Grave in No Men's Land

Preface
Terrorism in any form is condemnable. Be it by the outlawed ones or be it by the law enforcers, it can’t be justified to any cause. Whose actions are perilous to be called as terrorism and whose action is to be justified as anti-terrorism is a dubious question. It needs a deep introspection what convenes the act of terrorism. It needs to be analyzed to comprehend what makes life taking and giving one’s own life so captivating to some people. What prompts more and more people into it? What mesmerizes the youth to dilute their perceptive of noble to evil?

No one is born a saint nor is anyone evil by birth. It is sometimes the course of upbringing; more often than not the companion one lives with and at times the milieu where a person is nurtured that transmutes a person of disparate character. The best of parenting can’t guarantee to engender an impeccable human being. A trivial influence of camaraderie could encourage a timid person for a corollary of unimaginable colossus. The mutable milieu could trigger a credulous person to demeanor capriciously.

A general perception for all intents and purposes, extremism or terrorism is an act of barbarity executed by some grotesque people supposedly born with a sick frame of mind; a psychopath who is prompted by irrational judgment against society and the law enforced, possessing a sadistic approach towards the society and one who is so hostile and cruel that can trigger off a massacre; a mass butchery be it contained naive children, weak and harmless old and elderly, guiltless men or women. They are ghastly merciless inhuman; monsters in guise of human, deserving only and only death.

This is one way of looking at them. But there is another perspective to this as well.

Who is a terrorist? What prevail upon a person to transform him so aggressive in his approach and demeanor that he poises himself as a threat to other? What causes a person to breed so much abhorrence for other that he pay no heed to slay someone? What make someone so arrogant and wildly that he doesn’t differentiate between a guilty and a guiltless? What leads to upsurge animosity in ones core to such extremity that he vows to vengeance and don’t unwind till has accomplished? What endorse a commoner to take-up the rebellious path abreast of the fact that his own are law-abiding? What causes someone to be so heartlessly unforgiving that persuasion of his own can’t dissuade his grit, affiliation of even his own-ones he could quash, if it hinders in his savaging path? What turned him into a merciless and gruesome hatchet man? What makes him a killing machine? What contaminates him from a human to so inhuman? What makes him so enraged that he doesn’t fear to die in the haggle?

How an action perilous to most one do does become quite justifiable to somebody? Why a prevalence confronted by preponderance does become the need of the hour for someone? Is the world in absolute not a bona fide institution in itself? While one thing could mean something for someone, the same thing sometimes holds different meaning for the other. Seldom though, has it become imperative to let go few lives for the world to make it livelier for other? And then who reclines to let other stand up? Who lay down their life to let other to live in? Whose life is worthwhile and who is worthless? And more importantly, who decides who is who?

Sincerely
Amardeep Chowdhury


Declamation:-
The impending anecdote is an imaginative creation and has no relevance to any factual or real life instance. Any resemblance to the same in relation to any person, dead or alive is purely coincidental.
All views expressed in the story are author’s personal. Names of individuals and places used in the story are fictitious.
The author does not intend to dictate his perspicacity of good or evil on anyone nor does he proclaim his judgment against anyone. He doesn’t by any means justify demeanor of any person as decorous or indecorous.
He doesn’t intend to hurt anyone’s feelings or emotion. The author neither wishes to incite any communal prejudice or ill feeling towards a community. Neither are his intentions to humiliate in any manner any person or any class or section of the society.
This is only a point of view which the author wishes to share with everyone.


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Grave in the No Men’s Land
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It was past dusk and pouring cats and dogs for over an hour now. The meteorological department had forecasted for a localized heavy shower over the hilly landscape. Never the less, incessant rain is a common phenomenon in the mountainous terrain. Endeavoring in such a recalcitrant condition even during daylight is death-defying. Overcast sky with unremitting downpour and dying light, visibility was nearly zilch. Dense forest and steep slippery hilly slope, venturing at night is nothing but suicidal, an invitation to certain death. One misstep would mean a fatal fall into the dark deep abyss. By a quirk of fate, even if someone survives the fall with abysmal injuries before anyone could be available for rescue, wild beasts would tear out life from the defenseless body and the victim could witness becoming into a banquet to the wild.

Outfitted with night vision paraphernalia and ammo stuffed heavily with well trained sniffer dogs, the Task Force slowly made their advance. They knew the torrential rain would be to their advantage to slow down the movement of their quarry. The security forces were tipoff that a group of four extremist were trying to sneak out across the border after failing an intrigue. This group consists of young untested and slapdash coy who were on their maiden assignment to blow off the Rajdhani Express. They nearly succeeded and managed to plant Improvised Explosive Device at three locations on the railway track. Providentially their radio communication was intercepted by intelligence and the stratagem was foiled. They hadn’t much firepower with them and were on a run. In the chase and run they also dropped their radio com while crossing a stream and currently negotiating their way through the jungle purely on presumption and celestial navigation mode which they were taught in their training camp. There was a good chance for the Task Force to snare them alive.

