My Tryst with the Gorkhas

I was barely 21 when I was married to a strapping Gorkha officer who was also called the 'snake charmer' of Commando Wing. My parents then lived in a small city where the Army had left a palpable imprint. In the 60's and 70's the Gorkha regiment were the only troops popularly known, hence getting married to a Gorkha officer was a matter of great pride. My mother also posessed a beautifully embellished 'Khukri' which was presented to her by the then king of Nepal, for teaching his two sons, at North Point, Darjeeling.

From the time I set foot into the regiment, till my husband retired, it was like living in  a huge joint family. I can well remember the first day in the Battalion, to the last day. It runs like a film reel of great accomplishment. I feel I was really lucky to be with these brawny, robust men, for whom no work was too hard. They were not only ready to lay down their lives for the motherland but were also greatly possessive of the Officer and his family.

The Gorkha soldier was not just physically strong, but the antithesis was his childlike nature and simplicity. I have seen them through thick and thin during good weather and bad. His values and priorities always stood steadfast. I have seen him with wounds, blood oozing out, but not bothering about it. The onus of responsibility to push him to the MI room(Medical Inspection/First aid room) rested on our shoulders. Yet he would say that he had to complete his Saab's uniform, and go later. That was the kind of sincerity these men had. We could leave our children with them, without a second thought. He was fondly called 'Daai' (elder brother) by the kids which extended to the ladies of the Paltan (Battalion) too.As ladies we were supposed to address them as 'Bhai' (younger brother). All the children's secrets were shared with the Daai and he kept a stiff upper lip! I would always compare the activities of the children and the Daai to that of the eminent writer Enid Blyton's 'Famous Five'. This strong connect lives on to this day, with calls coming to and fro even after they have retired.

The wheels of life rolled on. Every new day was like a thriller or comedy film. Their general knowledge was very minuscule. Once when I asked the Daai, "Who was Mahatma Gandhi's wife?" , without a blink, he shot out "Indira Gandhi! ". As I reminiscence fondly, it brings to memory the lovely Dussehra celebrations which almost ran into a month of hectic activity, the vociferous football matches which the Gorkhas always won, and the boxing bouts. However much my friends asked me how I could enjoy a gory boxing bout, I had no answer. Every single one of us were there, cheering and screaming our lungs out, and finally we were left with no voice. Too much strain on the vocal chords!

Most of them lived in the hills and when I got talking to them, they would tell us of their home, old tales of battle valour and how they had to tread atleast two days from the foothills to reach their homes. The yesteryear Gorkha never haggled for leave even when there was a calamity of sorts at his home. He seemed to leave everything to destiny and continued as though nothing had happened. Fun times were endless. One of my husband's sahayaks didn't even know how to cycle. Yet when we gave him one, he did not divulge this information to us. Soon we saw him trying it out when we were on a walk. We saw a very familiar face coming down a slope at break neck speed and could not apply brakes. All he did was to wave his hands into the air to tell us to move out of the way. When we turned around , we saw a peculiar sight - a hanger on his collar! When we asked him what this fitment was, he told us, he had put my husband's shirt on it and had taken it to be ironed. Now all that was left after this spurt of adventure was the hanger on the collar. He had lost the shirt en route!

But don't be carried away by this soft hearted , sure footed Gorkha. He is quite an example of Oliver Goldsmith's 'Man in Black'. He has an extremely tough side too. All his heroism is on display when he is pitched against a foe. Then all he knows is the pride of his country, Batallion and officers. When he jerks out his Khukri, he can create havoc. This is when his patriotism and pride come into play. One such example was Sri Lanka - 1987.  There was immense enemy fire and this particular Gorkha jawan realised that his Saab was hurt and needed to be pulled out of the trench. So he ran back through the fire and carried the officer on his back running again through the same fire. In this audacious act of bravery, he sustained 6 bullet injuries. Not only he, but the officer survived as well.
After my 32 year marriage in the Gorkha Regiment, I do not agree when people call them a 'mercenary force'. For them it is always India first. I do not want to elaborate on Gorkha valour anymore, since I could write volumes on it.

What prompted me to write this article is this huge depredation of life and property in Nepal. The villages we know like the back of our hands, seemed to have crumbled like a pack of cards, taking away with it gargantuan proportions of these simple folks. Majestic parts of old Nepal have also been annihilated. We have about 1.25 lakh ex-servicemen there.  Somewhere in my heart, there is a huge fear lurking whether they are all safe. Long ago, I had seen a movie 'Himalay ke godh mein' . This little kingdom was indeed in the lap of the Himalayas. What also shocked me, is the Times of India Bangalore Edition, of 28 Apr 2015, which has shown pictures of people taking 'selfies' under the crumbled historic Dharahara tower. Just because some were fortunate to survive this catastrophe, does it mean that we have become so insensitive to the mutilation of nearly a whole country?

I end this article with a silent prayer on my lips and thanking our Prime Minister Mr Modi for forging ahead without losing time, to send enormous aid and setting the wheels of evacuation rolling. I also am thankful to Gen Dalbir Singh Suhag, our Army Chief and the Honorary Chief of the Nepalese Army, who happens to be from our Batallion for spearheading relief efforts in Nepal. The Indian Army is indeed doing a yo-man's service.

