The blast shook the entire building!
The news channels had a field day. The analysts took to shouting and screaming to be heard over each other. People were glued to their screens watching, consuming, believing all that was being hurled across, without batting an eye or even pausing to question.
***
Deep in the valley of a mountainous terrain, a young boy herding goats, watched a few men, slinking behind boulders. They were in uniform, but not his country’s. Long hair flowing down the face and head seemed to blend in to create a mask. He watched. They climbed higher. When they reached the waterfall, they stopped. Muted laughter filled the valley as the men splashed under the water. The boy followed, with his herd. At the turn, he came face to face with a freshly washed face, hair still damp.
“What are you doing here, boy?” asked a cold voice.
Scared, he remained silent. Staring.
“He’s just a little boy, herding his flock. Worry not,” said another, squatting down.
“Here boy, take this chocolate. You must be hungry.” He patted the boy’s head and gave him a bar of chocolate wrapped in bright red waxed paper.
They smiled at him. Their smiles trapped in their beard, not reaching their eyes.
Then they went on their way. Climbing higher, out of the valley.
The smooth feel of the paper, reminded him of his friend. The Army officer who played cricket with him and his siblings. Often he got them biscuits and chocolates. He always tousled his hair with affection.
***
Major Dutta had got intelligence about a group of terrorists who had crossed the border. Their aim was to create mayhem in the hinterland. He had sent his men all around, tracking every clue, every informant. No news!
All their work would be useless if they could not catch the insurgents before they left the area. He looked at his notes. He looked at the map on the wall, of his so-called office.
***
The Delhi police undercover agents broke into the house, they had been observing for time now. The lights had just been turned off. The woman kept questioning in a loud authoritative voice, but the guns, in her cupboard turned her silent and meek. The man who had been waiting for the lights to flash a couple of times before he entered with more guns, smelled a rat. He took to his heels and vanished in the darkness.
***
“There’s a little boy outside to meet you Sir,” said the sentry. “Not now,” was his first reaction, then he signaled to send him in. His gut was working overtime.
“Uncle, I have a chocolate for you,” smiled the little boy.
The wrapping was not Indian. Tousling his hair he said, “Thanks buddy! Where did you get it?” Out came the details. Major Dutta rushed, calling his men as they ran up the mountain side.
Shortly gun shots rang out in the valley above.
Image by Henryk Niestrój from Pixabay
