Toh Chaloon...

“Pratap Singh weds Ajabdeh Punwar”

He had stared at the golden letters on the red card for a moment. It was mailed to him by his mother. He wondered what was in this girl that his father, who never approved of anyone easily, liked enough to get her married to his only son. He had reached home two days before the wedding when the rituals had already begun. Since the day his father had told him about his choice of a bride, he had made up his mind to go ahead with this marriage for the sake of his mother’s constant persistence. This would make her happy. Personally, he couldn’t care less; he knew his life was not his. Major Pratap Singh Sisodia lived for his mother and motherland. He never felt the need for someone in his life, even when his mother insisted everyone needs a home to come back to after battles and scars. He did not ask much about her either. He wondered why the girl did not show much interest, too. Was she being forced into this? The wedding card was the second time he had heard her name in three months.

It was their day, the one to remember for a lifetime perhaps. They never had a conversation before the wedding. Their first meeting was at the engagement, where he hadn’t tried to look up at her veiled face. That was against his code of conduct. Major Pratap Singh Sisodia was always about his decorum. He was happy to know that her father was in the army as well. Being an army child, she would understand the family situations better than many.

One ritual followed the other, and putting the vermilion on her hairline suddenly made him feel responsible for her. Perhaps it was his mother’s upbringing. Or the sense of responsibility and duty his profession brought. He had eyed her hugging her parents and looked away uncomfortably, for consoling a stranger was not his thing. Strange, how the stranger was now his wife. He had noticed her stare into emptiness in the silence of the car as it entered his home. After another series of rituals, he was really tired of it all. As he had made his way into the decorated room that was now theirs, he had thought of a billion ways to strike up a conversation.  On his way, he was stopped by a servant with a letter in hand. Perhaps his face showed signs, because she had lifted her veil, walked up to the couch where he sat and asked with worry in her voice.

“What does it say?” He lifted his face from the letter to look at his new bride. Her arched brows were narrowed with ripples of worry on her forehead just where the mang tika hung. Her eyes were questioning. Did he expect their first conversation to be like this? His new bride looked perplexed at his unreadable face.

“What does the letter say?” Her repeated question made him hand the letter to her. Perhaps that was easier than words.

She knew what it said as soon as he handed her the letter and walked over to the window overlooking their lawn, without a word.

 “When are you leaving?” Her voice showed no disappointment. It made him feel at ease. He turned to face her, as she stood a fair distance away, fixed at her spot with the letter in hand.

“We are leaving at dawn; the jeep will come to pick us up.” He said matter-of-factly.

“We?” She looked up, unsure.

“Yes, Dad too.” He nodded, “I am sure.”

“The letter says it’s an emergency and all units should report by mid-day.” She said, unmindfully.

“Hmm.” He agreed with a slight nod.

“I am sure my Papa too will…” Her words died as she stared unmindfully at the letter for a moment and handed it back to him.

“You want to call home?” He offered his phone. That was the least he could do for her.

“No,” her reply was unexpected. He heard her sigh, and his eyes travelled with the sound of her anklets. He frowned, watching her open his wardrobe and get his clothes out.

 Silence filled the room, and the only sound was of her bangles and anklet as she moved about, placing his things on the bed. He took out his trunk and started putting the clothes inside. She watched him in his usual calmness, his face unreadable, getting things done like an everyday process. In his composure, it was eerie how much he reminded her of her father.

Ajabdeh Punwar knew the consequences of marrying into an army house. She was brought up in one. Perhaps that is why it was easier to agree to her father’s proposal. Her mother and sister were disappointed, though.

“He will be gone for days and months; you have to wait and wait.” Her sister had sulked at the idea. “Dad is doing this because he is in the…”

“No, Ratan, I agreed to this. There is no pride greater than belonging to the house of an army man. We know that, right? I have my own world and duties and…” She had smiled.

“What about love? What if he is never home, just like Papa? You saw how Mummy single-handedly did everything like single parents do.” Ajabdeh smiled in silence at Ratan. She was a mere sixteen, too young perhaps to understand what Ajabdeh did. And Love? Her mother said it happened over time.

