Daredevil420
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Waqt Ke Us Paar
November ka mahina tha. Baraf ki halki halki boonden Pahari Parvat ki kathor rekhayon par gir rahi thi, har chhat, har chhatri, aur har fauj ke thana ko safed ki chadar se dhak rahe the. Uri ke chhote se gaon mein, jahan jagah jagah baraf ki mooti chaadar thi, waqt jaise apni saans rok kar khada tha. Line of Control (LOC) yahan se door nahi thi, ek prachin daag ki tarah, jo sirf unhi ko dikhayi deta tha, jinhonne usme khoon diya tha.
Captain Abeer Rathore ne apne bunker se bahar kadam rakha. Lamba, patla parantu chhati se mazboot, uske chehre par suraj ke neeche guzaari hui dino ki thakawat thi. Uski aankhon ka rang jala hua tamba jaisa tha, aur wo har kadam ko jaise ankhon se parakh raha ho. Uske khaki rang ke uniform par baraf ke chamakte mothe pad gaye the, aur uska Beretta hamesha apne paas tha. Uske gaal par ek gehra daag tha — jo ki Baramulla ka tha, aur yaad dilata tha ki kismet ka koi bhi hisaab nahi hota.
“Sir, drone se jo intel mila, usmein kuch harkatein dekhne ko mili hain, 2 klick purab mein. Yeh kuch rogue patrols ho sakte hain,” Havaldar Singh ne, apne gusse ko chhupate hue kaha.
Abeer ne apni nazar us pahaadi ki oor daali.
“Ho sakta hai, ya ho sakta hai nahi bhi. Chalo, dekhte hain. Chupchaap jao. Main aage chalta hoon.”
Raat ke 9 baje, wo sabhi janglon mein the, jahan baraf ke neele chhatron se har ek paheli ka raaz chhupne laga tha. Abeer apne aapko uss samay ke liye tyaar kar raha tha. Jaise ek shikar karte hue, wo sab kuch dekh raha tha — har ek sukhi patta, har ek baraf ki chingari, sab kuch.
Aur phir — ek saans. Wo hawa nahi thi. Ek saans thi.
Usne apni ungli uthayi. Sab ruk gaye.
30 meter door, ek chehra dikhayi diya. Bina hathiyar ke, ek ladki, jo black shawl mein lapeti hui thi, dheere dheere chal rahi thi. Akeli thi. Ya aisa lag raha tha.
Abeer ne apna bandook uthaya, aur trigger ke paas apni ungli rakhkar usne aankh se dekha.
Yeh kya ho sakta hai? Yeh kisne bheja hai yahan?
Ladki ne apna chehra ghumaaya — aur chaand ki roshni mein uska chehra ek ajeeb si roshni se chamak raha tha.
Uske chehre ke chhote chhote hi jagah, har ek zuban pe kehne ke liye baatein thi, jo apne aap ko uske chehre par likhti thi. Uski aankhon ka rang — wo neela, neela jaisa rang tha — par zaher bhi tha.
“Aap Hindustani ho?” Ladki ki awaaz ki ek, adha kaayal tha.
“Haan,” Abeer ne, khud ko zyada raaz mai rakhne ki kosis ki.
Abeer aur ladki ke beech mein chup tha. Wo ladhayi kyun ladti hai? Aur yeh kya jhatak hai jo aankhon ko dekhne par bhi andar ke dard ka pata de rahe hai.
Suddenly, Singh ne uss side se ana dekhake Abeer ka kaam ab sab se zyada jaana leliya.
Singh ne saamne se aakar salute kiya, lekin uske chehre par ek ajeeb si tanav tha.
“Sir, aage ke chaar kilometer tak footprints mile hain. Bahut naye hain. Char aadmiyon ke. Pakistani military ke uniform mein, lekin weapons unregistered hain. Lagta hai hired mercenaries hain.”
Abeer ne ek gehri saans li, fir apni aankhon ka focus us ladki par le aaya — Zahra Inayat Khan. Naam uske dimaag mein gunj raha tha jaise kisi purani yaadon ki goonj. General Inayat Khan ki beti. ISI ka dimaag. Dushman ka khoon.
Lekin wo ladki us samay samne baithi thi, aankhon mein koi dikhawa nahi, koi ghabrahat nahi. Sirf ek thakaan thi — gehri, atoot thakaan — jaise usne sab kuch pee liya ho, aur ab sirf saans lene ke liye jagah maang rahi ho.
“Tum yahan kyun ho, Zahra?” Abeer ka sawaal ab zyada naram tha, lekin andar ek loha abhi bhi garam tha.
Zahra ne apna dupatta thoda aur kas liya, jaise thand ke saath saath apne raaz bhi lapet rahi ho.
“Main bhaagi hoon… apne baap ke us safed jhoot se, jise wo sach ka naam deta hai.”
“Bhaagi ho?” Abeer ne aankhen tang ki. “Tum Pakistan ke most wanted intelligence general ki beti ho. Agar yeh plan nahi hai toh kya hai? Tum yeh expect karti ho ke main maan loon?”
Zahra ki aankhen ek pal ke liye bhar aayi. Par aansu uske liye kamzor nahi the — wo to kisi samay ka hisaab thhe.
“Main tumhare saamne kisi mission pe nahi hoon, Captain Rathore. Main ek behen hoon, jiska bhai usi system mein mar gaya jahan se tumhara dushmani hai. Uska naam Bilal tha. Usne mere baap ke operations pe sawal uthaya. Agle din uska phone band tha. Uske do hafte baad uska jism mila — bina haathon ke.”
Abeer ka haath dheere se uski bandook ke trigger guard se hat gaya. Uska dil dhak dhak kar raha tha, lekin wajah samajh nahi aa rahi thi.
Yeh dard asli hai. Yeh ladki jhoot nahi bol rahi… ya phir yeh jhoot bhi itna saccha hai ke main farq nahi samajh paa raha.
“Phir LOC cross karne ka faisla?” Abeer ne poocha, lekin is baar awaaz mein wo steel nahi tha. Sirf jaanch thi.
Zahra ne uski aankhon mein dekha, seedha, bina jhijhak.
“Tumhara naam suna hai. Mere baap ke system mein tumhari file ek laal chaap wali file thi. Usne tumhare baare mein kaha tha — ‘yeh aadmi jung se nahi darta, lekin pyar se bhi nahi jhukti uski rooh.’ Main jaanti thi… agar main zinda pahunchna chaahti hoon, toh tum tak pahunchna hoga.”
Abeer ek pal ke liye kuch nahi bol saka. Uske andar kuch toot raha tha — ya ban raha tha, wo samajh nahi paaya. Zahra ne usse sirf zinda rehne ki guzarish nahi ki thi, usne usse vishwas maanga tha. Aur yeh wahi jagah thi jahan uska dil aur dimaag dono ladte the.
Ek lamha aaya, jahan dono sirf ek dusre ki saans sun rahe the. Raat bahar baras rahi thi, lekin is chhoti si interrogation room mein — kuch aur baras raha tha. Sankoch. Shaq. Aur ek anjaana sa bandhan.
“Thik hai,” Abeer ne aakhir bola. “Tumhe protective custody mein rakha jaayega. Kal subah interrogation team tumse aur sawaal karegi. Tab tak… tum yahan surakshit ho.”
“Tum pe bharosa karna meri sabse badi galti bhi ho sakti hai, Abeer,” Zahra ne dheere se kaha.
“Main bhi yeh soch raha hoon,” Abeer ne jawab diya, uski aankhon mein ek thandi muskaan ke saath. “Lekin agar tum jhoot bol rahi ho… toh tum jaanti ho, kya hoga.”
Zahra sirf dheere se muskaraayi — wo muskaan jo dard ke neeche paida hoti hai, aur sirf wo log muskaraate hain jinhone sab kuch kho diya ho.
---
Base ke ek quiet corridor mein, Abeer ne Colonel Rawat ko briefing di.
“Sir, she claims she’s defecting. Says ISI is planning a new operation from a covert camp near Kupwara. She gave us partial coordinates. If true, it could mean an infiltration within the next ten days.”
Rawat ne aankhon ki narrowing ke saath gusse mein poocha, “Aur tumne use yahan le bhi aaye ho? Without clearance?”
Abeer ka jawab ekdum thanda tha, lekin usmein spark tha.
“Main ek soldier hoon, sir. Lekin jab koi jala hua parcham lekar aman maange, toh usse goli nahi milti… interrogation milta hai.”
Rawat chup ho gaya. Ek pal ke liye sirf ventilation ka awaaz tha.
---
Us raat, Zahra ko ek secure room mein rakha gaya — ek purana officer quarter jo ab detention ke kaam aata tha. Kamra chhota tha, lekin usmein ek bistar, ek chhoti heater, aur ek purana diary tha.
Abeer ne usse personally us kamre tak chhoda.
Darwaza khula, Zahra andar gayi… phir palat kar usse dekha.
“Tumhare jaisa koi, jo maut ke itne kareeb raha ho… tum pehle se alag lagte ho, Abeer.”
Abeer ne uske shabdon ka matlab samajhne se inkaar kiya. Lekin fir bhi usne kaha,
“Tum bhi… dushmanon se alag lagti ho.”
Zahra ne dheere se darwaza band kar diya. Uski anguli darwaze ke lock pe ruki thi… par kuch seconds ke liye.
Aur Abeer us corridor mein khada raha… bina hilay… jaise kisi ne uski jagah uski saans bhi chura li ho.
Raat aadhi se zyada beet chuki thi. Base ke aas-paas ki hawa mein ek ajeeb si khamoshi thi — na baraf gir rahi thi, na hi janglon mein koi awaz thi. Sab kuch itna sannata tha ki lagta tha jaise zameen ne saans lena chhod diya ho.
Zahra us chhoti si detention room ke kone mein baithi thi. Uska shawl uske kandhon par tha, lekin thand uske andar tak ghus chuki thi — wo thand jo sirf tan mein nahi, rooh mein mehsoos hoti hai. Diwar par ek purani clock tik-tik karti rahi, aur uske samne rakhi diary ke panne hawa se hilte rahe.
Achanak, kamre ki heater ki halki si gurrrh band ho gayi.
Power fluctuation? Zahra ka dil ek pal ke liye chonk utha.
Phir ek aur awaaz. Bahar corridor mein halki si metal ki ghisat ki awaz. Aise jaise kisi ne boot ka sole kheench ke chala ho — dheere, chupke.
Zahra ne apna shawl kas ke lapet liya, fir dheere se bistar se uthi. Usne table par rakha hua ek chhota sa brass ka mug uthaya — bas ek precaution, kyunki uske paas aur kuch nahi tha.
Phir… knock nahi, darwaza khula. Dheere se. Lock twist hua bina chaabi ke.
