'A Mother's Heart' published in The Tribune on 08 October 2020

             This article was written by me when my son was deployed somewhere close to Karakoram Pass in the DBO sector in Ladakh. He was posted in the Ladakh Sector. After the Galwan incident, where 20 soldiers of the Indian Army were killed, he had to rush to that area with a company strength of Ladakhi soldiers. For days, there was no communication from him. Occasionally he would call and then go off for days. The days were full of uncertainties with no news coming out from that area.                

                                                A Mothers Heart

 

 

She is not able to sleep. It has been five days since her son spoke to her for a brief two minutes. It was a long-distance call put through by an army exchange operator.  Before her instructions to her son could finish the call was abruptly cut. It has been like that since her son got deployed on Chinese border, known as LAC, since mid-June. The calls were erratic and very brief, mostly at the mercy of the army exchange operator. Gone are the days when she could pour her heart to her only son through mobile phone calls and give him all possible instructions mostly aiming at his well-being, safety & security, eating timely and of course her favourite topic of making up his mind to get married.

The son, like a true fauji, does not talk about “what is happening there”? She tries to gather information from TV Channels and social media but seeing the shoddy display of jingoism, war cries, and saber-rattling by TV Anchors shuts it off cursing them that maybe none of their near and dear ones is in the army and deployed on the border. Her husband advises her not to watch TV and not to believe what appears on Facebook and WhatsApp messages. Any news about ‘Meeting’ on the border with the Chinese is keenly read, watched, and heard by her. “Their mothers must be equally worried’, she muses about enemy troops.

She had been an army wife and suffered long separations from her husband in her prime age. Those days mobile phones did not exist and letters were the only means of communication. By the time the letter could reach her husband and elicit a reply, a lot would get changed. Some minor problems could get mitigated or she could overcome singlehandedly. In the absence of her husband, she miraculously played the double role of father and mother for her kids and brought them up. Quite naturally she and her husband did not want their son to join the army and suffer long separations from his family. But fate decided otherwise. The son won’t listen and he too followed his father’s and forefathers' footsteps (fourth generation now); went to the Indian Military Academy and chose to join their (her husband’s) battalion. Though felt proud of her son’s achievement, she cannot help being over-worried about her son’s well-being, more since his deployment in the forward area. Her husband at times feels irritated and tells her that she wasn’t even half as much worried about him as she worries about her son. She tells him that he does not know about a mother's heart.

Her son is deployed at a place where civil phones do not work. He has given a civil number of his unit Adjutant, that is away from his location,  to be used in exceptional cases. She insists on using that number but the old man is reluctant. He doesn’t want to ‘interfere’ with unit routine and also does not want to sound ‘too worried’. “It is warlike”, he tells her, “Leave it to God. Everything will be fine”. He assures her but she insists. Seeing her restlessness, he gives in. Almost apologetically, he calls the unit Adjutant and asks for well well-being of his son. The officer replies assuring them that all is well, their son is absolutely fine, there is nothing to worry and they can call him anytime. Profusely thanking the husband disconnects the call. Mother hears everything, feels happy, thanks God, and appears calmer and satisfied. “I can now go to sleep peacefully”, she says. 

The article was published in The Tribune on 08 October 2020 and can be read on internet by clicking here

Where Are Their Heros Published on 10 Dec 2019

                                                          Heros of IAS

        I was director of Army Welfare Education Society and attended the yearly Principals' meeting at Dehradun. They organized a trip to Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration (LBSNAA), where candidates selected through the Indian Administration Services (IAS) Examination are trained. A month after that visit, I wrote this article. 

                                                      Where are the Heroes

               I was part of a group of Principals and Directors of Army Public Schools who visited Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration (LBSNAA), Mussori,  earlier this month. It was eagerly looked up visit and we expected a lot to see on this institution of National Importance which trained our policymakers, based on whose guidance destiny of India has shaped over the period of time.

              We were conducted around the main campus by a ‘Guide’, who, as we found later, worked as LDC in the Academy. We were briefed about the campus, layout, various buildings a place called museum which had black and white photographs of IAS trainees interacting with Prime Ministers and Presidents, batches that passed out and that of activities in the institute.  Later a Retired Army Officer, posted as Deputy Director briefed us on the organization, training, and activities in Academy. A short movie was also screened on the Academy.

              However, we did not see any photos or paintings of ‘Heroes’ of the alumni of the Academy who did proud to their Alma Mater,  on display anywhere in the Academy that we saw. Few buildings are named after leading politicians. A memorial stood in one of the lawns without any names of martyrs who died in the line of duty. It is not that the IAS cadre is bereft of heroes. Almost a month back The Tribune carried a writeup on Dr B N Yugandhar who, as I see, was an ideal bureaucrat and an example to emulate. His pencil sketch was there among ex Directors of the Academy.  Of course there are many names like Dr TN Seshan, Dr MS Randhawa (ICS), Dr MS Gill, Vinod Rai, Ashok Khemka, Shanmugam Mamjunath (a young IAS Officer who was killed by oil mafia) and many more who stood up to dictates of politicians and upheld the rule of law. What could be a better motivation to a trainee than look up to the heroes of his fraternity who once walked in the corridors of this prestigious academy?    

        However, the next day a visit to Indian Military Academy was a complete contrast. The IMA memorial, Museum (glittering with painting of war heroes), Cadet Messes, Lawns, buildings and of course Drill Ground cast a spell on the visitors.

