2024
In the narrow lanes of Kashmir, the crown of India, and along a particularly snowy street, Ishar got off his motorbike and walked up the wooden stairs. All he wanted to do was to embrace the comfort of his warm, fire-lit room.
The keys jingled in his pocket with every single step he took, as he opened the door with a funny shoulder push, ignoring the slight pinch cutting his arm.
The whole apartment was quiet and deadly still.
Ishar tip-toed up the stairs as silently as he could, and then rushed to his door. He closed the door and sat on a carved wooden chair.
It had been a long ride from the airport, a quick rush around half the world in a mere day. And to think that he had a flight to Punjab in 3 hours- it made him groan just by looking at the ticket.
After collapsing on a comfy chair, Ishar raised his bandaged hand and stared at it for a good, long five minutes.
He had carelessly got himself hurt in the haste of a soldier…again.
He rolled his eyes and quickly changed his bandages, applied cream on the wound and made dinner. He had memorized all his mother's famous recipes, for cooking was a vital ability to all soldiers. After eating the delicious, yet simple food, Ishar turned off all the lights and stared at the sky, as the moonlight gleamed a natural consolation.
He looked up to the sky through the silver of his window. The stars were shining like glittering gemstones through the clear, rocky sky. Living next to the majestic Himalayas meant a scenic view and fresh breezes. Out of the corner of his eye, Ishar saw a bright blue light appear- a shooting star. He closed his eyes and made a wish.
It was always the same wish.
To be blessed with the strength to protect Mother India and those he loved, always and forever. Satisfied, he closed his eyes for a good night's sleep.
Unknown to him, outside, in the black ripples of the sky, the blue light grew ominously brighter than ever.
After some hours, at exactly 2:00 am, Ishar woke up, brushed his teeth, exercised , took a bath and started to get dressed. In the next hour, he would be on a flight to Punjab, to collect some 'soldiery' stuff, and then return back to his cozy place in Kashmir.
The next 30 minutes went in a flurry of thoughts. After doing what everyone does before an essential flight, he got into a cab, went to the airport, sat inside an airplane, ate some apples, drank some orange juice, got off the airplane and started dancing all around the airport.
Actually he didn't start dancing. That was just to get your attention.
Anyways, Ishar, in a very joyous mood, began on his journey to his mother's house in Punjab. The dawn had barely broken out, yet the familiar fields brought a sense of warmth and calmness to his mind. It was a little disappointing that he would have to leave his house as soon as he collected his things. Soon, the familiar view of a beautiful, classic home appeared on the horizon. No matter how many years, the home still provided that amazing magic of nostalgia and love. Ishar left the cab and rang the doorbell.
In a second, he was almost knocked down by a sudden force tackling him, suffocating him with every breath he took.
"Mom…I can't breathe."
Ishar managed to choke out, in a painful voice.
"You came home after a month. What did you expect?" his mother replied, looking at him with love and admiration.
"How are you mom? How are the charities going on?"
"Oh, they're fine." His mother replied, "Much better now that you are here. Go, freshen up. I've already packed your stuff, some that you might find particularly interesting."
Ishar nodded as his mother handed him a blue luggage bag. Now that he was here, why not get dressed in his uniform before going back to Kashmir?
"Mom!" he called out like a child, from the upstairs room. "I'm getting dressed!"
"Don't forget what I've kept in the black box!" a feeble voice replied.
Ishar nodded to no one in particular and rushed to his childhood room. It was still covered in posters of superheroes and space monsters, puzzles, toys, games and other stuff that he didn't really need. Yet, it was still satisfying to see fun games and toys inside your room.
Ishar opened his bag and took out a proud uniform from inside. He took about 10 minutes to praise it silently, and then another 10 minutes to expertly iron it.
"Ishar, come quick! Breakfast is ready!"
A sweet and comforting voice called from the downstairs kitchen.
A delicious scent wafted into the room, making his mind sigh in pleasure and delight.
"Coming Mom!" Ishar replied, buttoning his olive green uniform that was proudly decorated with colorful medals, and inspiring badges.
Above his right pocket, lay a name tag, that defined the man in bold, black words-
Captain Ishar. A. Singh.
