DARBAAR دربار

Sarparast سرپرست

" You're loosing a lot of blood Major, please let me help..."

A distinctive gunshot was heard and yet another soldier was martyred right before his eyes.

" I ordered you to go back in the trenches, didn't I?"

The older man's breathing was laboured as he struggled to hold onto his life.

" But I can't just leave you here to die!" The younger man did everything to stop the blood while hiding themselves behind an abandoned vehicle.

" And I will not take you down with me. Leave now!" The man knew it were his last moments in this mortal world and he struggled to form words now.

The horrendous sounds of destruction still prevalent in the background as his men tried to hold off the enemy.

" No!" His saviour turned a deaf ear to his stupid plea and continued to look for a tourniquet to stop the bleeding, his eyes not stopping a second as they shed tears.

Tears for the helplessness he felt at that moment.

" It's an order Jamaal!" The voice was stern and this time he managed to get his attention.

" I can't Major, please" Jamaal pleaded while trying to find a way to pull his limp body to safety.

Back to their camp.

But he knew it would be impossible. He couldn't get his senior to safety through this madness. Not without being shot down to death!

" You were a wonderful Captian, son" the older man caressed his tear strained cheeks as his breath came in short pants, " And I know you'd be an even better Major when your time comes. Allah Hafiz my boy" and with that his hand fell limp by his side as soon as he gave him his last smile.

" Major?" Jamaal shook him frantically, trying not to make a noise to attract attention.

" Major?" Jamaal leaned down to his chest to listen for a heartbeat, praying to Allah there is one but there was none.

" Major!"

Jamaal leaped up in bed, his face drenched in sweat, his breathing shallow and rapid as he looked around for any signs of the battlefield or blood.

For signs of his beloved mentor, Major Zahir Chugtai.

But all he saw were the whitewashed walls of his room back home in his village. And all he heard was the silence outside punctuated with a bird's call in the faraway distance.

It was a memory that he has lived through. A nightmare haunting him since the past year. One that he couldn't seem to get rid off even after leaving that life behind.

" Jamaal?" His mother's voice brought him back from his personal hell he subjects himself to.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to erase the look of dread and horror from it before answering his mother back.

The kind woman who had bore it all. His mood swings, his tantrums and his nightmares. She bore it all with a smile on her face and empathy in her eyes. Ever since he came back from the Army's base last year and refused to return to even after multiple calls to join his duty.

He just cannot go back to the place where he saw the man who practically raised and molded him for the last ten years, die in his arms. His mentor and father figure. His Major.

" Jamaal?" He heard her voice again and this time he threw the thin chaadar away from his body, slipped his feet in the slippers and stood up stretching his arms above his head, making him look even taller than he is at six feet and a few inches.