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The Last Reason

Apr 8 2008 | Views 4564 | Comments (291)

‘You should have stuck around. A brilliant officer like you has a great opportun... Expand

‘You should have stuck around. A brilliant officer like you has a great opportunity in the army. The army needs people like you,’ said the commanding officer, pouring a shot of whiskey in his glass.

It was late. We were sitting in the mess celebrating my release from the army. Outside, the wind howled, piercing through the tiny apertures in the room making me shiver and I moved closer to the room heater. A wayward branch of the pine tree tapped on the window persistently.

‘I have given it a lot of thought, sir. I’ve given 20 years of my life to the country. I want to live the next 20 years for myself and my dear ones. I want to know what it is like to live life differently.’

The smell of wild roses stole intoxicatingly from the vase across the table. I knew that smell just as I knew the gurgle of streams and the graceful moves of the chinar trees across our mess.

I loved the place. Kashmir was a paradise punctuated by moments of hell. At least for the defence personnel it was a hell. The two years I’d spent in the valley as the second in command hadn’t been easy. Living conditions were pathetic as we tried to make ourselves comfortable in derelict school buildings with half blown out roofs, defunct sewage and water system, an apology of a road and hostile population.

The hardship brought out the best in the men. We shared our belongings, thoughts, emotions, sorrows and joys with a generosity no city folk would recognise. We were a family fending ourselves against the outside world; fighting frustration, antagonism and helplessness. The CO was the father of the unit and I was the big brother with whom they could share their feelings. I was the sounding board for my CO, and the shock absorber for the others.

‘I was 22 when I joined and I am leaving at 42. If I don’t leave now, it will be too late.’

‘You are going to do the six months management course with IIM, Bangalore and then join the corporate world, that’s your plan, isn’t it?’ The CO looked thoughtfully at the glowing cigarette and exhaled a balloon of smoke.

‘What then? Working long hours, no time to enjoy the money you earn? There will be no time for you to play golf, no time for club, or the finer things in life. Is that what you want?’

He was putting forth the arguments that had already gone through my mind before I decided to quit the army. The bastard knows I love playing golf, I thought smiling inwards.

‘I will be earning five times the money I do now. That, I think, should compensate for the golf,’ I replied sarcastically. ‘How much do I get now, just about 30,000, which after all deductions amounts to a measly 15,000 rupees. It is all I have to show for 20 years of life spent in deserts, mountains, snow and jungles – the harshest of terrain. I can’t even buy a decent gift for my wife with that salary.’

‘You sound bitter, Inderjeet. Is it all about money?’

The waiter came in with more snacks. The CO poured another shot of whiskey in his glass. That was all he did in the evenings, drink as if there was no tomorrow. I knew he was as bitter and frustrated as me but couldn’t express it the way I could. I pitied the man.

There were things I knew about Colonel Rajesh Sharma which others didn’t. I knew that his wife had left him because he was never there for her. I knew that he had not made it to a Brigadier because he was a blunt man. I also knew that he was as honest as an army man could be. He had his weaknesses but he was a good leader and the jawans respected him. He knew he had no future in the army.

‘It is about money all over the world, isn’t it sir? What will your assets be when you retire? Even a bank clerk would have accumulated more. You remember the minister who came to visit us last year. He said – you are paid to die. Is that what we are meant to be, fodder for the guns? I am sure you haven’t forgotten Lieutenant Prakash Rajput? The 23 year old lad died in an ambush and what did his family get? They are still fighting for the petrol pump promised by the government.’

‘But you got the Sena medal for bravery,’ commented the Colonel.

‘Will the medal provide food and a decent life to my wife and child? It wouldn’t fetch them a single meal if they hawked it in the market.’

I was bitter. As a young boy of 17 I had entered the NDA with idealistic dreams and fervent patriotism. The dreams had been shattered one by one, broken into fragments after encounters with horrible truth. I still remembered the first terrorist I had caught after suffering a gun wound on the arm. I had been lucky the bullet went through my left arm but my jawan wasn’t so lucky. He died in the encounter. The terrorist, Ismail Khan, had been responsible for the killing of 120 persons in a terror attack. He was a wanted man.

For a while I was a hero. Everyone commended my valour. Compliments poured in from all sides. With my arm in a sling, strutting along the unit, I enjoyed the paeans sung for me.

We handed over the fellow to civil police. A week later, he had been let off after a hue and cry from the humanitarian agencies. Two months later the same militant had blown a bus into smithereens, killing thirty people. The political interference had taken a heavy toll of our jawans in the valley. We were expected to fight terror with our hands tied at the back.

