That's Kargil For Remembrance

It was time, when I realised that I was on a bed. I had got so much accustomed to my bunker, that I felt that stones and rocks were the life and soul of me. I dimly blinked my eyes once, but it’s ridiculously outrageous, when you sleep for almost a week, and then open your eyes to dazzling, glaring light. I felt no one, but Martha and Martin around. I should have said Mandeep and Manisha, but it’s trendy to use such names. A real pair of Tweedledum and Tweedledee; inseparable from each other. I heaved a sigh of relief, as the ECG had not yet faltered to absolute zero.

Between my life and death laid a whole world of ramshackle stretches, and my deep slumber in Room 21, Central Hospital, gave me the chance to recollect my cataclysmic past. The last of what I had seen, was a sudden shattering of stones, a pool of blood, and then, sudden darkness.

Lieutenant-General Jaspal Singh, a tremendously authoritative and commanding personality, had always longed for a D-day. An adventurous temperament, he was fit to be our head. He was then crouching by my side, on the eleventh day of the war.

“Major sa’ab,” he called out, “the seventh troop is on the verge of exhaustion. The molotovs have died out. We are short of resources, and need reinforcements.”

“The Kargil guns have a long life. Use them,” Major Surendra Rathore replied.

Guns, rifles, cannons, bombs and fire attacks had been a mundane happening then. As loads of sand and dust soared high up in the sky in response to the severe battering it received due to the unstoppable thrusts of man-propelled thunderbolts, the Kargil guns were simply a garnishing to the now ruthless range of weapons. We had made their encroachers retreat, thanks to the natives, but they had now come with some further ‘knick-knacks.’

They had now opened tank firing from Sector 21. Our response came late, but utterly outbursting. We replied by sending the ‘Chakravyuha’ right in the centre of the war ground, and, one should realise, Chakravyuha meant business. Without beating about the bush, it directly assaulted Sector 21, ignoring the timid blacks-and-greens around it. It was then, that we had some momentous success- the wreckage of their R-224, one of their trump cards.

One mistake. A single, sole blunder that changed the complete course of my life. This was when I needed spare gunpowder for my then exhausted gun. Not realising the presence of an open junction between Sectors 18 and 19, and not comprehending what would befall if I would be in the clear, I rose right in the clearing, and then gave way to an open-gun firing, right at me.

I limped off just when the junction ended. I collapsed on the ground, and then realised that the world is actually round. Colonel Sen lifted me up, and took me inside the underground pathway. I saw everything turning black in front of my eyes…

Three shots from a Walter XCC are a great achievement atleast for me. We had won it; we had won it among all the bloodshed, among the entire catastrophe. But what about the massacre that the war brought with it? We killed, they killed, only for the want of killing. Perhaps that’s the Fate of a soldier. We fought and won a battle for our land. We gave way to an inspiration to the future. We paved the road to a better India. Someday, someone would ask me with a mike in his hand, and then, I would reply, “I’m Colonel Rishabh Talwar, ex-Indian Army, a citizen of India…”

India- A Peninsula of Evergreen Radiance

...That ruined, slimy wall was just amusing me as I gazed up towards the Fort of Golconda. Just a day ago, at this same moment, I was unwillingly stepping foot out of the giant white marblepiece of Agra. Perhaps that’s what India is famous for- everything that interests everyone, intrigues everyone- monuments, culture, tradition, society, and of course, the mouth-watering food. Even as I stood by the wall, I clutched in my mouth a large gulp of idli.

“India… Incredible India… the one beyond the world…” Those were my camera’s words when it clicked the fifteen thousandth photograph of the ever-lasting gleam of the country. Never mind me revolving round and round the motion for this article, but truly, the gasp of the mouth when one ‘experiences’ India is just inexplicable.

The India I love doesn’t make headlines. It is the traditional India, the India, beyond bounds, the India beyond the horizon, the India beyond eternity, that I really intone in my inner self. 

Looking back to my memories of the trip I had left behind, a certain sort of significance kept flashing in my mind about the various faces of this vibrant country; they all had something in common. Everything in India from streets to shops had in them a sense of harmony, a sense of making one welcome to warmth. No matter how busy people are, they prefer help before their job.

To talk about the culture, this is a factor one should not talk about, for it is so vast that one couldn’t finish it in one birth. It’s something that won’t end, that we won’t want to end. It is something that one would want to watch his entire life. The grace, the elegance of every tone of music, of every mudra of dance has in itself an entire world of its own. Be it the kathak of Uttar Pradesh, the bharatanatyam of Tamil Nadu, the ras garba of Gujarat, or the Carnatic music of the South, the taal and the raag of the so-called ‘musical art’ always has an ever-lasting effect on one’s soul.

Everything in India has an inscripted pattern in itself, and this is what defines the unique art and architecture of the country. The jali pattern in tomb structures and the medieval-age-old jharokhas are a means of communion with an abode of art in its best form; in its best incarnation. Even the domes and the arches of every fragrance of the fineness and dexterity of the hand-and-tool art symbolise the different sects and clans that constitute of India’s glorious past. 

Just as the last piece of my idli went through my throat, I recalled the variety of spices, the variety of tastes, and the variety of aroma I had enjoyed in this tour. Perhaps, I had eaten too much. Perhaps, I had ‘enjoyed’ eating too much- yeah, that’s better. From the north, it’s the Kashmiri kawa, the Punjabi lassi, and makki’s roti and sarson’s saag (did I get it right, or it’s the other way?) and the kulfi. From the west, it is the Gujarati dhokla, khakra and handwa, and the Rajasthani dal-bati. On the other hand, the sweets of West Bengal and the tea of Assam, Meghalaya and Mizoram constitute the east. Not to forget the south, it’s the spices, as well as the idli, the dosa, the rasam, and the sambhar of Kerala and Tamil Nadu--- there, there, this is making me water now.

Today was the third day of Pongal, and I wasn’t surprised when I noticed people from all directions came to me running and calling out to celebrate. People in India ‘lead’ their lives. They love their lives, they cherish every single moment as their last. They are the ones who celebrate the most number of festivals in the world. Right there at the peak of India, I enjoyed the Rauf in the Kashmir harvest festival. I also participated in the Durga Puja, Bihu and Diwali, and met some boat racers on Onam.

My tour was coming to an end now. As I gave my final glance to the fort, I felt that I had not yet reached my destination. I had not yet ended my journey…

What left me thinking was the present scenario of this diversely united country. Of course, one does hear of the growing population, corrupt politics and poverty these days, but the truth behind these words is too bitter to digest. Much needs to be done for the ‘development’ of India in the right sense. Although the country is democratic, this democracy doesn’t have its true essence, and that is equality. Now here, one would say that the Constitution supports equality to all, but is this really implemented in the national society?

As I give my final salute to the country that taught me the true meaning of life, I lay my head high towards the most developed peninsula of the future. Perhaps someday, at sometime, someone will come to ignite the dozing mindset of the Indians of today, and look forward to a first fully democratic India…