Long winding, never-ending serpentine roads, snow-clad peaks, glistening in the starry blue night, the half-moon rising behind the tree lines, playing hide and seek. I was hungry but unable to eat. The moon looked like a white bowl of sweet kheer, tempting me to take hold of it. The cool breeze and piney fragrance of the Pine and Sal trees refreshed me. The dark, moist, foggy path led up to the mountains. The Gypsy took another turn, tilting my body left and then right, along with the hairpin bends. I was tired from a long search operation—another futile attempt to neutralise army deserter cum terrorist Jalaludin. I wished to reach my post as soon as possible and take a nap.
Exhausted with running around owing to various infructuous daily intelligence inputs, and gathering pieces of information from regular sources I was waiting for one right opportunity before I moved out on my peace posting.
“Where’re you Jalaludin? You can’t hide after betraying the army, taking away our weapons and killing innocents. I won’t find peace in my peace posting unless I catch you.”
The pressure on our unit was mounting daily to find the weapons and the deserter Jalaludin. Every day, a senior officer would ask for progress input and demean us after hearing all the stories of failed attempts. No one bothered about the sleepless nights, long patrols, officers and soldiers risking their lives in inclement weather, hard work, planning and huge disappointments after those failed attempts. We were combing the entire area, storming into the homes of the suspected villagers, threatening the village heads with dire consequences and arresting people on suspicion. In short, we employed every technique to look for a terrorist who might have crossed the border after observing such stringent search operations.
Three months flew away in a jiffy, while we kept beating around the bush. We lost hope and got used to all the inquiries and mouthful accusations that every Tom, Dick and Harry in higher echelons hurled at us.
I cursed the day it all began. An officer accidentally shot in his left foot while leading a regular patrol. He was inspecting the weapon after one misfire. An emergency quick-reaction team along with a doctor went up into the dense jungle on foot on an eleven-hour trek with a stretcher to recover the officer. While returning with the injured officer, the exhausted team encountered two soldiers from a local (TA) company with additional arms on both shoulders.
When asked, “Where’re you two going with these weapons?”
The soldiers replied, “We’re going to the post to replace the faulty weapons on the commander’s order.”
Later, when the team reached the base, the wounded officer was handed to the standby ambulance for further treatment, the doctor remarked, “Sir, have you sent any replacement for the faulty weapons? I found the soldier’s behaviour somewhat strange.”
I was alarmed as I had no information of any such order. The weapons were thoroughly inspected and well-maintained.
“Where did you see them? What time?”
“An hour ago, around 3 am. They were going up towards the post. We met them while crossing the culvert bridge near the Shekpura village.” The doctor replied.
Meanwhile, a soldier came running and told me, the commanding officer wanted to speak urgently.
“SK, two soldiers of the local (TA) unit attached with us are missing. Our unit soldiers went to the guard post to replace them but the night duty soldiers and weapons issued to them are gone.”
“Sir, the doctor has just informed me he had seen two soldiers with additional weapons crossing the Shekpura village bridge early in the morning. They told him that you ordered the urgent replacement of some arms.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Sir, our unit soldiers of that post also sleep with them. Where’re they?” I tried to fathom the situation.
“Our soldiers were found delirious in the restroom. They’re clueless about what happened during the night.” The JCO informed everyone.
“SK, alert all our posts and cordon off the area around Shekpura village. Quickly send a team. Rather, you lead the operation and go after them. I’ll report to the headquarters and inform the neighbouring units. We’re screwed. God save us the humiliation and all the dirt coming our way.”
I ordered the adjutant, “Find out the names of the guards on duty, take out the details and photographs of the deserters and send the details to CO and me.”
The names of the runaway soldiers were Jalaludin and Ahmed from the local (TA) Unit which was raised to support the locals and integrate them into the mainstream Indian diaspora. It worked well both ways. The army got local intelligence, the boys were well-versed in the hilly terrain, dialect and area. In return, the boys got a steady job, respect from the Army and safety from the homegrown terrorists.
But this incident dented the mutual trust.
And the rigamarole began. The search operations, the reports, the frustrations and further reporting, admonishments and insults on not producing the results.
I was about to move on posting in July when a couple from a nearby village approached me through a contact man of their village. I was reluctant to meet them because I found despite all the help and welfare measures, we undertook to help the villagers, they fed and sheltered terrorists and wished for a separate state. We ran schools for them, built bridges, celebrated festivals together and trusted them as a part of our organisation and what did we receive in return? Betrayal!
I knew the couple must have come for a grant for their daughter’s marriage or some other monetary help in getting some business.
The man requested, “Saheb, my daughter does not listen to us. She meets a boy in a shepherd’s hut in the jungle.”
