Whose Life is it Anyway!!

Circa 1987, the winter chill of New Delhi was at its peak. North India had fogged out as it had been for ages during the winters. Those were the days of surface transport dependence and fog would cripple the train and bus operations between cities. The entire Northern Plains get blanketed during these chilly days and life gets thrown out of gear. There were days when the window of navigable lights was limited and utmost care was to be taken to drive through these days. On one of these days, I was standing at Rohtak Bus Station to catch a Bus to New Delhi. I was 16 and in my Class 12^th. The next day was my entrance test for the National Defence Academy (NDA). Those were the days when mobiles had not connected the World and each word had to be written or spoken if it was to be conveyed to the recipients. 06 of my classmates were also supposed to be taking the NDA exam in the same centre at New Delhi. The inclement weather and the ongoing examinations had left us all in disarray and no concrete plans could be made to make a travel to New Delhi. All that we all understood that we would have to rendezvous at the examination centre and appear for the test.

The chill of the winter hits India each year with great vengeance. The weather starts changing slowly and turns into a pleasant pink before it assumes its vagaries. The Indian roots are deeply immersed in the hot climatic conditions and winters are actually not expected by many folks. Such is the ferocity of the winter that it completely throws the country into a limbo as the movements get restricted in Northern parts of our vast Nation. Each year we encounter the winter’s myriad challenges and the learning curve continues!!

The Sun could not breach the fog and at about 12 noon, I set for the bus station. The bus frequency was erratic due to the fog cover and each bus was moving at a over filled capacity. Somehow, I was able to set foot in a bus and quietly settled in a seat to read my examination syllabus book. The bus took almost 03 hours to cover the 65 kms distance to New Delhi and I took an auto-rickshaw to reach my maternal home. The chill had engulfed the city and I was happy to be in the warm confines of the house. Sleeping fitfully through the night, I woke up early the next day to another fog filled morning. I set two hours before the scheduled time to reach the examination centre and the auto-rickshaw drove with great care to ensure that I reach on time. The Government School at Laxmi Nagar, New Delhi offered us cold wooden benches and windows sans glasses. The winter chill was present everywhere inside the school as we settled down to write the examination of our life. After all, it was the first big examination that we were appearing for to move to the professional lives. Many a brave hearts had come wearing their blankets as is the norm in the Northern Indian states. Their mettle was tested to the core of their bones as the invigilators made them write their examination sans the blanket. I took off my second pull over and gave it to my class mate who also had to leave his blanket aside. The bonhomie was its best as all class mates sat down to write the coveted examination.

Raised in the state of Haryana, I have seen soldiers of all types of Indian Armed Forces. The folklore states that each house would produce a Soldier and a teacher. Our childhood days were all on the foot. We would read name plates after name plates on the houses and discover the names of various Indian Armed Forces personnel and their regiments/ services. Our neighbourhood was primarily the refugees from the Western neighbour of India and not many soldiers originated from these homes as the families were still coming to terms with the trauma of partition. The family sizes were reducing and the partition generation would try to ensure that the household would assemble around the hearth each evening and they would then feel assured.

Cities like Rohtak had a large migrant population as also the traditional families. Our family had a century old footprint in the city, but, my Grandfather was a migrant from the west. The wars of 1962 and 1965 were the starting points when soldiers started settling down in our city. The 1971 war saw many more moving in from their villages to the city as the soldiers bid adieu to their units and came home on pension. They settled modest homes and we grew up in a mixed zone where the western migrants and the military veterans settled together. I would carefully observe these ram rod straight soldiers with their impeccable grace and chained dogs moving about in our colony. The name plates in front of their homes sang the saga of their lives spent to save the honour and grace of India.

One day, my father returned from his Bank at New Delhi and his childhood teacher Master Ramdhari came over to our home. He came to inform my father that his student Colonel Hoshiar Singh Dahiya, Param Vir Chakra would be coming to meet them the next day. The venerable Colonel was a Param Vir Chakra (the highest Gallantry Medal) from the 1971 War. My father and he went a long way together as they both, at one stage of life, stayed in the modest home of Master Ramdhari to study Mathematics. My father’s excitement knew no bounds and the next day he took me along with him to meet the great soldier. It was around noon when the Colonel arrived at his teacher’s humble abode in his Military Regalia of Grenadiers Regiment and it was a tearful re-union amongst the battle hardened soldier and his Guru. As a few lucky ones sat down with the Colonel and glasses of butter milk were poured, the venerable Colonel described his life in the Indian Army. A volley of questions by his juniors and peers were answered. Being the youngest and the only child in the gathering, he blessed me as I gazed at his ribboned medals. He pointed towards them and stated, “Son, you have to join the Army and earn them”. He gave a pat on the back of his juniors, touched Master Ramdhari’s feet and left for his next destination. This meeting left a long lasting impression on my juvenile brain.

As I sat down to write the NDA exam braving the chill, my thoughts gathered around the medals I saw on Colonel Hoshiar Singh, Param Vir Chakra’s chest. 06 of my classmates wrote the examination and at the end of it 05 of us joined the NDA/Naval Academy to begin our respective military Careers. I became the first one in my Colony’s lane to join the NDA. The neighbourhood was tense as one of their children was leaving home to a new pasture and would not be back each night to sit close to the hearth. The old had tears welled up as their memories of partition stood up again whilst the young exhorted me put in my best foot forward in the new life. My father’s elder brother had witnessed the partition as a 19 year old and always wore a suit and a hat as a remembrance to his days before partition. He silently took off his hat as my trunk was loaded into the waiting taxi. Tears welled up in his eyes as he hugged me and wished me good luck for my onward journey. My father stood still and proud and reminded me about the great legacy of the Indian soldiers. The entire “Mohalla” (neighbourhood) bade me farewell and kept waving till the car ferrying me to New Delhi Railway Station turned right at the end of the long road. At the highway, Master Ramdhari waited near his modest home. My father and I touched the old man’s feet and he blessed me all the luck in my Military Career. A glass of homemade butter milk was gulped down and I set off for my new life. The winter had not set in and the day was clear of any fog.

Today, I am at the fag end of my Military Life. The weather is turning again in North India. The subtle winter chill is slowly knocking the boundaries of the northern states. I am counting the days before I hang in my pristine Naval Whites fully decorated with my share of Indian Military Service Medals, my Submarine Badge and my Commendation Cards. It has been a fantastic journey of encountering the fog and finding a clear way out of it. The fog is setting in again and I am again ready to find a clear path out of the fog this time over too. Those days, I was alone in the maze. Now, my World is closer and well connected. The lights are brighter and guidance systems are much more developed. Whose life is it anyway-a new challenge beckons and it is a singular opportunity again to meet it head on.