If you haven't read Part III, click here.
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She learnt of the encounter on the lake only two weeks
later. Mohan’s battalion had descended upon the shikara like a hound of tigers.
Shards of old pots hit the water as they uncovered the grenades. Armed men in
pathanis seemed to appear out of nowhere. Two men lay dead within minutes in
the cold lake as grenades went off. Ismail opened fire first. In the shootout
that followed, Bashir and Qadir were the first to go. Ismail dove headfirst
into the water, never to be seen again. The militia had been overpowered. As
shouts of jubilation ran across the shore from the army tents, Gulaabo stared
out at the lake, hand holding gun, eyes shining with tears. She had promised Allah
she would avenge her beloved land and her son. It was all finished now. As she
stood in the blazing sunset, it struck her how much of the red in the lake was
human blood. Gulaabo wept as paradise bled. She decided she would rather die than go with
the Fauj. It was time. She closed her
eyes and raised the gun to her head. She hit the ground as the last grenade
exploded in the midst of more gunfire with an impassioned cry, “Ya Allah!”