“We will see about that.” She had shrugged off the uncertainties.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his trunk closing. She realised that all this while she had stared unmindful at him, perhaps making him feel awkward.  Pratap closed his trunk with a noise deliberately to take her eyes off him. Being a warrior was sometimes a bane, especially when people stared like that. She is not just another person.

He looked up to watch her take out his uniform. Something twinkled in her eyes. Fear? Pride? He couldn’t place it. She put it down beside his trunk and said, “You get ready, I will go tell Ranima.” His mother’s name from her mouth, sounded just as weird. He could never get himself to call her parents Papa and Mummy the way she did, strangely, how easily she called his mother her own in a day. Was she trying to impress him? Something told him she had more to herself than that.

Ajabdeh noticed his eyes travel with her across the room as she walked to the threshold and turned. Eyes met. For the first time. Her heart skipped a beat seeing him smile at her approvingly. He appreciated her gesture. Perhaps respected it. She smiled back and walked away before her heart began to thump loudly.

His mother’s teary eyes were perhaps the only thing that haunted him every time he left home. Since the day his decision to serve the nation made his father immensely proud, his mother had been worried. Her whole world was about him, and he felt guilty leaving her alone. But once at the camp, saluting the tricolour flying high, he knew he had made her proud. This time, he had seen a pair of mehendi-clad hands hold his mother reassuringly, making her smile. Worse, the relatives at the wedding were all staring at them in whispers. Everyone knew a war was on. What he wished was that these people didn’t show their fears. At least not in front of the new bride.

Her heart fluttered seeing him stand before her in that uniform. Wasn’t this what she always wanted? A man of honour? Perhaps she would have liked to know him a little better before he left. Something in his eyes told her he wanted the same, too.

He frowned as he stepped forward for the tilak, and his mother handed the aarti thaal to his new bride instead and walked away. He noticed her avoiding glances. He stared carefully at the plate in her hand. It didn’t tremble. Did he wish it did? Or a little part of him wanted to see care in her eyes? Eyes met as she put the tilak on his forehead. His heart skipped a beat. Her hands were stone cold. He wanted to hold them once, perhaps tell her not to worry. But all he could say was “Take Care.”

“All the best.” She smiled faintly. For a moment, Major Pratap Singh had lost his words and perhaps a part of his heart. He turned to leave and stopped.

“Do you have anything else to say?” Her question made him stare at her.

“I…” He was unsure of what he should say, but he wanted to say a lot of things. Instead, he searched his backpack, making her frown, and took out a small tricoloured flag. “This is all I have right now to give you. I made it myself when I was a cadet.” He sounded unsure. She smiled, taking the small piece of cloth from his hand and placing it on her forehead, making him smile.

“See you soon.” Her words made him look up at her and nod.

“Thank You.” He meant it. She knew he did.

She had watched his jeep leave. She had seen the guests leave, with condolences in their eyes. Then, walking up to her belongings, she smiled at the letter. For the first time in these many years of serving his nation, Major Pratap Singh had turned back from his car to catch a glimpse of home one last time. His heart was uncertain. Maybe he should have talked to her more; perhaps he could write to her. Her smile was haunting him.

“Are you okay?” His father’s voice startled him.

“Yes, Sir.” Made him smile at his son. He knew this feeling, and he had no words for it.

The Headquarters was buzzing with activity. Everyone was reporting to their seniors. This was an emergency. The troops on duty were already at the site of action. He briskly walked up to his team leader; Lieutenant General Bairam Khan was waiting in his office for his subordinates. He knew Pratap was on leave for a wedding, but he had no time for showing sympathy in such situations. The maps were laid; they needed to set camp at all villages near the site of action immediately.

“Our spies have provided information that some of the villagers are involved in providing aid to the terrorists. In that case, we cannot afford to openly show our strengths and risk giving them the upper hand.” Pratap stared at his colleague speaking.

“Then what do we do?” he asked, staring at Lieutenant General Khan.

