Karan stood before the assembled trainees, his expression unreadable, the weight of the British orders pressing heavily on his shoulders. The trainees stood in rigid lines, their eyes filled with uncertainty yet determination. They knew what was coming, but hearing it from their commander would make it real.
"British hukumat ne faisla kiya hai," Karan began, his voice firm. "Hum sabko yudh ke liye bheja ja raha hai. Angrez chahte hain ki sirf senik hi nahi, balki naye trainees bhi is jung ka hissa bane."
A hushed silence followed, tension thick in the air. Some of the trainees clenched their fists, others shifted uncomfortably. They had trained for this moment, yet the reality of war was always different from practice.
"Agar koi khud se jaana chahta hai, toh haath uthao," Karan continued.
A few trainees, the bravest among them, slowly raised their hands. Their faces held fear, but also determination. Karan scanned them, already knowing that he could not take all of them. This was not just about willingnessâit was about capability, endurance, and skill.
His eyes landed on Naina. She stood tall, her expression unreadable, not raising her hand. But Karan knewâshe was one of the best among them. Her medical skills, her resilience, and her recent growth in combat made her an asset in war.
"Naina," he called, making her eyes widen slightly.
A murmur spread through the trainees. Naina herself stiffened, looking straight at Karan. She hadn't volunteered, but he had chosen her.
"Aap mujhe bhej rahe hain?" Her voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable challenge in her eyes.
"Tum iske liye tayyar ho," Karan replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Tum sirf ek ladne wali nahi, tum ek doctor bhi ho, jo maidan mein kaam aayega."
For a moment, she stared at him, searching his face for any hesitation, any doubt. She found none. He had made his decision.
Finally, Naina took a deep breath and gave a firm nod. "Theek hai, sahab. Main chalungi."
The selection continued, Karan picking out only those who had proved their mettle. Once it was done, he stepped back, his gaze lingering on his chosen soldiers.
"Yeh jung sirf humari nahi hai. Yeh Bharat ki hai. Aur hum ise haarne nahi denge," Karan declared, his voice carrying through the camp.
The trainees straightened their backs, ready to march toward an uncertain fate.
Over the past four days, the atmosphere in the training camp had completely transformed. The once rigid and structured drills were now replaced by an unforgiving, battle-hardened routine. Karan personally oversaw every session, pushing the selected trainees beyond their limits.
Their mornings began before dawn, with intense endurance drillsâlong-distance running with weighted sacks, climbing ropes until their hands blistered, and lifting heavy logs over their shoulders to strengthen their core. The afternoons were dedicated to close combatâlearning to disarm opponents, strike with precision, and defend without weapons. Gun training became a necessity, not just a skill. Karan made sure each selected trainee knew how to reload in seconds, shoot with accuracy, and move swiftly in battle formations.
Naina, like always, gave her all. Though her body ached, she never once complained, never once slowed down. Karan noticedâhe always noticed. And every night, when the camp quieted down, when exhaustion settled over the trainees like a thick fog, Karan and Naina found themselves in the same placeâdiscussing, strategizing, and unknowingly, sharing the weight of war together.
That night, they sat outside the training grounds, near a dying campfire, the glow casting flickering shadows on their faces.
Naina exhaled heavily, brushing back the loose strands of hair sticking to her face from sweat. She looked at the camp, at the trainees who were now fast asleep after a long day of grueling exercises. "Yeh jo chhote chhote sipahi hain na, sirf naam ke trainees nahi rahe ab. Yeh fauj ke asli sipahi ban rahe hain." Her voice held pride, but also a hint of disbeliefâfour days ago, they were just learners, but now... they were soldiers.
Karan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyes, sharp and calculative, studied the camp just as hers did. "Haan... aur iss baar sirf hukm maanne waale sipahi nahi. Yeh ladne ke liye tayyar hain, samajhne ke liye tayyar hain. Angrez jo bhi soch rahe hain... woh galat sabit hoga."
Naina turned to him, watching him carefully. The firelight illuminated half of his face, the other half lost in shadows. His jaw was set, his eyes dark with thought. For a moment, she saw not just her commander, but a man carrying the burden of war on his shoulders.
She hesitated, then asked, "Aapko lagta hai hum jeetenge?"
Karan didn't answer immediately. He picked up a small stone near his boot, rolling it between his fingers, deep in thought. Then, he looked at her, something unreadable in his gaze.