“What should I do? They’re two consenting adults.”
I didn’t want to get into a family drama and tried to turn them away.
“Saheb, I’m a poor man and I know there’s something wrong. The boy gives her money to buy mobile phones, sim cards, food and daily items.”
Better sense prevailed. I invited them into my office.
The mother cried, folded her hands and said, “Saheb, we have a teenage son. We fear for his safety. If our daughter takes a wrong step, our son will be caught in suspicion. He’s our only son, our lifeline. He dreams of joining the army like you in future. Saheb, save our children. Our daughter is in love and doesn’t understand anything.”
I assured them, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you and speak to your daughter. But you also have to help us reach that hut without divulging any information to anyone in the village.”
The man fell on my feet and started pleading, “Saheb, save our daughter. She hasn’t done anything. That boy is forcing her to bring all that stuff.”
“Do you know the boy?” I asked.
“No, Saheb, He’s from some other village. He met my daughter two months back and gave her gifts, chocolates and money. My daughter told my wife that this boy loves singing Bollywood songs.”
I showed him the photographs on my phone and asked, “Can you identify anyone?”
He shook his head and replied, “You can show this to my daughter. I hope she helps you.”
I warned the couple, “Don’t utter anything to your daughter. She’ll alarm the boy. Don’t worry, I give you my word, nothing will happen to your daughter.”
I told my contact man who accompanied the couple, “Dare this conversation go out of this office. I’ll hold you responsible. Inform me immediately if you observe anything suspicious in the girl’s behaviour. I’m sending my men to keep an eye on her.”
I sent the couple back and immediately informed my seniors. I had a hunch that this was one of the soldiers who ran away. I inquired about the habits of the deserters and I got the desirable answer that confirmed my hunch. One of the boys, Ahmed was a good singer and loved Bollywood songs. A plan was made to catch hold of Ahmed.
The surveillance equipment to track activities was set up. The snooping and recording of all the telephonic conversations in the said area were monitored.
A team in local attire followed the girl. Other teams were mobilised to cordon off the area. I decided to lead the operation and coordinate with all the teams. We informed the local police station and sought help to control the villagers and manage the local support.
Perhaps the girl already had some hint about her parent’s visit. She left her place early in the morning, much before her regular hour of visit and ran to the hut. Our team was ready and followed her until the last few trees before the clearing that led to an open area. They found the hut at a height overlooking the village but hidden by around two hundred and fifty meters of dense foliage and pine trees jungle. There were hundreds of sheep grazing around in the clearing around the hut. Another line of trees was fifty meters away from the hut going towards another settlement behind the ridge.
I reached the village, asked the girl’s parents, the village’s religious preacher and the contact man to accompany and headed to the hut with my team.
The parents pleaded repeatedly, “Saheb, please take care of our daughter.”
I assured them, “We’re taking you along to help and make her understand the situation. That boy with her is Ahmed. He’s a misguided soldier.”
The teams had covered the hut from all sides while keeping themselves out of sight from the hut’s vision. We reached the last line of trees behind the bushes and I informed my seniors about the set-up on the wireless phone. I asked for the intelligence input from the other teams.
“Sir, there is one more person besides the girl in the hut.”
The higher HQ telemonitoring team informed us,
“Sir, the boy is frantically making phone calls and asking for help.”
“The other person is conversing with his mother and seeking her blessings.”
I asked my seniors for permission to begin the operations.
I got a call from the GOC, “SK, whatever you may do. Please ensure that nothing should happen to the girl. Try to extract her first. Unscathed! Otherwise, there'll be unnecessary human rights issues. We wish to protect everyone but nobody understands the ground realities. I hope you hear me nice and clear. Not a scratch to the girl even if you have to let the culprits go and abandon the operation. Now, go for it. Wish you the best of luck!”
“Yes, Sir.”
I announced on the loudspeaker, “Ahmed, I’m SK speaking. You know me very well. I mean no harm to you. You’re a good soldier and a great singer. Please put your hands up and come out with the girl. We’ll help you and your family.”
Nothing happened for two minutes.
The surveillance team informed, “Sir, Ahmed is arguing with someone on the phone and the girl is crying.”
I asked the parents to talk to their daughter.
The father spoke on the loudspeaker, “Dear, we love you. Saheb is here to save you. I beg you, come out. They’ll not hurt anyone.”
The daughter replied from inside, “No, I’ll not come out. I’ll martyr today with Ahmed. The army is our enemy. We’ll have our Kashmir one day.”
I asked the religious preacher to convince the girl. He tried to give her lessons on good deeds and instil the fear of God but nothing helped.
The police threatened her, “Your parents and brother would rot in prison if you did not come out.”
