The Monkey God's Eyes
I bow to you, mighty Hanuman, Who was born from the Womb of Mother Anjani, and who is the most Excellent Minister of the King of Monkeys. He is extremely dear to Sri Rama; I Bow to You, O Hanuman, Please Protect me always. - Mantra of Bhakta Hanuman
April 8, 2017. A large force of JMI soldiers came down from the hills to attack the port of Hamikari. This was nothing new. The port was a highly strategic location and had been attacked before. But the chants were different. Instead of singing socialist anthems like the Internationale, they sang something else. Their faces were painted like monkeys. They held amulets of Hanuman. The flag they bore was no longer plain red with the hammer and sickle, but orange with a white monkey bearing the hammer and sickle. The Maoists had changed from a purely political force to a theological one. The attack was successful. Panic reigned among the nation. It only grew once it was revealed that the High Pujari of Janakkhara had been killed by a monkey that had been loosed in the royal palace. Prince Sanjikapur sent out a distress call.
Arunjashara Plain, West of Hamikari
Janakkharan Armed Forces
May your weapons be strong to drive away the attackers,
may your arms be powerful enough to check the foes,
let your army be glorious, not the evil-doer.
Rig Veda 1-39:2
The low hum of diesel engines filled the air as the column of APCs roared towards Hamikari. Each one carried 12 soldiers of the Janakkharan Armed Forces Special Division. These soldiers sat together, crammed in like sardines, preparing for the inevitable fight. Their vehicles juddered across the rough plain, shaking the soldiers inside. Inside the lead vehicle was Captain Ravindra Phakesh, commander of the attack. The attacking force was composed of around 5,000 men, 1,000 of whom were elite members of the Special Forces. 1,200 men were coming in in the APCs, supported by 20 tanks. This was the main thrust, designed to crush the centre of the insurgent's base. Another 500 were being parachuted in from above during the attack. 1,000 were being deployed from the sea on assault landing craft eerily similar to those used on D-Day and the rest were footslogging in. There was to be support from the air and artillery provided from further positions in the hills.
On paper, the attack plan was perfect,Captain Phakesh thought to himself as the armoured brigade pushed on. The target was a small force of nutjobs who had gone crazy after living up in the mountain for too long. Their successful attack was merely a fluke, and they would be crushed under the might of real soldiery.
He clenched his rifle tight. Then what felt wrong? He asked himself. Doubts were beginning to creep in. But he pushed them aside. There is no need to fear. A tiger does not fear the goat. He sat in silence, glancing furtively at the other soldiers in his APC. They all seemed to be nervous. Pre-battle nerves playing up, he told himself. A glance at his watch told him that it was 10:30 PM. They were likely less than five minutes from their target. He sighed. He was ready to fight.
He never did. Two seconds later, the APC was engulfed in bright flame as an improvised explosive device was detonated. The device emitted shrapnel and flames, and through more good luck than good craftsmanship managed to set alight the fuel supply of the APC. An inferno enveloped the vehicle, and all it's passengers. Several other bombs exploded, with mixed results. Gunfire started from all sides as previously concealed guerillas burst out and attacked the confused convoy. Molotov cocktails and RPG rounds fired in crippled several tanks and the survivors, their morale broken due to a lack of training, turned to withdraw.
"Malam!" cursed corporal Jay Ghandi, diving to the ground to escape from a withering hail of rounds that flew in from the dark. He felt one round ricochet off his helmet and silently thanked the divine Devas that he had been wearing it. His own rifle had been lost in the frantic escape from his own vehicle, its tracks blown off by a mine. He drew his sidearm and squeezed off two rounds into the night, hoping that he might hit an assailant. The ambush had worked perfectly. Thanks to the burning vehicles the government troops were lit up and visible, while the guerillas still had the advantage of darkness. Jay scanned the wall of darkness but saw no movement. He tried to crawl across the ground and made it to lieutenant Anish Kumar, his platoon commander. He got on the radio that was in the deceased lieutenant's pocket and called to base.
"This is corporal Jay Ghandi of Anvil. We have been ambushed. We're under fire. Command is dead. Requesting backup."
The reply was curt, but back at base the commanders were alarmed. "Hold your ground. The Infantry will be there soon."
Command was right to be worried. The infantry wave was designed to be a mop up. They would not be up to the task of breaking through the defences. Unless the paratroopers succeeded, this attack was almost doomed.
Lieutenant David Singh checked his parachute for the fifth time. He knew that it was ok, he had done this a thousand times, but still checked. He did not want to end up a stain on the jungle floor like the prisoners that he had taken during the Yangi campaign against the guerrillas five years ago. They had hoped for information, but when it became clear that there was none to be gained the prisoners were thrown from aircraft to their deaths.
He looked out at their target, ready. By now the tanks would have rolled in and his mission to be an easy one. Suddenly, searchlights came on. Flak from hidden batteries that had not been noticed in earlier recon missions spat hot lead towards the planes. One shot clipped the wing and the plane spiraled out of control. With a large flash, it hit into the jungle below. Within minutes many more planes joined it. This attack had failed too.