"Ladne waale haar nahi maante. Aur haar maannewaale kabhi ladte nahi. Tum kya sochti ho?"
Naina smirked faintly, shaking her head. "Mujhe sirf itna pata hai ki chahe jo ho, main peechhe hatne waalon mein se nahi hoon."
Karan held her gaze for a long moment before the corners of his lips lifted just slightly. A ghost of a smileâone that disappeared as quickly as it came.
"Pata hai. Isi liye tum yahan ho."
Silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was filled with unspoken understanding, with the weight of the days behind them and the war ahead. The fire crackled softly, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.
Tomorrow would be another day of blood, sweat, and pain. But for now, just for this moment, they sat in the quiet of the night, two soldiers, waiting for the inevitable storm to come.
The sun was barely rising when the training camp was filled with murmurs and hushed conversations. Today was different. Today was not about training, but about something far heavier. The British had granted the selected trainees one final meeting with their families before they left for war.
Karan stood at a distance, watching the emotional reunions unfold. Mothers wept, fathers held back their tears, younger siblings clung to their brothers and sisters as if they could stop them from leaving. It was a heartbreaking sight, yet necessary. War did not promise returns. This could very well be the last time they saw each other.
His gaze swept across the camp, observing each trainee as they embraced their families. Some parents tried to put on brave faces, offering words of encouragement. Others couldn't hide their fear. He watched as Captain Jain and Captain Prajapati moved among the families, ensuring order, giving them their moments.
Then, his eyes instinctively sought out Naina.
She stood alone.
She was near the training grounds, hands clasped behind her back, eyes fixed on the horizon as if the golden rays of dawn held an answer to a question she hadn't spoken aloud. Her posture was rigidâunlike the others, who had melted into the warmth of their loved ones. She wasn't waiting. She wasn't even looking around.
Because she already knew.
Her parents weren't coming.
A flicker of something unfamiliar settled in Karan's chestâsomething dangerously close to sympathy. He knew that her family situation was complicated. Over the past few nights, when she had spoken about her home, she had done so with little emotion, almost as if she had forced herself to detach from them. But today...
Today, she was just a daughter, standing alone when everyone else had someone.
Karan clenched his fists. He hated this. He hated that she had to endure this kind of loneliness, especially before heading to war.
Naina, however, remained still. She did not turn, did not flinch. If she was in pain, she hid it well.
But he saw it.
And for the first time in a long time, Karan Thakur felt something beyond duty. Something beyond command.
He exhaled sharply and looked away. There was nothing he could do about this. Nothing that could change the fact that some wounds could not be healed, only endured.
And if there was one thing he knew about Naina Rao...
She would endure it.
As the families slowly departed, leaving behind teary-eyed yet determined trainees, Karan took a deep breath. The reality of war was settling in, but there was still something left to do.
It hit him thenâhe had forgotten to train them in one of the most essential skills: horse riding.
His jaw tightened. How could he have overlooked something so crucial? They would need to be swift on the battlefield, and while some trainees had prior experience, others had never even touched a horse before.
Wasting no time, he barked orders, gathering everyone in the open field. The stable boys brought out the horses, each one restless, sensing the energy in the air.
"Jang ke maidan mein ghoda tumhara sabse vishwasniya saathi hoga," Karan spoke firmly, walking in front of the lined-up trainees. "Agar tum ise nahi sambhal paaye, toh tumhari maut tay hai."
The trainees nodded, understanding the weight of his words. One by one, they mounted their horses. Some were naturals, instantly gripping the reins and adjusting their posture, while others struggled but soon found their balance.
And then there was Naina.
She approached her horse with confidence, gripping the saddle tightly before placing her foot in the stirrup. But just as she was about to swing her leg over, the horse neighed loudly and bolted forwardâleaving her to land unceremoniously on the ground with a dull thud.
A few chuckles spread through the trainees, but they quickly died down under Karan's sharp glare.
Naina groaned, rubbing her back. "Kya pareshani hai is ghode ko? Main toh sirf chadhne ja rahi thi!"
Karan sighed, already regretting what was about to happen. He waved for another horse to be brought to her.
"This one is calmer," he muttered, folding his arms. "Try again."