I was brave; there was no doubt about it. So many times, I had risked my neck to catch a killer but the end was almost always a disappointment.

‘It is not worth laying your life in the line of fire,’ my wife would lament. ‘Why do you want us to suffer for our bravery? And what do you get in return of your heroism? A medal? Your life is precious, don’t be reckless with it.’

I had married at the age of 39; too late in the day. The reason had been the burning fire in me. I wanted to nab as many militants as I could. I volunteered for the most hazardous assignments, took up the tasks no one wanted to undertake. There was no time for marriage. And when I married, it was because she was a fellow officer’s widow.

Simran had lost her husband and didn’t want to lose me. She knew what it was like being an army man’s wife. The stress, uncertainty, risks; she knew them all.

A year back we had a daughter. I’d rushed to Delhi to see her. Of the fortnight’s leave, I’d spent ten days waiting for the baby to arrive and when she arrived it had been a dream come true. The first time I held her in my arms was an unforgettable moment. I had always thought of myself as a tough brute, toughened by the years of war, killings, raids, and blood. I was wrong. Holding the infant in my arms kindled my heart with a flame I had never experienced. It was more exhilarating than any encounter. The tenderness I experienced almost made me cry.

We named her Nikki, meaning tiny. Three days after Simran and Nikki came home, I had to head back to my unit. It was heartbreaking. I was tied inextricably. My little daughter had decided it for me. I wanted to leave the army. I didn’t want to risk my life any more. I wanted to be with my family. I wanted to see Nikki grow and enjoy each little landmark in her life. I wanted to be there when she sat up, crawled, uttered her first words and took her first faltering step.

I had to earn more to see her comfortable. I had to be a good father not an absentee one. She needed me but I needed her more.

‘So, you have made up your mind,’ said the old man, finally.

It is a practice to call the CO old man even though he is generally in his forties.

‘Yes sir, quitting the army was decided the day my daughter was born. Tell me honestly sir, given a chance wouldn’t you leave, too?’

He looked at me through half closed eyes, thoughtfully. A moment later his laughter rang out loud, echoing through the room.

‘You’ve got me in a spot. Yes, Inderjeet, I would leave if I had an alternative. I am too young to retire and too old to begin afresh. I am here because I have nowhere to go. You understand what I mean.’

I understood perfectly. Most of us were there because we had nowhere else to go.

It was almost midnight and I got up to go.

‘Excuse me Sir,’ I began. ‘I have to pack. My flight leaves at 10 in the morning from Srinagar and it is a two hour drive to the airport.’

‘Oh yes, you’ve got to leave by seven so you better get your stuff together.’

We shook hands. In a surprise move, he hugged me.

I was touched. I had spent the last seven years in this unit. It was like family. Bidding adieu would be difficult.

Thoughtfully, I walked towards my room.

It was almost seven thirty when I finished the formalities of a ‘see-off’ and climbed into the waiting JONGA.

The line up from the unit to the main road was crossed at a slow pace and then we began driving in earnest.

It took us by surprise. A sudden volley of shots rang out from both sides of the road, raining bullets on our vehicle. The jawan seated on the back seat returned fire but one of the bullets had got the front tyre. The vehicle rolled to a side. I shouted at the driver to duck but he was already slumped over the steering wheel, hit by a bullet. The jawan in the rear seat remained inert. And then I felt a red hot thing tearing through my lungs. The bastards had got me, too.

Crouching, I rested against the rear wheel, waiting for them to get to me. I had the jawan’s gun with me. Life was ebbing out fast. I tried to focus my pupils on the far away clump of trees from where the bullets were coming but a dense fog seemed to settle before my eyes.

‘Wahe Guru, I want to live.’ I shouted as loud as I could. The hollowness in my voice mocked me.

‘Come you bastards, get me,’ I hollered, trying to aim the gun at the invisible terrorists.

They never came. Out of oblivion I heard our jawans arrive. They put me in a stretcher and rushed. I drifted in and out of an ink black cloud. The CO was bending over me.

I tried to speak. My lips were parched, they wouldn’t move. The CO put his ears close to them but he didn’t catch the words I was trying to formulate.

---------

Twenty four hours later, soldiers marched with a casket containing the body of a valiant Sikh, Inderjeet Singh Kalra. His wife stood with an infant in her arms, her eyes dry and vacant. Nikki would know her father only as a framed photograph with a garland around it.