Aur ek aadmi andar aaya — face cover kiya hua, uniform Army ka, lekin stance mein ek ajeeb si urgency thi. Uske haathon mein silencer fitted pistol tha.
Zahra ek pal ke liye bas khadi rahi — aankhen us aadmi ki aankhon mein ghusi hui, saans uske gale tak aatki hui.
“Tu Zahra hai?” us aadmi ki awaaz uski saanson se bhi thandi thi. “Jo logon ke naam bata rahi hai… jo plan ki buniyaad hila rahi hai?”
Uska trigger pressure badh raha tha.
Lekin usi moment —
“Drop your weapon!”
Abeer ki garajti hui awaaz corridor se aayi, aur agle hi second mein ek loud thud! — aadmi ne palatne ki koshish ki, lekin Abeer ki goli uske haath ko cheerti hui nikal gayi.
Aadmi cheekhta hua neeche gira. Abeer ne turant us par jump kiya, bandook uske sir par tang di.
“Himmat kaise hui tujhe andar ghusne ki?” Abeer ki aankhon mein woh rage tha jo sirf tab dikhai deta hai jab kisi ne uska bharosa toda ho.
Zahra, ab bhi chokhi si, deewar ke paas khadi thi, mug ab bhi haath mein, lekin aankhen Abeer par tiki hui thi — woh aaya… sahi waqt pe.
Abeer ne us aadmi ka face mask kheench kar neeche kiya — aur jo chehra samne aaya, usne ek pal ke liye Abeer ko bhi hila diya.
Naik Rafiq. Unka hi ek trusted signalman. Hamesha silent, hamesha punctual. Kahi baar Abeer ke saath hi border recon mein gaya tha.
Abeer ka dimaag ghoom gaya.
“Tu? Tu gaddar hai?”
Rafiq ki aankhon mein koi sharam nahi thi. Sirf ek thanda, bejaan sa sukoon. “Hum sirf mulk ke liye lad rahe hain. Sirf tum logon ne galat side chuni hai.”
Zahra ne dheere se kaha, “Tum jaise log hi jang chahte ho. Aur hum jaise log uske beech pis jaate hain.”
Abeer ne use handcuff karwa ke guard ke hawale kar diya. Jaate waqt Rafiq ne sirf ek baat boli — “Abhi toh sirf shuruaat hai. Tumhare andar ke log tumhare nahi hai, Captain. Samay aane par sab dikh jayega.”
---
Subah hone tak, base mein high alert tha. Zahra ko dusre secure room mein shift kar diya gaya tha, jahan double surveillance thi. Abeer ne poore base ke records check karwaye. Kisi ne unka location leak kiya tha — aur wo aadmi sirf Rafiq nahi tha. System ke andar kuch aur bhi tha — ek invisible network, jo Zahra ke confession se pehle hi activate ho chuka tha.
Abeer ne Zahra ko breakfast ke waqt milne aaya.
Kamra ab naya tha — concrete walls, ek badi khidki jisme se barf se dhaki rangeen pahadiyan dikh rahi thi.
Zahra ne uski taraf dekha — is baar, aankhon mein koi saval nahi tha. Sirf ek shaant si swikriti thi.
“Tumne meri jaan bachayi.”
Abeer ne palak jhuki, fir bola, “Tum pe bharosa karna ab aur bhi mushkil ho gaya hai. Lekin… tumhare bagair, hum us operation tak nahi pahuch sakte.”
Zahra ne dheere se sir hilaaya.
“Main tumhe sab bataungi. Locations. Patterns. Code names. Lekin ek shart hai.”
“Shart?” Abeer ne aankhen tang ki.
“Mujhe tumhare saath field pe aana hoga. Main un logon ko pehchanti hoon. Maps se zyada unki aadaton ka pata hai mujhe.”
Abeer us par ghura — “Tumhe realize hai ke yeh suicide mission ho sakta hai? Tum par already ek target hai. Tumhe jaan se maarne wale tumhara naam leke ghanti bajaa rahe hain.”
Zahra ek kadam uske kareeb aayi. Uske lafz ab sirf baatein nahi, ek farz ki tarah nikal rahe the.
“Main aur nahi bhaag sakti, Abeer. Ab waqt hai ke main un logon ko rokun, jinhone mujhe ek weapon banake istemaal kiya. Agar ismein meri maut bhi likhi ho… toh sahi. Lekin kam se kam, marne se pehle main ek baar sach ke saath jeena chahti hoon.”
Abeer ne uske chehre ki taraf dekha — uske aankhon mein chhupa hua zakhm, uske hont jahan kabhi muskaan nahi thi… aur uski saans, jo ab ek wajah ke liye ladh rahi thi.
Wo kuch nahi bola. Sirf dheere se usne sir hila diya.
“Teek hai. Hum saath chalenge. Lekin ek baat yaad rakhna…”
Usne thoda jhuk kar uske kaan ke paas kaha, “Agar tumne mujhe dhokha diya… toh dushman se pehle main khud tumhe maar dunga.”
Zahra ne aankhen band ki. Saans andar kheench kar, dheere se bola — “Main tumhara darr samajh sakti hoon, Abeer. Aur is baar… main tumhara bharosa todungi nahi.”
Kupwara ke junglon mein ghantiyaan nahi bajti. Sirf hawa ka ek purana sur hota hai — jo hamesha dar ke saath gungunata hai. Pahaadiyon se ghirta hua wo rasta jahan din mein bhi andhera lagta hai, wahan Abeer aur Zahra ek covert patrol ke sath ja rahe the.
Unke sath total chaar jawaan the — elite reconnaissance team. Har ek ka chehra kaale paint se dhaka, rifles unke jism se chipki hui jaise ek aur haddi ho. Zahra ko Army ka uniform diya gaya tha — olive green fatigues jisme uska patla sa jism aur bhi zyada samet gaya tha. Uski choti pichhe kas ke bandhi thi, aur aaj uski aankhon mein koi uljhan nahi thi — sirf ek soldier ka focused glare.
Abeer uske peechhe chal raha tha, lekin nazar usi par thi.
Woh badli hai. Par kitni?
Uska mann har kadam par ek nayi chinta ugalta jaa raha tha. Barf ki ek halki si parat zameen pe thi, lekin aasmaan ne do din se kuch nahi barsaya. Jungle ke beech se guzarne wale un patliyon par unka mission chalu tha — Zahra ne jis jagah ka zikr kiya tha, us tak pahuchne ke liye bas kuch hi kilometre baaki the.
“Yeh rasta tumne pehle dekha hai?” Abeer ne peeche se poocha, awaaz dheemi thi, lekin aankhon mein alertness.
Zahra ne sir jhukaya.
“Ek baar. Teen saal pehle. Mujhe yeh camp dikhaya gaya tha, par andhar le jaane ki ijazat nahi thi. Tab main sirf ek putli thi.”
Abeer thoda aur kareeb aaya. Uska saans Zahra ke kaan ke paas se guzra — ek garam, lekin kathor sa touch.
“Aur ab?”
Zahra ne uske taraf dekha — aankhen theek uske chhati ke beech.
“Ab main us putli ki dor kaat chuki hoon.”
---
Jab team ne camp ke vicinity mein ghusna shuru kiya, toh hawaa mein ek ajnabee si khushboo thi — diesel, cigarette, aur jale kapdo ki. Zahra ne us camp ka location ek purani chattan ke peeche bataya tha — jahan ek chhoti si nadiya aur ek zameen mein gadha hua structure tha, jise satellite se dekhna mushkil tha.
Abeer ne binoculars uthaye.
“Three armed sentries. One sniper tower. No flags. No insignia. Pure proxy base.”
“Yeh wahi jagah hai,” Zahra ne kaha. “Yahan se chhote bachon ko pick kar ke training di jaati hai. Psychological conditioning, bomb assembly, close combat. Sab kuch.”
Uski awaaz mein ek dard tha — lekin us dard mein koi chhed nahi thi. Jaise wo dard ab uska hissa ban gaya ho.
Team ne apni position li. Silent takedown ka plan bana. Abeer ne Zahra ko ek sheltered rock ke peeche rakha —
“Tum yahin raho. Jab tak hum clear signal na dein, move mat karna.”
Zahra ne uski aankhon mein dekha.
“Tum mujhe phir akela chod rahe ho?”
Abeer jhuk kar uske kareeb aaya. Uski ungli Zahra ke hothon ke ekdam kareeb ruki.
“Main tumhe bacha raha hoon. Tumhare liye nahi… apne liye.”
Unka touch hua nahi tha, lekin us beech ki doori mein ek bijli si chamki thi. Zahra ne palak nahi jhuki. Usne sirf ek baar uski aankhon mein woh sab keh diya jo shabdon mein nahi aa sakta.
Abeer ne palat kar team ko signal diya.
---
10 minutes later.
Do goliyaan. Ek chhoti si grenade blast. Ek cheekh. Aur phir sannata.
Camp secure ho gaya tha. Total 5 militants dead. Do pakde gaye. Andar ghuste hi, jo unhone dekha — usne unke dil ko jakhmi kar diya.
Chhoti chhoti umar ke bachon ke liye banaye gaye bunk beds. Explosives ke modules. Indoctrination videos. Ek diary — Urdu mein likhi hui.
Zahra ne diary uthai. Uske haathon mein ek pal ke liye kampan hua.
Main in videos ka hissa thi. Main unka chehra thi.
Abeer uske paas aaya.
“Yeh tum ho?” usne poocha, ek photo dikhate hue.
Photo mein ek ladki thi — khadi, smile karti hui, teen chhote ladkon ke saath, jinke haath mein toy guns the. Peeche Pakistani jhanda.
Zahra ne aankhen band ki.
“Haan. Par main wo nahi hoon ab.”
Abeer ne photo uske haath se le li. Uski ungliyan ek pal ke liye Zahra ke haath chhoo gayi. Thandi. Par andar se jalti hui.
Un dono ke beech, ek lamha tha — jisme pura ek past, ek present, aur ek anjaana future chipka hua tha.
Us par bharosa karna, khud se ladne jaisa tha.
Aur uska sach, Abeer ke andar ek khali jagah bhar raha tha, jahan sirf goliyaan aur dard the.
---
Raat ko, team ne camp ko burn protocol mein daala. Sab evidence secure kar liya gaya. Zahra unmein se ek akhri diary ke panne dekh rahi thi, jab Abeer uske paas aaya.
“Zahra… kuch baat karni hai.”
Uske shabdon mein kuch tha — jisme dard, shak, aur chubhan sab tha.
“Tumne sab kuch bataya?”
Zahra ne diary band ki. Usne sirf ek pal ko Abeer ki aankhon mein dekha.
“Nahi.”
Abeer ke pair thande ho gaye.
“Kya chhupa rahi ho?”
Zahra ne aankhen neeche kar li.