However, Combat officer Major Sameer Kakkar who was in command of the Task Force had a different opinion. He was reputed for never brining any inmate alive to the head-quarter.
“What’s the point? They will be tried in the court and put behind the bar for some time. Then they will be released on political amnesty. They will be renamed as surrendered ultras and they roam around free bird and continue high and mighty. They will be licensed louts to run amok. Does anyone talks about the spadework the forces put together to apprehend them? In the operation if any of my boys get killed, simply a tag of Saheed will be put on the flip card attached to their coffin and then a gaga of commiseration and if media bothers few photo-clips on the news channel and then forget their sacrifice. As a soldier I have a simple fundament, kill not to get killed.”

Though exhausted by the run-on to escape, the four brigades had no choice and split second to ruin or halt. Famished and dehydrated their muscles were knocking them down. Bruised and wounded by sharp and needled wilderness they were bleeding and bogged down.
“I can’t run anymore. I can’t…I can’t.”Bhoben was dog tired and drop to his knees
“Don’t be stupid. You know we can’t afford to stop. We’ll get killed.” Pradip who was leading the quartet commanded.
“Let me kill myself. I can’t take it anymore.” Bhoben pulled the barrel on to his neck.
“Don’t be idiotic Bhoben. What do you think you are trying to do?”Guno snatched the AK-47 from his hands.
“You fire and let them spot where we are,” refuted Pradip irritant.
“If not long let’s take a petite lull. Even I’m tired of running”, Bhaity pleaded too.
“Why don’t you guys understand?” Pradip burst forth.
“Calm down Pradip, we all understand you and obey you too. But this way we can never make it. They are whacked out. They are puerile after all.” Guna stab to conciliate.
“They are puerile and what are we? Pradip defied. “You think they will turn down their barrel because we are puerile? If we are caught they will torture out life within.”
“What a muck of this bloody life? We have become running stray dogs” Sighed Bhoben
“We took up this path knowingly. We all knew of the latent risk didn’t we?” Pradip reminded.
“Who’s denying it? But we can’t run and run and run out the soul out of us. This will be a give-up not even attempting to fight back,” Bhaity disputes.
“Are you crazy? Do you have any idea with the ammo we are left with it will take them no time to take us all down? And do you realize whom are you talking of retaliating? They are bloody Task Force, contingent from the Indian Army, versed with guerilla warfare and well-resourced with sophisticated weaponry and ammo. What match are we to them. ” Pradip tried to explain.
“Are you trying to scare us or trying to hide yourself crumpling down.” Bhoben asked exasperatedly.”
“You headless filthy pig!” Pradip jumped on to thump at Bhoben but Guna pushed him back.
“What’s wrong with you guys? This isn’t time to scuffle with each other. Enough guys let’s move on.”
“What have we asked for, few minutes of hiatus? Instead of brawling with each other we could have all sat down for a while and grab some oomph.” Bhaity uttered dejectedly.

The torment and anguish of death chasing behind causes a psychosomatic lassitude and it becomes evident not alone by the physical fatigue caused upon a person but also the waning abilities of decision making and disconcerted attitude. The thought of getting killed kills a person many times with many deaths.

Pradip was 20 years and hailed from a remote village in Coramorre near India- Bhutan border, in Assam’s Udalguri district. His father was a labourer in one of the tea garden located adjacent to the forest and hills. This locality is predominantly tea producing area and sparsely populated. The village houses are mostly situated isolated. Its proximity to dense forest and hills makes the area very vulnerable to wild animals. The menace of trespassing elephant is a regular feature. Moreover, other wildly beast often shows up lured by the domesticated animals. The conflict of survival between wildly to that of un-wildly was always a common scenario in this locality and the looming intimidation was quite usual.

But there was another duress fermenting inaudibly in the remoteness of this area as well and its proximity to Bhutan was making it up for grabs. With dense and irreconcilable forestry spread all over the hilly terrain long-drawn-out over a segment of more than 300 Km, where vigilance was obscure and impossible. Disparaging and inhospitable conditions kept the area neglected and inattentive. Besides, Bhutan hadn’t been a looming threat to India and the government felt it could condone and oversee this part of its flanking border ignorantly. But inconspicuously this uninviting and adverse situation and the ignorant government attitude was encouraging to few outlawing elements who remain in lurk of such unobserved opportunities. The area was becoming a breeding field for pro-self-rule camaraderie and a safe haven for extremists, a sanctuary for anti-social rudiments. It wasn’t an all the rage locality until the Sonbijit faction of National Democratic Front of Boroland (NDFB-S) had killed 76 people, mostly Adivasis in Sonitpur, Kokrajhar and Chirang district recently and made this ghetto known to Security forces and bureaucrats as an escape route into Bhutan.

