Raksha Bandhan – the common thread

Prologue

The sniper lay on the promontory, between two misshapen rocks, camouflaged in his ghillie suit. His M40 rifle rested on a bipod, which was covered with plastic vines and leaves to blur its profile. His left eye was pressed against the scope as he scanned the supply route straggling through the valley. The light was fading as the sun sank silently behind him.

His famed patience was wearing thin. Forty eight hours and not a single kill. He would have to break camp tonight and return to base and he did not want to do so without another notch on his rifle’s barrel. Seventeen kills so far, and none of the victims knew what hit them! Pride suffused him.

A flicker of movement caught his eye. His focus sharpened. What was it? He scanned the barren terrain, all dusty mud and crumbling rock. Ah there! As he looked, he saw a mountain cougar crouching on a pile of rocks, its greyish brown pelt almost invisible against the background. The cougar moved again, a small adjustment to its stance. What was it doing? He widened the scope vision. Another flicker of movement. Then he saw the cause. The soldier crawling along the gully, inch by inch, taking care not to send up any dust, hoping not to attract any attention. Finally, a target!

He looked back at the cougar. The animal seemed to tense, as if preparing to leap. The soldier, completely focussed on not becoming sniper fodder, was not aware that he was prey to another kind of predator. The sniper hesitated. Then, mind made up, his finger eased onto the trigger. All his senses converged as he squeezed gently. The shot rang out, echoing across the valley.

The untangled version

The woman folded the letter. Her face was streaked with tears. She gently eased herself onto the chair. The words continued to play in her mind.

“,,,suddenly, the carcass of the cougar dropped behind me…”

“…if not for the sniper…”

“…escaped death once again. I am truly blessed…”

She felt a sense of lightness. Her husband was alive. Thank God! He was alive. She took a deep breath, and winced as pain lanced through her. Her extended belly was causing her back to ache like she had never known. She rose, still in a fog of disbelief. She turned and waddled towards the kitchen, her swollen ankles complaining with every step.

With every step, she felt a renewed sense of love and gratitude. Her love was alive. Never again would she take his presence for granted. No more silly arguments and quarrels. He was alive!

She walked to the kitchen window and looked out and up. The full moon hung motionless in the clear air. As the breeze came in, so did the sounds of bells and laughter. Her brow furrowed. What..? Ah. It was Raksha Bandhan. She was the only child of parents long dead, so never had the chance to celebrate this festival.

But today…

She looked out at the moon.

“Thank you, Bhayya, whoever you are…”

The #MeToo version

The woman watched the major and subaltern leave. The door shut behind them. She gently eased herself onto the chair. Their words continued to ring in her ears.

“,,,a hero. A true soldier who gave his life for his country…”

“…shot by a cowardly sniper…”

“…closed coffin, as there were wild animals in the area…”

She felt a sense of lightness. The bastard was dead. Thank God! He was dead. She took a deep breath, and winced as pain lanced through her. Her ribs and clavicle were still healing. She rose, still in a fog of disbelief. She turned and limped towards the kitchen, her poorly healed tibia twinging with each step.

With every step, she felt the years of fear and pain and hurt seep away. She was free! Never again would she have to cower as her abusive husband thrashed and kicked her into submission. No more flinching at every little sound. No more dread every time she heard his heavy footsteps. She was finally free!

She walked to the kitchen window and looked out and up. The full moon hung motionless in the clear air. As the breeze came in, so did the sounds of bells and laughter. Her brow furrowed. What..? Ah. It was Raksha Bandhan. She was the only child of parents long dead, so never had the chance to celebrate this festival.

But today…

She looked out at the moon.

“Thank you, Bhayya, whoever you are…”