It was no more than a common day for me -as I sat watching the news of the martyrdom of yet another soldier- till the bell signalled the arrival of someone. No one was expected. The watchman being on a leave, I had to go as far as the main gate to receive the arrival.
Wind brushed past my face as I made my way to the gate, that made me feel a sudden chill; the wind, however, smelt a bit dismal. Opening the gate, before I could make out the arrival's face, I was blinded by a sudden fish of the sand-carrying wind momentarily. Adjusting my eyes to the intensity of the wind, I found two soldiers, carrying a catafalque, standing stoutly. Another soldier, seemingly that of a senior rank, stepped forward and after saluting me, which seemed weird to me, gave orders for the catafalque to be put down in the garage.
These proceedings baffled me to the extent of suspecting them to be counterfeitly dressed intruders. Before I could make something out of the situation, the face of the catafalque-dweller was uncovered. My heart sank low, and tears made haste to fuel my eyes as the bloodstained face of my brother, wrapped up in green-and-white* shroud, blackened the world before me.
* The Pakistani Flag 🇵🇰
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