In two shakes of a lamb’s tail, Intelligence sharing between both the countries not only confirmed illegal mobilization through the area but also discovered anchorage of well-fortified 30 established and as many as 19 makeshift Training camps belonging to various rebellious and anti-Indian groups including Maoists groups hatching destabilization to the Bhutan government.

All these camps were harboring covertly by the support of smugglers, opium traffickers and money-peckish poor natives living on the border. Part of extortion and kidnapping money was taking care of the establishment and the training expenses. Production of illicit and adulterated liquor, prostitution business and human trafficking; all unlawful activities had been booming unabated in this area.

Ariel survey by Indian Air Force revealed various thin lines through the roughages of the terrain giving impression of pathways and passages running all the way. At the preliminary fleeting look, almost all of these passages seemed to be the movement tracks of wild animals and very rarely maybe could have been dared by the two-legged ones. Venturing through such feral animal pathways has unpredictable and extreme hazards. It was calling for death. But after meticulous examination to the minutest detail there were few passageways which were different from the ones derived out by animal movement. On a magnified look, there were eye-catching dissimilarities in their pattern. These pathways were thin and were devoid of any natural damage to the contiguous surroundings of the passageway that is usually caused by the movement of herd of rampaging animals. These paths seemed to have been premeditated with meticulous reconnoitering and much pedantic thought, presumably to evade any encounter with the wildly beasts. These can’t have been used ever by the four legged ones.

The border had no clear demarcation in view of the asymmetrical topography. For the want of Military reference to the international bordering, a streak of narrow valley with a flowing shallow stream was agreed upon as “No Men’s Land” bilaterally by the Sashastra Seema Bal or SSB, forces guarding the border on the Indian side and the Royal Bhutan Army (Dzonkha) or RBA on the Bhutanese territory.

Until this time, probably Bhutan was too insignificant a neighbor. The union of India never felt the need for any treaty with their Bhutanese counterpart on the quintessential of expatriation or intelligence sharing. But in view of the ongoing capricious situation brought it to genuflect not alone to meet an accord on logistics sharing re these contagious issues but also succeeded in persuading the Bhutanese government for military action against camps breeding on their side of border. Bhutanese government also agreed upon joint coordinated operation as and when such necessity arises. This was a croc of gold for the Indian bureaucrats. In return Indian side agreed to restrain to any Anti-Bhutan Maoist activities on Indian soil and their trespass. As a strategy, security forces on both sides beefed-up monitoring over rebellious movement and agreed to abut in any joint ensnare from both obverse.
Weak and smaller nation habitually succumbs to the pressure of the giants and accedes to with certain compromises. Such superficial big-bro and obedient younger brother attitude is obvious as the smaller nations are needed to be dependent upon their oversized counterparts for security, business and funding in the name of cooperation and alliance.

The early December 2008 witnessed two massive manhunt operations both by the Royal Bhutan Army coded as “All Clear and “Night Dominance” by the Sashastra Seema Bal on the Indian side of the border. The Bhutan government took this as an opportunity to wipeout its outlawed Maoists rebels creating havoc against its own country and simultaneously pounding against the Anti-Indian insurgents. The Indian security forces on the other hand launched preventive operation against influx of any Maoist insurgents from or into Bhutan pre-empt of trouble during Bhutan Election during March 2009 simultaneously cracking down anti-Indian ultras who were trying to flee back into India after the bloody operation begun by the Royal Bhutan Army. The idea was to corner these ultras and narrow them down for the kill. By the end of 5th day as many as 19 camps of Ultras were demolished and busted by the RBA. In the operation both Ultras and the security forces of Bhutan suffered heavy causalities. While the Royal Bhutan Army was on a full offensive mood, the Indian Security forces maintained a hidden defensive stance. The Indian side was more on a “Wait, Watch and Wipe” approach to minimize causality of its forces. After almost 9 days of unabated operation there was a lull. India by hook or by crook needed to persuade its home and global audience to be behaving in a matured manner. But the Machiavelli policy was conceivable to everyone. The conceited stratagem and masquerade couldn’t be buried for too long. Sometimes such mendacious strategy becomes manifest for the larger interest of a country. Certain collateral damage in an action of such mammoth scale is inexorable.

