Before the world stirred, before the first rays of sunlight dared to pierce the horizon, Karan Thakur's eyes snapped open. His body, trained by years of discipline, knew no luxury of extra rest.
The room was dark, save for the dim glow of the dying embers in the lantern he had left burning overnight. The air carried the lingering scent of burnt oil and aged wood, a scent he had grown accustomed to. There was no hesitation in his movements as he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot. His feet met the cool, uneven stone floor, grounding him in the present.
Beyond the barracks, the world was still cloaked in silence. But Karan knew this peace was an illusionâan ephemeral moment before the storm of the day began.
He reached for the brass lota of water he had set beside his bed the night before, splashing the cool liquid over his face. It jolted his senses awake, washing away the last remnants of sleep. With practiced efficiency, he ran a damp hand over his unshaven jaw before standing, rolling his shoulders to shake off the stiffness of the night.
His morning routine was as disciplined as his commands on the training field. He took his toothbrushâa neem twigâplacing one end between his teeth and chewing until the fibers separated, turning it into a natural bristle. The bitter taste was familiar, almost comforting. As he cleaned his teeth, his mind already moved ahead, mapping out the day's tasks.
After rinsing his mouth, he poured water from the brass lota into his palms and splashed it over his face once more before taking a deep breath. He needed to keep his body as sharp as his mind. Dropping down onto the floor, he stretched out his limbs before moving into his morning exercisesâpush-ups, sit-ups, and a round of squats. The rhythmic movement steadied his breathing, the slow burn in his muscles reminding him that his body was a weapon that needed constant honing.
Once satisfied, he stood and reached for his uniform. In the far corner of the room, his neatly pressed khaki kurta hung, untouched. A commander's discipline was reflected in everything, even in how he left his belongings. He donned the crisp kurta and secured the belt around his waist, its weight familiar against his skin. His boots, polished to a dull sheen, waited for him at the foot of his cot.
After fastening his boots, he reached for his sword, its hilt worn from years of use, and fastened it to his belt. He did not need it for training today, but its absence felt unnatural.
By now, the world outside was stirring. The first faint sounds of movement echoed through the barracksâsoldiers shifting in their cots, the distant clang of a water bucket being set down, the hushed murmurs of those waking.
But Karan was already alert. Already ready.
He stepped toward the wooden door, his fingers grazing the iron handle. Before stepping out, he took a moment to press his palms together in prayer, bowing his head slightly. "Shakti dena, yeh din safal ho," he murmured, a habit ingrained since childhood.
Then, with one deep breath, he pushed open the door, stepping out into the cool pre-dawn air. The sky was still dark, the stars beginning to fade. In less than an hour, the training ground would roar to life.
And today, a new batch of recruits would enter this world.
He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Aaj ka din lamba hoga."
Then, without another word, he strode towards the training grounds, his every step measured, every movement purposeful.
The cool pre-dawn air carried the faint scent of damp earth and burning firewood as Karan strode through the training grounds. The silence of the early hour was fleetingâsoon, it would be shattered by the sharp clang of weapons, the rhythmic stomping of boots, and the relentless calls of orders.
The torches lining the perimeter still burned, their flickering flames casting long shadows against the wooden barracks. A few guards on night duty straightened at the sight of him, nodding in quiet acknowledgment. Karan returned their nods, his sharp eyes scanning the camp, ensuring everything remained in order.
As he neared the open field, his steps slowed. This was where everything began. Where the recruits would be broken and rebuilt. Where weaknesses would be forged into strength, and discipline would be carved into their very bones.
His gaze moved toward the barracks where the new batch of trainees would arrive any moment now. Another group of fresh faces, carrying dreams of valor, unaware of the blood, sweat, and sacrifice that awaited them.
His jaw tightened. Most of them wouldn't last. Some would break within the first week. Some would push forward but never reach excellence. And a select fewâthose with fire in their heartsâwould rise above the rest.
Karan exhaled deeply, turning his attention to the small group of senior officers who had already gathered near the training posts.
"Subah subah tayyar ho gaye, Jain?" he remarked as he approached, his voice carrying its usual commanding authority.
Captain Jain, his trusted aide, smirked slightly. "Aap se pehle nahi, Sir," he replied, his stance straightening automatically. "Aaj naye bharti aa rahe hain. Sab kuch tayyar hai."
Karan gave a sharp nod, his gaze sweeping over the field once more. "Aaj ka din unke liye sabse mushkil hoga," he stated, his voice firm. "Jab tak unka sharir aur man ek nahi hote, woh sirf sipahi banne ka sapna dekh rahe hain. Yahan, hum unhe yeh sapna todna sikhayenge. Aur phir, usi sapne ki jagah ek asliyat denge."
Jain nodded in understanding. "Aur agar koi todne se pehle hi toot gaya?"