I would urge each one of you to provide help to these afflicted people in whichever way possible. There are many channels through which you can contribute. Let not the human being within us be a mute spectator.

A very special WOMAN

Women's day came and went like a breeze. I suddenly realized there is one special woman whom I see day in and day out with a cheerful smile , come hail or storm.  I thought it necessary to bring her inspiring story to all of you, before the season fades away.

She is the  domestic help in my house, ever since I came to the 'CITY of GARDENS'. People had warned me that it is very difficult to find a good domestic help here, unlike the north and being a cleanliness freak myself,I was wondering how tedious a task it would be to find a good helping hand. One morning, walks in ALUVELAMMA seeking domestic work. There was something in her that impressed me instantly. She was neat to the hilt, hair oiled and braided neatly. She had left her hometown on the coast of Andhra Pradesh to seek a more lucrative salary in the city of Bangalore. She said she had four children, all of whom she was educating, with the help of some charitable institution. There was a conviction in her voice of how important it is to have educated children. I was amazed to hear that come from an uneducated woman.

The next part of her story indeed bewildered me. She said she had lost her husband, a fisherman by profession, at sea when one of those horrific storms hit the coast. He had gone out for a 'catch' on one of those storm tossed nights, never to return. I had goose pimples all over. She said she was supporting a specially-abled younger sister and her younger brother who had just met with a major road accident and had an incapacitated leg. We have read these gory headlines many a time on the front page of the Newspaper screaming the statistics of loss to life and property ,year after year in coastal Andhra. But while we rest on the arm chair with a steaming cup of filter coffee reading the morning news, we so easily turn the pages not feeling even a pinch of any sort. But when we do go into the lives of such people, we realize the cruel games life can play at the spur of a moment. Life is indeed transitory and mysterious.

She assured me that she would do a good job and I employed her instantly. Days and months passed, Aluvelamma would reach my home at the dot of time, neatly dressed spreading a breath of positivity and a pleasant countenance. She easily adjusted  to our home and as I got to know her better, I found that indeed she was struggling to make two ends meet. I started helping her in whichever way I could even finding her an extra employer.

It seemed that bad luck had chosen her as one of its favorite victims - soon her mother was down with cancer and she passed away in the course of a few weeks. There was no stone left unturned by her. She would rush from the workplace to make fresh food and carry it to the hospital. She would spend sleepless nights keeping awake there. She would rush back home at the break of dawn, just to have a bath and get back to work. She sold almost every possession she had, including her earrings, to pay the expenses of the hospital. She never complained once about her fate. She took her mother from one hospital to a better one without thinking of what it would cost her. That day I realised that God had sent her to me with a purpose.  In the Bible it is said that 'what the right hand does, the left hand should not know' hence I would not like to list out the help we have been able to render to this poor soul. The other day she told me emphatically, that even if I shift home, she would give up her other job to continue working for me.

There is a reason why I wanted to bring this to you all. There are enough number of people who are suffering right around you, yet you may not know about it, unless you make a special endeavour. Everybody is placed in a particular position. You can help anybody the way you want and choose the means to do so. It is not enough to just celebrate a women's day. It is equally important to bring up the lot of the WOMEN!

Let's celebrate each and every WOMAN. She is Lakshmi - the Godess of Wealth, Annapoorna - Giver of food and nourishment, and a part of Brahma - the Creator of Life resides within her, called the Atman. In the present day context, she works outside as well inside, thereby playing the role of Lakshmi, she provides food and nourishment for her family and those around her, thereby being Annapoorna and continues the legacy of life. If there was no woman, there would have been no life.

Happy Women's Day!

The Escape Route

A hectic work life ? Too busy with all the gizmos ?? A tight rope walk all the way ???Then you are the right candidate to take off on a long weekend with your loved ones to an easily accessible holiday destination.We are just back from one such trip. It was our children's wedding anniversary and my son declared he could not spare much time on a holiday. So we put on our thinking caps and thought in earnest. Where do we go in such a short time ? I certainly believe that however caught up we are with our bread winning , special days need to be kept special when your family has to be made to feel good. As the adage goes ' Give the devil his due '. Maintaining a healthy work life culture is so important in the present day context. It is not only for the family but for your own self. You too need to surface at times for those large gulps of fresh oxygen, spending quality time with the family and indulging in some healthy activity different from your every day routine. Don't forget, traveling is also education !

We decided to head to Red Earth Kabini , a resort and spa. It is a comfy 4 and 1/2 hrs drive from ' namma Bengaluru' across the lands of Haider Ali, Tippu Sultan and the Wadayars. This resort is on the banks of river Kabini also known by its ancient name 'KAPILA', after the Vedic sage  Kapila Maharishi who lived around 700 BC. Here the river bifurcates into the Nagarhole and Bandipur game sanctuaries. This is also the ' Project Tiger ' belt. Red Earth borders the NAGARHOLE game park., known for its Deer, Sloth bear, Indian Gaur, elephants and the shy predators the Tiger and the Leopard. It is a fun combo of activity and total relaxation !