“Ek naam. Ek aadmi. Jise main ab tak zinda samajh rahi thi. Lekin… wo yahan hai. Iss base ke peeche. Aur wo mujhe bhi dhoondh raha hai.”
Abeer ne daant kas li.
“Kya naam hai uska?”
Zahra ne dheere se kaha —
“Farooq. Farooq Mirza.”
Abeer ne aankhen faila di.
“Farooq? Tumhara fiancé tha, hai na?”
Zahra chup rahi. Sirf ek aansu uski aankh se bechara ho kar gira.
“Aur shayad mera maut bhi wahi ho.”
Barf ab tez gir rahi thi.
Kupwara ke us jangle mein, Abeer Rathore ek chhoti si chhatri ke neeche khada tha — aankhen samne, lekin dimaag... dimaag peeche chal raha tha. Zahra ki aakhri baat uske dimaag mein goonj rahi thi jaise kisi purani ghanti ka echo.
“Farooq. Farooq Mirza.”
Woh naam ab uske liye sirf ek code nahi, ek khatra tha — personal.
Zahra chhup chap uske paas aayi thi. Uska chehra barf ki tarah narm tha, lekin aankhon mein kuch aur tha — guilt, ya shayad wo dard jo itne saalon tak chhupa raha gaya ho. Uski saans us thandi hawa mein gungunahat banke ubhar rahi thi.
“Tum mujhse jhoot bol rahi thi,” Abeer ne kaha, awaaz mein woh shant rage tha, jo sirf andar se ubalti hai, bina cheekhe.
Zahra ne aankhen jhuki. “Main tumse sab kuch kehna chahti thi, par... main khud nahi jaanti thi ke wo ab bhi zinda hai. Mujhe laga tha wo Border cross karte waqt mar gaya.”
Abeer ne uski taraf kadam badhaye. “Tumhara fiancé tha wo, Zahra. Tum uske saath kya thi? Sirf ek mohur, ya kuch aur?”
Zahra ne uski taraf dekha, aankhon mein ek gila, ek jala hua sach.
“Main usse pyaar karti thi. Kabhi kiya tha. Jab mujhe nahi pata tha ke pyar aur wafadari mein farq hota hai. Jab mujhe nahi pata tha ke jise main apna sab kuch samajhti thi, wo mujhe ek weapon bana raha hai.”
Uska gala ruk gaya, aur usne ek kadam peeche liya — jaise apne hi lafzon ka bojh uske kandhon ko neeche kheench raha ho.
“Main tumse ek aur jhoot nahi bolungi,” usne kaha. “Agar Farooq yahan hai... toh uska maksad sirf main hoon. Wo mujhe wapas chahta hai, taaki main phir us system ka hissa ban jaun jahan se main bhaag aayi hoon. Lekin main vapas nahi jaungi.”
Abeer ne uski aankhon mein kuch khojne ki koshish ki — ek fracture, ek darar, koi nishaan ke wo ab bhi us Farooq se juda hai.
Lekin jo dikha, wo tha — ek toot chuka vishwas, ek puri tarah se jala hua rista.
“Tumhare hone se humare mission ki risk badh gayi hai, Zahra,” Abeer ne kaha, lekin is baar uski awaaz thodi halki thi. “Par tumhare hone se hi humne yeh camp tak pahuch paya. Main tum par bharosa karna chahta hoon… par ek soldier hone ke nate, main har raat apni jaan se pehle mulk ke baare mein sochta hoon.”
Zahra ne uski taraf ek kadam badhaya.
“Mujhe jaan se zyada farq padta hai is mulk ke har us sipahi se jo mujhe apna dushman samajh raha hai. Farooq ke saath rehna... ek aisi saza thi jahan har din mein apni rooh ka ek hissa maar kar jeeti thi. Abeer, main ab azaad hoon — aur agar azaadi ka matlab tumhara bharosa jeetna hai, toh main marne ke liye bhi tayyar hoon.”
Abeer ka haath dheere se uske kandhe pe gaya. Ek lamha aaya jisme unka chehra ek dusre ke itne kareeb tha, ke saansen tak sunayi dene lagi.
“Main tumhe khona nahi chahta, Zahra,” Abeer ne kaha, pehli baar apna ek personal raaz kholta hua. “Par mujhe yeh bhi pata hai... Farooq tum tak pahuch gaya, ya to tumhe kheench lega, ya mujhe tod dega.”
Zahra ne uska haath pakad liya — tight, firm, jaise ek soldier doosre ko battlefield se kheech raha ho.
“Tumse door jaane se pehle main marna pasand karungi.”
---
Ek din baad — ek new intel aata hai.
Drone surveillance se ek chhupi hui movement pakdi jaati hai — 12 logon ka group, kupwara ke northeast jungle mein, satellite blind zone mein.
Abeer briefing room mein chhoti si screen par zoom karta hai — ek frame pause karta hai. Us frame mein ek aadmi ka shadow hai. Sharp cheekbones, trimmed beard, Pakistani tactical gear.
Zahra ne tasveer dekhi.
“Wo hai...” uski awaaz phisli. “Farooq.”
Mission green-lit hota hai. Zahra ka inclusion controversial hai — par uski knowledge un logon ke route aur hideouts ke baare mein critical hoti hai.
Operation naam diya jaata hai — Raakh.
Kyunki is baar unka maksad sirf eliminate karna nahi, safaya karna hai.
---
Mission night — 0200 hours.
Raat ke andhere mein, Abeer aur Zahra ek narrow ridge se neeche utarte hain. Niche ek temporary camp dikhayi deta hai — tents, radio signals, aur do snipers.
Zahra ne scope se dekha.
Aur usne dekha... Farooq.
Uska chehra ab bhi waisa hi tha — lekin aankhon mein kuch aur tha. Jungli possessiveness.
Usne radio pe kaha, “Main jaaungi. Uske saamne. Wo mujhe dekhega... aur apna guard neeche karega. Tab tum log strike karna.”
Abeer shook his head. “Tum pagal ho?”
Zahra ne uske hothon pe ungli rakh di. “Main ladne aayi hoon, bhaagne nahi.”
Abeer ne uske haath pakad liye. “Wapas nahi launga tumhe agar kuch hua toh.”
Zahra ne uske aankhon mein dekha. “Toh aaj se mujhe tumhare liye jeena hoga.”
Raat ne apne kaale chadar ko aur zyada kas ke lapet liya tha. Barf ruk chuki thi, lekin zameen ab bhi nami se bhari thi — jaise kuch kehna chahti ho, par bol nahi pa rahi. Kupwara ke us andheray hisse mein, jahan drone signals fail ho jaate the, ek chhota camp ek nayi andhi ke aane ka intezar kar raha tha.
Zahra ne apni tactical vest ko kas kar band kiya. Uski kamar ke paas chhoti si fragmentation grenade thi — custom timer pe set ki gayi, just in case things went wrong. Uske collar mein chhupi thi ek ultra-slim transmitter — jo Abeer ke comm set se directly linked thi.
Usne Abeer ki taraf dekha — ek pal ke liye sirf uska chehra dekha, jaise har line, har muskurahat, har dard uske zehan mein basana chahti ho.
“Yaad rakhna,” Abeer ne uske haath pakad ke kaha, “ek minute bhi zyada hua, main andar ghus jaunga. Farooq ko goli lage ya tumhe... main phir fark nahi kar paunga.”
Zahra ne uske haathon ko thama. Uski anguliyan thandi thi, lekin pakad mein kampan nahi tha.
“Main aayi thi ek jaan bachaane... apni. Ja rahi hoon ek jaan dene... kisi aur ki.”
Unke beech ki hawa mein kuch unsaid tha. Abeer ne chhoti si file uski pocket mein daali.
“Ek chhoti diary hai... tumhare baare mein. Agar wapas na aayi toh main duniya ko tumhara sach bataunga.”
Zahra sirf muskaraayi. Uska haath dheere se Abeer ke gaal ke paas gaya — ek halki si chhoo kar, jaise kisi broken glass ke tukde par se ungli guzaar raha ho.
“Zinda rahi toh lautungi... sirf tumhare liye.”
Aur wo chal padhi.
---
Camp ke andar —
Farooq Mirza ek lambe wooden crate par baitha tha, ek hand-rolled cigarette se dhuaan ugalta hua. Uska chehra shaant tha, lekin aankhen... aankhen paagal si thi.
Wo aankhen jo sirf kabzaa karna chahti thi, samajhna nahi.
Jab Zahra andhar aayi, camp ke chaar aurat-mukhota pehne guards ne turant weapon ready kiya. Lekin Farooq ne ek haath uthake sabko roka.
Uske honton par ek muskaan thi — jeet ki, ya shikaar ki, ya dono ki.
“Zahra...” uski awaaz ne camp ke thande hawa ko ek garam dhuaan de diya.
Zahra ne kadam rakha, dheere, lekin saph clarity ke saath. “Tujhe laga main wapas aungi?”
Farooq utha. Uski chaal ab bhi waise hi thi — confident, thodi si theatrical.
“Main jaanta tha. Tum jaisi aurat... sirf bhool sakti hai, chhod nahi sakti.”
Zahra ki aankhon mein ab koi gussa nahi tha. Sirf nirnay tha.
“Tum galat the, Farooq. Main woh Zahra thi jo tumne banayi thi. Par ab main woh hoon jo apne liye khud khadi hai.”
Farooq ne aage badhkar uska haath pakadne ki koshish ki — lekin Zahra ne ek kadam peeche liya.
“Main tumse pyaar karti thi... par tumne mujhe sirf ek kaam ka zariya samjha.”
“Main tumhe malik banane chaahta tha,” Farooq ki awaaz tez ho gayi. “Tum aur main — dono ek naya nizaam chala sakte the. Tum Indian system mein ghus jaati, aur main wahan se sab kuch khatam karta.”
Zahra ki aankhon se ek aansu gira — par uske hothon par ek thanda smile tha.
“Main tumhare sapne ki jannat mein gulam ban ke rehna nahi chahti thi.”
Usne jacket ki andar se ek chhoti file nikali — wahi file jo Abeer ne di thi.
Farooq ne dekha — uski aankhen chhoti ho gayi. “Yeh kya hai?”
“Tumhara antim din,” Zahra ne kaha, aur dheere se us file ko uske pairon ke paas gira diya.
---
Wahin se 400 meters door — hilltop pe
Abeer earpiece mein sab sun raha tha. Uski aankhen scope pe thi, aur scope mein Zahra ka chehra.
“Signal aa gaya,” Singh ne kaha, “Timer on hai. 60 seconds.”
Abeer ne deep breath li.
Ya to wo bahar aayegi... ya main andar jaunga. Dono mein maut tay hai.
---
Camp ke andar —
Zahra ne chhup kar grenade ka pin kheench liya — 45 seconds.
