Do 50 years as a 'fauji' wife qualify me to write an ode to the Indian Army? I certainly think so!
March 2010.
It was the worst time of my life as I watched my husband Maj Gen DP Bahl surrender to cancer after a fierce battle. He fought bravely, just as he had when the Sabers raided the Indian skies; only this time the enemy was within him and it proved more lethal.
I was emotionally paralysed.
Then something beautiful happened, something I salute, not with my hand but with my heart.
My husband had often said "When I go inform the Air Defence (AD) branch", the Arm that he had served in.
After 20 years of retirement, who in the AD branch do I call? Which number do I dial? Would anyone care today when the chair, the uniform, the medals and the stars had lost their lustre?
My mind somersaulted to the time when today's Maj Gens were young Captains on the threshold of their careers. A name flashed into my mind - Rajeev Kalra, who was the MG Arty Western Command.
"Rajeev" I wailed "He's gone and I don't know what to do".
A moment of silence, pregnant with shock and disbelief was followed by, "Ma'am, you don't have to do anything. We will take care". And care they did take!
Suddenly, a network was activated. Caring people from the ranks of Jawan, Captain, Colonel, Brigadier, Maj General and the Director AD himself were there to console and help in "seeing off" their veteran friend who I thought was long forgotten.
Forgotten is a word that should have never entered my vocabulary.
A week before my husband 'departed' two young jawans knocked on our front door. "We are from the 2nd Field Regiment", they said. "2nd Field Regiment?" I asked taken aback. "That's my husband's first regiment way back in 1956". "We know. We have come to pay our respects and seek his blessings". I had led them to his bed where they took his hand and placed it on their head, turn by turn. "Saab ji please bless us! We are from your regiment".
And then suddenly something hit me. "Tell me", I asked them "were you even born when he was in the unit?" "No! But he is our Saab ji all the same".
I burst out crying. This was something beyond loyalty and solidarity. Something I had no words for. Gratitude and appreciation overwhelmed me. It was a bond that transcended time and space.
50 AD, the unit he had commanded, came together to help in every possible way. They called to console and remember him with affection and respect.
Time lost its dimension as, fellow soldiers, separated years ago, some of them hadn't seen each other almost 40 years ago now and settled in different parts of the country, called to lend strength and courage in those traumatic moments. Many dear ones came personally to be with us and share our loss. Some, I could not even recognise, as it had been many years since I last saw them and they looked so different now.
As if in a movie, I watched scenes fade in and fade out as memories crystallised into long forgotten events. I remember seeing them young and so full of life singing folk songs, film songs at parties and dancing to happy tunes, playing dumb charades, celebrating birthdays and promotions and bidding adieu ar farewells. They brought back to life the happy times which pierced through those bleak moments. Tears of happiness mingled with tears of sorrow and pain.
There are no words to express my gratitude to them all for their support at a time when I needed it most. Such is the solidarity imbued by the Indian Army.
What a family we make once we wear that most coveted uniform? Only those who have had this privilege can understand.
- A Major General's wife.
Tailpiece.
Got up at 6, the chores and was ready by 10. Sajish, the hair stylist, had dropped by at 0730 hrs, to give me a haircut and a good massage. I was getting it done after a gap of two months.
The Wednesday 'aarathi' of the house was done.
Suma had taken a day off as she was stung by a wasp last evening and her hand was swollen. So, it was Lekha's show all the way.
Called off our visits to Drs Padmanabha Shenoy and Satish Bhat as tomorrow is Bharat Bandh!
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