It was perhaps Pradip’s fate that he opened his eyes in a volatilely impetuous environs. His childhood days had begun being acquainted with poachers, drug traffickers, smugglers and lately saboteurs and terrorists. When it was his days to be in the school he watched drug traffickers and smugglers making illicit deals. When he was to learn religious sermon and virtuous credo he watched poachers maiming their kill. When it was his age to amuse himself with bric-a-brac and toys he watched terrorists maneuvering their lethal weaponries. The hide and seek game had a distinct delineation and rule. He hardly realized when he became an uncommon from a commoner. He grew in dearth and realized the might of money prematurely. The terror of being powerless and powerfulness in being a terror engulfed his entire aptitude for life. More often than not the companion one lives with and at times the milieu where a person is nurtured transmute a person of disparate character.
While the Task Force was making their way close behind the quartet, meanwhile a combing operation was underway to trace out the turncoats who sheltered them. The security forces knew that no outfit could attempt a holocaust unaided. Benefactors have been consistently aiding and providing shelters to extremists. The breaking of this link would not only buy time for the security forces to sanitize but also provide with significant logistics from the interrogations to avert similar misadventures in the future.

Search cloak and dagger and off the record combing operations by the security forces often enables them to gather important breakthroughs. Many a times, such house to house search helps the security forces to apprehend extremist who hide undercover of civilians. It also leads to discovery of arms and ammunition kept covertly by the extremists. Such search operation also creates fear among the bumpkins who readily agrees to shelter extremists for measly dough.

But this modus operandi bears a different façade too. In pretense of search operation some nasty minded soldiers take the advantage to molest and rape young girls and women too. One such search operation changed the entire life of Guna.

Guna was 18, preparing for his HSLC final exams. There were very few lads from his village who were interested in schooling. But he was different. He wished to become a doctor. His village Phulbari was a sparsely populated one in the vicinity of Pabhoi reserve forest of Sonitpur district of Assam. There was only a poorly managed health center which could just provide first aid facilities only. The Health Assistant who stayed in the town would rarely visit. Guna had seen villagers die in lack of treatment. The villagers earned meagerly and couldn’t afford expensive treatment in the town. Moreover, owing to their ignorance and incomprehension they often fall prey to middleman and fraudsters.

There was a sudden thud at the door around midnight. The thud then turned into relentless banging of the door. His father, mother and younger sister were sleeping in the other room woke up wondered who must be at the door at such late of night.
“Who…who is it?” Guna’s father asked.
“Open the door. This is the Army.”
“Army, what do you want?”
“Bloody swine, questioning the Army? Open the door or we’ll break into.”

Guno’s father opened the door hesitantly. No sooner the door was opened one of the personnel dragged him out and thrashed him on the ground. They started kicking and blowing him erratically. Hearing the old man cry out of pain Guno rushed to the door. Another companion hit him with the butt of his rifle on the face and he fall bleeding on the ground too. The personnel kicked relentlessly at him too. The women folk rushed out of the room screaming and begging for mercy. But the personnel had different thought in their mind. They pushed them inside the room and raped them one after the other.

Next morning Guno and his father were in the Army Camp. They were tied up by the tree letting to the sun and were tormented to hell. Guno’s father succumbed to the torture injuries. Few days later Guno was convicted of aiding and sheltering extremist. It was claimed that an AK47 was recovered from his dwelling with live bullets and hard cash. Guno was imprisoned for nine months and later released on court bail. He returned home to find his sister had committed suicide. His mother was as good as dead. The incident led Guno to upsurge such animosity in his core that he vows to vengeance and seemed won’t unwind till he accomplished it. He had developed a hard rancor towards the Security forces.

Rain had stopped. The foursomes were still running. With the rain having stopped they knew they need to hurry up now. Unable to negotiate the thin muddy path Bhoben slipped his foothold and tumbled down into a steep slope. He rolled almost 20 feet down and somehow could caught hold of a vine and managed to hang on to it. A few feet more and he would have fallen smash to smithereens on a hard rock into a certain death. The fall had however left his right ankle kaput. He shivered out of pain and cried out for help.

Pradip quickly pulled out his mountaineering rope and tied it to a tree.
“Stop Pradip. You can’t make it” resisted Guno.
“No I have to. I can’t leave him to die.”

Pradip loosen the lock of his rope hook to let his body slide down on the ground. It was too slippery with protruding sharp rocks and thorny bushes ripping his body apart. He envisaged the trash the fall must have caused to Bhoben. He finally reached him. Resting his foot firmly on a tree trunk Pradip passed the rope to Bhoben.
“Hook in the rope into your hanger and take my support to push yourself up.”
“Ooh! I can’t. I think I have buckled my ankle.”
“You have to if you want to stay alive.”
With much difficulty Bhuban hooked himself by the rope and gradually lifted himself up.

While Pradip stood with his feet nailed on the tree trunk suddenly he felt a muscular fat rope like thing was crawling over his legs and moving up around his body slowly twisting itself. Pradip realized it was a python going around his body. If he wouldn’t react fast he would soon be squeezed to death to become a feast to the reptile. He took out his bayonet and hit hard on it running over his haunch. The sharp edge pierced through it and hit his legs too. Ignoring his wound he pulled the bayonet up through the slit. He could feel the warm blood dripping down his legs. With a hiss the python climbed off his body.

