Bibi managed to nod in agreement.
As soon as the major left the tent, she leaned back and shut her eyes. Scenes from her fight with the SHO flashed through her mind. She visualized her right hand grabbing the pen and lodging the one-inch-long metallic nib into his eye with all her strength. The more she tried to divert her mind from the violent act she was party to, the more it haunted her. Scenes of her kicking the SHO in his groin, adding insult to his injuries, kept coming back. From where did I get such courage? she wondered. Then her thoughts shifted to her family. The fact that she had been separated from her children in just a few hours pained her immensely. She opened her eyes with a sudden jerk of her head. She looked around and realized that she was in safe territory.
Standing at a short distance, the lance naik observed her closely but didn’t move. Time is the best healer, he told himself. A short while later, two jawans entered the tent. They walked up to the lance naik and murmured something in his ear. He nodded in return and stepped closer to Bibi. ‘Ma’am, your accommodation is ready. If you’ll please follow us.’ Wiping her eyes gently with her off-white cotton dupatta, she stood up and followed them towards the exit. Her feet unknowingly stamped the black burqa that had fallen from her lap. The two jawans stood to attention.
One of them tried to pick up the garment but the other jawan stopped his colleague. ‘She won’t need this any more . . .’
As Bibi walked past them, their eyes filled with deep admiration, respect and awe. It was clear that the story of her act of bravery had spread across the camp.
Perhaps they had begun treating her like one of them—a warrior and a protector.
