The blood stained tulip


The valley was beautiful, he always loved long night patrols along  with his troops, crossing small villages, passing by white snow covered meadows.
He sat on a high cliff, looking below, a small little world sparkled in front of him. The gold attire lights of the night lamps and above him was the silver shiny night sky.
Unable to distinguish the fact that either the galaxies were below or above. He realized how much he loved such views and how much they made him miss her. He was lost in realizations when suddenly his mobile screen flashed with a SMS.
 “Hey lieutenant dead or alive?”
The same mischievous her, he thought and skipped a smile towards the screen; as if she was sitting in front of him, batting her lashes, talking in her melodious voice, waving her hands here and there.
He replied;
“I am sitting on a rock cliff the view is breathtaking, reminds me of you. I miss you” 
he smiled again.
Her reply was yet to arrive when someone called him from behind, informing him that it was time for the patrol to move ahead. So he kept his phone back in his pocket and he left the beautiful scenary behind him but with a flower in his hand; which he plucked daily in hopes of returning home soon and presenting it to her, a white tulip as clean as her heart.
And in that moment the mountains echoed with the love that even distances failed to break apart.
**************************************************************************
Almost 9 months ago he got recruited in this area, it was a terrorists hide out. He was a soldier  had to serve his country the best way he can, but back in his hometown there were his parents who breathed on his name every single moment, his siblings who felt protected under his existence and a girl he loved more than his own existence.

 

He was the first officer in command of the highest peak in this valley, crowded by troops deep inside he felt so alone at times but then she suddenly jumped in and filled all the vacant spaces with joy, sitting miles away from him that girl gave a meaning to his life.
He promised himself he will never give up on her, never until life gave up on him and he twirled the flower between his fingers, smiling and then placed it in his front pocket, near his heart, whispering to himself again and again. NEVER!  
The sweat dream smashed into pieces as  he heard someone shouting, he rushed out of his room.
Their post had been attacked.
Fires were opened heavily, the troops at the frontline guard all died. It was his turn to prove himself as the leader. 
Sudden orders were being addressed to the second guard in line.
Uproars of guns and bullets, thunders caused by IED’s and bombs, dressed up the beautiful valley with a red haze.
It was a moment when the clouds cried, a bullet hit him right in his chest, right where he secured the white tulip, right where she resided, in his heart.
The world faded, certain figures flashed in front of his eyes. 
Maa, baba, bhai, chutki, her.
Life gave up on him.
The white tulip that signified her beautiful soul was now stained red with his blood as a proof of his love that he nurtured for her. It stained red as a proof for his father that his valliant son fought until his last breath. It stained red to let his mother’s eyes gleam with honor that he sacrificed himself for those who mattered.
*****************************************************************************
Turning the last page of her diary, she broke in tears, kissing with her eyes a sealed plastic bag which contained the bloodied flower he once plucked for her. 

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