Usne Farooq ko dekha, phir apne transmitter ki taraf haath badhaya.
“Tum ab bhi nahi samjhe, Farooq. Main tumse bhaag nahi rahi thi... main apne aap se milne ja rahi thi.”
“Zahra!” Farooq chillaaya, lekin us waqt tak...
BOOM!
Ek controlled blast. Smoke grenade + light fragmentation. Confusion. Chikhe. Gunfire. Zahra ne us moment mein Farooq ki pistol se haath hataya, aur camp ke ek dusre end ki taraf bhaag gayi.
Abeer ne signal milte hi base pe raid chhodi.
---
10 minute ke firefight ke baad, camp clear ho gaya.
Do militants zinda, baaki sab khatam. Lekin...
Zahra zameen pe thi. Ek side pe blood ka daag. Uski aankhen bandh thi.
Abeer uske paas ghutno pe aaya.
“Zahra… Zahra, aankhen kholo! Dammit, open your eyes!”
Uski ungliyaan Zahra ke chehre ko chhoo rahi thi — barf se bhi thanda. Par phir… ek halki si movement. Uski palkien hilin.
“Abeer…” uski awaaz faati si thi. “Tum aa gaye.”
“Main kabhi gaya hi nahi tha,” Abeer ne kaha, uske haath pakad kar. “Tumne promise kiya tha… zinda lautne ka.”
Zahra ne muskarakar aankhen bandh kar li.
“Tumhare liye… sab kuch.”
---
Subah hone tak Kupwara ki woh raat kahani ban chuki thi — dard bhari, lekin apne aap mein ek misaal.
Zahra ko helicopter se Srinagar Field Hospital mein laya gaya. Uske kandhe ke paas se nikli goli ne haddi chhuli thi, lekin sabse zyada nuksan uske andar hua tha — blood loss, shock, aur ek lamha jisme usne apne sabse purane dard ke samne khud ko rakha aur tod diya.
Abeer uske bistar ke paas khada tha, bina kuch bole.
Uski aankhen Zahra ke pale chehre pe tikki thi, uske hothon pe oxygen mask tha, aur aankhen bandh — lekin uski saans… abhi chal rahi thi. Dheere, magar zinda.
Main usse wapas le aaya hoon. Lekin kya main use sambhal paunga?
Abeer ne uska haath uthaya — us haath pe ab bhi wo khushbu thi, jo usne us raat lagayi thi. Ek meethi si mitti ki khushbu… jaise koi bachpan se chhupi yaad ho.
“Zahra...” usne dheere se kaha. “Tumhe jala diya tha uss camp mein, Farooq ne... par tum usse zyada mazboot nikli.”
Uske laal chhoti diary ko usne pocket se nikala, aur Zahra ke takiye ke paas rakha.
“Jab aankhen kholo... toh is baar sirf apni kahani likhna. Kisi aur ki nahi.”
---
Do din baad
Srinagar Military Detention Wing, Interrogation Room 3.
Farooq Mirza ka chehra ab bhi shaant tha — par uski aankhon mein ghamand nahi tha, sirf ek ajeeb sa samarpan tha. Jaise wo har sawal ka jawab jaanta ho, lekin bolna nahi chahta.
Samne baithe Colonel Rawat ne file band ki.
“Tum jaante ho ki tumhare jaise aadmiyon ke liye faansi ka order sirf ek signature ki doori pe hota hai.”
Farooq ne aankhen uthayi. “Aur tum jaante ho ki hum jaise log mar jaayein, toh aur chaar pedhiyan paida ho jaati hain. Jang ek soch hai, Colonel. Aadmi badalte hain, soch nahi.”
Rawat gussa pee gaya. Abeer ne us waqt tak kuch nahi kaha tha, par phir usne Farooq ki aankhon mein direct dekha.
“Tumne Zahra ko ek weapon banaya. Tumhare liye pyar bhi ek mission tha. Ab usne tumhe mita diya. Kaisa lagta hai?”
Farooq ne ek pal ko chup rehkar kaha —
“Zahra... kabhi meri thi nahi. Usmein rooh thi. Tum log us rooh ko sirf ek border pe rakh kar samajhne ki koshish kar rahe ho.”
Usne jhuk kar kuch aur kaha — halki si muskaan ke saath.
“Par Abeer... us rooh mein ab tum ho. Dekhna… woh rooh tumhe tod degi.”
---
Usi dopahar
Zahra ne aankhen kholi. Kamre mein dhoop ka ek patla sa patta uske gaal tak pahuch raha tha. Usne hila, to pain ne use jaga diya.
“Careful,” Abeer ki awaaz uske bayein kaan ke paas se aayi. “Stitches hain. Bahut gehri chot thi.”
Zahra ne palkein uthayi. Uske chehre par ek thaka hua, lekin sachha smile tha.
“Tum waqai aaye the... ya main sapna dekh rahi hoon?”
Abeer ne uska haath pakda — fir bina kuch bole, uska matha chuma.
“Nahi, Zahra. Main gaya hota… toh tum wapas nahi aati.”
Zahra ki aankhon mein aansu the. Par us baar… halke, narm, aur pehli baar... sukoon wale.
Usne us diary ki taraf dekha jo takiye ke paas thi.
“Tum laaye isse?”
Abeer ne sir hilaaya. “Tumhara sach duniya ke samne aayega. Tum jaisi auratein... jang jeet-ti nahi hain, woh uska matlab badal deti hain.”
Zahra ne diary kholi — uske pehle panne par likha tha:
"Main dushman ke ghar mein paida hui, lekin main apni rooh ke saath wafadar rahi."
Abeer uske paas baitha raha, uske haath mein haath liye, jaise dono kisi aise safar ke raahi ho jahan shabd se zyada... khamoshi bolti hai.
Us raat, dono ek dusre ke kareeb the — koi judai, koi border, aur koi mission beech mein nahi tha.
Sirf ek haqiqat thi —
Ek fauj ka officer. Ek dushman ki beti. Dono ne ek dusre mein apna ghar dhoondh liya tha.
Delhi ki sard hawa ne sookhe pedon ke pattiyon ko lehraya, aur Rashtrapati Bhavan ke peechhe wale lawns mein baithi media ki line aur bhi lambi hoti gayi. Zahra Inayat Khan — ek naam jo kuch hafton pehle tak dushman ki beti kehlata tha, aaj ek national debate ka wajah ban chuka tha.
Abeer Rathore ne army green blazer pehna tha, lekin andar se woh kisi bhi battleground se zyada thaka hua lag raha tha. Uski aankhon mein neend nahi thi. Neend ka toh waise bhi usne chhod diya tha… jab se usne Zahra ko us hospital bed pe akhri baar dekha tha.
“Political asylum?”
General Arvind Raina ki awaaz office ke glass walls tak goonj gayi. “Rathore, tum samajh rahe ho na tum kya maang rahe ho? Ek Pakistani intelligence general ki beti ko Indian soil pe chhodna… yeh sirf ek emotional lapse nahi hai, yeh security breach hai.”
Abeer ne aankhon se seedha dekha, jawline tight thi, lekin awaaz me sharafat se zyada farz ka dard tha.
“Sir, Zahra ne sirf ek mulk nahi, ek system ke khilaf sach bola hai. Jis camp ki location usne di, usse na sirf ek infiltration wave roki gayi, balki humare chhote jawanon ke upar se ek khauf uth gaya. Usne khud ko risk mein daal kar… humare liye ladai ladi hai.”
General ne uski file bandh kar di.
“Par public perception? Tum soch rahe ho, kal headlines kya likhenge?”
Abeer thoda jhuk kar bola —
“Sir… agar hum apne dushman ke beech se nikle hue sach ka bhi sammaan nahi kar paaye, toh hum duniya ko kya justice denge?”
Ek lamha chup raha. Phir Raina ne kaha, “Tumhe ek din ka waqt milta hai. Zahra ko ya toh deport kiya jaayega… ya proof of threat dikhao, jisse uski zindagi Pakistan mein waapis jaane se khatre mein hai.”
---
Us raat, Zahra ek government safe house mein thi. Kamra simple tha — ek steel ka bed, ek wooden cupboard, aur khidki ke bahar Dilli ki sardi se ulajhti raat.
Abeer andar aaya — bina knock kiye.
Zahra ne uski taraf dekha. Uske hothon par woh thak gyi si muskurahat thi, jaise kisi ne andheron se baatein kar kar ke roshni se nazar hata li ho.
“Unhone tumhe mana kar diya?” usne poocha.
Abeer ne kuch nahi bola. Bas aake uske samne baith gaya.
Zahra ka haath uske haath par aaya.
“Mujhe jaana padega, hai na?”
Abeer ne aankhen band ki.
“Main is baar tumhe nahi jaane dunga.”
Zahra ki awaaz halke dard mein chhipi thi.
“Woh mulk jahan maine janam liya, usne mujhe kabhi apna nahi samjha. Aur ab jis mulk ne mujhe zinda rakha, uska mujhe rakhna mushkil hai.”
“Main dono mulkon ke beech aisi jagah dhoondh raha hoon jahan sirf hum dono ho,” Abeer ne kaha. “Ek aisi kahani jahan na border ho, na badge, sirf ek insaan ka vishwas ho.”
Zahra ki aankhen bhar aayi. “Tum jaante ho na, aisi jagah sirf kahaniyon mein hoti hai?”
Abeer ne uske chehre ko dono haathon mein pakda. Uski aankhon mein woh aankhon ka bharosa tha jisme ek sipahi sirf ek baar jhukta hai — jab usse kisi se pyaar ho jaaye.
“Nahi. Ab woh jagah hum banayenge.”
---
Agle din — Aakhri Faisla.
Supreme Security Council ki closed-door meeting ke baad ek press release aayi.
“On humanitarian grounds, and due to exceptional service in averting a major cross-border terrorist operation, Zahra Inayat Khan is hereby granted conditional political asylum by the Indian Government.”
Abeer ne jab yeh suna, to uski ungliyon ne apne aap Zahra ki diary ko chhoo liya — jaise us lafz asylum mein ek naya ghar chhupa ho.
---
Ek hafte baad
Pahadon ke beech, Himachal ki ek chhoti si valley mein, ek secluded house tha — jahan telephone signal nahi aata, aur sirf birdsong hota tha. Wahin Abeer aur Zahra ab naye naam se rehte the — Adil aur Saima.
Zahra chhoti chhoti baatein likhti — khidki ke paas baith kar, dhoop mein apne chehre ko sekte hue.
Abeer subah ki chai banata. Kabhi kabhi usse dekhta hua sochta —
"Yeh ladki... mere dushman ke ghar se aayi thi, lekin meri rooh tak aake ruk gayi."
Zahra ne diary mein likha:
"Jang ke baad kabhi kabhi aisi shaanti milti hai, jahan sirf zakhm bolte hain... aur ek doosra insaan unka jawab ban jaata hai."
