The Soldier

Pranit Jankoli
Aug 23, 2017 · 3 min read

Ibrahim closed his eyes. The smoke from his cigarette wafted up his nostril and he inhaled deeply. Early morning duty was his punishment for last week. The newbies complained about night shift and the cold at that time. But they were newbies for a reason.

He hated the early morning shift for a reason. It meant waking up at 3 in the morning, which meant sleeping early, which meant no alcohol with your dinner. At least that was the protocol. And yet the cracked green thermos, filled with Old Monk was passed around by the men as they chomped on soggy cabbage sabzee and 3 day old mutton. Every face, except the cook, glum and weary, anticipating the hangover while on duty 6 hours later.

The wind had died down from the wild, howling thing it was last night. Now it was just a gentle, creeping whisper in Ibrahim’s ear. It carried with it the morning dew and the bone chilling cold from the Jhelum. He scowled, drawing his jacket tighter around him.

The crunching of twigs rang through the air and he snapped to attention. Swinging his gun to the direction it came from, he crouched and crept closer. The training had kicked in but did nothing to lull the dull pounding in his ears. The branches of the shrub parted and out crawled a filthy mongrel.

The runt was skinny, underfed, eyes bulged out and watery. It sniffed the air, smelling the stale meat on Ibrahim’s hands. The Soldier grunted in annoyance but beckoned the pup closer.

A good scratching of the head was all it took for the little rascal to go belly up and purring happily. Ibrahim felt inclined to take him back to camp. Attachments were not encouraged where he came from. He stopped and tried to shoo him away. The bugger refused, blinking his chocolate eyes.

Ibrahim stamped his foot but the dog only cocked his head stupidly. A few rocks pelted his way did nothing to change that. The Soldier turned his back, deciding to ignore this minor inconvenience. The pile of cigarette stubs grew, inviting a timid sniff from the mongrel.

The sky grew brighter, both man and dog sitting next to each other now, exchanging furtive glances at each other. Soon enough, his hand was back on the furry head, and occasional scratch given and a hearty purr returned in approval.

The Soldier wondered how different things would have been had a friendly cur been around when he was a kid. He imagined the days to be less lonely, the foot blisters less painful. He never heard the gun totting figure sneak up behind him. Two loud bangs rang through the air and the Soldier crumpled in a heap. The mongrel leapt back in shock, paws kicking up the mixture of snow and dewy grass. It leaned down and tried to comprehend what had happened to the new friend it had made. The killer whistled and the mongrel scooted over to him. The sun had just peeked over the hills.

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