After Bhoben reached the top Pradip was pulled up too.
“Thank you Bro for saving my life” Bhoben was feeling guilty for his rudeness sometime back.
Pradip patted on his back, “Brother, we have got to save each other as long as we can.”
Both Pradip and Bhoben were bleeding. Guno lifted Bhoben on his back and moved on.
“Somehow we have to reach the stream. That’s the no men’s land. Indian forces will not cross it. That’s our only chance to survive. We can take rest over there.”Pradip assured.

Bhoben hailed from a small village near Rangapara of Sonitpur District in Assam. His father was a farmer. Bhoben would help his father in cultivation. They led an ordinary life. However, the produce of their land was adequate to see them through. They were happy; a happy family until Bhoben’s father took a bank loan to renovate their house and to buy fertilizer and few farming implements for his paddy field. Bhoben’s father was illiterate so he took the help of a familiar acquaintance who worked in the bank.

“You don’t worry. Put your thumb impression on the loan request form. I’ll do the rest.”
“You are so kind and helpful person. I will repay the money as soon as possible.” said Bhoben’s father gratefully.
“You don’t worry about that. You will only need to pay back a prefixed and easy installment regularly.”
“I heard the borrower needs to mortgage something for loan?” asked Bhoben’s father.
“Your land is good enough for that. Your residence can also be kept as mortgage in addition if necessary. I’ll arrange everything. You will need to provide your land documents in originals to the bank for endorsement.”
“Will they keep it with them till my debt is cleared? Will it be safe?” Bhoben’s father asked.
“It’s an official formality only. This is a bank and is governed by norms. There is no way that one can cheat you. The bank has got a reputation. They are dealing such loan sanction with so many clients on a day to day basis. No one would have opted for this bank if it weren’t reliable.”
“Do I have to come to the bank every month to repay? Actually I don’t know anything about bank procedures. The rush in the bank in fact garrotes me.” Bhoben’s father admitted.
“Alright, I will collect the amount from you and pay it to the bank. Happy now?”
“You are really very kind. I feel I possess some bridle with you of my previous life.” Bhoben’s father felt indebted.

Months passed well-looked-after and hassle free. The acquaintance would come and collect the installment sum and for some months also handed over a receipt.
“Retain these receipts carefully.”

After just about two years the acquaintance stopped coming. But no one suspected as he often use to go to other towns with assignments. But this time it seemed he went for a longer one. One fine morning Bhoben’s family had few unfamiliar visitors at their doorstep.
“We are from the bank.”
“Oh, welcome. Please come in and be seated.” Bhoben’s father greeted them.
“It’s okay. We have come to see your house and your meadow.”
“Sure, this will be indeed a pleasure. This is my house as you see. Earlier it use to be thatched roof but from part of the loan amount we replaced the thatch with GCI sheets. Thatch as you know incurred more maintenance and cost. Last monsoon we had much peace of mind.”
“Could you take us to your paddy field now?”
“My field is just behind my house. Look at my field; it is so green. It gives such a soothing feel you know. For a farmer his field is his life. The growing paddy is like growing children.”
“How was your crop last year?”
“Oh! It was very satisfying. The new cultivation implements were quite helpful. Good fertilizers always give higher yield. We harvested plenteous crop last year. We have earned amply. This was all made possible but for the loan from your bank.”
“If you had a good harvest and had earned well, then why didn’t you repay your loan?”
“Why, but we are regularly paying the installments.”
“You have so far repaid a scanty part of your loan and in three fragments.”
“What are you saying? I will show you the receipts.” Bhoben’s father took out three receipts and handed over to the bank officials.
“Three receipts for three part installments.”
“But I had been sending the installments through your own official every month.”
“Which official are you talking about? None of our official goes for collection of installments from the debtors.”
“No he works in your bank. He helped me to get the loan sanctioned from your bank.”
“We are sorry, but we reckon you have fallen prey in the hands of some agent.”
“Now what is an agent?”
“An agent is a middleman, a broker but not a bank employee.”
“But I saw him working inside the bank, in the counter.”
“You could have seen him inside the bank because such person builds up connection with bank officials to hasten up the bank proceedings.”
“But why does your bank allow these kinds of people inside your banks if they don’t work?”
“We can’t prevent any client from meeting a bank official.”
“Just now you said he was an agent not a client or bank official.”
“For us a person who facilitates any of our clients is an associate of the client itself.”
“But how do we distinguish a bank official from such agent if everyone is allowed inside the bank?”
“Normally everyone can distinguish…but for you all maybe it will be little difficult or may be a ill fortune.”
“Of course it is.”
“Do you know what loan amount you had sought for and what amount has been sanctioned to you by the bank?”
“Yes, I asked for a loan of One Lakh.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am. And why did you ask this silly question?”
“…Because as per your loan plea you had asked for 10 Lakhs and the bank had sanctioned you the whole sum after valuation of your land and your house which you have given under mortgage to the bank.”
“This is cheating…this is a fetid play with me. How could you people do like this. Get out of my house…Get out…or else I will kill you all.”