Unka rista kabhi “normal” nahi tha. Na kabhi hoga.
Lekin wo rista sachcha tha.
Aur kabhi kabhi… sachchai hi sabse bada watan hoti hai.
---
THE END
---
Captain Abeer Rathore ne apne bunker se bahar kadam rakha. Lamba, patla parantu chhati se mazboot, uske chehre par suraj ke neeche guzaari hui dino ki thakawat thi. Uski aankhon ka rang jala hua tamba jaisa tha, aur wo har kadam ko jaise ankhon se parakh raha ho. Uske khaki rang ke uniform par baraf ke chamakte mothe pad gaye the, aur uska Beretta hamesha apne paas tha. Uske gaal par ek gehra daag tha — jo ki Baramulla ka tha, aur yaad dilata tha ki kismet ka koi bhi hisaab nahi hota.
“Sir, drone se jo intel mila, usmein kuch harkatein dekhne ko mili hain, 2 klick purab mein. Yeh kuch rogue patrols ho sakte hain,” Havaldar Singh ne, apne gusse ko chhupate hue kaha.
Abeer ne apni nazar us pahaadi ki oor daali.
“Ho sakta hai, ya ho sakta hai nahi bhi. Chalo, dekhte hain. Chupchaap jao. Main aage chalta hoon.”
Raat ke 9 baje, wo sabhi janglon mein the, jahan baraf ke neele chhatron se har ek paheli ka raaz chhupne laga tha. Abeer apne aapko uss samay ke liye tyaar kar raha tha. Jaise ek shikar karte hue, wo sab kuch dekh raha tha — har ek sukhi patta, har ek baraf ki chingari, sab kuch.
Aur phir — ek saans. Wo hawa nahi thi. Ek saans thi.
Usne apni ungli uthayi. Sab ruk gaye.
30 meter door, ek chehra dikhayi diya. Bina hathiyar ke, ek ladki, jo black shawl mein lapeti hui thi, dheere dheere chal rahi thi. Akeli thi. Ya aisa lag raha tha.
Abeer ne apna bandook uthaya, aur trigger ke paas apni ungli rakhkar usne aankh se dekha.
Yeh kya ho sakta hai? Yeh kisne bheja hai yahan?
Ladki ne apna chehra ghumaaya — aur chaand ki roshni mein uska chehra ek ajeeb si roshni se chamak raha tha.
Uske chehre ke chhote chhote hi jagah, har ek zuban pe kehne ke liye baatein thi, jo apne aap ko uske chehre par likhti thi. Uski aankhon ka rang — wo neela, neela jaisa rang tha — par zaher bhi tha.
“Aap Hindustani ho?” Ladki ki awaaz ki ek, adha kaayal tha.
“Haan,” Abeer ne, khud ko zyada raaz mai rakhne ki kosis ki.
Abeer aur ladki ke beech mein chup tha. Wo ladhayi kyun ladti hai? Aur yeh kya jhatak hai jo aankhon ko dekhne par bhi andar ke dard ka pata de rahe hai.
Suddenly, Singh ne uss side se ana dekhake Abeer ka kaam ab sab se zyada jaana leliya.
Singh ne saamne se aakar salute kiya, lekin uske chehre par ek ajeeb si tanav tha.
“Sir, aage ke chaar kilometer tak footprints mile hain. Bahut naye hain. Char aadmiyon ke. Pakistani military ke uniform mein, lekin weapons unregistered hain. Lagta hai hired mercenaries hain.”
Abeer ne ek gehri saans li, fir apni aankhon ka focus us ladki par le aaya — Zahra Inayat Khan. Naam uske dimaag mein gunj raha tha jaise kisi purani yaadon ki goonj. General Inayat Khan ki beti. ISI ka dimaag. Dushman ka khoon.
Lekin wo ladki us samay samne baithi thi, aankhon mein koi dikhawa nahi, koi ghabrahat nahi. Sirf ek thakaan thi — gehri, atoot thakaan — jaise usne sab kuch pee liya ho, aur ab sirf saans lene ke liye jagah maang rahi ho.
“Tum yahan kyun ho, Zahra?” Abeer ka sawaal ab zyada naram tha, lekin andar ek loha abhi bhi garam tha.
Zahra ne apna dupatta thoda aur kas liya, jaise thand ke saath saath apne raaz bhi lapet rahi ho.
“Main bhaagi hoon… apne baap ke us safed jhoot se, jise wo sach ka naam deta hai.”
“Bhaagi ho?” Abeer ne aankhen tang ki. “Tum Pakistan ke most wanted intelligence general ki beti ho. Agar yeh plan nahi hai toh kya hai? Tum yeh expect karti ho ke main maan loon?”
Zahra ki aankhen ek pal ke liye bhar aayi. Par aansu uske liye kamzor nahi the — wo to kisi samay ka hisaab thhe.
“Main tumhare saamne kisi mission pe nahi hoon, Captain Rathore. Main ek behen hoon, jiska bhai usi system mein mar gaya jahan se tumhara dushmani hai. Uska naam Bilal tha. Usne mere baap ke operations pe sawal uthaya. Agle din uska phone band tha. Uske do hafte baad uska jism mila — bina haathon ke.”
Abeer ka haath dheere se uski bandook ke trigger guard se hat gaya. Uska dil dhak dhak kar raha tha, lekin wajah samajh nahi aa rahi thi.
Yeh dard asli hai. Yeh ladki jhoot nahi bol rahi… ya phir yeh jhoot bhi itna saccha hai ke main farq nahi samajh paa raha.
“Phir LOC cross karne ka faisla?” Abeer ne poocha, lekin is baar awaaz mein wo steel nahi tha. Sirf jaanch thi.
Zahra ne uski aankhon mein dekha, seedha, bina jhijhak.
“Tumhara naam suna hai. Mere baap ke system mein tumhari file ek laal chaap wali file thi. Usne tumhare baare mein kaha tha — ‘yeh aadmi jung se nahi darta, lekin pyar se bhi nahi jhukti uski rooh.’ Main jaanti thi… agar main zinda pahunchna chaahti hoon, toh tum tak pahunchna hoga.”
Abeer ek pal ke liye kuch nahi bol saka. Uske andar kuch toot raha tha — ya ban raha tha, wo samajh nahi paaya. Zahra ne usse sirf zinda rehne ki guzarish nahi ki thi, usne usse vishwas maanga tha. Aur yeh wahi jagah thi jahan uska dil aur dimaag dono ladte the.
Ek lamha aaya, jahan dono sirf ek dusre ki saans sun rahe the. Raat bahar baras rahi thi, lekin is chhoti si interrogation room mein — kuch aur baras raha tha. Sankoch. Shaq. Aur ek anjaana sa bandhan.
“Thik hai,” Abeer ne aakhir bola. “Tumhe protective custody mein rakha jaayega. Kal subah interrogation team tumse aur sawaal karegi. Tab tak… tum yahan surakshit ho.”
“Tum pe bharosa karna meri sabse badi galti bhi ho sakti hai, Abeer,” Zahra ne dheere se kaha.
“Main bhi yeh soch raha hoon,” Abeer ne jawab diya, uski aankhon mein ek thandi muskaan ke saath. “Lekin agar tum jhoot bol rahi ho… toh tum jaanti ho, kya hoga.”
Zahra sirf dheere se muskaraayi — wo muskaan jo dard ke neeche paida hoti hai, aur sirf wo log muskaraate hain jinhone sab kuch kho diya ho.
---
Base ke ek quiet corridor mein, Abeer ne Colonel Rawat ko briefing di.
“Sir, she claims she’s defecting. Says ISI is planning a new operation from a covert camp near Kupwara. She gave us partial coordinates. If true, it could mean an infiltration within the next ten days.”
Rawat ne aankhon ki narrowing ke saath gusse mein poocha, “Aur tumne use yahan le bhi aaye ho? Without clearance?”
Abeer ka jawab ekdum thanda tha, lekin usmein spark tha.
“Main ek soldier hoon, sir. Lekin jab koi jala hua parcham lekar aman maange, toh usse goli nahi milti… interrogation milta hai.”
Rawat chup ho gaya. Ek pal ke liye sirf ventilation ka awaaz tha.
---
Us raat, Zahra ko ek secure room mein rakha gaya — ek purana officer quarter jo ab detention ke kaam aata tha. Kamra chhota tha, lekin usmein ek bistar, ek chhoti heater, aur ek purana diary tha.
Abeer ne usse personally us kamre tak chhoda.
Darwaza khula, Zahra andar gayi… phir palat kar usse dekha.
“Tumhare jaisa koi, jo maut ke itne kareeb raha ho… tum pehle se alag lagte ho, Abeer.”
Abeer ne uske shabdon ka matlab samajhne se inkaar kiya. Lekin fir bhi usne kaha,
“Tum bhi… dushmanon se alag lagti ho.”
Zahra ne dheere se darwaza band kar diya. Uski anguli darwaze ke lock pe ruki thi… par kuch seconds ke liye.
Aur Abeer us corridor mein khada raha… bina hilay… jaise kisi ne uski jagah uski saans bhi chura li ho.
Raat aadhi se zyada beet chuki thi. Base ke aas-paas ki hawa mein ek ajeeb si khamoshi thi — na baraf gir rahi thi, na hi janglon mein koi awaz thi. Sab kuch itna sannata tha ki lagta tha jaise zameen ne saans lena chhod diya ho.
Zahra us chhoti si detention room ke kone mein baithi thi. Uska shawl uske kandhon par tha, lekin thand uske andar tak ghus chuki thi — wo thand jo sirf tan mein nahi, rooh mein mehsoos hoti hai. Diwar par ek purani clock tik-tik karti rahi, aur uske samne rakhi diary ke panne hawa se hilte rahe.
Achanak, kamre ki heater ki halki si gurrrh band ho gayi.
Power fluctuation? Zahra ka dil ek pal ke liye chonk utha.
Phir ek aur awaaz. Bahar corridor mein halki si metal ki ghisat ki awaz. Aise jaise kisi ne boot ka sole kheench ke chala ho — dheere, chupke.
Zahra ne apna shawl kas ke lapet liya, fir dheere se bistar se uthi. Usne table par rakha hua ek chhota sa brass ka mug uthaya — bas ek precaution, kyunki uske paas aur kuch nahi tha.
Phir… knock nahi, darwaza khula. Dheere se. Lock twist hua bina chaabi ke.
Aur ek aadmi andar aaya — face cover kiya hua, uniform Army ka, lekin stance mein ek ajeeb si urgency thi. Uske haathon mein silencer fitted pistol tha.
Zahra ek pal ke liye bas khadi rahi — aankhen us aadmi ki aankhon mein ghusi hui, saans uske gale tak aatki hui.
