35
Vansh was waiting at the Memorial since 6:30. This would, he thought, jog his memory and also would give him time in some fresh air. The January evening carried cold winds very rare in the warm city. The weather made Vansh pull up his hood and put his hands in his pockets. Yet in his mind he was so much younger, a new recruit to the division X in a lonely island in the Andaman, which was a much warmer place than Kolkata, and yet somehow, the people who ran the place had managed to bring the temperature of the training arena to near zero, and had very naturally not given Vansh and his comrades even the lightest of sweaters. The only clothing they had on their body were white cotton half sleeved T-shirts and camouflage pants. Vansh could quite distinctively remember all his comrades shouting
- Writer
