By Neel Anil Panicker
“He’s here, must be here, I saw him barely half an hour ago,” yelled fifteen year old Shakeel as he pointed his hands towards the expanse of green fields.
“What do you say, is he speaking the truth”?, asked BSF Inspector Arvind Sharma turning towards his deputy.
“Sir, these people are very poor. This boy…I know his father. He does odd jobs…even work the fields of the orchard growers. Last year, there was heavy firing from across the border. The destroyed a few huts including this boy’s. His mother too died, blown up by a hand grenade. They…”
“Ok, so you say we have every reason to believe this boy, right? That this boy is not leading us to the enemey’s hands? That he has really seen the terrorist and he can lead us to his hiding spot, right?”, interrupted the senior inspector.
Constable Akbaruddin Wahid nodded his head in affirmation.
“Sir…I know where he has gone”, interjected the boy, his voice an excited squeal.
The two security men looked towards the teenager.
His eyes shone bright, his pale yellow skin taking a reddish tinge as excitement ran through his veins.
“What…you know where he is hiding?”, the two men spoke in unison.
The boy, half ran and waved his hands.
“Come, follow me…I will lead you to him”.
Not knowing what else to do, Sharma and his subordinate followed in the heels of the kid.
A mere hundred yards ahead, crouched at the entrance of a moss covered rock cave, the dreaded chief of Pakisan Commando Force smiled as his hands caressed the AK 57 that lay on his lap.
The lambs were being led for the slaughter.
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