May of 2025.
On a hot and humid night like this, he often lets his thoughts take over his alert brain. He was sitting under a typical evergreen forest tree in the middle of his base. With a cup of hot chai he had made solely for himself.
He had joined his troop again in Moreh, Manipur, three months back. Patrolling and neutralizing insurgents is his regular work here too.
But during a calm and quiet night, as it was today, he couldn't stop his wandering mind from staging another monologue.
In the span of six months, he has been to three different places in his country.
Kashmir.
The one always in the news. The paradise on earth, indeed it was for someone who was not involved in the exchange of gunfire. Snowfall of winters there is something many wish to see; to him, they were reminders of his hostel days in Mussoorie, where he had studied from 6th to 12th standard. He was fond of it. Summers there were moderate compared to the ones in Dehradun during his summer break, yet he could reminisce about his childhood days there.
Manipur.
One of the seven sisters. Different yet uniquely beautiful from Kashmir. Evergreen forests with tall canopies were something new for him. He was mesmerized; it was like entering a new terrain. Nevertheless, his way of acting had also adapted accordingly.
Terrorist attacks had changed to guerrilla warfare. His tactics had adapted accordingly.
Delhi.
How can he forget this one? Even if he tries, Delhi will not forget him. Orders mentioning his name or maybe his unit's were a regular occurrence. Asking him for reports and information.
If this was not enough, things became chaotic when Rawat found a paper napkin in his luggage. With 'pink sarees are beautiful' written on it. Something he had written absentmindedly in the cafeteria and tucked in his pocket. Yes, he has a habit of writing his thoughts on napkins, torn papers, and notebook corners(something he had picked up in his hostel days). He completely forgot about that note until Rawat brought it back. Ever since then it has become another inside joke of his men.
One day either he will die of embarrassment because of Rawat or he will kill him out of anger.
---
The following afternoon was filled with what he would call regular work for him: patrolling. Until it was not.
The Indian Meteorological Department had predicted that Cyclone Montha had tightened its grip on the Bay of Bengal. It was ready to hit the Odisha coast in the next 72 hours. Teams of NDRF, SDRF, and Odisha police had been deployed. Teams of armed forces were ready to join too. And in one such team, Aditya finds his name to head one of the advanced disaster management teams.
Military units are often stationed in such areas ahead of natural disasters for evacuation, securing zones, and immediate relief once impact occurs. He was ready for it; honestly, he was already ready for any kind of action.
He went through the names of his team members, and he found
Lt. Rawat (of course he has to be there). He rolled his eyes with a gentle smile.
Rifleman Thapa (thank God)
Lt.. Rhea Thakur (relief logistics officer)
Captain Aarav Kumar (NDA Batchmate). Good in crisis, bad at silence.
Subedar Vikram Singh.
He took a deep sigh, ready to endure this new challenge like a champion.
---
The Sun God never goes easy on Delhi. It's a scorching summer, with the temperature going above the forty-degree bar almost every other day.
It was a weird, sadistic pleasure to see Dr. Jahnvi now. From AC-cooled rooms to hot-as-oven corridors. Her face changing shades of red and getting sweat-moisturized every few minutes.
However, today was a bit quiet, only a bit, and nobody among the hospital staff was ready to say it loud (they don't want to jinx it). She was in the resting area after a hectic morning shift, with a chilled water bottle in her hand, when she heard the news of Cyclone Montha on TV.
She could not help but feel the pain that people of coastal Odisha will face. Losing life and property. She remembers how the Yamuna flooded once in Agra when she was thirteen, how she and her parents were stuck on the upper floor of the house with no electricity and no proper drinking water. She remembers how a woman in her neighborhood was bitten by a snake and how a team of doctors had come to save her with antivenom.
That was a flood, yet the havoc it created stays in her mind. This is a cyclone that is stronger and more damaging. So when they asked for volunteers from her hospital to help the local healthcare teams to carry out health missions, she gave her name.
Her fellow resident Kritika did try to stop her. "I know you want to do your best, but will you not get tired from overworking like this?"
She was ready with her reason: "This is my kind of work. You can say, I love to inflate my ego by helping people in distress."
Her sarcastic remark earned her an 'oh, I know you' type smile from Dr. Kritika.
---
She gave her name. She waited. Later that evening they released the names of members in each team and where they will be posted.
Dr. Jhanvi Sharma
Dr. Niharika Shah (ah, she had to join in too)
Dr. Rohit Agrawal (a pediatric resident)
Dr. Reeta Sengupta (PSM resident to lead them)
Nurse Sonali Sen
and pharmacist Rakesh Chouhan.
She met her team and could sense their preparedness for this new challenge.
They were supposed to leave on the fourth day from today, when Cyclone would have created all the havoc it wanted to.
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