“Tu Zahra hai?” us aadmi ki awaaz uski saanson se bhi thandi thi. “Jo logon ke naam bata rahi hai… jo plan ki buniyaad hila rahi hai?”
Uska trigger pressure badh raha tha.
Lekin usi moment —
“Drop your weapon!”
Abeer ki garajti hui awaaz corridor se aayi, aur agle hi second mein ek loud thud! — aadmi ne palatne ki koshish ki, lekin Abeer ki goli uske haath ko cheerti hui nikal gayi.
Aadmi cheekhta hua neeche gira. Abeer ne turant us par jump kiya, bandook uske sir par tang di.
“Himmat kaise hui tujhe andar ghusne ki?” Abeer ki aankhon mein woh rage tha jo sirf tab dikhai deta hai jab kisi ne uska bharosa toda ho.
Zahra, ab bhi chokhi si, deewar ke paas khadi thi, mug ab bhi haath mein, lekin aankhen Abeer par tiki hui thi — woh aaya… sahi waqt pe.
Abeer ne us aadmi ka face mask kheench kar neeche kiya — aur jo chehra samne aaya, usne ek pal ke liye Abeer ko bhi hila diya.
Naik Rafiq. Unka hi ek trusted signalman. Hamesha silent, hamesha punctual. Kahi baar Abeer ke saath hi border recon mein gaya tha.
Abeer ka dimaag ghoom gaya.
“Tu? Tu gaddar hai?”
Rafiq ki aankhon mein koi sharam nahi thi. Sirf ek thanda, bejaan sa sukoon. “Hum sirf mulk ke liye lad rahe hain. Sirf tum logon ne galat side chuni hai.”
Zahra ne dheere se kaha, “Tum jaise log hi jang chahte ho. Aur hum jaise log uske beech pis jaate hain.”
Abeer ne use handcuff karwa ke guard ke hawale kar diya. Jaate waqt Rafiq ne sirf ek baat boli — “Abhi toh sirf shuruaat hai. Tumhare andar ke log tumhare nahi hai, Captain. Samay aane par sab dikh jayega.”
---
Subah hone tak, base mein high alert tha. Zahra ko dusre secure room mein shift kar diya gaya tha, jahan double surveillance thi. Abeer ne poore base ke records check karwaye. Kisi ne unka location leak kiya tha — aur wo aadmi sirf Rafiq nahi tha. System ke andar kuch aur bhi tha — ek invisible network, jo Zahra ke confession se pehle hi activate ho chuka tha.
Abeer ne Zahra ko breakfast ke waqt milne aaya.
Kamra ab naya tha — concrete walls, ek badi khidki jisme se barf se dhaki rangeen pahadiyan dikh rahi thi.
Zahra ne uski taraf dekha — is baar, aankhon mein koi saval nahi tha. Sirf ek shaant si swikriti thi.
“Tumne meri jaan bachayi.”
Abeer ne palak jhuki, fir bola, “Tum pe bharosa karna ab aur bhi mushkil ho gaya hai. Lekin… tumhare bagair, hum us operation tak nahi pahuch sakte.”
Zahra ne dheere se sir hilaaya.
“Main tumhe sab bataungi. Locations. Patterns. Code names. Lekin ek shart hai.”
“Shart?” Abeer ne aankhen tang ki.
“Mujhe tumhare saath field pe aana hoga. Main un logon ko pehchanti hoon. Maps se zyada unki aadaton ka pata hai mujhe.”
Abeer us par ghura — “Tumhe realize hai ke yeh suicide mission ho sakta hai? Tum par already ek target hai. Tumhe jaan se maarne wale tumhara naam leke ghanti bajaa rahe hain.”
Zahra ek kadam uske kareeb aayi. Uske lafz ab sirf baatein nahi, ek farz ki tarah nikal rahe the.
“Main aur nahi bhaag sakti, Abeer. Ab waqt hai ke main un logon ko rokun, jinhone mujhe ek weapon banake istemaal kiya. Agar ismein meri maut bhi likhi ho… toh sahi. Lekin kam se kam, marne se pehle main ek baar sach ke saath jeena chahti hoon.”
Abeer ne uske chehre ki taraf dekha — uske aankhon mein chhupa hua zakhm, uske hont jahan kabhi muskaan nahi thi… aur uski saans, jo ab ek wajah ke liye ladh rahi thi.
Wo kuch nahi bola. Sirf dheere se usne sir hila diya.
“Teek hai. Hum saath chalenge. Lekin ek baat yaad rakhna…”
Usne thoda jhuk kar uske kaan ke paas kaha, “Agar tumne mujhe dhokha diya… toh dushman se pehle main khud tumhe maar dunga.”
Zahra ne aankhen band ki. Saans andar kheench kar, dheere se bola — “Main tumhara darr samajh sakti hoon, Abeer. Aur is baar… main tumhara bharosa todungi nahi.”
Kupwara ke junglon mein ghantiyaan nahi bajti. Sirf hawa ka ek purana sur hota hai — jo hamesha dar ke saath gungunata hai. Pahaadiyon se ghirta hua wo rasta jahan din mein bhi andhera lagta hai, wahan Abeer aur Zahra ek covert patrol ke sath ja rahe the.
Unke sath total chaar jawaan the — elite reconnaissance team. Har ek ka chehra kaale paint se dhaka, rifles unke jism se chipki hui jaise ek aur haddi ho. Zahra ko Army ka uniform diya gaya tha — olive green fatigues jisme uska patla sa jism aur bhi zyada samet gaya tha. Uski choti pichhe kas ke bandhi thi, aur aaj uski aankhon mein koi uljhan nahi thi — sirf ek soldier ka focused glare.
Abeer uske peechhe chal raha tha, lekin nazar usi par thi.
Woh badli hai. Par kitni?
Uska mann har kadam par ek nayi chinta ugalta jaa raha tha. Barf ki ek halki si parat zameen pe thi, lekin aasmaan ne do din se kuch nahi barsaya. Jungle ke beech se guzarne wale un patliyon par unka mission chalu tha — Zahra ne jis jagah ka zikr kiya tha, us tak pahuchne ke liye bas kuch hi kilometre baaki the.
“Yeh rasta tumne pehle dekha hai?” Abeer ne peeche se poocha, awaaz dheemi thi, lekin aankhon mein alertness.
Zahra ne sir jhukaya.
“Ek baar. Teen saal pehle. Mujhe yeh camp dikhaya gaya tha, par andhar le jaane ki ijazat nahi thi. Tab main sirf ek putli thi.”
Abeer thoda aur kareeb aaya. Uska saans Zahra ke kaan ke paas se guzra — ek garam, lekin kathor sa touch.
“Aur ab?”
Zahra ne uske taraf dekha — aankhen theek uske chhati ke beech.
“Ab main us putli ki dor kaat chuki hoon.”
---
Jab team ne camp ke vicinity mein ghusna shuru kiya, toh hawaa mein ek ajnabee si khushboo thi — diesel, cigarette, aur jale kapdo ki. Zahra ne us camp ka location ek purani chattan ke peeche bataya tha — jahan ek chhoti si nadiya aur ek zameen mein gadha hua structure tha, jise satellite se dekhna mushkil tha.
Abeer ne binoculars uthaye.
“Three armed sentries. One sniper tower. No flags. No insignia. Pure proxy base.”
“Yeh wahi jagah hai,” Zahra ne kaha. “Yahan se chhote bachon ko pick kar ke training di jaati hai. Psychological conditioning, bomb assembly, close combat. Sab kuch.”
Uski awaaz mein ek dard tha — lekin us dard mein koi chhed nahi thi. Jaise wo dard ab uska hissa ban gaya ho.
Team ne apni position li. Silent takedown ka plan bana. Abeer ne Zahra ko ek sheltered rock ke peeche rakha —
“Tum yahin raho. Jab tak hum clear signal na dein, move mat karna.”
Zahra ne uski aankhon mein dekha.
“Tum mujhe phir akela chod rahe ho?”
Abeer jhuk kar uske kareeb aaya. Uski ungli Zahra ke hothon ke ekdam kareeb ruki.
“Main tumhe bacha raha hoon. Tumhare liye nahi… apne liye.”
Unka touch hua nahi tha, lekin us beech ki doori mein ek bijli si chamki thi. Zahra ne palak nahi jhuki. Usne sirf ek baar uski aankhon mein woh sab keh diya jo shabdon mein nahi aa sakta.
Abeer ne palat kar team ko signal diya.
---
10 minutes later.
Do goliyaan. Ek chhoti si grenade blast. Ek cheekh. Aur phir sannata.
Camp secure ho gaya tha. Total 5 militants dead. Do pakde gaye. Andar ghuste hi, jo unhone dekha — usne unke dil ko jakhmi kar diya.
Chhoti chhoti umar ke bachon ke liye banaye gaye bunk beds. Explosives ke modules. Indoctrination videos. Ek diary — Urdu mein likhi hui.
Zahra ne diary uthai. Uske haathon mein ek pal ke liye kampan hua.
Main in videos ka hissa thi. Main unka chehra thi.
Abeer uske paas aaya.
“Yeh tum ho?” usne poocha, ek photo dikhate hue.
Photo mein ek ladki thi — khadi, smile karti hui, teen chhote ladkon ke saath, jinke haath mein toy guns the. Peeche Pakistani jhanda.
Zahra ne aankhen band ki.
“Haan. Par main wo nahi hoon ab.”
Abeer ne photo uske haath se le li. Uski ungliyan ek pal ke liye Zahra ke haath chhoo gayi. Thandi. Par andar se jalti hui.
Un dono ke beech, ek lamha tha — jisme pura ek past, ek present, aur ek anjaana future chipka hua tha.
Us par bharosa karna, khud se ladne jaisa tha.
Aur uska sach, Abeer ke andar ek khali jagah bhar raha tha, jahan sirf goliyaan aur dard the.
---
Raat ko, team ne camp ko burn protocol mein daala. Sab evidence secure kar liya gaya. Zahra unmein se ek akhri diary ke panne dekh rahi thi, jab Abeer uske paas aaya.
“Zahra… kuch baat karni hai.”
Uske shabdon mein kuch tha — jisme dard, shak, aur chubhan sab tha.
“Tumne sab kuch bataya?”
Zahra ne diary band ki. Usne sirf ek pal ko Abeer ki aankhon mein dekha.
“Nahi.”
Abeer ke pair thande ho gaye.
“Kya chhupa rahi ho?”
Zahra ne aankhen neeche kar li.
“Ek naam. Ek aadmi. Jise main ab tak zinda samajh rahi thi. Lekin… wo yahan hai. Iss base ke peeche. Aur wo mujhe bhi dhoondh raha hai.”
Abeer ne daant kas li.
“Kya naam hai uska?”
Zahra ne dheere se kaha —
“Farooq. Farooq Mirza.”
