Birds of prey

Janeesh walked down the wet steps of the military hospital. Dawn waited around the horizon to break. It was still drizzling. The puddles of water made obscure shapes in the steps. Janeesh retrospected. His memories reflected a melange of emotions. He knew not whether to smile or weep. An hour back, he was lying in his sleeping bag inside his military quarters, with his blood thriving in the alcohol he had from Havildar Kawalpreet Singh's daughter's birthday party.
 

Captain Janeesh Jagannath. The hand that never shook at a target. The mind that always found a way in contingencies. War-time maverick. Son of a gun. Much-appreciated in his military circles. Was he thinking about Shamnaz then? Was that subtle emotions of love tickling him in his sleep, amidst that spine-freezing temperature, in that beautiful clough of Kashmir? He knoweth not. May be his dreams forayed that extra distance, to those moments he remembered with a smile. Shamnaz, the beautiful red flower that bloomed in the valley. Long dark curly locks, deep blue eyes, cheeks that mimicked cherries, the contours of those lips beaming in delight with a rush of blood.

Janeesh first saw her at the usually deserted Oriental Library in Lalchowk. Captain Janeesh being one of the rare visitors of the library struck a rapport with Ijaz Khan, the librarian. On a beautiful August evening, Janeesh was talking with Ijaz Khan in the Library. He had taken Aldous Huxley's 'Brave new World' and the two spoke about neo-noir literature. Ijaz Khan was much read for a man of his stature and loved a smart conversation. 

As Janeesh became conversant about Dennis Lehane's depictions of truth in Mystic river, he was taken aback by a soothing fragrance. So divine that it took him to his happy place. It was rightly followed by a beautiful countenance. 

"Baba I need Aldous Huxley's Brave new world" said Shamnaz. Ijaz Khan and Janeesh looked at each other. Baba Ijaz gave a confused expression. "You can have it. This is my second time" Janeesh acted instantly. Shamnaz looked at him. Janeesh tried to smile as pleasingly as he could. "Never mind. I have already finished it five times" said Shamnaz. Apparently, she was not falling for that line. Janeesh was surprised by her spontaneous response. She just went into the library like she didn't care. "She is retired professor Shafiq Khan's daughter, finished her graduation in law" said Baba Ijaz reading the curious look on Janeesh's face.

Janeesh recollected those days of courting girls at college. 'It's time to brush those classy flirting skills' he thought. He was a man who never waited for chances.

It was another day of window shopping at a mall in the town when Janeesh's eyes got hooked to Shamnaz. He could see her clearly through the window pane, he didn't need his marine skills to do it. She was flowering with attention amongst the multitude. She was inside a textile shop. Janeesh never gave a second thought to enter the shop. "How does it look" Shamnaz asked her friends as she held a red salwar to her body. "You will look like an angel in this dress" the answer was from Janeesh. Shamnaz suddenly turned to check the strange source of male voice. A tinge of blush flashed over her face in a split second. However, she threw back a poker face quickly. But that glitter in the eyes was more than enough for Janeesh. He was a reader of micro-expressions.

"Please excuse me but I'm unable to select a dress for my only sister. I want to gift her something nice for her birthday next week. I'm very bad at this. Can you help me?" Janeesh had a flirtatious smile when he asked that. "But I don't know your sis" said Shamnaz. "She would almost resemble the girl over there with a comparably lesser complexion" said Janeesh pointing to a girl who was standing around the corner. "Sure" nodded Shamnaz as she said something to her friends in Urdu. Everyone smiled. They started searching and finally ended up selecting a light purple saree with luxurious embroidery work. Janeesh screamed inside when he saw the bill. Rs 12,500/- ! He understood the meaning of the smiles from Shamnaz and friends. "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" Janeesh pulled of the Gone with the wind punchline inside his mind. "You fetched me 12k for a sister who never even exist. I will make you wear this soon" Janeesh told himself.