Naina huffed but dusted herself off and stepped towards the second horse. With renewed determination, she grabbed the reins, placed her foot in the stirrup, andâ
Before she could even lift herself, the horse jerked its head back, neighed loudly, and trotted away, leaving her stumbling forward with nothing to hold onto.
The trainees couldn't hold back their laughter this time, and even Captain Jain let out an amused snort.
Naina exhaled loudly, glaring at the horse as if it had personally insulted her. "Bas. Ho gaya. Mujhse nahi hoga yeh!" She threw her hands up in defeat and stepped back. "Main chhod rahi hoon yeh ghoron ka drama!"
Karan pinched the bridge of his nose. He should've seen this coming.
Striding towards her, he grabbed the reins of a third horse and led it directly in front of her. "Chhodne ka option nahi hai, Rao," he said, his tone low. "Chadh."
Naina narrowed her eyes at him. "Aur agar yeh bhi bhaag gaya toh?"
"Toh main hoon yahan. Yeh nahi bhaagega," Karan assured, his patience wearing thin.
Naina hesitated before gripping the saddle again. Just as she was about to place her foot in the stirrup, the horse flinched slightly, and she immediately stepped back.
Karan sighed. "Tujhe isse samajhna padega pehle. Apni saans dheemi kar. Uska bharosa jeet."
She looked at him skeptically but did as he said. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and gently ran her hand over the horse's neck, whispering something to it. The horse stilled.
Karan watched with mild approval. "Ab chadh."
This time, when she placed her foot in the stirrup, the horse did not move. Slowly, she swung her leg over and settled onto the saddle.
A triumphant smile broke out on her face. "Main chadh gayi!"
Karan rolled his eyes. "Ab gir mat."
With that, he stepped back and let her get used to the rhythm of the horse. She was still a little stiff, but at least she was no longer on the ground.
It had taken longer than expected, but by the end of the session, even Naina was riding steadily alongside the others.
Karan shook his head. This girl would be the death of his patience.
The morning sun had barely risen when the camp was already bustling with movement. The selected trainees stood in formation, their belongings packed, their weapons strapped securely to their backs. The reality of war loomed over them nowâno more training, no more drills. This was it.
The sun barely peeked over the horizon when the final call was given. The air was thick with tension as the selected trainees, clad in their uniforms, secured their essentialsâammunition, weapons, water, and whatever little belongings they could carry. The weight of reality settled upon them; this was not just another training drill. This was war.
Karan stood before them, his sharp eyes scanning each soldier, ensuring they were ready. His jaw was clenched, his usual composed demeanor hiding the storm brewing inside. They were heading to Punjab, where the German forces had already begun to make their presence known.
"Yeh waqt kisi ek ke liye ladne ka nahi hai, yeh waqt apni mitti ke liye ladne ka hai," Karan's voice rang out, firm and unwavering. "Hum yahan kisi aur ke liye nahi, Bharat ke astitva ke liye lad rahe hain. Tum mein se jo jaa rahe hain, tumhe yeh samajhna hoga ki wapas aane ki koi guarantee nahi hai."
The trainees exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of determination and fear. Some clutched their rifles tighter, others exhaled deeply, steadying themselves.
Captain Jain and Captain Prajapati stood nearby, their faces grim. They had seen enough battles to know that no matter how well-trained these young soldiers were, war was unpredictable.
Karan turned to Naina, whose usual fire was now masked by an unreadable expression. She had tied her hair back, her uniform fitted perfectly, and her rifle strapped to her shoulder.
"Tayyar ho?" Karan asked, his voice quieter than before.
She met his gaze, her chin slightly lifting. "Aapne tayyar kiya hai, toh kabhi peeche nahi hatoongi."
Something flickered in his eyesâapproval, maybe even pride. Without another word, he turned back to the others.
"Ghodon par sawar ho jao!" he commanded, and one by one, the soldiers mounted their horses. Naina hesitated for a moment, her past struggles with riding still fresh in her mind. But this time, she didn't let it show. She placed her foot in the stirrup, swung herself up, and steadied herself on the saddle. The horse didn't move away this time.
Karan gave one last look at the campâthe place that had hardened them, shaped them, prepared them. Then, with a swift motion, he mounted his own horse and raised his hand in signal.
"Chalo! Punjab humein bula raha hai."
With that, the unit rode out, the hooves of their horses kicking up the dust of Rajasthan as they made their way to the battlefield that awaited them.