Abeer ne aankhen faila di.
“Farooq? Tumhara fiancé tha, hai na?”
Zahra chup rahi. Sirf ek aansu uski aankh se bechara ho kar gira.
“Aur shayad mera maut bhi wahi ho.”
Barf ab tez gir rahi thi.
Kupwara ke us jangle mein, Abeer Rathore ek chhoti si chhatri ke neeche khada tha — aankhen samne, lekin dimaag... dimaag peeche chal raha tha. Zahra ki aakhri baat uske dimaag mein goonj rahi thi jaise kisi purani ghanti ka echo.
“Farooq. Farooq Mirza.”
Woh naam ab uske liye sirf ek code nahi, ek khatra tha — personal.
Zahra chhup chap uske paas aayi thi. Uska chehra barf ki tarah narm tha, lekin aankhon mein kuch aur tha — guilt, ya shayad wo dard jo itne saalon tak chhupa raha gaya ho. Uski saans us thandi hawa mein gungunahat banke ubhar rahi thi.
“Tum mujhse jhoot bol rahi thi,” Abeer ne kaha, awaaz mein woh shant rage tha, jo sirf andar se ubalti hai, bina cheekhe.
Zahra ne aankhen jhuki. “Main tumse sab kuch kehna chahti thi, par... main khud nahi jaanti thi ke wo ab bhi zinda hai. Mujhe laga tha wo Border cross karte waqt mar gaya.”
Abeer ne uski taraf kadam badhaye. “Tumhara fiancé tha wo, Zahra. Tum uske saath kya thi? Sirf ek mohur, ya kuch aur?”
Zahra ne uski taraf dekha, aankhon mein ek gila, ek jala hua sach.
“Main usse pyaar karti thi. Kabhi kiya tha. Jab mujhe nahi pata tha ke pyar aur wafadari mein farq hota hai. Jab mujhe nahi pata tha ke jise main apna sab kuch samajhti thi, wo mujhe ek weapon bana raha hai.”
Uska gala ruk gaya, aur usne ek kadam peeche liya — jaise apne hi lafzon ka bojh uske kandhon ko neeche kheench raha ho.
“Main tumse ek aur jhoot nahi bolungi,” usne kaha. “Agar Farooq yahan hai... toh uska maksad sirf main hoon. Wo mujhe wapas chahta hai, taaki main phir us system ka hissa ban jaun jahan se main bhaag aayi hoon. Lekin main vapas nahi jaungi.”
Abeer ne uski aankhon mein kuch khojne ki koshish ki — ek fracture, ek darar, koi nishaan ke wo ab bhi us Farooq se juda hai.
Lekin jo dikha, wo tha — ek toot chuka vishwas, ek puri tarah se jala hua rista.
“Tumhare hone se humare mission ki risk badh gayi hai, Zahra,” Abeer ne kaha, lekin is baar uski awaaz thodi halki thi. “Par tumhare hone se hi humne yeh camp tak pahuch paya. Main tum par bharosa karna chahta hoon… par ek soldier hone ke nate, main har raat apni jaan se pehle mulk ke baare mein sochta hoon.”
Zahra ne uski taraf ek kadam badhaya.
“Mujhe jaan se zyada farq padta hai is mulk ke har us sipahi se jo mujhe apna dushman samajh raha hai. Farooq ke saath rehna... ek aisi saza thi jahan har din mein apni rooh ka ek hissa maar kar jeeti thi. Abeer, main ab azaad hoon — aur agar azaadi ka matlab tumhara bharosa jeetna hai, toh main marne ke liye bhi tayyar hoon.”
Abeer ka haath dheere se uske kandhe pe gaya. Ek lamha aaya jisme unka chehra ek dusre ke itne kareeb tha, ke saansen tak sunayi dene lagi.
“Main tumhe khona nahi chahta, Zahra,” Abeer ne kaha, pehli baar apna ek personal raaz kholta hua. “Par mujhe yeh bhi pata hai... Farooq tum tak pahuch gaya, ya to tumhe kheench lega, ya mujhe tod dega.”
Zahra ne uska haath pakad liya — tight, firm, jaise ek soldier doosre ko battlefield se kheech raha ho.
“Tumse door jaane se pehle main marna pasand karungi.”
---
Ek din baad — ek new intel aata hai.
Drone surveillance se ek chhupi hui movement pakdi jaati hai — 12 logon ka group, kupwara ke northeast jungle mein, satellite blind zone mein.
Abeer briefing room mein chhoti si screen par zoom karta hai — ek frame pause karta hai. Us frame mein ek aadmi ka shadow hai. Sharp cheekbones, trimmed beard, Pakistani tactical gear.
Zahra ne tasveer dekhi.
“Wo hai...” uski awaaz phisli. “Farooq.”
Mission green-lit hota hai. Zahra ka inclusion controversial hai — par uski knowledge un logon ke route aur hideouts ke baare mein critical hoti hai.
Operation naam diya jaata hai — Raakh.
Kyunki is baar unka maksad sirf eliminate karna nahi, safaya karna hai.
---
Mission night — 0200 hours.
Raat ke andhere mein, Abeer aur Zahra ek narrow ridge se neeche utarte hain. Niche ek temporary camp dikhayi deta hai — tents, radio signals, aur do snipers.
Zahra ne scope se dekha.
Aur usne dekha... Farooq.
Uska chehra ab bhi waisa hi tha — lekin aankhon mein kuch aur tha. Jungli possessiveness.
Usne radio pe kaha, “Main jaaungi. Uske saamne. Wo mujhe dekhega... aur apna guard neeche karega. Tab tum log strike karna.”
Abeer shook his head. “Tum pagal ho?”
Zahra ne uske hothon pe ungli rakh di. “Main ladne aayi hoon, bhaagne nahi.”
Abeer ne uske haath pakad liye. “Wapas nahi launga tumhe agar kuch hua toh.”
Zahra ne uske aankhon mein dekha. “Toh aaj se mujhe tumhare liye jeena hoga.”
Raat ne apne kaale chadar ko aur zyada kas ke lapet liya tha. Barf ruk chuki thi, lekin zameen ab bhi nami se bhari thi — jaise kuch kehna chahti ho, par bol nahi pa rahi. Kupwara ke us andheray hisse mein, jahan drone signals fail ho jaate the, ek chhota camp ek nayi andhi ke aane ka intezar kar raha tha.
Zahra ne apni tactical vest ko kas kar band kiya. Uski kamar ke paas chhoti si fragmentation grenade thi — custom timer pe set ki gayi, just in case things went wrong. Uske collar mein chhupi thi ek ultra-slim transmitter — jo Abeer ke comm set se directly linked thi.
Usne Abeer ki taraf dekha — ek pal ke liye sirf uska chehra dekha, jaise har line, har muskurahat, har dard uske zehan mein basana chahti ho.
“Yaad rakhna,” Abeer ne uske haath pakad ke kaha, “ek minute bhi zyada hua, main andar ghus jaunga. Farooq ko goli lage ya tumhe... main phir fark nahi kar paunga.”
Zahra ne uske haathon ko thama. Uski anguliyan thandi thi, lekin pakad mein kampan nahi tha.
“Main aayi thi ek jaan bachaane... apni. Ja rahi hoon ek jaan dene... kisi aur ki.”
Unke beech ki hawa mein kuch unsaid tha. Abeer ne chhoti si file uski pocket mein daali.
“Ek chhoti diary hai... tumhare baare mein. Agar wapas na aayi toh main duniya ko tumhara sach bataunga.”
Zahra sirf muskaraayi. Uska haath dheere se Abeer ke gaal ke paas gaya — ek halki si chhoo kar, jaise kisi broken glass ke tukde par se ungli guzaar raha ho.
“Zinda rahi toh lautungi... sirf tumhare liye.”
Aur wo chal padhi.
---
Camp ke andar —
Farooq Mirza ek lambe wooden crate par baitha tha, ek hand-rolled cigarette se dhuaan ugalta hua. Uska chehra shaant tha, lekin aankhen... aankhen paagal si thi.
Wo aankhen jo sirf kabzaa karna chahti thi, samajhna nahi.
Jab Zahra andhar aayi, camp ke chaar aurat-mukhota pehne guards ne turant weapon ready kiya. Lekin Farooq ne ek haath uthake sabko roka.
Uske honton par ek muskaan thi — jeet ki, ya shikaar ki, ya dono ki.
“Zahra...” uski awaaz ne camp ke thande hawa ko ek garam dhuaan de diya.
Zahra ne kadam rakha, dheere, lekin saph clarity ke saath. “Tujhe laga main wapas aungi?”
Farooq utha. Uski chaal ab bhi waise hi thi — confident, thodi si theatrical.
“Main jaanta tha. Tum jaisi aurat... sirf bhool sakti hai, chhod nahi sakti.”
Zahra ki aankhon mein ab koi gussa nahi tha. Sirf nirnay tha.
“Tum galat the, Farooq. Main woh Zahra thi jo tumne banayi thi. Par ab main woh hoon jo apne liye khud khadi hai.”
Farooq ne aage badhkar uska haath pakadne ki koshish ki — lekin Zahra ne ek kadam peeche liya.
“Main tumse pyaar karti thi... par tumne mujhe sirf ek kaam ka zariya samjha.”
“Main tumhe malik banane chaahta tha,” Farooq ki awaaz tez ho gayi. “Tum aur main — dono ek naya nizaam chala sakte the. Tum Indian system mein ghus jaati, aur main wahan se sab kuch khatam karta.”
Zahra ki aankhon se ek aansu gira — par uske hothon par ek thanda smile tha.
“Main tumhare sapne ki jannat mein gulam ban ke rehna nahi chahti thi.”
Usne jacket ki andar se ek chhoti file nikali — wahi file jo Abeer ne di thi.
Farooq ne dekha — uski aankhen chhoti ho gayi. “Yeh kya hai?”
“Tumhara antim din,” Zahra ne kaha, aur dheere se us file ko uske pairon ke paas gira diya.
---
Wahin se 400 meters door — hilltop pe
Abeer earpiece mein sab sun raha tha. Uski aankhen scope pe thi, aur scope mein Zahra ka chehra.
“Signal aa gaya,” Singh ne kaha, “Timer on hai. 60 seconds.”
Abeer ne deep breath li.
Ya to wo bahar aayegi... ya main andar jaunga. Dono mein maut tay hai.
---
Camp ke andar —
Zahra ne chhup kar grenade ka pin kheench liya — 45 seconds.
Usne Farooq ko dekha, phir apne transmitter ki taraf haath badhaya.
“Tum ab bhi nahi samjhe, Farooq. Main tumse bhaag nahi rahi thi... main apne aap se milne ja rahi thi.”
“Zahra!” Farooq chillaaya, lekin us waqt tak...
