stomach at the sight of him. Sid elbowed her, nodding to him. She swallowed nervously. She took a deep breath. ‘Okay, Monu. Sirf Vinod Dada hain. Tu inhe bachpan se jaanti hai. Bas ek word hai. Stutter nahi karna hai.’

“P-P-Pasta”, she said.

She suppressed a sigh. ‘Ek word tha, Monu. Ek word nahi bol paayi.’

“Vinod Dada”, Sid said. “Coffee bhi, please.” He nudged her as soon as the man disappeared. “Tu itna load legi toh stutter hi karegi, na? Tujhe pata hai, na, tu sirf tab hi stutter karti hai jab tu nervous hoti hai.”

“Aur har insaan jo tu nahi hai uske saath nervous hi hoti hoon”, she said, sighing. “Logon ko dekhkar mann karta hai Earth mujhe swallow kar le.”

“Arey, chill, na, bro. Haan theek hai thoda jaldi nervous ho jaati hai aur logon ke saamne tu. So? I get nervous jab main height par khada hota hoon. Sab kisi na kisi cheez se nervous hote hain.” He flicked her forehead. “Ab load bhool aur game khel.”

Her phone beeped in her pocket. She pulled it out, opening the message. She froze.

“Sid!” She gasped out. “Papa aa rahe hain.”

“Really?” He said, giving an overly excited, dramatic shriek. His expression faded into annoyance. “Main kya karoon phir?”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Sid! Parakaram ke baare mein baat karni hai.”

He straightened up. “Oh haan.” He smiled. “Moti Billi, tu Moti Sherni ban jaayegi.”

“Sid! Tu kamine ka kamina hi rahega. Maine kitni baar kaha hai mujhe Moti Billi mat bulaaya kar. Ruk tu!”

--x---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---

“Yeh le”, a young woman said, scraping some noodles ona plate. “Bas. Iske baad aur nahi. Okay? Warna pet mein dard ho jayega.”

A small boy nodded. “Haan, haan, meri mendakhi. Pata hai mujhe.”

The woman smiled, ruffling his hair affectionately. She switched the news on, sitting down on the table and beginning to eat her own dinner.

“... 13 hostages were killed. All were shot dead before the army officials could rescue them. It is indeed a horrible incident but what’s more horrible, perhaps, is how this isn’t the only incident of such terrorist activity so far inland. The terrorism inland seems too much for the police to handle. What steps would the government take? It’s-”

She switched the tv off, sighing. That’s all that’s been there on the news all day. 13 hostages dead. Shot by terrorists.

“Arey, mendakhi, tu itni worried mat ho. Jab tu special agent ban jaayegi, toh tu hi sab ko haraa degi”, the boy said. She smiled.

“Abhi maine socha nahi hai ki main jaungi ya nahi.”

The boy frowned. “Kyun? Jaa, na!”

“Aur tera dhyaan kaun rakhega, mendhak”, she cooed, pinching his cheek.

“Iske Nana Nani”, a voice said from behind her. She looked up, finding an older looking woman walking out. “Tu itni chinta kyun karti hai? Itna mann hai tera. Aur achha kaam karne jaa rahi hai, na, tu? Toh jaa. Poora dhyaan training par laga. Hum hai, na? Hum iss chote mendhak ko sambhaal lenge.”

“Par Maa... Special Agent banne mein ek din thodi naa lagega. 3 saal ki training hai”, she said. “3 saal aap kaise manage karoge?”

“Arey, tujhe itne saal kar liya. Use 3 saal bhi nahi kar paayenge?” She smacked her head lightly. “Tu jaa rahi hai. Bas.” She leaned closer. “Ho sake toh akeli mat aana.”

“Maa! Training ke lene jaa rahi hoon. Aap bhi, na”, she said, shaking her head.

She chuckled, stroking her hair affectionately. Koel chewed absentmindedly, mind far away.

Special Agent Koel Roy.

Just the thought sent a shiver down her spine. She smiled. That thought would be a reality.

She pulled her phone out, scrolling to her best friend’s number and beginning to type.

---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---

“P-Papa...” Monami called out hesitantly, knocking on the door.

“Come in”, his voice answered gruffly.

She swallowed, walking in. Her hands nervously rubbed each other, the weight of the envelope heavy in her white coat’s pocket. “Aa-aap ka... aapka s-s-seminar k-kaisa tha?”

