He lingered jogging outside the burnished gate as the two sentries on either side carefully stretched themselves and saluted. In his green trousers and white half T-shirt, the young officer looked like a legendary phantom horse-man. Not less than six feet, the sturdily built officer would have been an actor if he had not got through the tough army selection procedures. Today he did not respond to the sentries, on other days they would at least see a faint smile curving his lips. The army barracks in the middle of the green jungle clustered with multiple chalet-like houses, all painted green, looked like utopia. The aromatic wet soil failed to enchant the young officer today.
The previous night was weary with rain pouring down unabated. Now that the rain had stopped its torrential dancing, every dispute on earth seemed to have settled, save for the officer and his mood today. He lighted a cigarette. “A morning walk and a cigarette,” whispered the officer as he puffed out whirling smokes.
The morning brought a cool freshening breeze as birds chirped from the branches of soaked trees. Around the scattered small green cottages in the barracks vicinity, the patrollers of the night had hung their wet combat dress on the tin-roof and on the poles of barbed wires that fenced the barrack. The sun was gleaming and growing slowly like a rim of hope on the birds, on the jungle animals and even on the on-duty armies. It had just been six months since the officer was transferred to Chitwan National Park from Udaypur following his promotion to captain from lieutenant.
A sergeant came up running with a file, saluted him and said something that the sentries did not hear. Their hearts throbbed as they heard the captain burst into angry words, “You fu..f..fu...cheaters, for every little thing you depend upon me. Can’t you take any decision for such trivial issues? Am I the only big bull over here?”
The dancing birds on the branches of trees fluttered away and the giggling sepoys immediately alarmed themselves of something capricious. The husky angry voice of the commander steered cold blood right through the ears of the nearby junior officers. A newly recruited second lieutenant whispered to his peer. “Oh Joda! do you remember the front rolls last week? Get ready.”
Last week there had been rumours that a team of highly equipped poachers was slipping through the forest checkpoints. The on-duty officers had spotted many booby traps in the outskirts of the barrack which definitely indicated an alien presence. Last year two poachers were killed by the patrollers, and the incident had raised an outcry among human rights activists. At least this season, the hard work of the posts and the on-duty armies had paid off. No news of poaching was reported to date. Last year, the poachers had killed three rhinos, two elephants and many other smaller animals but with the tactics and hard work this year, the army had been able to keep the poachers at bay and earn praises in the headquarters.
The story had taken a turn today. As the captain was jogging back from his morning walk, he spotted a huge elephant panting heavily, tuskless in a pool of blood. The scene was pathetic and the agony of the dying elephant was only one thing. The worst part for him was when he estimated the spot from his post of responsibility, it turned out to be within a 2,000m span. The local men, folks and women who commuted the forest path for gathering woods had already crowded. “The army has a hand in this heinous crime, there is nothing on earth that these people don’t kill,” he heard an old woman say. Unanimously, the crowd had flung harsh comments intentionally when the captain stopped there for some seconds as he jogged by. He was informed that the media were on their way to report for the same.
As he entered through the gate and got past the sentries, he had felt himself burdened with the sky falling upon. He reached for his pocket; soon a slim Blackberry cell-phone was glistering on his right palm. Leaning desperately against a tree-stub painted white to his waist size, the captain sighed heavily. From a far off distance, one could sense that he was talking to his senior. After some time he called for the sergeant.
“Who were on duty in the Eastern Front of the Rapti, yesterday?”
“Sir…Hawaldaar Raju Saa’b and his patrol mates.”
“Bring me the AOR file.”
The sergeant nodded, saluted and backed away.
“I am wrecked. This happened to be during my first six months here. I will see them all…I’ll see,” the young captain turned restless.
He called for the newly recruited second Lieutenant and laid out an order: “Seal the 47 zone and checkpoints from the span of 2,500m from the post and take that rusty armoured vehicle with you. Although of no use, it serves to scare people out of their wit. Let not a single media person enter till the colonel arrives from Narayangadh.”
A few minutes later, a chair was brought. A table was arranged under a mango tree. His runner, a thin and dark young boy laid two boiled eggs, six sliced buttered breads and a bowl of kidney bean soup on the table. The aura of the officer’s breakfast ultimately seemed to invite a placating smile to his face.
As he munched his breads, he remembered his elder brother. He said to himself, “He has life in Kathmandu; right now he is engaged in guff with proud teenagers. He has the luck to be around beautiful teenage girls. I should have been a lecturer too.” The captain tried to remember what had fascinated him so much about being in the army when he was young. He could remember nothing. He looked down at his juniors: “Yeah…I may have liked the uniform.” He looked at the table, it was painted green. The chair was green, he thought of his cottage walls; they were green, he looked at his junior officers’ trousers; they were green, the gates were green, and the trees around the barrack were green. It seemed for him that everything around the Chitwan National Park was green. “Why had green haunted his life so much?” Why wasn’t there a freedom of colours in the army? He had just realised almost everything he encountered on an everyday basis was green. He sighed, “I am fed up of green.”
He looked up at the sky. It was blue. He realised it was but very far. Suddenly his mind took him to Kathmandu and he remembered Merina. He gave a second thought to his darling, “Today she has her entrance exam at the Nursing Campus.” The white robes that covered the beautiful nurses fascinated him in his imagination. He thought of wishing her best of luck but he hesitated. He was someone who believed in hard work, not luck. The recollection of Merina’s sexy one-piece with the printed rose flowers brought smile to his face. He took out his mobile and prepared an SMS:
“Dear Merina, r’mber u a lot.
Bad news—poachers hunted an elephant.
No chance of holiday this week.
C U SOON. Happy birthday in advance.”
Soon, an SMS hit back.
“Won’t celebrate B’day without U.
Take care my dear. Will b missin’
u a lot .
Mum says hi! Luv U…Cap Saa’b.”
He smiled. He liked the way she wrote ‘Cap Saa’b’. He realised how he was an officer in one of the most reputed government institutions at such a young age. A new energy ran through him. He remembered her printed one-piece once again, and felt that he smelt roses right on his nose. Love was something very far from his life. He felt jealous.
Suddenly the silence broke up. “Cap Saab! The colonel has called for you. He has arrived at the spot where the elephant was killed.
The jeep is ready.” The captain left his breakfast immediately to wrap himself in his uniform.
A few minutes later, a green jeep roared away leaving back hovering clouds of dust. The crows and birds perching on the mango branches soon darted towards the officer’s unfinished breakfast. Some sparrows hurled with crumbled pieces of bread atop the branches. The captain’s runner came screaming “Oh! these wrecked birds, always litter the tables. As he tried to scare the busy birds, he spotted a shiny cell-phone as it glistered on. “Forgot his mobile!” he said. The new owner looked on the screen of the dandy Porsche design P9981 shiny Blackberry and smiled as he saw: “19 Missed Calls from Merina.”
- Abhijeet Thapa
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