Four Years Later

Two men were sitting at a small shop, chatting about the world and its endless affairs, when a third man approached. The shopkeeper, who had been in the middle of a sentence, immediately fell silent.

“Ah, Mohan ji! What a surprise. How come you remembered the way to our little shop today? Please, come in, come in. Tell me, what can I do for you today?” The shopkeeper dropped the previous conversation entirely and turned his full attention to the new arrival.

“Oh, what could I possibly ask of you?” Mohan Pandey replied with a polite chuckle. “Actually, I just came to pick up the newspaper. Ours didn’t arrive at home today.”

“Of course, of course! Here you go,” the shopkeeper said with evident pleasure, handing over a neatly folded paper from the counter. Mohan took it with a nod of gratitude and quietly left.

The man seated beside the shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. “Who was that? Quite the warm welcome you gave him.”

“You don’t know him? That was Mohan Pandey. He’s from Nariyapur—you know, the village close by.”

“Nariyapur, huh? Never seen him before.”

“Not surprising. He keeps to himself. A good man, really.”

“Hmm. He certainly looked the part.”

“Yes. His goodness and his hard work have borne fruit—both of his children stand tall on their own feet now.”

“Oh? Tell me about the family then", the man asked with growing curiosity.

“Well, there’s his wife, their elder daughter Nandini, and their younger son, Naveen. Nandini works as a teacher in a government school. As for Naveen... ah, what a boy! He always dreamt of joining the Army—and now he’s not just a soldier, he’s a Lance Naik.”

The shopkeeper paused, searching his memory. “And he’s in... what do they call it... the regiment where soldiers leap over tall walls like it’s child’s play, jump down from insane heights…”

“The Parachute Regiment?”

“Yes! That’s it!”

“You should’ve just said he’s a para commando. Army elite.”

“Oh Jagjeevan bhai, I’m just a simple man. What do I know of such things? Your son Raman is in the Army—you’d know all the proper terms.”

Jagjeevan Sharma chuckled.

“The Pandeys are highly respected in Nariyapur,” the shopkeeper continued. “The daughter, Nandini—she’s always been exceptional. And the boy? Equally impressive. When a father pours all his blood and sweat into raising his children, and they make his name shine with pride—what greater blessing could there be? You understand, don’t you, Jagjeevan bhai? Your son Raman, a havildar in the army, has brought you the same honour. The whole village respects you.”

Jagjeevan only smiled in response. Then, after a thoughtful pause, he asked, “What did you say the daughter’s name was?”

“Nandini. Ah, what can I say about her—an extraordinary girl. First one from the village to study at a university in the city. Now she’s a teacher, educating the whole of Nariyapur. Teaches village kids for free, too.”

“She’s not engaged, is she?” Jagjeevan asked carefully.

“That I wouldn’t know. But why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking... Raman needs a good, educated girl. What do you think? How old would she be?”

“About twenty-five or twenty-six, I’d say. Younger than Raman. Shall I talk to them?”

“No, not yet. Let’s wait. I’ll look into things myself, quietly. Then if everything seems right, I’ll speak to them directly, at their home.”

“As you wish, bhai ji. But let me tell you, you won’t find a better daughter-in-law than Nandini. A mature, kind-hearted girl.”

“We’ll see. If it’s God’s will,” Jagjeevan said with a serene smile.

---

The sound of the door creaking open echoed through the small house. Out in the verandah, Rani Devi was grinding spices with a stone mortar and pestle. She glanced up briefly as Nandini entered, then returned to her task.

Nandini was wearing a simple cotton saree in pale yellow, adorned with tiny white flowers. Her hair, tied back in a loose bun, had started to come undone, stray strands falling across her back.

“I knew it. The moment I step out, you’re back to doing this again,” she said, gently scolding her mother. “Then at night you’ll say your joints hurt. I’ve told you so many times—you don’t need to do this anymore. We have a mixer grinder for a reason.”

“But it doesn’t feel the same, bitiya,” her mother replied with a smile. “Look at how fine this paste is. Besides, I need something to keep me occupied. You take care of the whole house. Should I just sit around and wait for my knees to stiffen?”

“Oh come on! Who’s an old woman? You’re still young,” Nandini laughed, wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. You just got home. Go wash up. I’ll set the food out for you, alright, Teacher Madam?” Rani teased, and Nandini nodded, chuckling.

They had just sat down to eat when Mohan Pandey returned home. Rani began setting out his food too. As always, he and Nandini fell into their usual rhythm—discussing national news, politics, and world affairs.