“Theek tha”, he answered. He stood up, moving to the blue light and putting the scan up. “Could have been better. Black coffee serve nahi karte, khaane ke options bhi kam the aur mics bhi dhang se kaam nahi kar rahe the.”

‘Black coffee nahi serve karte? Intelligent people’, she thought. ‘Uss kale zehar ko pee kar koi mar gaya toh? Monu! Focus! Tu yahan par Papa ko Parakaram ke baare mein bataane aayi hai. Puchhne nahi, bataane.’

“P-Papa, m-main aapse k-k-kuchh b-baat k-karne aayihoon.”

“Haan, bolo, na?” He chuckled. “Ek baar mein bol paogi ya appointments cancel karoon?”

The words pinched. She hated people taunting her for her stutter. Hated it, hated it, hated it. It’s not like she wanted to stutter every time she saw a breathing person except Sid. She took a deep breath. Not the time to be offended. She dug the envelope up, handing it to him.

He took it, eyebrows furrowing. “Resignation?”

“M-Mujhe... m-mujhe P-Parakaram Sp-Special A-Action F-Force join k-karna hai”, she said. “I w-want to t-train m-myself, Papa. M-Mujhe... m-mujhe D-Deolali r-rehkar t-training k-karni hai.”

“Okay.” He moved back to his desk.

She blinked. What? “Okay?”

“Haan, jao.” A grin spread on her face. Piece of cake! “Jab shauk poora ho jaaye, toh aa jaana.” Wait. Did he say ‘shauk’? She frowned, turning to him. She walked closer to him, eyeing him. “Kya? Aise kya dekh rahi ho? Tumhe bhi pata hai yeh training wagera tumse nahi hoga.” He looked up from the paper he was scribbling on. “Shauk hai tumhaara, do chaar din rehkar poora ho jaayega. Waapas aaogi toh hospital join kar lena. Waise, mujhe toh yeh time waste lagta hai. Yeh uniform, yeh duty, yeh jo bhi hai, sirf sunne mein achha lagta hai. Milta kuchh nahi hai isse. Tumne toh paas se dekha hai. Kya mila tumhaari mumma ko?” Her jaw clenched tightly. He shook his head. “Anyway, jao. Jaakar packing kar lo. Chhuti manaaye aao.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. She nodded. “Ji, Papa.”

She glanced at the certificate on the desk. Wasn’t this all he bragged about for a month when he received it? She reached over, pretending to grab a glass of water. She knocked the black poison he was drinking and the ink pot he liked to keep as a show piece over, drenching the certificate. “Sorry!” She squeaked. "Sorry, Papa."

“Kya karti ho tum, Monami”, he scolded, quickly trying to dab it with his handkerchief. “Jao. Jao ab yahan se.”

She quietly walked out, pausing at the doorway. She glanced at her Dad. She smirked slightly, narrowing her eyes.

‘Mere Mumma ke baare mein bolne ka haq aapke paas bhi nahi hai, Papa. Aur naa army ki beizzati karne ka.’

She smiled happily, walking out of the hospital. She grabbed her phone, pulling up Sid’s chat, beginning to type.

---x---x---x---x---x---x---x---

Karan stared out at the passing trees in silence. If there was one thing he missed about Deolali, it had to be the greenery and forests.

His city of peace.

“Kya?” Faizi broke the silence. “Hume aise kyun dekh rahi ho, Sanju? Tumne bhi haan bola hai mission ke liye.”

“Humne kahan kuchh kaho, Sir ji?” Sanju said. “Batra Sir humaare pita samaan hai. Unki izzat laane toh batera kuchh kar sakto hain.”

“Hume is sab ki fikr nahi. Hum toh bas Deolali ki khuli hawaa mein saans lene ke bahaane dhoond rahe the. Kyun, Karan?”

He rolled his eyes. “Main sirf duty ke liye aaya hoon. Agar Batra Sir ko lagta hai isse sach mein terrorist attacks kam ho sakte hain, toh yeh bhi karke dekh lete hain.”

He glanced down at his phone, opening up the chat history between him and Colonel Batra. It was minimal, of course. In fact, just a single message he had sent.

‘Mission Ghar Ghar Mein Soldier is on.’