The Saga Of A Firefly

Leh,Kashmir. Twenty Thousand feet above the sea level. The icy winds were cutting through the layers of skin. Snow was falling like a blanket which was always being weaved by the clouds in the sky. Pine trees in uneven heights masked by the damask of milk linen gave an impression of monster in hiding. The foggy night was ending so were the misty minds. Dawn, came as though it would never come by its own discretion and even now it was reluctant to progressively blossom into a day. The footpaths, the lazy light, the shrubs, everything seemed to be sympathetic.

Indian military post at leh. It was fighting against all odds to capture an infiltrated enemy post which was strategically positioned to take off all the supplies to the Indian army. Major Vikram Sharma, commander in chief of the evacuation operations at leh. The make shift tents were fluttering in the winds with sheer ferocity highlighting the mood inside. Vikram was mounting a strategy to secure the post. He ordered his camp to be camouflaged with white deflated space suites as the snow cover in the landmass was inches thicker than the normal ground. It would be a perfect cover if they could bury themselves underneath and move like a watchful spider spinning its web for the malicious insects.

There was commotion outside disturbing the serious tea flavored conversations. A group of soldiers rushed in carrying the injured bodies of soldiers who were given the task of patrolling along the watch posts. The military doctor on duty was called in and within few moments a chopper appeared out of nowhere to transport the jawans for further medical assistance.

Major Vikram had always been a strong man after an alchemy, but at times like this, the hard shell softened to become a wax and then it melted slowly and uniformly distributing itself over the hardened ridges and contours of duty, commitment, dedication above personal interests and love for family. The period of instability never lasted long beyond the time of observation of actual pain playing on a wounded soldier's face as he is torn between the magnetic forces of patriotism and family spirit. Sometimes patriotism came first and sometimes family came first but the deceased had an expression which defied all the strong feelings he had and it seemed to savour an emotion of yearning and curious anticipation about the future course of direction for the isolated family. When Vikram returned back to his camp, the wax again solidified to become a proud rock on Mount Everest.


The plan was in the final stages of completion. The Stage was set for a show of courage and valor. Vikram took charge of this ingenious commando operation and the unit started moving with the patience of a Snail. After entering the enemy post under full camouflage they would surprise and shock them with a staccato of fire. Guerilla tactics that vikram had learned during his formative years in the Indian Military Academy. The operation was named as 'FIREFLY' as it set out under the dark cloud covers trying to bring brightness and hope to the nation.

As an youngster, Vikram wandered aimlessly in life with no meaning or purpose. All his siblings were well settled. He gave pep talks about his wish to be a 'celluloid' icon and his would-be foray into the world of movies and media. It was not until his name was deliberately taken out of his sister's marriage invitation list welcoming the guests; he felt a scorpion sting his chest. He felt next to nothing and was clouded in the universe of self pity. Vikram secretly cried about his inability and total loss of control over his life. He would take a resolve and break it moments after swearing. This made him feel like a punctured air balloon, whatever he tried the air kept escaping through a plethora of outlets. Vikram, wanted to prove something to the faces that looked away from him .He earnestly tried to show that he cared for those who cared for him but it wasn't affection, it was just a wave of sympathy that disappears the moment it reaches the shores.

Vikram, took a decision that was mocked by everyone. His intention was ill received and his parents were shocked to hear the prospect of vikram joining the army. Vikram's mother was deeply pained that her son has to go to such an extent to prove his sense of direction in life. His father was detached from all the activities he undertook thinking it to be a waste of time for meaningless indulgences. There were very few people to congratulate him on his selection. Two years of military training had changed everything. He was filled with gladiatorial self confidence and a rigorous self discipline. The ambivalence was wiped clean and replaced by a balance in judgment, which he felt, was impossible. He was rising all these years from a heap of ashes but every time he tried, he was pushed down by disparaging remarks. They were like angry sharks demanding his flesh of self esteem. Now he is a fighter and the wild aquatic antics has to recede. Vikram became Vikram Sharma as he started advancing through the ranks because he had promised his father that he would make him feel proud of his son.


