The retreating Pakistani soldiers were met by the villagers who were waiting for them at the school. They pounced on them and began hitting them with stones, sticks and other sharp farming tools. Youngsters standing on the school’s rooftop shot small stones from their home-made catapults. Bleeding Pakistani jawans ran as fast as they could. On their tail, there were hundreds of sardars, shouting, ‘Bole So Nihal, Sat Sri Akaal!’ Bibi Amrit Kaur stood all alone in one corner of the terrace. She was all by herself. Her hands were folded and her lips were moving ever so gently. She was praying, ‘O Waheguru, please stop these killings . . . let there be peace, I urge you!’

But General Virk wasn’t done yet. Having tasted success at Khem Karan, he called up his colleague engaged at the border of Pakistan Occupied Kashmir (POK) at Haji Peer Pass to get an update on the situation. The brigade commander came on the radio immediately and began briefing the core commander. Having served under General Virk in the past, the brigadier could sense his excitement. Amidst sounds of heavy shelling, he said, ‘Sir, the Pakistani Army is finding it hard to match the fierce man-to-man combat launched by our brave men. They have vacated their posts and are running helter-skelter to save their lives. We are now in full control of the Haji Peer Pass, moving towards the borders of Muzaffarabad. Over.’

The brigadier waited briefly and soon heard the general’s commanding voice. He was surprised when he realized that the proud core commander had a personal agenda too. ‘Mukesh, look at the map carefully. At Muzaffarabad in Pakistan there’s a small village called “Tadali”.’

The brigadier looked closely, spotted Tadali and shouted back, ‘It’s there, Sir.’

In a calm voice Virk said, ‘We are all aware that the Pakistanis have unethically attacked and murdered civilians. But now that the tables have turned and the tide is in our favour, the entire field is open to us. I want you to ensure that, as far as possible, the civilians and all those surrendering should not be harmed.’

Mukesh’s eyes grew big with surprise. A hoard of officers and senior jawans, who were busy making notes, looked at the brigadier with inquisitive eyes. ‘Roger, Sir. But anything specific, Sir?’ he asked hesitantly.

Virk placed the marker on the desk and said, ‘There is this large palatial white haveli, known as “Sardar House” that falls under the civilian area. It belongs to my wife.’

Brigadier Mukesh Kumar replied, ‘Roger, Sir, it shall not be touched. Regards to Ma’am, over and out.’