“I am sending two of my best Captains, undercover, to stay in the village nearest to the area of action. They are the best undercover I have at hand right now.” He spoke, staring at the watch. “They will be here any minute now. Meanwhile, you arrange the backup troops for them.” Khan left the office briskly to attend to a call, leaving the Majors at work.

“The undercover he talked of must be his own nephew.” Pratap heard one of his colleagues speak, “Jalal. Everyone here knows he is the best.”

“What about the other one?” Pratap asked with a frown.

“No idea.” Everyone shrugged.

“Well, if Sir has faith in them, they must be really good,” Pratap spoke, unmindful.

Bairam Khan had called him at his office almost at noon. He had knocked and entered the empty office.

“Major Singh, I want you to lead our undercover and work with them at checkpoint A,” he had pointed at the village on the map. “If you need assistance or aid, there will be a backup team led by Major Hakim Khan.” Pratap looked at the man, a little taken aback. This was his first independent team leading, and he was being trusted with the most important mission. This meant a lot. He hoped his team was right.

“Yes, sir.” He sounded a bit unsure, asking, “But if you provided me with a little more information on the team…”

“Code-named Shahenshah and Baijilal.” Bairam Khan smiled. “They have been a team for the last two years and have successfully carried out five missions undercover, including the mall bomb detection case.” Pratap felt relaxed. The mall case was indeed talked of among the camps. They were good.

“They have both been very professional and, as undercover, no one except their immediate team knows they work for us.”

He turned at the sound of the door opening.

“There they are.” LG Khan smiled.

Captain Jalaluddin Mohammad was a good six-foot-tall young man, almost the same height as Pratap, extremely handsome. His chin had a mark of a knife, probably the sign of valour he carried. He walked up to them and saluted.

“This is Major Singh’s first leading mission, Shahenshah; I hope you assist him to your best.”

“Yes, Sir," He had extended his hand with a smile, “Captain Jalaluddin Mohammad reporting, sir.”

Pratap was about to shake his hand when his eyes stopped at the threshold, and he suddenly felt like he could not breathe.

“Captain Ajabdeh Punwar reporting, sir.” She had ignored his glances as she looked prim and proper in her uniform, her hair neatly braided and her badges flaunting her achievements. Her face was unreadable if she had never seen him before; his eyes travelled to the Mehendi-clad hands; the colour still had his name on them.

“Baijilal.” LG Bairam Khan acknowledged, “I suppose you know her better than Ajabdeh.” He smiled at the still-shocked Pratap. “This is his first team lead mission, and you two know what to do as well.” Both Jalal and Ajabdeh nodded an affirmative as Bairam Khan explained their plan.

Sitting in the office, Major Pratap Singh was impressed, to say the least, about the way these two planned their undercover mission. But a lot of questions shrouded his mind. A lot of answers only she could provide.

“We are starting tomorrow at dawn, and we will reach by midday.” Jalal spoke, satisfied, “Anything missing, Boss lady?”

For the first time, Pratap saw Ajabdeh smile a genuine smile. “Yes. Don’t forget your knife kit. I am not saving you this time!”

“That was once!” Jalal raised his eyebrows, “Once!!”

“What happened?” Pratap’s words made him shrug, “Sir, that was once in an emergency, I forgot my Knife kit, and she was my backup.”

“I was not supposed to be your backup, but I did save you!” She reminded.

“Yes, yes, fine!”

“Sorry.” Ajabdeh’s words made both of them frown. “…Sir… he is a little informal.”

“That’s part of my job, I have to be informal, to not show am undercover, right, sir?” Jalal defended matter-of-factly.

“Right. That’s okay. But any clue where we are staying and what our covers will be?” He asked no one in particular.

“Don’t you worry about that, Sir! Captain Punwar has it sorted, like always.” Jalal flashed a smile that Ajabdeh approved. Something in Pratap did not like this man’s praises for his… His eyes met hers briefly before he spoke.

“Disperse now, report to me with the full plan tomorrow at 5AM.”

“Yes, sir”, they had said in unison and turned to leave.

Pratap saw her stop at the threshold after Jalal left. Something in him knew she would.