BOOM!
Ek controlled blast. Smoke grenade + light fragmentation. Confusion. Chikhe. Gunfire. Zahra ne us moment mein Farooq ki pistol se haath hataya, aur camp ke ek dusre end ki taraf bhaag gayi.
Abeer ne signal milte hi base pe raid chhodi.
---
10 minute ke firefight ke baad, camp clear ho gaya.
Do militants zinda, baaki sab khatam. Lekin...
Zahra zameen pe thi. Ek side pe blood ka daag. Uski aankhen bandh thi.
Abeer uske paas ghutno pe aaya.
“Zahra… Zahra, aankhen kholo! Dammit, open your eyes!”
Uski ungliyaan Zahra ke chehre ko chhoo rahi thi — barf se bhi thanda. Par phir… ek halki si movement. Uski palkien hilin.
“Abeer…” uski awaaz faati si thi. “Tum aa gaye.”
“Main kabhi gaya hi nahi tha,” Abeer ne kaha, uske haath pakad kar. “Tumne promise kiya tha… zinda lautne ka.”
Zahra ne muskarakar aankhen bandh kar li.
“Tumhare liye… sab kuch.”
---
Subah hone tak Kupwara ki woh raat kahani ban chuki thi — dard bhari, lekin apne aap mein ek misaal.
Zahra ko helicopter se Srinagar Field Hospital mein laya gaya. Uske kandhe ke paas se nikli goli ne haddi chhuli thi, lekin sabse zyada nuksan uske andar hua tha — blood loss, shock, aur ek lamha jisme usne apne sabse purane dard ke samne khud ko rakha aur tod diya.
Abeer uske bistar ke paas khada tha, bina kuch bole.
Uski aankhen Zahra ke pale chehre pe tikki thi, uske hothon pe oxygen mask tha, aur aankhen bandh — lekin uski saans… abhi chal rahi thi. Dheere, magar zinda.
Main usse wapas le aaya hoon. Lekin kya main use sambhal paunga?
Abeer ne uska haath uthaya — us haath pe ab bhi wo khushbu thi, jo usne us raat lagayi thi. Ek meethi si mitti ki khushbu… jaise koi bachpan se chhupi yaad ho.
“Zahra...” usne dheere se kaha. “Tumhe jala diya tha uss camp mein, Farooq ne... par tum usse zyada mazboot nikli.”
Uske laal chhoti diary ko usne pocket se nikala, aur Zahra ke takiye ke paas rakha.
“Jab aankhen kholo... toh is baar sirf apni kahani likhna. Kisi aur ki nahi.”
---
Do din baad
Srinagar Military Detention Wing, Interrogation Room 3.
Farooq Mirza ka chehra ab bhi shaant tha — par uski aankhon mein ghamand nahi tha, sirf ek ajeeb sa samarpan tha. Jaise wo har sawal ka jawab jaanta ho, lekin bolna nahi chahta.
Samne baithe Colonel Rawat ne file band ki.
“Tum jaante ho ki tumhare jaise aadmiyon ke liye faansi ka order sirf ek signature ki doori pe hota hai.”
Farooq ne aankhen uthayi. “Aur tum jaante ho ki hum jaise log mar jaayein, toh aur chaar pedhiyan paida ho jaati hain. Jang ek soch hai, Colonel. Aadmi badalte hain, soch nahi.”
Rawat gussa pee gaya. Abeer ne us waqt tak kuch nahi kaha tha, par phir usne Farooq ki aankhon mein direct dekha.
“Tumne Zahra ko ek weapon banaya. Tumhare liye pyar bhi ek mission tha. Ab usne tumhe mita diya. Kaisa lagta hai?”
Farooq ne ek pal ko chup rehkar kaha —
“Zahra... kabhi meri thi nahi. Usmein rooh thi. Tum log us rooh ko sirf ek border pe rakh kar samajhne ki koshish kar rahe ho.”
Usne jhuk kar kuch aur kaha — halki si muskaan ke saath.
“Par Abeer... us rooh mein ab tum ho. Dekhna… woh rooh tumhe tod degi.”
---
Usi dopahar
Zahra ne aankhen kholi. Kamre mein dhoop ka ek patla sa patta uske gaal tak pahuch raha tha. Usne hila, to pain ne use jaga diya.
“Careful,” Abeer ki awaaz uske bayein kaan ke paas se aayi. “Stitches hain. Bahut gehri chot thi.”
Zahra ne palkein uthayi. Uske chehre par ek thaka hua, lekin sachha smile tha.
“Tum waqai aaye the... ya main sapna dekh rahi hoon?”
Abeer ne uska haath pakda — fir bina kuch bole, uska matha chuma.
“Nahi, Zahra. Main gaya hota… toh tum wapas nahi aati.”
Zahra ki aankhon mein aansu the. Par us baar… halke, narm, aur pehli baar... sukoon wale.
Usne us diary ki taraf dekha jo takiye ke paas thi.
“Tum laaye isse?”
Abeer ne sir hilaaya. “Tumhara sach duniya ke samne aayega. Tum jaisi auratein... jang jeet-ti nahi hain, woh uska matlab badal deti hain.”
Zahra ne diary kholi — uske pehle panne par likha tha:
"Main dushman ke ghar mein paida hui, lekin main apni rooh ke saath wafadar rahi."
Abeer uske paas baitha raha, uske haath mein haath liye, jaise dono kisi aise safar ke raahi ho jahan shabd se zyada... khamoshi bolti hai.
Us raat, dono ek dusre ke kareeb the — koi judai, koi border, aur koi mission beech mein nahi tha.
Sirf ek haqiqat thi —
Ek fauj ka officer. Ek dushman ki beti. Dono ne ek dusre mein apna ghar dhoondh liya tha.
Delhi ki sard hawa ne sookhe pedon ke pattiyon ko lehraya, aur Rashtrapati Bhavan ke peechhe wale lawns mein baithi media ki line aur bhi lambi hoti gayi. Zahra Inayat Khan — ek naam jo kuch hafton pehle tak dushman ki beti kehlata tha, aaj ek national debate ka wajah ban chuka tha.
Abeer Rathore ne army green blazer pehna tha, lekin andar se woh kisi bhi battleground se zyada thaka hua lag raha tha. Uski aankhon mein neend nahi thi. Neend ka toh waise bhi usne chhod diya tha… jab se usne Zahra ko us hospital bed pe akhri baar dekha tha.
“Political asylum?”
General Arvind Raina ki awaaz office ke glass walls tak goonj gayi. “Rathore, tum samajh rahe ho na tum kya maang rahe ho? Ek Pakistani intelligence general ki beti ko Indian soil pe chhodna… yeh sirf ek emotional lapse nahi hai, yeh security breach hai.”
Abeer ne aankhon se seedha dekha, jawline tight thi, lekin awaaz me sharafat se zyada farz ka dard tha.
“Sir, Zahra ne sirf ek mulk nahi, ek system ke khilaf sach bola hai. Jis camp ki location usne di, usse na sirf ek infiltration wave roki gayi, balki humare chhote jawanon ke upar se ek khauf uth gaya. Usne khud ko risk mein daal kar… humare liye ladai ladi hai.”
General ne uski file bandh kar di.
“Par public perception? Tum soch rahe ho, kal headlines kya likhenge?”
Abeer thoda jhuk kar bola —
“Sir… agar hum apne dushman ke beech se nikle hue sach ka bhi sammaan nahi kar paaye, toh hum duniya ko kya justice denge?”
Ek lamha chup raha. Phir Raina ne kaha, “Tumhe ek din ka waqt milta hai. Zahra ko ya toh deport kiya jaayega… ya proof of threat dikhao, jisse uski zindagi Pakistan mein waapis jaane se khatre mein hai.”
---
Us raat, Zahra ek government safe house mein thi. Kamra simple tha — ek steel ka bed, ek wooden cupboard, aur khidki ke bahar Dilli ki sardi se ulajhti raat.
Abeer andar aaya — bina knock kiye.
Zahra ne uski taraf dekha. Uske hothon par woh thak gyi si muskurahat thi, jaise kisi ne andheron se baatein kar kar ke roshni se nazar hata li ho.
“Unhone tumhe mana kar diya?” usne poocha.
Abeer ne kuch nahi bola. Bas aake uske samne baith gaya.
Zahra ka haath uske haath par aaya.
“Mujhe jaana padega, hai na?”
Abeer ne aankhen band ki.
“Main is baar tumhe nahi jaane dunga.”
Zahra ki awaaz halke dard mein chhipi thi.
“Woh mulk jahan maine janam liya, usne mujhe kabhi apna nahi samjha. Aur ab jis mulk ne mujhe zinda rakha, uska mujhe rakhna mushkil hai.”
“Main dono mulkon ke beech aisi jagah dhoondh raha hoon jahan sirf hum dono ho,” Abeer ne kaha. “Ek aisi kahani jahan na border ho, na badge, sirf ek insaan ka vishwas ho.”
Zahra ki aankhen bhar aayi. “Tum jaante ho na, aisi jagah sirf kahaniyon mein hoti hai?”
Abeer ne uske chehre ko dono haathon mein pakda. Uski aankhon mein woh aankhon ka bharosa tha jisme ek sipahi sirf ek baar jhukta hai — jab usse kisi se pyaar ho jaaye.
“Nahi. Ab woh jagah hum banayenge.”
---
Agle din — Aakhri Faisla.
Supreme Security Council ki closed-door meeting ke baad ek press release aayi.
“On humanitarian grounds, and due to exceptional service in averting a major cross-border terrorist operation, Zahra Inayat Khan is hereby granted conditional political asylum by the Indian Government.”
Abeer ne jab yeh suna, to uski ungliyon ne apne aap Zahra ki diary ko chhoo liya — jaise us lafz asylum mein ek naya ghar chhupa ho.
---
Ek hafte baad
Pahadon ke beech, Himachal ki ek chhoti si valley mein, ek secluded house tha — jahan telephone signal nahi aata, aur sirf birdsong hota tha. Wahin Abeer aur Zahra ab naye naam se rehte the — Adil aur Saima.
Zahra chhoti chhoti baatein likhti — khidki ke paas baith kar, dhoop mein apne chehre ko sekte hue.
Abeer subah ki chai banata. Kabhi kabhi usse dekhta hua sochta —
"Yeh ladki... mere dushman ke ghar se aayi thi, lekin meri rooh tak aake ruk gayi."
Zahra ne diary mein likha:
"Jang ke baad kabhi kabhi aisi shaanti milti hai, jahan sirf zakhm bolte hain... aur ek doosra insaan unka jawab ban jaata hai."
Unka rista kabhi “normal” nahi tha. Na kabhi hoga.
Lekin wo rista sachcha tha.
Aur kabhi kabhi… sachchai hi sabse bada watan hoti hai.
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THE END
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