Colonel Rajesh Sharma fingered the crumpled paper lying in his pocket deliberating whether he should hand it over to Inderjeet’s wife. It was Inderjeet’s last letter, given to him just before he left the unit. He had forgotten how many times he had read it since the ambush. Like a drowning man he clutched at the straw thrown at him by a valiant officer, trying to find logic in his untimely death.

‘I forgot to tell you yesterday night, Sir.’ Inderjeet had written in his characteristic bold hand. ‘You asked me why I wanted to leave the army. I told you so many reasons but forgot to mention the most important reason for leaving the army. Funny, isn’t it? It is the reason that should have come to my mind first. I want to live, Sir. I want to live till I die of old age. I don’t want to be killed by militants.’

The CO’s fist clenched over the letter and a choke rose to his throat. No, he wouldn’t give it to Inderjeet’s wife, he decided. It would remain with him, a testimony of the brave soldier’s simple wish.

(This story is based loosely on a real life one. The names have been changed but the events are true.)

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Comments (291)

rajee kushwaha posted 7 mnths ago

Dear Tanushri,
    what a brilliant piece on armed forces! And look at it, I have not seen it for last 8-9 days. how stupid of me? Your story brings out the true picture of the state of affairs.
     I know TEHLKA expose has brought down our image. That is sad.Most of my civil friends , start of with Telka story whenever one talks of corruption in the daily life. i had to tell my friend the other day : WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE MAN JOINING THE FORCES FROM A SOCIETY GONE CORRUPT? WHY DO YOU THINK HE/SHE WOULD BE A SAINT? WHY DO YOU MAKE HIM A HOLY COW AND THEN USE THIS EXCUSE TO DENIGRATE HIM?
      The fact of the matter is despite all this happening in the society---armed forces are stiil least corrupt---and my friends who cry on corruption in the forces should not forget that SOLDIERS DON'T COME FROM HEAVENS---They are from same social system. yet the armed forces are somewhat immunised--despite some aberrations.
      Finally, how do you expect a person like me, retiring after 36-37 years of seervice--from a senior position with only 15-20 lacs to live life comfortably? One can't even buy a decent house in a good city. Forget about settling your children--who look at you disdainfully for not having done anything for them. This is the cause of corruption ,now creeping into the army. If you do not look after the soldiers--they will become like policemen--then, you will have nothing else to save this country.
    When General Douglas MacArthur, chief of US Army in 1931-34 was told of the cut in the budget for defence--he walked upto president of USA and told him that EXPENDITURE ON ARMED FORCES IS A PREMIUM THE NATION MUST PAY FOR THE SECURITY OF THE NATION. The President was not impressed and he did not agree. It was then, MacArthur said:
"Mr. PRESIDENT, WHEN A US SOLDIER IN THE NEXT WAR SPAT OUT HIS LAST CURSE, WITH ENEMY BAYONET THROUGH HIS ABDOMEN, I DO NOT WANT THE NAME TO BE MacArthur  BUT ROOSEVELT" This changed the scene and the defence cut was stopped.
Unfortunately, Indian army can not boast of such GENERALSHIP and that's why the very poor state of the soldiers.Our generals are so pliant that crawl before they are asked to bend. Take the case of SIXTH PAY COMMISSION---Forget it.
   Thanks any way. it was lovely reading you but I got emotional. regards, dear. Rajee.

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raju-indore posted 7 mnths ago

Brilliant is the word, Tanu. My heart cried out for the army guy. Since the events are true, the cost of populism is very high, I guess.

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tanushri podder posted 7 mnths ago

Hi Svengali,
Great seeing you here....thanks!

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tanushri podder posted 7 mnths ago

Hi Drishta,
Thanks! Oh, yes, many more.....

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tanushri podder posted 7 mnths ago

Hi Arjun,
You are right, it is such incidents that spark anger and frustration in the security forces. Afzal Guru's case is a pointer towards the politicisation of everything that happens in the country...wish a couple of khadi fellows had got killed that day...things would have been very different then...

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tanushri podder posted 7 mnths ago

Hi Jisa,
Thanks! Glad you liked my article in Hindu.... maybe I should put up a link to that on Sulekha....
Cheers!

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tanushri podder posted 7 mnths ago

Hi Bharat,

Thank you...your request has been noted for future compliance...

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tanushri podder posted 7 mnths ago

Hi GG,
The truth is that we live in a wasteful world where life is an unimportant as a packet of chips.. or maybe still lesser...
Regds,
Tanushree

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