Another day without battles and guns. Janeesh was walking through the lonely streets of Doabgah village in Baramulla.Though not by the Border, it was poised close to a tumultuous Srinagar. He was shaken by the footsteps of a horse that almost went over his head out of the blue. He was overwhelmed to see Shamnaz on the horse-back. "Don't you know that being a soldier and walking in this region can be dangerous? What if some terrorist finds you?" Shamnaz's face had a medley of seriousness and tomboyishness when she said it. "How can I explore the true beauty of Kashmir and angels riding on horses if I dont make trips like this" said Janeesh. "Don't be foolish. jaldi jao yahan se" she said with her face literally turning red. Janeesh regretted  his misplaced humor.

* * *

Janeesh was still in his sleeping bag when he suddenly heard shots fired outside the quarters. Cries of agony and fear fainted in the cold air. He pounded from his sleeping bag and out of habit searched for his revolver. "Damn it...terrorists...they have taken over the military dettachment" Janeesh frantically started reaching out for his revolver when a voice at the doorway stopped him. "Don't move captain Janeesh...your dettachment is no more than forty corpses now. We are in command" said a dark figure at the doorway. His heart sank. An uncontrollable rage rushed inside him. He was furious. He knew it was his turn to be one among the corpses if not a prisoner o war. As the figure approached, he observed the lanky frame covered in loose fringes of black cloth, the hood leaving a little space for the eyes. It stood there for sometime. "Why is he not firing? This moment facing death, it's unbearable" thought Janeesh. He was at point blank. 

He closed his eyes. Lot of scenes flashed by. He saw his trainer Puneet Shah at the infantry in Delhi who could easily assemble and separate all parts of an Mi3. He remembered the boring lecture at the Stun M.C class. A cold metal object touched his back as he dozed off. Mr. Shah was holding a Stun M.C to his back. "If I pull the trigger your body will turn itself to a filter. You know; like a fishing net, that's what your life costs. Now awake in my class".

Janeesh was suddenly brought back to senses by the sound of a vehicle moving away from the dettachment. The black figure was still at the doorway looking towards the vehicle. It turned its back and was about to leave. This was the moment. Janeesh reached for his revolver underneath the pillow. He got hold of it. He could aim in no time. He fired 3 rounds at the figure. The terrorist fell down suddenly even without a groan.

A long moment of silence prevailed. Janeesh could not believe the turn of events. He is still alive. "But why did the terrorist spare a soldier, that too a captain?" His mind asked frequently as he reached for the hood of the body. It should be one of those Mujahideen suicide gunners. They knew his name, that meant they had done their homework. He removed the black hood that covered the face. A chill went down his spine. A thousand nails pierced his conscience. An unknown sound came out of Janeesh's throat. The eyes of the corpse still beamed in blue. A naughty smile still filled those lips. It answered his question of why his life was spared.

But..Shamnaz...you!

വേള

മരണത്തിലൂടെ ജനിക്കുന്നവർ ഉണ്ട്,
മറവിയിലൂടെ അടുക്കുന്നവരും. 

തർക്കങ്ങളിലൂടെ മാത്രം നാം എത്തിപെടുന്ന കാഴ്ചപാടുകൾ 
ഏറ്റുപറച്ചിലിലൂടെ മാത്രം നാം ഉൾകൊള്ളുന്ന സത്യങ്ങൾ.

കണീര് കൊണ്ട് നാം കഴുകികളയുന്ന ദുഖങ്ങളുണ്ട് 
കരയുമ്പോൾ മാത്രം എത്തിപിടികാൻ കഴിയുന്ന സുഖങ്ങളും.

വസ്തുതകൾ ശരിയായി വിലയിരുത്തി എന്ന് നാം ഊറ്റം കൊള്ളുമ്പോൾ നമുകാവശ്യമുള്ളത് മാത്രം നാം കാണുന്നു എന്നാ തിരിച്ചറിവ്.

ഒരു നിമിഷത്തിനും നല്കാൻ കഴിയുന്ന സാദ്ധ്യതകൾ, ഹിതങ്ങൾ, ആശ്ച്ചര്യങ്ങൾ, നഷ്ടങ്ങൾ,
ബന്ധങ്ങൾ, അറിവുകൾ, മുറിവുകൾ, ഓർമ്മകൾ.

സമയം - അവനാണ് നായകൻ. The frequently overlooked protagonist.