Karan's lips pressed into a thin line. "Toh unke liye yeh jagah nahi hai."
A distant sound broke the morning stillness. The soft clatter of wooden wheels against uneven dirt. The pedal rickshaw.
The recruits had arrived.
Karan straightened, his expression unreadable as he turned toward the approaching figures. The next few moments would define the beginning of their journey.
And for one among them, it would change everything.
___________________________________________________________________________
A soldier led them toward a row of tents. Seven girls, all new recruits, walked in quiet unease beside her. Some stole glances at one another, assessing, unsure whether to speak or remain silent. Naina felt their nervous energy, mirroring her own.
Finally, they stopped in front of a tent. The soldier turned to them with a sharp tone. "Yeh tumhari jagah hai. Jo bhi samaan hai, rakh lo. Paanch minute ke andar training shuru hogi."
The flap of the tent was pulled aside, revealing a dimly lit interior. A single lantern swayed slightly, casting flickering shadows on the rough ground. Inside, bedrolls were neatly arranged in two rows, just enough space for all of them to settle in.
Naina sighed, stepping inside, placing her bundle beside one of the bedrolls near the entrance. She glanced at the others as they hesitated, choosing their spots. The air was thick with discomfort, none of them used to such conditions.
As she knelt to open her bag, a soft voice spoke beside her.
"Tumhara naam kya hai?"
Naina turned, finding a girl about her age, with warm brown eyes and a soft, round face framed by loose strands of hair. Her smile was hesitant but kind.
"Naina," she answered.
"Main Kaveri," the girl replied, adjusting the thin blanket over her bedroll. "Pehli baar ghar se dur reh rahi ho?"
Naina let out a short breath. "Haan... aur tum?"
Kaveri nodded. "Main bhi. Socha nahi tha ki yeh din itni jaldi aayega."
Naina studied her for a moment. There was something comforting about her presenceâa familiarity in their shared uncertainty.
Kaveri chuckled suddenly, shaking her head. "Sach bataun? Pehli baar kisi barrack jaisa jagah dekh rahi hoon, aur mann kar raha hai bhaag jaun."
A laugh bubbled up in Naina's chest, surprising her. She hadn't expected to find humor in this situation. "Agar tu bhaagegi, toh mujhe saath le chalna," she joked.
Kaveri grinned. "Theek hai, magar pehle zara dekh toh lein ki yeh jagah kaise hai."
For the first time since she had arrived, Naina felt a little lighter. The weight of the unknown was still there, pressing against her, but at least now, she wasn't alone in it.
Their moment was cut short by the distant sound of a whistle.
The first call to training.
Naina exchanged a glance with Kaveri, their unspoken thoughts the same.
It was time to begin.
The morning sun had fully risen by the time the training began. The ground, now buzzing with activity, was filled with new recruits standing in uneven rows. The air was thick with tension, dust rising beneath hurried feet as they moved into formation.
Naina stood at the end of one such row, already feeling out of place.
The training ground was larger than she had expected, stretching across an open field with various sections dedicated to different drills. Some soldiers were running laps, others lifting sacks of grain or practicing combat techniques. Their disciplined movements were in stark contrast to the new batchâhesitant, unsure, shifting awkwardly in their spots.
A sharp, commanding voice cut through the murmurs.
"Seedhe khade raho! Jis jagah khade ho, wahan se ek inch bhi hile toh saza milegi!"
Naina straightened instinctively, her pulse quickening. Commander Karan Thakur.
She had heard the name that morning in hushed whispers among the recruits. The chief trainer, the one they all feared. A man known for his discipline, his ruthless training methods, and his complete intolerance for weakness.
Karan walked between the lines of recruits, his sharp gaze assessing each one. His mere presence carried an authority that could not be ignored. Tall, broad-shouldered, his steps precise and unwavering. He was everything a soldier was meant to be.
And Naina... was not.
The first hour was grueling.
Running laps under the merciless sun. Strength training with wooden logs. Combat stance drills that left her arms trembling.
Within minutes, Naina realized the truthâshe was the weakest one here.
She struggled to keep up, her steps faltering as others surged ahead. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her legs burned, muscles protesting each movement. The weight of the wooden log on her shoulders felt unbearable, while the others carried theirs without complaint.
Kaveri, though struggling too, managed to keep pace. But Naina lagged further and further behind.
And thenâshe collapsed.
Her knees hit the ground hard, sending dust flying. A deep ache spread through her limbs as she gasped for breath, sweat dripping from her forehead. Around her, other trainees hesitated, stealing nervous glances.
Before she could recover, a shadow loomed over her.
"Yeh kya tamasha hai?"
The voice was cold, cutting through the air like a blade.
Naina's stomach twisted as she looked upâKaran Thakur stood over her, eyes filled with barely concealed disgust.