Vikram, was controlling the movements of his troop every minute. Five more minutes they would be behind the final firewall of partition. His eyes were beginning to envisage the joyous jubilation after a successful operation. He saw the angels of victory lift him up through the far corridors of heaven but he hesitated for a minute, how many lives this time? There wasn't anytime for second thoughts, he had to win. Charge! He cried and within few minutes a dozen Pakistani soldiers died as they were totally unprepared for this lightning attack. Two Indian jawans were killed as the Pakistani unit staged a meek retaliation. The unit kept advancing as per major general Vikram Sharma's marching orders. The whole post was captured within forty five minutes. Indian flag was hoisted and it was flapping with eternal pride. Just when everyone thought all was over, there was a group of fighter jets that started firing indiscriminately, Vikram fought with all his experience and talent but he was on the losing ground. He eliminated two jets with his rocket launcher but he was badly wounded by the other fighter planes with successive outburst of killer missiles. He was dying; all he could do now was to arrest the attention of aircrafts until the arrival of Indian air force, which was to join shortly as a part of the operation.


With a blood stained photograph he was holding, it was his family in Gurgaon, delhi. Vikram married after his five years of service in the Indian army. He had a beautiful wife and a handsome boy kid who often imitated his dad by crawling on the ground and making sounds of machine gun as he jumped and dodged the imaginary bullets by hiding behind the flower vases. How was he to bear this news? Would he be aware that his father died while protecting the nation? If so what will be his reaction? Those were the faint movement of thoughts in the recesses of his mind; pain occupied the major portion of it. But for some reason he appeared smug in his final moments giving an impression of well defined life, when it was.


The news was received in gurgaon with ear shattering screams as his wife Ahalya fainted when she was praying with absolute earnestness and devotion. She was not in a position to believe what really happened. Ahalya was forced to accept reality after a few days and she was now standing in front of his husband's life sized portrait, he was standing before an army caravan with stars crowning his pockets with a deep green army jacket as she was reminiscing his charming face. Ahalya was vacating the house as the melancholy was too hard to tolerate. The times spent with him in the kitchen, in the patio, in the garden were returning like ghosts.


Just when she was about to leave the house, Ahalya accidentally dislodged the mail box and there were two mails floating in air before finally settling on to the ground. It had a Jammu and Kashmir state seal on it. She opened the envelopes and her heart swam through the black ink on it.

Dear Ahalya,

I'm really pained to write this letter, if I'm alive then we'll enjoy reading it together but if I'm not then you have certain responsibilities to carry out. I know the issue of remarriage would really be haunting your mind right now but put aside all those debates, never be confused about anything in your life that is what my life has taught me. If you think you should then go ahead, but take precious care of our boy sanjay. Never allow him to become an army officer because he would do so at his own family's peril in future.I have planned a different career for him, the country has had enough sacrifice from our household, Sanjay should be a doctor saving hundreds of lives and I would be glad if he becomes a surgeon specializing in heart ailments that would be a service of different magnitude .I protected lives but he will preserve and nourish them.I really thank you for being there when I needed you in times of despair and also in times of momentous joy when they came in flashes. I have insured my life without your knowledge and I had informed my friend to complete the necessary formalities to receive the sum of nine lakh rupees if I'm dead.


So your future is safe and secure, use this as a capital in any of your investments to move ahead in life. If I'm alive then it is a different story altogether, I'm planning to get a voluntary retirement and I have thought about opening a business with some of my ex-service men friends. My love is always with you and please be prepared for anything that might happen.

With love,Vikram.

Tears began trickling down her cheeks like an ice that would melt under a noon sun. She opened the second envelope.

Dear Sanjay,

Hereafter you'll be called as Dr.sanjay, so concentrate on your science lessons carefully from now onwards. I received your crayon paintings last week, they are excellent keep up your spirit in painting.

When I were you, I used to paint but usually the servant maid took it along with the dust bin as I used to tear them down because no one said it was good.

But you have got an affectionate mom who would treasure your paintings for years to come and safely give it to you when you mature into a fine young man.

Please don't watch violent movies as they would spoil your mind.
Develop a habit for reading as it would make you a complete man.
Obey mom, do whatever she asks you to do.

Always be daring and bold and never be shy to put across what you feel.Sanjay, I really miss you!!

With love, Dad.

Fifteen Years Later................Dr. Sanjay,

walked to the dais to receive the Param Vir Chakra award for acts of bravery and outstanding courage in the kargil war. He went on behalf of his late father to collect the award. Sanjay's mom didn't marry after her husband's demise. She thought no one could match the foresight of such an ideal man who wanted everything settled in her life even after his death.


Dr.sanjay, is a top cardiac surgeon in the country saving numerous lives every year as his dad had wished. In his table was a mini portrait of his father named "THE SAGA OF A FIREFLY",with his date of birth and year of sacrifice.