When Even the Flowers Needed to Shine
626 Words
The madness had reached peak insanity. The Annual Administrative Inspection was just hours away, and the company had transformed into a place where logic had no meaning. Soldiers moved like programmed machines, their bodies working on autopilot while their minds barely held on.
The barracks were spotless, the rifles were clean, the boots were shining—but it still wasn’t enough. The officers had now turned their merciless attention to things that had nothing to do with military preparedness.
That’s how Akshit found himself watching a group of soldiers polishing flower pots.
One sepoy was hunched over, rubbing a clay pot so hard that the original color had started fading away. Another was carefully wiping invisible dust particles off the edges, using a soft cloth like he was handling a priceless artifact.
"Why the hell are we cleaning flower pots?" one exhausted soldier asked, his fingers stained with both polish and regret.
"Because they exist," another replied, dead serious.
Hav Sharma walked past, scanning the area with the sharp eye of a hunter. His gaze landed on a slightly tilted pot, and he stopped. The sepoy responsible froze in terror.
Hav Sharma bent down, nudged the pot a few centimeters to the right, and stepped back. He examined it from different angles, as if solving a complex engineering problem. Finally, he turned to the soldier.
"Now do the rest."
The sepoy’s soul left his body as he looked at the dozens of flower pots still left to be adjusted.
Meanwhile, another group of soldiers was busy with a different level of absurdity—aligning the bricks along the hedges.
Each brick had to be perfectly positioned. Not too far apart, not too close, just… perfect. If one brick was even a millimeter off, the whole row had to be reset.
One unlucky sepoy spent an hour shifting the same brick back and forth, unsure whether it was “correct” or not. Every time he thought he had it right, someone would walk past and shake their head.
"You call that alignment?" Hav Sharma’s voice cut through the air.
The sepoy stiffened. His hands trembled as he nudged the brick again—this time by less than half an inch.
Hav Sharma inspected it like an art critic evaluating a masterpiece. Then, with the gracious nod of a king, he approved.
The sepoy nearly collapsed from relief.
A few meters away, another group of unfortunate souls was sweeping the ground—a ground that was already so clean that it looked sterilized.
Yet, the broom never stopped moving.
Akshit passed by and saw a sepoy sweeping the same spot for twenty minutes straight.
"What are you doing?" Akshit asked.
The sepoy didn’t even look up. "I don’t know. I just… don’t know anymore."
The sheer defeat in his voice was painful to hear.
Another soldier nearby had taken it to the next level—he was scrubbing the base of a tree.
Akshit blinked. "Are we… cleaning trees now?"
The soldier sighed, continuing his work. "The CO is coming. If he sees dirt anywhere, we’re dead."
Akshit shook his head. If a high-ranking officer suddenly ordered the trees to be polished, no one would even question it. That was the level of absurdity that inspections brought.
In one last desperate move, some soldiers began wiping the walls, making sure no "invisible dirt" could be spotted. If someone had casually walked into the unit at that moment, they might have thought they had entered a luxury hotel staff training center instead of an army barracks.
By the time the sun started rising, the unit looked flawless.
Beds were tight. Rifles were aligned. Boots gleamed. Even the flower pots shined.
The unit was ready.
Or so they hoped.
- Writer
