When he was a young boy, he began to dislike the color red. It all happened due to an incident. Once some of his school boys molested him badly and he got minor injuries which later turned into the hatred for the red color itself.
But he needed to grow up as a bold man as he was the son of late Major Pratap Singh. He became a soldier. He was destined to. His first posting was in Rajouri, Jammu. The place was now serene, unlike years ago when it was a hub of terrorists. One could see the snow white mountains in the background and valleys wearing different shades in each season. He noticed that the place evokes a vague feeling of emptiness and sometimes a guilt in soldiers, mostly who were bachelors in their early 20s.
Today was the Valentine's day. Last year, on the same day he was posted here, so romantically he had thought Rajouri to be his Valentine. Though he never had a valentine in his life. He belonged to a remote village in UP where even today girls were engaged before they were adult. So he never enjoyed the period of restless nights, breath-taking kisses, writing secret love-letters, endless promises and in fact ruthless heartbreaks. It was only good for him, as he had incurred a dislike for red color since childhood. The red was symbol of love. And with this bloody color comes many bloody emotions.
After breakfast, when he was taking a stroll from mess to the office with his friends, he saw a group of young girls was coming to them. The bubbly girls of APS were in their school dress. They chuckled and seemed to feel shy as they approached soldiers. They greeted Happy Valentine's Day to soldiers in low cheerful tone, gave a red rose to each of them. There was a note with each rose stating a message - Roses are Red
Violets are blue
Soldiers are brave
So are you!
He couldn't resist a smile at the simplicity, love and respect of girls. For the first time in his life, he loved the color red.
Although, we all know what happened in the night of 14th February 2019, in Pulwama district, J&K. But I am compelled to tell you that when the bus of CPRF jawans was hit by that car full of explosives, I was thinking of him. I feared the thought, he might be in that bus. And he was there. He was tore into pieces as if a toy was broken. But there was lot of blood too - stark red in color. The color he always despised. And one hand was still intact with his body which held that rose given by the young girl, carrying the note -
Roses are Red
Violets are blue
Soldiers are brave
So are you!
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