He could have been your son. He could have been your
brother. He could have been your husband. He could have been your father. But now, he is not by your side
– his rightful place…
Chances are you have heard about
him. Here’s his story anyway...
He was born to loving parents,
the answer to their prayers. He was their hope, pride, and joy. He grew up with
his sister who he loved and protected fiercely. He was always the one his
friends counted on in their time of need. He was popular, but he handled it
with a maturity that was rare for brats like him.
He was a strong young boy who
never gave up. He grew up to stories of courage and bravery. He was a romantic
at heart. But he never shed a tear when he heard of heroes who had laid down
their lives for his country. In fact, he secretly envied them. He confided in
his friends that he wanted to be a soldier…
His friends tried to talk sense
into him. There’s no money, no freedom, no family life, and certainly no
comfort, they said. They told him that the only certainty in his career of
choice was a bullet with his name on it. And that he would die young, away from
his loved ones for a thankless country that will soon forget him.
He could not be swayed. To him,
his country was his mother and it was his duty to protect her. He was surprised
that his friends didn’t feel the same way. But he did not grudge them, because
it was his duty to protect them. And he believed that his country is not
thankless.
He volunteered to become a
soldier. He spent three grueling years in the academy to become an officer. It
was the proudest day for his family to see the apple of their eye in uniform –
An officer and a gentleman. His father’s chest swelled with pride, his mother’s
eye wet with tears, his sister’s face glowed radiant seeing him march. That was
a sight he would never forget.
He spent the next few years in
the jungles, in deserts, in snow, in marshes, in combat, in training. As a Para
commando, he excelled in sea and in the air. On the rare occasions he would
visit home, he would be overjoyed to meet his friends – writers, poets,
bankers, managers, NRIs even – and reveled in their successes. He would hear
them crib about their air conditioners not being effective, the quality of soup
in their canteens, the hour-long commute to work, about the money being far
less for the amount of work they did, about bosses who didn’t appreciate them…
He thought back to the -50 to 50 degree temperature ranges he was exposed to,
the joy of just having time to eat whatever rations were packed for him, the
unending marches in hostile environments, about the joy of seeing the meager
salary in his account, and of his bosses who bent him till the fraction before
he would break… He smiled, knowing he would never want to trade lives with
them! And he believed that his country is not thankless.
His mother started pestering him
to find a girl. His sister’s friends vied for his attention. His father told
him every day that he was never more proud in his life. He knew that he had
achieved everything he’s set out to. Only one wish remained… But he had to leave,
his holidays cut short because his unit was called into combat. This time, he
held his sister a second longer, hugged his mother a moment more, and took a
deeper breath before his father’s customary bear hug. But this time, when he
turned away from them, his eyes were moist, his heart heavy…
A month from then, his unit was
under fire from a group of terrorists. As usual, he led his men calmly into
battle. But this was no war… It was a group of cowardly men who used deception
and who attacked from the shadows. They followed no code. He grouped his men
into formation and took point himself. He tracked down the enemy cell and in
keeping with his moral code, fired warning shots and asked them to surrender.
They responded with indiscriminate gunfire and explosives. He caught a bullet
in his neck. His only concern was to save his fellow officer, who was also shot.
He did not want his buddy subjected to the usual treatment they
reserved for the Indian Army.
He took a long breath to calm
down the adrenaline that was surging inside him. He raised his automatic, fired
two shots – each finding its mark and dropping two enemies. He then proceeded
to aid the extraction of his fallen fellow officer and friend. The first
reaction he had was to ascertain that the rest of his men were safe. By then he
had lost a lot of blood. He knew his time had come and he was proud to have
gone out serving his motherland. He closed his eyes.
His life flashed before him, his
mother’s cuddle as a toddler, his father’s strong finger that he gripped to
walk, his joy on seeing his baby sister. His first bike, his first crush, his
academy, the passing-out, his first parachute jump, his best friends… He knew
they were wrong. He knew that his country will remember his sacrifice. He knew
that his death was not in vain. He knew that his country was not thankless. As
he felt his life slipping away from him, he remembered his last goodbye to his
family. And that was the image that stayed with him…
It’s been about a decade now. The
world moved on, the countries declared a temporary (and farcical) cease-fire,
and his sacrifice was buried as a statistic. Only a few people think about him
today.
His sister misses her best
friend, and the arrogance and pride and the feeling of invincibility she had
when he was around. She misses the fights, she misses the treats, and she
misses the only man who ever loved her unconditionally. Her only wish is that
he’d fulfilled his promise to take care of her… forever.
There is not a single day his
mother does not miss him. She knew from the instant that she felt his life
stirring in her womb that he would, one day, make her very proud. Her only wish
is for just another day with him. To ruffle his hair, see him smile, to cajole
him to eat another morsel, to watch him sleep, to hear him breathe, to…
His father’s friends brag about
their NRI sons, the Rolexes they’ve gifted, the cars they’ve bought, the money
they are making. His father wouldn’t have traded a billion of those for him.
His father’s only wish is another minute with him, to be able to tell him once
more how proud he is.
His family does not want our
sympathy. Because more than the loss they feel, they feel pride. They wish you
said a silent prayer for him. Just once. And they still believe that his
country is not thankless.
I have been AWOL from this blog for more than two years. There were
many interesting events that happened and I had thought more than a few times
about writing a post. Somehow, nothing was as compelling as a two-minute chat
with the sister of Major Udai Singh and later with my wife about the glory of serving your country and how
my life’s ambition for a long time was to be him… He is among the lakhs of
soldiers who have laid down their lives for us – names on a wall somewhere...
However, each of them – men and women – was the whole world to their loved
ones. They live ever day with the hope that we realize the ultimate sacrifice
made by their sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, fathers,
mothers …
If my stars hadn’t conspired against me, I would’ve been one of them.
And though I believe in a life without regrets, this is the only one I have
nursed for a long time.
I dedicate this post to the memory of Major Udai Singh who embraced the
ultimate sacrifice for us, this exact day (November 29), nine years ago. And to
the soldier who at this very moment is standing between you and the enemy’s
bullet.
Major Udai Singh, SC, SM
Forever we shall remember,
Those that have not returned,
For freedom is never given,
But in blood it is always earned.