She scrambled to her feet, wiping sweat from her brow. "Maâmainâ"
"Chup!" His voice cracked like a whip. "Yeh fauj hai, mandir ka angan nahi! Yahan girne ka sirf ek matlab haiâtum kamzor ho."**
The words stung, but he wasn't done.
"Agar itni si takleef mein gir rahi ho, toh ghar wapas jaane ki soch rahi ho?" He stepped closer, voice lowering into something even more cutting. "Lekin tumhare liye toh wahan bhi jagah nahi hai, hai na?"
The recruits shifted uneasily. Some stared at their feet, unwilling to meet Naina's eyes. Others stole quick glances, relieved they weren't the ones being humiliated.
Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. Humiliation burned in her chest.
Karan let out a disappointed scoff. "Yadi yahi halat hai, toh kal subah se tum mujhe training ground par sabse pehle nazar aani chahiye." His eyes bore into hers. "Agar phir se neeche giri, toh yeh fauj tujhe apne pairon tale kuchalne mein der nahi karegi."
With that, he turned sharply and walked away, already barking commands at another group.
The moment he left, the breath Naina had been holding escaped in a shaky exhale.
She could feel Kaveri's hesitant glance beside her, but she refused to look at anyone.
Her face burned. Not just from exhaustionâbut from anger.
Commander Karan Thakur had humiliated her in front of everyone.
Her pride, her self-respectâit lay shattered in the dirt beneath her feet.
And for the first time, beneath the humiliation, something else flickered to life inside her.
Determination.
The midday sun hung mercilessly in the sky as the recruits were finally dismissed for their lunch break. The training ground, which had been filled with the sounds of harsh commands and heavy footsteps just moments ago, now hummed with exhausted murmurs.
Naina barely felt her legs as she trudged toward the mess area, her limbs aching from the relentless morning drills. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest, but the pain was nothing compared to the sting of humiliation that still lingered from Commander Karan Thakur's words.
She could still hear his voice echoing in her mind.
"Yadi yahi halat hai, toh kal subah se tum mujhe training ground par sabse pehle nazar aani chahiye."
Her jaw tightened at the memory, but she forced herself to push it aside as she reached the makeshift dining areaâa long shed with wooden benches and rows of metal plates lined up for the recruits.
The moment she sat down, Kaveri dropped onto the bench beside her with a dramatic groan. "Agar yeh sirf pehla din tha, toh aage kya hoga?" she muttered, rubbing her sore shoulders.
Naina let out a slow breath, her body too drained to respond.
A few other girls from their tent sat down across from them, equally exhausted. One of them, a tall girl named Parul, gave a dry chuckle. "Aage sirf aur maar milegi."
The recruits began serving themselves from the large steel containers placed at the center of the tables. As Naina scooped some rice and lentils onto her plate, she immediately thought of her father's words.
"Wahan sirf ek hi niyam haiâjo diya jaye, bas wahi milega. Bhookhe marne ka mann ho toh aur baat hai."
He had been right.
The food on her plate was as bland as he had describedâplain boiled rice, watery dal, and a small piece of roti. No spices, no flavors, just sustenance to keep them standing through the day.
Kaveri poked at her food with her fingers, wrinkling her nose. "Yeh toh paani jaisa hai."
Parul smirked. "Haan, lekin khaana padega. Warna kal subah tumhe do guna bhaag karwa denge."
Naina stared at her plate for a moment before picking up the roti and taking a bite. The coarse texture of the dry bread scraped against her tongue, but she forced herself to chew. Her stomach was too empty to refuse.
Kaveri sighed, finally taking a bite as well. "Pata hai, main soch rahi thi ki training tough hogi, lekin itna..." she shook her head. "Aur woh Commander Karan... pura shaitan hai."
At his name, Naina's fingers involuntarily curled around her spoon.
Kaveri turned to her. "Woh tujhe kuch zyada hi ghoor raha tha, pata hai? Jab tu gir gayi thiâ"
"Mujhe yaad dilane ki zaroorat nahi hai," Naina cut in, her voice sharper than intended.
Kaveri held up her hands in surrender. "Theek hai, theek hai. Bas keh rahi thi."
For a while, they ate in silence, the exhaustion dulling any energy for conversation. Around them, recruits whispered among themselves, some already discussing ways to survive the grueling training.
But Naina barely heard them.
As she forced herself to finish every bite of her meal, her mind was elsewhereâon the training field, on the weight of Karan's glare, on the anger still simmering in her chest.
She had never felt this weak before.
And she hated it.
As the lunch break neared its end, Kaveri nudged her shoulder. "Chal, kam se kam thodi der letne ka time milega. Kal se toh shayad yeh bhi na ho."
Naina nodded, standing up with the rest of the recruits.
She had come here against her will.
But if she was going to stay, she refused to be the weakest link.