It was all silence for some time. I had already warned my soldiers to sit quietly and not take any action unless the girl was safe.
Then the mother wailed loudly and said, “Why do you want to make our life a living hell? Do you want us to die? Why don’t you come out and kill us yourself?”
She then pushed her son out in the open, “Shoot and kill your brother before the police torture all of us.”
The girl came out of the hut crying loudly and then a bullet shot stunned the entire area. The birds flew away in a chirruping commotion. The sheep ran helter-skelter to the bushes. The dogs barked. The brother turned back and hid behind us. The parents and the preacher ran deep inside the jungle.
I shouted on the loudspeaker, “Nobody will shoot. I repeat. No one will shoot without my order. Girl, don’t run. Lie down on the ground.”
A burst of bullets whizzed over my head. Perhaps Ahmed could see me being in the open. And then there were uncontrolled bursts of fire from all around, the ridge, the bushes, the line of trees and behind me in retaliation for the shooting from the hut. There was no way I could stop the firing now as everyone jumped in to save lives.
I shouted all above the din of fireshots, “Stop firing! Girl, keep lying or you’ll die.”
This time the girl obeyed and fell flat on the ground. I was traumatised and prayed for her safety lest my job was over.
The firing continued for a minute. The girl remained glued to the ground.
The team from the other side fired a rocket launcher at the hut. It fell on the roof and exploded. The thatch caught fire and two men came out running from the door. They were hit with hundreds of rounds of bullets instantly.
The firing stopped once the troops observed that there was no retaliatory fire. I announced at the top of my voice, “No more firing now. We’ve hit the targets.”
I ran towards the girl. Her parents followed me, wailing loudly and cursing.
The girl turned and sat down.
I asked, “Are you alright?”
She nodded her head and got up. Her salwar and kurta had several holes made by the bullets but she was unscathed, not even a scratch, as instructed by the GOC.
I had a sigh of relief. That day, I believed in an old saying, “Jako raakhe saayiaan, maar sake na koi.”
Ahmed was killed in the operation that day but Jalaludin was still absconding. The other man was a noted terrorist. We also recovered our lost arms and ammunition from the hut.
Congratulations galore, appreciation awarded but the job wasn’t finished yet.
The GOC remarked, “You haven’t got Jalaludin.”
“We’ll find him, Sir,” I assured him.
“Since you’re on it, I’m requesting a two-month extension to save the pride of your unit. Set an example, SK.”
I was confident because we had recovered the phones from the hut and the teams were trying to hack them to recover all the information. Soon, we got our first breakthrough. The teams had proof that Jalaludin had crossed the border but returned a few days before to marry his girlfriend who lived in another village near Shekpura.
Well, there’s no better way to lure a person than love. Love conquers all! Either way, my victory or his? Time will tell.
I met all our informers and said, “Find out who all are planning their daughter’s wedding in the coming months. Increase surveillance near Jalaludin’s home and check where his parents are visiting and what they’re doing. Snoop on all suspected phone numbers in the area.”
Nothing suspicious was reported for two months. I was exasperated. My extension period was coming to an end.
One morning, the operator intercepted a one-sided call.
He revealed, “Sir, someone is coming to Shekpura for some programme. Ten Kilos of Biryani is ordered from the city for the occasion.”
Another informer came up with bizarre information, “A shopkeeper sold three combs and toiletries, and delivered them to an unidentified man.”
I tried to connect the dots and rushed to the shop with my team and the police. The shop was closed. We traced the mobile phone of the shopkeeper and found the unidentified man hiding at the same girl’s house who was saved by God’s grace in the last operation.
And then the story came tumbling down.
The girl stated, “I love Jalaludin. Ahmed was helping me to escape and meet Jalaludin across the border.”
She accused me, “You spoiled our plan. You’re a murderer. God will never forgive you for killing the jihadis, my dreams and our peace.”
“Jalaludin will not spare you.”
I asked, “Where’s he now? Call him.”
I snatched her phone and called the last dialled number. Jalaludin answered. The surveillance traced the call while we exchanged pleasantries.
After another round of search operations, chasing in heavy rain, across the jungles and nalla, firing behind the bushes, we finally managed to zero in on Jalaludin. My team and I killed the most wanted man and recovered the last missing weapon.
The meeting with the girl’s parents proved to be a blessing in disguise.
It affirmed my faith, “One never knows how, when, where and in what form God arrives to help.”
I was awarded a presidential gallantry award for my brave efforts to regain my unit’s pride.
Jai Hind.
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Glossary:
GOC- General Officer Commanding
CO- Commanding Officer
JCO- Junior Commanding Officer
TA- Territorial Army
Jako rakhe Saayiaan maar sake na koi- Those protected by God cannot be killed by anyone.