They all knew the old man was naïve and guiltless. He had fallen into wrong hands. He has been cheated. But circumstantial evidences were against him. The law had to take its course. His thumb impression spoke against him. His ignorance and rather his trust towards a person whom he presumed to be a bank official conned him. His being illiterate and simple hearted doomed him.

Finally the bank lodged an FIR against him. He went through the juggleries of the court and the twists and knots of trial proceedings proved him wrong, a defaulter. The court considering his version sentenced him to repay 9 Lakhs 20 Thousand exempting him from the levied interest for past two years but gave him the option of either repaying the balance amount as per the pre-determined installments and interest or repay the whole amount within next six months and resolve the debt. The court pronounced that in event he is unable to pay the sum as directed by the court the bank had justified right to mart the entire property under mortgage after elapse of six months and replenish the debt and the surplus if any to be returned to the debtor.

The old man had lost all; His house, his paddy field, the bullocks and the equipments, everything that belonged to him for his shelter and livelihood. He knew he could never pay the debt and thus never be able to acquire his possessions back. The court did its best to relieve him but it was not adequate. He couldn’t take the shock and suffered a heart attack.
“Bhoben, my son…I am sorry. I couldn’t leave behind anything for you.”
“Don’t feel at fault, father. It isn’t your mistake.”
“No son. It is mine. I wronged to judge the world. Everyone to me looked alike. I never realized that the splattered colours of a rainbow look beautiful because we want to see it beautiful. In reality they are the posse of seven different colours bearing different meaning and dissimilar significance. I made the mistake of reckoning them to be one, beautiful and all alike.” The old man died but left behind Bhoben with the wrath to vengeance.
“My father died because of this bank. They robed us of everything we had. Now I will settle the scores with them.”

The following night Bhoben was standing near the bank. In the pitch darkness and isolation he nearly washed the entire building of the bank with gasoline from outside and then set it ablaze. The inferno was very violent. It not only burnt the bank but also gutted adjoining buildings. Fire engines from all nearby stations were rushed to the spot but by the time they reached it was too late and too little for them to do. The inferno had spread too wide and far for the fire engines to extinguish. Bhoben stood quietly at a distance and watched the spectacle. The cadaver of his deceased father also burnt in the same manner. The building would come up again, the loss caused to the bank would be made up but his father will never come back again. The torment his father died with shall never get comforted. With the dying inferno he begun to pray that his father’s affliction be succored.

But this was just one cut of his vengeance. The key culprit was still unfettering and unpunished. He recalled the conversation of the agent with his father. The agent had shared his desire to buy a flat in Goneshgurie in Guwahati. Though he wasn’t sure but he decided to look for him in Guwahati. He didn’t know his name but he distinctly remembered the face of the ugly hearted man. How could he forget the man who has shattered his family; the man who stabbed his father’s trust? He took up a job of table cleaner in a pedestrian restaurant, seemingly a commonplace for the wanderer to drop in. For over three months he worked patiently keeping a watch on each and every customer and the passerby. Then one day his search was over and done with. He saw the man on the other side of the road stopping by a paan shop for a cigarette. He followed him like a shadow wherever he went. By the dusk the man walked through a narrow isolated lane. He picked up a boulder ample large to handle and enough big to kill. He walked faster and reached him.
“How are you sir?”
Before the man could turn around he was hit hard on his head and fall on the ground bleeding. He looked up to see his marauder.
“You?”
“Yes, it’s me. You thought you will get away just like that.” He hit him with the boulder again on his head.
“Aghh…Forgive me. Please don’t kill me.”
“You must die, because you killed my father.” He rammed the boulder again and again on the head till it writhe and smashed beyond resurgence. Then he felt his breath. The man was dead. With his death Bhoben’s last smidgen of innocence and childhood died too.

Bhoben knew that sooner or later he will be caught. He will be jailed or may be hanged for his decree. So he took leave from his family to go to the horizon of never return.
“Stay back son; we are already bereft. We can still manage to our destitute.”
“Mother, I’ll not be allowed by the law of this land to stay with you even if I want.”
“No, I still have trust in the law. We’ll do anything to save you.”
“Like what we did for father? Could we beg justice for him? Could we keep him alive?”

The pitch black cloud nine was turning vivid with the advent of dawn. Pradip looked up towards the sky. The blur due to the overcast was opening out as the rain cloud was dispersing with the current of wind blowing at horizons.
“We must hurry up. We can’t camouflage in the daylight.”
“Pradipda, how far are we from the stream?”Bhaity asked wearied.
“I guess 8 Km…or maybe little more.”