        The question arises; as to why IAS officers who have done pioneer work in number of fields are not looked up or known as Heroes? Do they want to remain in the background and let politicians take the credit or they get branded or get typified as ‘Congress Type’ or ‘BJP Type’; not allowed to be touted as Heroes. Someone has to answer, ‘Why there are no Heroes on display at LBSNAA?’ 

This article was published in The Tribune on 10 December 2019 and can be viewed by clicking here 

Suferers of The Valley, Published in The Tribune on 07 Oct 2019

                                       Aam Kashmiri, Soldier Keep Suffering

 The removal of Article 370 has brought Kashmir into focus in a big way. While the official narrative is focused around ending the problems of Kashmiri people and integrating them with mainstream India, the other side is harping about the end of the special status and security clampdown along with restrictions on communication.

 

                                   

PS Randhawa

The removal of Article 370 has brought Kashmir into focus in a big way. While the official narrative is focused around ending the problems of Kashmiri people and integrating them with mainstream India, the other side is harping about the end of the special status and security clampdown along with restrictions on communication. 

                        Having served in Kashmir on a number of occasions, starting from 1989, I can say that to date — since the beginning of insurgency — only two kinds of people (besides Kashmiri Pandits who fled) have suffered in Kashmir. One is the common man and the other is the soldier — from all uniformed forces. 

    There is abject poverty in remote areas of the Valley. The only job available there is of a porter, for taking rations to Army posts located at higher altitudes. That job only lasts for a limited period. The common man has very small landholdings. Those in towns are mostly dependent on tourism-related jobs that last for about six months. Insurgency has severely affected the common man. Frequent calls of shutdown have hit the small businessman, shopkeeper and daily-wage earner. He has to join protests lest he is seen as a ‘traitor’ to the cause. Studies of his children have suffered. His children, brainwashed by wily politicians, turn militants and get killed in the bargain. It is not so-called ‘azadi’ that is his biggest problem, it is to earn his living, somehow. While politicians of all hues from the Valley have prospered, he is the one who has suffered the most. His suffering continues. 

    Next is the soldier. There were days when posting to the Valley was much sought-after. It is no more so.  Soldiers are performing duties under severely stressful conditions. One is never sure from which direction a bullet or a stone is going to hit him. Travelling on foot or in a vehicle is equally dangerous. He doesn’t know whether he will safely return to the barracks at the end of the day. He, at times, has to skip meals, rest and sleep. He is out of communication with his kin for days. There are times he doesn’t get leave due to many compelling reasons. His folks at home live on the edge, with prayers on their lips till he returns from Kashmir. They are apprehensive to pick up the phone lest they get some bad news about him. Besides getting killed in the line of duty, a number of soldiers have lost their limbs and fallen prey to post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). He has sacrificed the most. 

    For the rest of the lot, nothing much has mattered. The business of politics has prospered. Other business continues as usual with interruptions. One can only hope and pray that peace returns to the Valley, and the common man and soldier, both enjoy a peaceful life they deserve.

 

Published on 07 Oct 2019 in The Tribune 

Remembering Kargil Martyrs Published in The Tribune on 24 Jul 2018

 Remembering Kargil Martyrs

I wrote this article in June 2018 based upon my experience in Amravati, Maharashtra where I was posted as Commanding Officer of 8 Maharashtra NCC Battalion. It was published on 24 July 2018 in The Tribune. The article goes like this  :-

It is terribly hot and humid in July. No one wants to get out in the bright sun. You soon get drenched in sweat, get dehydrated and look for cover. So it was in 2004 in Amravati, Maharashtra, where I was posted as the Commanding Officer of an NCC battalion. It was good to be in the company of ever enthusiastic young men participating in NCC activities wholeheartedly. Amravati is a small town and a non-military station. Only soldiers posted in the NCC are occasionally seen in Army uniform. 

As July 26 drew near, a letter was received from the headquarters to commemorate the Kargil Diwas. As I discussed with my staff, there was lukewarm response, suggesting to pass it off by organising a lecture for NCC cadets rather than conducting any activity on a hot, humid day. I was reminded of the days of Kargil operations when I was posted at Goa to be part of an outfit raised to train junior leadership of the Army. We officers used to scoff at the local populace who were oblivious of what the Army was facing in capturing treacherous mountain heights at the great cost of lives of young soldiers. Most of us had come from insurgency-affected areas, and for us Goa was a cultural shock. The outfit was soon moved out to Bareilly. But the general indifference of people towards the recognition of sacrifices of the Army remained etched in my memories.

I mulled about Kargil Day and my thoughts went out to the martyrs who without a second thought to their personal safety went ahead with their mission. Can’t we put ourselves in a bit of inconvenience to relive the memories of our martyrs and pay homage to them? I ordered my staff and we prepared placards. On July 26, we assembled all the NCC cadets and officers, gave them a stirring speech and marched out in single file through major roads of the town. I led them in full uniform. Local people craned their neck out of curiosity and soon some of them joined in. As we marched on, it became a big procession and the whole town was reverberating with slogans of ‘Kargil ke shaheed amar rahein’. Local newspapers carried our photographs on the front page the next day, drawing accolades from all and sundry. 

I have since made it a point to go out on Kargil Diwas to any war memorial and pay homage to martyrs, be it rain, thunder, or scorching hot. This is the least we can do for the martyrs who laid down their lives for us. As the day approaches, can we expect the citizens to come out of their comfort zone for a while and pay tributes to the martyrs at the nearest memorial, or walk up to the kin of martyrs and pay gratitude to them? Would it be asking for too much?

The article can be viewed online by clicking here