Each piece was pulled apart. The sharp canines dug into the juicy bits, the powerful jaws effortlessly bit, munched and chewed. As the ruby drops tricked down his throat, life leapt into his eyes. Relishing each morsel, strength coursed through his cold, nearly lifeless limbs.
/////
Right ahead he could see some movement, through his powerful binoculars.
As his eyes swept the barren landscape, one of the highest points on earth, he couldn’t help but admire the various shades of ochre, brown and ombre. The sweeping heights of the magnificent mountains were beyond imagination. How puny he and his tribe were, was brought home in a trice.
At the same time, the lifeless bodies of his mates lay strewn across the valley. Pride still peeped out of the open eyes, which long lay still.
Their uniforms, battle fatigues, merging with the terrain but soaked in their once warm blood, which now was as cold as the stark and inhospitable mountain sides.
It seemed like eons, when his Commanding Officer had instructed him to take the hand picked men and go ahead of the ridge at Rezang La (sacred to all men and women in uniform).
The neighbours had been upto no good again. Truck loads had been seen pitching up camp. An ominous sign.
Stealthily they had crawled up the ridge and were horrified to see an entire camp set up in a matter of few hours. (No wonder they had once captured all the markets across the globe.) He had immediately radioed the ground reality and even sent pictures to base.
They realised they would have to be there to keep an eye till substantial forces arrived to back them up.
As the sun rose in the most brilliantly blue sky, the cold air refused to be warmed up. It had no prayer flags to tug and blow, or leaves to strew. It neither had kites to tug to high Heavens nor skirts of beautiful women to billow. All it had were soldiers to defend and protect their Motherland. It didn’t matter, the piece of land was barren, they would protect their piece and not give up an inch.
Something gave them away. It was probably young Swaran Singh, a tough Sikh whose heart was golden. He had felt sorry for the mongrel that lay under the rock, beseeching food, care and companionship in that hostile landscape. It seemed to have been a victim of its mates, deep bite marks lay gaping like ruby lips around his neck and rump. Speaking softly, he had given a few morsels to ease the pain before Death would claim it as His trophy. Every piece, the wild thing munched gratefully.
His tail wagged once, before he laid its head on the nearly freezing rock and mustered up its energy to bark its gratitude.
The desolate air happily picked up that grateful bark and thought it fit, to carry it across the valleys, over the ridges, as far as it could. Right to Heaven, along with the departing soul.
The enemy had sufficient warning. Alert eyes, behind binoculars, scanned the landscape. Up the ridges, down the mountain slopes. Scanning for movement, for shapes that didn’t belong. God knows what they saw but the valley soon resounded with the zing of bullets.
He kept his cool and sized up the situation. A battalion of Chinese troops versus a mere handful of his soldiers.
Remembering Rezang- la, he offered a prayer silently to the brave ancestors who had immortalized decades ago , defending that very piece of land.
It was a call to battle, one to one. The enemy was right there, thrusting their bayonets, interspersed with relentless firing!
Silently he signaled to hold fire till they could ensure: Each one, get one!
The sun and wind witnessed the most fierce battle, the most disproportionate, the most unfair, in along-long time. How could a handful compete against a thousand?
But all is fair in love and war!
‘Yaaah!’ ‘Aaaah!’
‘ Har har Mahadev!’
‘ Jo bole Sonehal!’
‘ Insha allah!’
‘ Hail Mary!’
They screamed, amidst the cacophony of blazing guns and the harsh report of guns.
Each one took more than one …
More than one man …
More thsn one bullet …
More than one opportunity..,
More than one scream …
Helplessly he watched, as his friends, his comrades, his men went down. Brave, each and every one of them. Fierce, yet had hearts filled with compassion.
Left in a stupor, thought to be dead, he had managed to crawl and drag himself to the outcrop of rocks behind. He had to warn the regiment…
As he waited, a bird hopped close. He had little choice … He had to fuel himself as he waited for reinforcements in that below freezing weather.
////
He slowly chewed piece by piece… For he had signed up to protect every piece of his Motherland till his last breath.
War has no winners!
Both sides lose …
Youth, men, peace!
