Romancing the Uniform 07-December 2015

    I retired from Army on 31 December 2011 but continued to wear the uniform for another four years, for having been re-emplyed. Thus I finally removed the uniform for having worn it for 33 years and 04 months. It was quite an emotional moment for me, the day I removed the uniform. As luck would have it, I wrote an article about it and it was published on the day I removed the uniform ie 07 December 2015. Please read the article :-

Romancing the Uniform 

HAVING worn the Army uniform for 37 years, I shall now switch over to civvies in the next few days. This uniform has become my ‘second skin’ (as General Pervez Musharraf would say when politicians were hell-bent on him removing it). It is indeed difficult to come to terms with the much-loved uniform resting in the wardrobe. If you see a person in civilian clothes dress up in Army uniform, you would be amazed to see the aura it adds to his personality. Medal ribands, including those of gallantry awards, brass stars with coloured backings, shoulder titles denoting the regiment, the red ribbon worn on a turban by a Colonel and above ranks, and other accouterments give the soldier a sense of high esteem which only he can feel. 

Every morning, I wore the uniform ensuring that my stars were shining, my boots were polished, and no thread was missing in any uniform buttonholes. There was never a dilemma of choice because the Red Book issued by the Army clearly defines what and how to wear. In fact, dressing militarily over the years gives a sense of aversion towards persons dressed rather slovenly. Once I was horrified to see my son dressed in jeans resting halfway at his posterior and about to fall down while he was going to college. My rebuke to him brought no change to his sense of dressing. Admonishing him, I silently wished that he joins the Army which would teach him the basics of sartorial manners. It gave me immense pleasure when he joined the Indian Military Academy, Dehradun, and I saw him immaculately dressed and his trousers neatly perched at his navel level, with just three buttons of his shirt visible. 

I remember a very nice ditty jotted by an Army officer in Punjabi — Ek mainu vardi piyari, duja tera piyar kude. Kihnu lahwan, kihnu pawan aukha eh sawal kude. (I love you beloved and my uniform,  in equal measure. Rather it is difficult to choose between the two.) 

I may be out of my uniform soon, but once a soldier, always a soldier. Being in uniform for so long becomes a way of life. It has got in my bones, and my skin, and cannot be removed from my body. It will be reflected in my daily chores being done in a military fashion, be it talking, walking, eating, or having a Chhota peg in the evening.

This article can be read here on the internet Click here

My first Article in The Tribune published on 19 April 2015

Neglected and Forgotten 

    The recent surprise find Sandip Singh, who finished the 10 km race in 30 minutes, prompted me to write about another athlete discovered in the 70s of the previous century. He was a student from a neighbouring village and joined our school in Kandhala Jattan village in Class 6. He was just about five feet or less and appeared like a malnutrition case on first look. He belonged to the Bazigar community and his family survived on errands done by his father for farmers and occasionally organised gymnastics at the village level where this child also participated. He was no good at studies and struggled to pay his fee. However, he was good at gymnastics and long jump and had a strong will to excel. His father would make him run on sand in the dry bed of a ‘choe’ (a rivulet) that ran near the village. 

    As he was in Class 9 he participated in the school games and stood first in the long race at the district level. He then participated at the state level where he stood first. I remember the jubilation in the school on getting a state-level champion. The next were the national-level school games at Quilon in Kerala. Though he was part of the state squad, he needed money to support him which was a big issue for the parents who were unable to afford it. I remember during the morning prayer meeting the Headmaster appealed to everyone to donate whatever they can to send this school athlete to the National School Games in Kerala. Soon the required amount was arranged and he left with the state squad. We all waited for the news which came through soon. He stood first in the long distance race at the national level. Along with his win came an offer for him to join the CRPF which the boy promptly accepted. 

    He left the school but continued to shine. He was our national champion athlete, Hari Chand, whose record timing in the 10,000-meter race stood for 30 years or so. He won a gold medal in the 10,000-metre race and a silver medal in the 5,000-metre race in Asian Games. He also ran a marathon at times. He participated in two Olympics Games. He returned to the school to pass his matriculation exam as it was required for his promotion beyond the DSP rank. He always ran barefoot. He earned a number of awards, including the Arjuna Award, but remained humble and never hankered after honours or appointments. He now leads a retired life, almost forgotten by an ungrateful nation.

The article can be viewed by clicking on this link Forgotten Hero

                                                                Hari Chand 

Article on our visit to Kashmir Valley from 01 to 06 September 2024

     We, three families, myself and my wife Bhupinder, Col SL Gautam and his wife and Col KJ Singh and his wife visited Kashmir Valley from 01 to 06 September. It was election time. We visited Srinagar, Dal Lake, Chashme Shahi, Gulmarg, and Khundru (near Achhabal). We also saw the ruins of the Ancient  Martand Temple. The following article was based on what we experienced there :-

The Mood in the Valley

After a 12-year gap, we had the chance to visit Kashmir. Much has been discussed regarding the benefits of removing Article 370, yet the everyday lives of locals seem largely unchanged. Infrastructure has improved but remains a work in progress. Despite being an election season, the usual buzz was absent; hardly any posters were visible in the Valley, which is a positive for the environment. Security measures have tightened significantly, especially around Badami Bagh Cantonment, where entry now involves multiple checks, each taking five to seven minutes. If you're in a civilian vehicle, expect an even more rigorous screening process. Even veterans with identity cards must endure the same scrutiny. Given the region's history, one can either accept this with resignation or a smile.

On our way to Gulmarg, we stopped for tea at a roadside hotel. I struck up a conversation with a young man managing the counter, who was pursuing a postgraduate degree while running the hotel. When I asked about life post-abrogation of Article 370, he shared a litany of complaints: unemployment, poverty, corruption, poor roads, and inadequate electricity and water supply. I gently reminded him that these issues are common throughout India. He expressed frustration over the promises made to resolve these problems after the removal of Article 370. Although I had no solid reply, I noted the nature of political promises, which did little to pacify him. His application for a bank loan to expand and renovate his hotel was stuck because he couldn’t afford the bribe asked in advance. His disillusionment was palpable as he declared, “Sab jhoothey hain” (all are liars). Others, including a carpet weaver, a Kahwa seller, and a boatman, shared similar stories of hardship.

Our driver, a sharp young man, was eager to drive at breakneck speed whenever possible. During the final leg of our trip, we stayed at an army camp in Eastern Kashmir, needing to catch a flight the next day from Srinagar. Trusting his assurance, we agreed to leave by 9 AM for our 1 PM flight. Instead of taking the longer, traffic-free route, he chose a shorter path through Anantnag town, where we soon found ourselves stuck in a traffic jam. Anxiety etched on our faces, we began blaming him for the potential missed flight. He confidently insisted he would get us there by 11 AM, no matter what.

After a tense struggle to escape the traffic, he hit the accelerator and drove recklessly. We clung to our seats, pleading for him to drive safely, but our words fell on deaf ears. It was a relief when we finally reached the Srinagar bypass, yet he didn’t slow down until we arrived at the outer check post of the airport. Just as he braked, he triumphantly held his mobile phone in front of us, displaying the time: 10:59 AM.

Defiance seems to be the prevailing mood in the Valley. Locals may have taken a cue from Punjab, where the victories of two hardliner MPs symbolized a pushback against the central government. The Kashmir Valley, already energized by Engineer Rashid's win, may see more unexpected candidates emerge in response to the hardships endured during lockdowns and the rollback of Article 370. As noted by The Tribune's editor on September 21, surprises are awaited.

The article can be viewed by clicking on this link A taste of defiance in Kashmir