Ishar smiled at himself in the mirror.
The Indian Army, undoubtedly one of the strongest forces on Earth, was always something meant to marvel at. Some people called them crazy, and it was true!
Where else would you find people crazy enough to choose their nation instead of saving their own lives?
Looking smart and handsome, only one thing remained to complete the persona of this brave army officer. Ishar went to his cupboard, and from the black, metal chest, took out a green turban, draped with red linings, where a golden lion badge stood strongly in the middle.
He took a minute to admire it.
The turban had once belonged to his father, and pride grasped his heart every time he glanced at it. His father had been one of the brave heroes, who had sacrificed his life while fighting in the Kargil war.
It was this sacrifice that had sparked Ishar's love towards his country, and the relentless determination to join the Indian Army and make his country proud. Obviously, that spark had turned into a raging fire, which was ready to burn anyone who looked cruelly towards his country!
"Ishar Amar Singh! If you do not come here, I will drag you down! Even India's best soldiers need food for strength!"
Ishar chuckled, put on the turban and rushed downstairs, knowing how strict his mother, Simran Amar Singh could be. Anyone who had met her knew that she made the world's best food, but after all, a mother's homemade taste would always beat the most glamorous hotels!
"Uh, this stupid phone! It never works- Oh! Ishar!", his mother acknowledged, noticing him,
"Your breakfast is on the table! Eat it and then go!"
"Thank you, mom!"Ishar said, laughing inwardly (not openly, since he knew the consequences very well) .
One bite of his wonderful paratha and all his worries disappeared to the back of his head. He mentally sighed.
The life of an army officer was no easy ride. Every week or so, the BSF or the Border Security Force, would have to take valiant risks to stop terrifying attacks made by India's enemies. Not only terrorists, but it seemed as if global crime leaders were growing jealous of India as well!
Being one of the youngest officers in the country- an Army Captain at just the age of 29- meant that the whole battalion looked up to him for a vibrant and energetic leadership.
Obviously, many terrorists underestimated him at first, but he showed (or rather attacked) them to never underestimate the strength of an Indian soldier! Taking another bite, Ishar grinned smugly at his paratha.
The memory of the last terror attempt was still fresh.
Two days ago, the communication radar had intercepted an unknown satellite phone call, purposely meant to be heard by the Indian soldiers. A deep, shady and rather confusing voice started speaking in a robotic tone.
Ishar had never understood the need to disguise your voice in such a weird way. If you're going to threaten someone, why do it in a way that they can't understand a single word?
Anyways, that person said,
"This call is a threat, a warning to you all. If you love your country, then silently retreat from the North-Western borders. In 30 minutes, your so-called 'Mother India' won't exist for you to die for. If you retreat, we might consider giving you a life grant in our new nation. After all, only ignorant people like you want to fight a losing war."
The call was abruptly disconnected. Now, this was quite a stupid thing to say, especially when you're threatening a group of lions ready to pounce on whoever wants to hunt them. In the first 5 seconds of the message, Ishar's whole, 5-person-secret team was already burning furiously.
You could literally feel the anger radiating off each person, and soon the team had already contacted the police and army personnel, as well as some very useful help from NSG to hunt down the criminal .
In a furiously quick search, the intelligence team found out about the man's location and his teammates.
To be frank, the soldiers were thinking of doing more than just 'arrest', but Ishar reluctantly reminded them about the standard military protocols.
The judges must decide what to do with the terrorists.
The terrorist must've realized his big mistake, because 20 minutes later, when the soldiers broke down his front door and swooped inside, his face was an enormously funny display of panic and shock!
Almost all missions secretly carried out by Ishar's team had been successful, and because of this, their neighboring enemies had been growing restless.
Ishar was only worried of the future dangers, and for how long their shield could take hits.
Eating the last part of his paratha, Ishar called out to his mother,
"Bye Mom! I'm leaving now! It's almost 6:00 am!"
Simran looked at her son with pride as she waved goodbye.
"Take care son! Don't forget to call!".
Ishar got on his motorbike, took one last look at his house, and rode off to the airport.
It would be a month until he got back, and he couldn't help but wonder what India would be facing next.