Bhaity comes from Gohpur Teenali in Assam. He is youngest in the team. He was always jaded by academic wedge. He always liked companionship further up the ladder than him in age. They were also fond of him as he would abet them. In return he would always be protected and cared upon. He would listen to them inquisitively and tried to replicate them. In the street brawl he would always be in the frontier with his senior lads. He cultivated patronage for zealotry hearing from his senior pals. He was captivated by their ideologies, lifestyle, attire and might. He rapt by the weaponry ultras carry. His joining extremism was not by any compulsion but by the immature choice of fascination.

In a street brawl, the cops picked up Bhaity along with his other gangster. Bhaity was a minor so he wasn’t put behind the bar but the constables thrashed him black and blue. He was made to kneel down. Later his father was called to take away his son. Bhaity’s father was dejected with his son’s ongoing activities. He had been receiving complaints about his son from all over. Bhaity had already been expelled from the school for his misdemeanor. Pedestrian vendors keep complaining about his rogue behavior. Neighbor would complain about Bhaity’s stealing habits. He would steal from his own house. He had become a thorn in the flesh for everyone.
“Take away your son. Next time we pick him up we shall transfer him to juvenile rehabilitation center.”
“Why wait till next time, send him away now only. He is a curse to me. I’m fed up with his delinquencies.”
“You can’t take care of your son? Give him some good beating at home.”
“You think he is spared at home? His skin has become thick like rhinos. He doesn’t pay heed to anyone.”
“Don’t be silly. Ask his mother to counsel him.”
“This scoundrel beats his mother too, can you imagine? Few days back he kicked her so hard that she was bedridden for a week.”
“Bloody hell, if at this premature age he is so wild what would he be when he grows up. Take him home. We can’t keep him here.”
“Do whatever you want to do with him. I disown him. If I were to take him home, tomorrow either you will find me standing here behind the bar for killing him or you all will be running around sniffing and nosing for him for killing us all at home.”

Bhaity was disconsolate. He couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. He wondered why his behavior with everyone was so critical about. He does what normally adults do, then why was he being reviled? What was wrong in his becoming big? People feared him. What’s different was it from being feared and being respected? Both led to the trait control and power. What was the worth in being sober and obedient? Even vagabond begs their alms with soberness and obedience. What was the merit of being educated and seek a job? Doing a job under other is slavery. He shall rather be a master than become a slave. He concluded that adults are all selfish and jealous. They are unable to concur that what he had at such a young age achieved they can’t do in their lifetime. They are unable to resist their ego. This was nothing but a ploy to foil his virtuoso. This was the time and opportunity to see eye to eye into his scruples and test his self-confidence and realization of his dream.

Major Sameer looked at his watch.
“4:10; hmm. The blood on the ground is fresh. The foursome must be at proximity.”
“One or the other of them is badly hurt.”
“Yeah, it’s good for us. They can’t press forward.”
“Yup, retrogress of pace owing to wounded buddy.”
“Sir, I always sees you kissing a snap before commencing an action.”
“My dad”
“Is he…”
“No he is no more, died in an operation in J&K.”
“I’m sorry sir.”
“It’s alright. We all joined the force with this preempt.”
“How did it happen, sir?”
“Something similar to what we are onto now. My dad with his contingent was after two Pakistani fugitives trying to cross over the border. They broke the prison or rather they were abetted out of their detention. Frequent jailbreaks and abscond of terrorists was off-putting the morale of the security forces. It was becoming necessary to raise the curtain and faceoff the facilitators. The fugitives were cornered in the hills of the Kupwara sector. The gunfire continued overnight. My dad wanted to seize them alive so that the traitor undercover could be exposed.”
“How did the fugitives got so much of gun power?”
“They who let them out gave them enough to survive and get across.”
“What happened after?”
“Forces had been narrowing the hideout. My dad saw some movement behind an old tree trunk. He along with few men surrounded it. To their shock they found a boy, hardly in his 13 or 14 years hiding in the cavern of the tree trunk. He pleaded for mercy. He was crying. My dad felt pity on him. Perhaps he had mistaken him to a shepherd boy or perhaps he saw my semblance in him and wanted to let him not die. Dad asked him to be in there till he comes back later. The boy nodded his head. Dad had moved just about few steps away and he was shot from behind. Nobody suspected that the boy had an automatic pistol under his kurta. The boy was seized and sterilized. Dad succumbed to his injuries in the hospital.”
“What a vile?”
“Yeah, a total squander for being humane.”
“And that’s why you say, ‘Kill not to get killed’.”
“Absolutely! Forces put head over heel to nab these predators alive. They target and martyrs security personnel day in day out. And then someone in the white apparel would let them loose.”
“This is ghastly annoying and disgusting sir.”
“Yeah, it is and it was always and it will always be.”
“Ironically the civilians always stand on their side. Round the clock we risk our lives to secure and protect them from these merciless assailants yet they treat them as knight in shining armor.”
“Not the entire lot, only few fistful people who can shout slogans and who are being paid for this job. The ones who realize the nude fact are on our side but are too few and too scared to gripe.”
“But why do they need to be scared of? After all they are being protected.”
“Protected by whom? Is it possible to guard public at every nooks and corner of the country side? The khaki uniformed cops parades on the whims and fancies of the politicians. The Politicians are only bothered about their votes. They always pretend jingoistic but acts paradoxically. They need issues favorable for their election campaign.”

