Evening fell softly over the army quarters, draping everything in amber light. As Naveen stepped into the compound of Major Sangram Singh Sanger, his eyes caught the solitary figure of the officer seated outside in the lawn.

Sangram sat perfectly still, lost in a game of chess he was playing against himself—each move deliberate, like a man unafraid of silence.

"Good evening, sir," Naveen greeted, stepping through the gate with the warmth of familiarity.

Sangram looked up briefly, the corner of his mouth tugging into a faint smile.

"Come, Pandey. Shall we play a round?"

Without a word, Naveen took the chair opposite him. They both knew the routine well—no salutes, no formalities, just the silent pull of a game both loved deeply. Whenever time permitted, this was their refuge. Chess wasn't just a game; it was their common language.

Moments passed in quiet concentration before Sangram spoke again, his voice low and steady, “Did you speak to your family?”

“Yes, sir. My sister’s alliance has been fixed. Her fiancé is a havaldar in the army, posted in Jammu.”

“That’s great! Congratulations.” A rare hint of enthusiasm touched Sangram’s otherwise stoic face. “By the way, your one-week leave has been sanctioned.”

“Yes, sir,” Naveen replied, pleased.

“When are you heading home?”

“Early next week, sir.”

A pause. Then, Naveen’s eyes lit up.

“And congratulations to you too, sir.”

“For what?” Sangram looked up, mildly puzzled, his tone unreadable.

“I heard you're being awarded the Sena Medal at the Delhi Headquarters. Upadhyay Sir mentioned it.”

“Oh… that.” Sangram looked away, his voice indifferent, almost brushing it off.

But Naveen’s silence that followed said it all. When Sangram looked back at him, he noticed the unmistakable pride glowing in the young man’s eyes—a reverent glint that no words could veil.

He smiled. Naveen smiled back, sheepishly.

Sangram watched him for a moment longer. Naveen was fully engrossed in the chessboard again, eyes fixed, mind ticking. Then Sangram said, almost as if thinking aloud, “Sometimes, you remind me a lot of Vikram.”

Naveen looked up, surprised. “Your brother? The one in the Air Force?”

Sangram nodded, smiling faintly. He rarely spoke of Vikram. He rarely spoke at all.

There was a beat of silence before Naveen filled it, his voice softer now.

“I remember the news... when he was martyred. I was preparing for NDA back then. That same day, my result came out—I didn’t make it. I remember seeing the coverage on TV... how the martyr, Flight Lieutenant Vikram Singh Sanger, had a brother who couldn’t attend the funeral due to active duty. That was the moment I decided—whether I join as an officer or a soldier, I would wear the olive green. And then, when I had the honor of meeting you, of knowing who you really were... I just made you my everything here, sir.”

Sangram’s gaze held steady. “I know. And so what if NDA didn’t work out? You're still preparing for the course exams. You’ll go far, Pandey—farther than any of us. Higher than all of us.”

“You’re the only one who says that, sir. No one else even believes in me.”

“I do.”

Those two words, spoken with conviction, lit up Naveen’s face. A compliment from Sangram wasn’t just encouragement—it was a force, a push that could move mountains.

“And I believe you’ll become Lieutenant Colonel soon, sir.”

Sangram chuckled, almost shyly. “Not so fast. First I’ll have to clear the Colonel board. And those boards don’t clear easily—not for anyone.”

“You’ll clear it in the first attempt, sir. Everyone knows of your exemplary service. The operations you've led, the impossible missions... your profile is unmatched.”

“Alright, alright.” Sangram raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hungry?”

Before Naveen could respond, Sangram was already getting up. He turned and wagged a finger.

“Don’t even think of touching the chessboard while I’m gone. If I find one pawn out of place, I’ll shoot you on the spot.”

Naveen laughed. “I won’t, sir! I swear.”

He watched the officer disappear indoors. Sangram was nothing like the typical senior—no airs, no orders barked. He did everything himself and treated everyone as equals, regardless of their rank or background. That’s what Naveen admired most. In Sangram’s presence, he never felt like just a subordinate—he felt like a younger brother.

---

A week later

The bus shuddered to a stop at the dusty outpost of Nariyapur’s lone bus stand, kicking up clouds of reddish dirt as it groaned and hissed.

Naveen stepped off, a massive duffel slung across his shoulder. As the bus rumbled away over the broken, half-existent road, he set the bag down, closed his eyes, and took a long breath of home. This was his soil, his air, his roots—he could feel them in every gust of wind.

“Navi!!!” A voice from behind.

He turned just in time to see Mahesh, his childhood friend, bounding toward him like a man possessed.

“You dog! It really is you!” Mahesh leapt up, practically climbing onto him, arms around his neck, legs locking around his waist.

“Get off, you idiot! People will get the wrong idea,” Naveen grumbled playfully, trying to shake him off.

But Mahesh wouldn’t budge. Both of them broke into laughter.

“So? What’s up with Santosh, Billu, Bharat… how’s everyone?”

“All busy with their city jobs,” Mahesh replied, putting his feet back on the ground. “And guess what? Santosh is learning English now—got a fancy promotion! I’ll tell everyone you’re here. They’ll come running to see you.”

They laughed again, the years melting away.

Mahesh assured him they’d already done a full background check on Raman’s family—everything was good, and Nandini would be happy there. Naveen nodded in quiet gratitude. Then Mahesh, being Mahesh, wrestled the duffel away and carried it himself as they began walking toward Nariyapur.

“Does your family know you’re coming?” Mahesh asked over his shoulder.

“Nope. That’s the fun of it,” Naveen grinned.

---

Meanwhile, back in the village...

Nandini was walking home after school, her satchel swinging gently by her side. Yet, for some reason, a creeping sensation followed her—like someone was behind her.

She kept glancing over her shoulder, but the path remained empty.

Suddenly, a loud shout erupted behind her.

“THERE’S A BOMB HERE! IT’S ABOUT TO EXPLODE! RUNNN!!”

Nandini shrieked, instinctively crouching down, covering her ears, trembling as she squatted by the roadside. She had always been terrified of loud noises—firecrackers, blasts, anything that shattered the peace.

A moment later, raucous laughter echoed behind her.

She turned, furious and bewildered, only to see Naveen and Mahesh bent over, clutching their bellies with laughter.