But Nandini kept glancing at her phone.

“Your son will call. He can’t digest a single meal without hearing your voice first,” her mother said, laughing. She knew Nandini was waiting for Naveen's call.

“He’s changed, Amma. Ever since he joined the Army, he can digest everything just fine without me.” She was irritated.

“Oh? He’s my son now?” Rani laughed. “I thought you were his mother. No one spoils him like you do. The way you rush to fulfil every wish of his…”

“And He’s no different,” Mohan chimed in. “Whether it’s something big or small, Naveen always calls her first—not us. It’s like we don’t even exist.”

“Oh come on now,” Nandini said, a bit defensively.

“You both grew up eating barely enough. And even then, you’d share your morsels with him. And look how he’s repaid that love—by putting you first, always. Your love is my strength,” Mohan said, his voice thick with emotion. “When I look at life now and think of how it was back then, I can hardly believe it. The very people who once avoided us now come up to greet us. All because of my children. Today, my head is held high among our kin.”

“Don’t say things like that. You’ll cast an evil eye on them,” Rani said, and they all laughed.

Nandini, though still a bit anxious about Naveen’s delayed call, joined in the laughter and finally started eating with them.

---

Unknown Location, Jammu & Kashmir

Night

A deadly silence blanketed the dense forest. Moving through it with the precision of shadows were a group of unidentified armed men—alert, silent, invisible.

The lead man made a hand signal: Target in sight—two individuals, fifty meters ahead.

From a few paces behind, another signal came in: Kill zone at thirty meters. No sound before that.

This was the team leader. The group advanced slowly, barely making a sound. They were still beyond the thirty-meter mark when—

BANG!

A sudden burst of gunfire—and then an explosion.

“NAVEEN!!!” a voice rang out, echoing through the night.

“Shit, shit, shit!” One of the commandos yanked off his helmet and night-vision goggles, furious.

“What the hell, man? Firing before thirty meters?! You're gonna get us all screwed. Upadhyay Sir is gonna skin us alive when he sees this! He’ll give us zero across the board just to prove a point. Another one barked at Naveen.

“Yeah, we know you’re brave, bro,” another snapped. “But it’s a practice mission. There are rules. You were better off in the infantry—you’re ruining things for all of us here in Para!”

Naveen stood there, staring at the burning effigies—dummy targets placed under a tree for simulation drills. There should have been precise bullet holes. Instead, a premature explosion. Mission: failed.

"Will you shut up already? It wasn't that big a screw-up. We just opened fire a few meters too soon. Big deal. Rules and plans don’t always cut it. We’re Para Commandos — we’re meant to be unpredictable!" Naveen declared, charging ahead with the swagger of a soldier who didn’t fear consequences.

"Yeah? What will be predictable is the punishment Subedar Deshraj Upadhyay dishes out. He’ll grind us into the dirt, mark my words," muttered the commando behind him, shaking his head.

The others laughed — nervously.

But then, a voice sliced through the air like a bullet.

"No punishment today. Not from me."

Silence.

All of them snapped to attention like statues. Faces expressionless. Minds spinning.

Standing ahead of them was the last man they expected to hear mercy from —

Subedar Deshraj Upadhyay, their mission instructor. And yet, there he was, saying there would be no punishment… for a failed mission.

"YES, SIR!" they barked in unison, adrenaline rising.

Upadhyay gave a faint, lopsided smile.

"Enjoy," he said simply, and walked away.

For a moment, disbelief hung heavy.

"This... this is the eighth wonder of the world," one commando whispered. "Upadhyay Sir just let us go? After a botched training op?"

Just then, another Para Commando came running across the forest— this one hadn’t been part of the failed mission.

He grinned like the bearer of a storm.

"Ready for punishment, boys?" he shouted.

Naveen narrowed his eyes. "Subedar sir called us back?"

The commando chuckled darkly. "Oh no, lads. Subedar sahab won’t be giving you the punishment today."

A beat of silence. Then, all together:

"Then who will?"

The commando simply raised a hand and pointed to the high ground.

There, silhouetted against the sky, stood a lone officer in uniform. Hands clasped behind his back. Watching them. Still. Intense. Waiting.

"The devil is here," the commando said with reverence and fear.

Every head turned.

A few throats went dry.

"Sangram Sir..." someone whispered.

"Lag gaye **...(We’re screwed)," Naveen muttered, his voice barely a breath.