' "Then let me do it, Sir," Karnail said. "I volunteer to neutralize the enemy machine gun." Then he told me, "Saab, you have a wife. You have just been blessed with a son. I have no one in my family. No one behind me. No one in front. I might already be dying from this wound. Let me go and do something in the service of my motherland. But don't forget your promise, Sir." And before I could even utter a word, he snatched the rifle from my hand and rushed forward.
"Bharat Mata ki Jai – Long Live Mother India," he shouted and charged the enemy bunker, bayoneting three enemy soldiers to death and silencing the LMG. But as he stood with the gun in his hands, he received another fatal burst of rifle fire in his chest, and before my eyes he toppled to the ground, with the gun still in his hand.'
The hall goes very quiet as we try to visualize the violent scene of battle. The sound of gunfire and mortar seems to echo around the room. Balwant continues.
'I stood rooted to the same spot for close to two hours. I was under instruction to return to the company, but the promise that I had made to Karnail kept ringing in my ears. His body was now lying in enemy territory and I had no idea how many Pakistani soldiers were still around. I was the only one left in my section.
'By three am the firing stopped completely and there was a deathly silence. A sudden gust of wind rustled the trees nearby. I inched towards the Pakistani bunker, no more than two hundred feet away. Suddenly, in front of me, I heard the sound of muffled footsteps. I strained to hear over the pounding of my heart as I raised my rifle. I cocked it, ready to fire, but hoping that I wouldn't have to use it. Firing in the darkness produces a bright muzzle flash that would betray my position to the enemy. I tried to suppress even the sound of my own breathing. Something thin and slippery crawled over my back. It felt like a snake. I had a desperate urge to shake it off, but fear of alerting the enemy made me close my eyes and hope that it would not bite me. After what seemed like an eternity, it slithered down my leg and I heaved a sigh of relief. My back was drenched in sweat and my arms were aching. My rifle felt as if it was made of lead. The footsteps started again, coming closer and closer. I peered into the darkness, trying to decipher the outline of the enemy, but could see nothing. I knew that death was lurking close by. I would either kill or be killed. A twig crunched and I could even detect faint breathing. It was an agonizing wait. I debated whether I should fire or wait for the enemy to make the first move.
Suddenly, I saw the flare of a match and the back of a head floated into view, like a disembodied ghost, not more than ten feet away. I immediately leapt out of the grass and rushed forward with open bayonet. It was a Pakistani soldier, about to urinate. I had almost knocked him down when he turned around, dropped his rifle and pleaded with me with clasped hands, "Please don't kill me. I beg you."
' "How many of you are still in the area?" I asked him.
' "I don't know. I got detached from my unit. I was just trying to go back. Please, I beg you, don't kill me," he cried.
' "Why shouldn't I kill you?" I demanded. "After all, you are the enemy."
' "But I am also a human being, like you," he said. The colour of my blood is the same as yours. I have a wife who is waiting for me in Mirpur. And a baby girl who was born only ten days ago. I don't want to die without even seeing her face."
'I softened on hearing this. "I also have a wife, and a baby son whose face I have not seen as yet,"
I told the enemy soldier. Then I asked him, "What would you have done in my position?" He went quiet for a while, then he replied haltingly, "I would have killed you."
' "See," I told him, "we are soldiers. We have to be true to our profession. But I promise you this.
I will have your body properly buried," and then, without blinking an eyelid, I pushed my bayonet through his heart.'
'Ugh . . . chi chi . . .' Mrs Damle closes her eyes in disgust.
Mr Shirke is also unnerved. 'You really don't have to be so graphic,' he tells Balwant as he tries in vain to cover Putul's ears with his palms. 'All this killing and blood, I worry my son may start having nightmares.'
Balwant snorts. 'Ha! War is not for the squeamish. In fact, it is good for these youngsters to understand what it is all about. They should know that war is a very serious business. It takes lives.'
'What happened afterwards?' asks Mr Wagle.
'Nothing much. I went to the enemy bunker, where the bodies of the three Pakistani soldiers were lying alongside Karnail. I picked him up and trudged back to my company base with his body over my shoulders. The next morning we cremated him.' Balwant's eyes are wet with tears. 'I told the CO about Karnail's supreme act of bravery, and on his recommendation Karnail Singh was awarded a posthumous MVC. '
'What's an MVC?' asks Dhyanesh.