“Can I talk to you? Sir?” Her words made him frown.

“It will depend on who is talking.” He raised his eyebrows, making her stare.

“Pardon?” she asked, confused.

“The subordinate or the…”

“Wife.” She had turned to face him now.

“Then it's Pratap.” He smiled faintly, “Not, Sir.” She looked up at his words.

“Close the door behind you and have a seat.”

She did as she was told and sat down across the table with their maps in between.

“I was going to tell you that I… but… It’s not like I was going to hide…” he noticed her rub her hands together as she spoke.

“Did my father know that you are…?”

“Yes.” She looked up, “I was under his department for my first year.”

“Then we are good.” He spoke sincerely, “I know now how he was so sure about you.” He didn’t wish to say that out loud, but he did, and she stared right at him for a moment before taking her eyes off his.

“Sir…”

“Pratap.” He reminded.

“My mother and sister also don’t know. They would have never approved. Papa lied to them that he was sending me to college. I wanted him to lie. I wanted to do this….”

“Why?” he cut in with a frown.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“Why did you want to do this?”

“Honour before life.” Her words made him smile. No wonder she was not scared; her hands didn’t tremble. See You Soon…

“Did you know you will be working with me?” he frowned.

“Not really, but I guessed that LG Khan told Jalal that he and I are going to be led by his best Major.” She smiled.

“Jalal…”

“Is his nephew. We have been friends since we were training and… he knows you.” Her last words seemed deliberate as Pratap realised she read his mind; he was taking too much interest in Jalal.

“I will see you tomorrow, Sir.” He had looked up at her while she smiled.

“Can I ask my wife to stay?” his words made her blush a little. Perhaps that relieved Pratap because he was really jolted by how overly composed she was. “Or should I order my subordinate to stay?”

“Anything you want, she will listen to you, I suppose.” He had walked up to her with a smile as she looked away.

“You look more beautiful in this than in the bridal one.” She frowned at his words.

“Are you trying to tell me that I looked bad in it?”

“What?” Pratap was taken aback. “No, No!”

“I just feel prouder in this one, I suppose.” Ajabdeh shrugged.

“Me too.” He held her left hand in his right one and stared for a moment at the ring on her finger. Her eyes travelled from her ring back to his and smiled.

“I will be your backup in this one.” Pratap frowned at her words.

“Jalal will be yours?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and making her giggle a little.

“No, you will be mine.” Ajabdeh said, placing her right hand over his, “We will look out for each other.”

“We will.” He nodded. “I promise.”

“Technically, you are not allowed to be my backup, Sir.” She smiled.

“Well, Captain, your husband can always look out for you, can’t he? Pratap Singh at your service, Boss Lady.” She met his bow with a smile,

“In that case, it’s Captain Ajabdeh Punwar reporting at your service, too, Sir.”

“It’s Captain Ajabdeh Punwar Singh Ma’am!” he reminded, making her blush as his grip tightened on her hand. “Help me pack; this is my first undercover mission. You are the pro here.”

Ajabdeh was happy. They packed their bags for the journey with their clothes and fake IDs that they needed to be undercover. He was amazed at her planning skills. This was not exactly how a marriage should have started, but the respect she saw in his eyes was overwhelming. Yes, they had battles to fight ahead, a tough road, and a line to maintain between their personal lives and professional code of conduct. But tonight, she was his wife, perhaps a feeling of home she felt for the first time. Pratap watched her giggle in the most carefree way he had seen her in the past few days. She talked of missions; she talked of her family, and he of his. He was relieved. Relieved that she was who she was. Relieved that he could respect her without even trying. And perhaps hopeful at how her giggle travelled to her eyes and made them shine and made his heart ache like no one ever did before. She was his chance at Love, without a doubt.

“Tu hi meri manzil hai pehchaan tujhi se, pouchu main jaha bhi meri buniyaad rahe tu.”

Dedicated to the country, countrymen, warriors, and their families, this one is dedicated to your sacrifices for the tricolour. For the Mother, we call our soil and Identity. Jai Hind.