The foursome with much hard graft reached the stream. They looked at each in respite and smiled.
“We will take some rest here” said Pradip.
Guno gently put down Bhoben on the ground.
“You stupid stupor, what bloody piggy weight you have gained. Once we are back in the camp I’ll squeeze you to slim down.”
They all laughed.
“How bad is your wound? Bhaity asked.
“Wound? Don’t be crazy. I was tired and wanted somebody to carry me.” Bhoben crackled.
“Jokes apart, let me see your wound” Padip examined.
Bhoben was in bad shape. The limb bone had fractured and pierced through the flesh. Blood dripped unstoppably. The leg swollen and had become green indicating severe infection.
“Buddy, Kudos to you. You are really bad. You need immediate medical attention. Guys get up. He’s got to go. Need taking him to the camp fast.”Pradip asserted.
Bhoben hold his shoulder, “Pal, let them rest for a while. We have escaped death. Let them celebrate it for a while. We may not get this moment of jubilation together again. I can hold myself. Trust me.”

Out of the bloom a bullet struck Bhoben’s neck and killed him instantly.
“Take cover…everybody take cover.”Pradip yelled.
There was unfathomable and indiscriminate firing.
“Run across the stream…run…run…run” Pradip shouted
The trio ran towards the stream firing at the Task force. The gun fire from the Indian side was fierce. The Indian combatants had already positioned themselves wide and secured before starting the fire play. They were all in advantageous posts. They could see the movement of the three extremists clearly hiding behind the tree trunks while the trio fired blindly unable to ascertain the position of their assailants.

In the run amok amidst crossfire, Bhaity got hit by several bullets and fall into the shallow stream. The oozing blood from his body dripped through the clear colourless sinuous stream and turned it red. He looked at Pradip and Guno who were still firing and trying to make their way across the stream. He realized they can’t save him. He looked at the sun. It was bright and scintillating. His lust for power and unsavory reputation was gradually dying with him. He was envisaging the meaningless and meaningful expletive of life. Meanwhile few more bullets hit his out in the open body but he wasn’t feeling the pain any more.

Guno managed to cross the stream.
“I’m giving you cover Pradip. Run across.” He started firing at random towards the Indian Border side and suddenly he was hit by indiscriminate bullets on his back. Flabbergasted and beleaguered he turned round to see. The forces of the Royal Bhutan Army had lined up on their side of border and according the ambush with the Indian counterpart. He falls dead on the ground.
“Cowards! Firing from behind your hidey-hole! Come out and fight face to face if you have balls!” Pradip challenged.
Bullets from both the sides of the border hit him hollowing him to death.

The fire play ceased. There was smoke everywhere. The air smelt gunpowder. The ground was splattered here and there with blood and bits and pieces of crumpled and creased human flesh. There was no sign of any movement by the quartet lying on the ground. Two white flags unfurled on both the side of the border as soon as the smoke died out. The top dogs from both the sides walked to each other.

“Major: Sameer Kakkar, 114 Infantry Battalion Jat Regiment, Indian Army.”
“Lingpon: Norbu Wangchuk 17 Brigade Royal Bhutan Army.”
“Thank you Lingpon: Norbu for your brace. Excellent coordination.”
“You’re welcome Major Sameer. There will be many more of such joint operations.”
“Yes, this is done for the time being.”
“Yeah. This is done for the day. Look at them, they are all kids.”
“They would have become havoc in few years time.”
“You are right. These groups have no sagacity of warfare ethics. At least should have spared the puerile boys.”
“Puerile boys are easy for sculpting and prompting pessimistically. They are the easy moldable. This is their strategy.”
“Now what? What to do with the bodies?”
“Can’t take these kids to my country. The Human Right Orgies will create hassle.”
“Hmm… If I take them to mine, eventually we’ll need to handover them to you only.”
“We are both standing in no men’s land by the bye.”
“Grave them here in no men’s land and …”
“…Grave the hullabaloo with them ad infinitum.”
“So let them rest in peace in no men’s land alone.”
“Yep! I ambushed them, had a firefight. But they make-do to cross over the no men’s land.”
“True, I ambushed them, had a firefight. They went extinct in the boonies.”
“So that’s a deal.”
“Yeah, that’s a deal.”
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