The Night And His Dream
The Night And His Dream3 mins 17.6K 3 mins 17.6K
He smiled as he saw the sky above him. Sequestered between a clutter of similar stars, one of them shone brightly, unlike the others. His eyes reflected the gleam, as he looked at the star-studded sky. The moon shone brightly yet, it was this star which held his utmost attention. When he was younger, his mother used to say that those who left this world became stars. He wondered if his mother would look at the stars too, looking for him.
He took a deep breath but emitted a loud cough, the exercise proving to be too painful for his facial muscles. Something wet traveled down his chin and he didn't even needed to look to know that it was red in colour and definitely not phlegm. The sore pain in all parts of his body screamed at him to stay still, to lay unmoving and at rest, maybe somewhere in the back of his mind he still had hope that he would survive the night. He knew that if he did so, he would be found alive in the morning, when his fellow comrades came to claim the bodies. His will to live stemmed from seeing his beloved mother one last time, to see her smile that lovely smile of hers, to hear her sing to him that soothing lullaby which has put him to sleep many a times before. He wished to see his house, his soil, his little sister before this motherland claimed him back.
A resonating gunshot echoed in the air, piercing through the stillness. Two more followed, making a pattern. His heartbeats increased, surely this sound meant it had happened, they must have reached their destination, they must have been victorious! Against the protests of his neck muscles which numbed him with the pain, he moved his face towards his left. There, at the considerable distance he knew there was, through his bleak eyes, he saw it.
The Indian flag stood proudly hoisted on the rooftop of the small obscure fort. Seeing it, his eyes teared up. Almost a decade ago, when his own father's unrecognisably broken, tortured and battered body had arrived, his martyrdom had seemed in vain for the enemy forces had managed to occupy the fort he was stationed at. It was then, seeing his mother cry over the corpse of his beloved father, had he vowed to not let this sacrifice go in vain. It was then he had seen a dream- to see the Indian flag stand proud on the fort. A dream he was willing to die for. A dream he was now dying for.
As he heard the shuffling of feet coming closer to him, his vision started turning black. He knew it was time. His last wish of seeing his mother would have to remain unfulfilled for his motherland. Yet, he had no regrets. As the darkness slowly consumed him, as his life receded and as he met his Maker, his lips opened and a feeble voice spoke, “Jai Hind!”