Red Earth Kabini boasts of 20 luxury cottages with private Jacuzzi, open to the sky in true Balinese style.The property is sprawled over 10 acres of verdant landscape. Hardly any cement, concrete or steel has been used in the creation of this infrastructure. The cottages are made of ' in rammed' construction. The roofs are made of locally procured elephant grass with bamboo matting from inside. This keeps the cottages cool in summer. Of course air conditioning is inbuilt in every cottage. The furniture thrown in is also from yesteryears. The honeymooners have 3 honeymoon huts complete with four poster beds and additional goodies.The resort has a great swimming pool which is filtered without any chemicals. It was designed by a French architect. This resort also has a floating, colonial bar with a professional Snooker table. It is quite quaint with the whiff of a jungle lodge.

 

'Flame of the Forest' - a must try cocktail!

 There is strictly ' no room service'. This is to give an opportunity for folks to mingle. The dining room is a large open gazebo in true Kerala style supported by 18 antique wooden pillars. No fans here but there is excellent cross ventilation. If you are lucky to have a heavy downpour then the place gets so cool to the extent of getting nippy. I was really impressed with the food they served. It is a fairly large buffet with a lot of choices catering to different palates. You do have a choice of continental cuisine to Desi khana, well cooked and very tasty. Fish lovers would relish  ' the catch of the day' and don't be surprised to have prawns too! The veggies and fruits mostly come from their very own organic farm.

There are a number of activities you can indulge in on this property. Coracle rides are facilitated across the river which is exciting. I came across people going to the Nagarhole sanctuary every evening that they were there. This is also well arranged by the resort. Special dinners by the river side and  Bar-be-ques are also arranged. Do try this out on a full moon night. It is exotic. We were fortunate to be there on one such night when the moon was in all it's glory and had draped the entire expanse in its silvery shimmer. For not the so adventurous you still have choice. In case you are the artistic kind ask for a river facing cottage and see the magic you can weave. Do not miss out on the Spa ZVASTHI ( breathe in Sanskrit) which gives you an invigorating Swedish Massage with aroma oils. We indulged ourselves there everyday for the full body massage with ' hot stones '.

Across the river Kabini is a 1600year old Shiva temple by the name of Thiranimunti Parameshwara temple. On Shivarathri amidst the floating lights on the water, the Red Earth send their coracle which carries 3 priests and the Shivalinga from the temple along the river. Legend has it that at a particular spot on the river the coracle spins round thrice and any amount of maneuvering is of no avail. Locals believe that there is a submerged temple at this spot. When the water levels recede , it is not uncommon to see ancient engraved tablets on the floor of the river , probably in the Devanagiri script.

What I was absolutely impressed with was the ethos of the Red Earth, which is 'rejuvenation'.
Extreme emphasis is given to preserving the ecology of the area. No chemicals are used in any form. Extensive plantations of fruit bearing trees like the mango, jack, rambutan. Mangustin, pineapple, Chinese cherries, passion fruit is indeed a visual treat. Perennial flowering plants are strewn all around- cannas, alamandas, verbenas, geraniums, bright coloured crotons, roses, fuschia and a what not. They have three borewells and no water from the river is used for any purpose by the resort. The water used for the farms is recycled and treated in a plant and goes back through drip irrigation. Two artificial water bodies are created on the property which get filled up during the monsoons and attract a large variety of the winged species. If Salim Ali was here, I know exactly where he would have perched himself with his binos!

The locals are from the Betakurbar and the Jainkurbar tribes. They were living a hand-to-mouth existence till this resort emerged as Goddess Annapoorna to them. 95% of the staff are from these villages. The tribals are employed, trained, given various skills, which indeed has made poverty take to its wings from their midst. I chanced upon speaking to a few locals and they did not have to express themselves in many words. A sense of achievement and victory oozed out of every pore. Ravi Parameshwaran Iyer, a planter by profession and his beautiful wife Thankom Rachel Ravi own this fab property. They are intimately involved in every going-on here. You can see them just about everywhere. I feel it is their personal involvement in every sphere which has made Red Earth a success story!

Do try out this resort the next time you are in Karnataka - it is sure to overpower you!

MANIPUR - The Land of Jewels

We are just back after a fabulous holiday in the magnificent North- East, refreshed and rejuvenated. All set once again to face the eccentricities of modern day living. Transition from a holiday untouched by the hustle and bustle, where time has somewhat stood still,  is also a difficult proposition. We literally have to push ourselves into the rigors of our mundane lifestyle once again in the midst of an anarchic surrounding. Fresh and crisp rain washed greenery all around,terraced Jhoom farming, smiling faces, light hearted people, woodsmoke and dung cooking fires are the treasures we have left behind trading it for the chaos and claustrophobia of the Metro.

Typical landscape around Imphal - with lots of water and paddy

Kabaw Valley - View from Tengnoupal

Before embarking on this great holiday, I suddenly realized that way back in 1997 , I had left a big slice of my achy-breaky heart in the beautiful village of Tengnoupal, nestled in the hills of Manipur, a 70 km drive from the capital, Imphal. It was time once again to retrace my footprints, lost somewhere in the sands of time. After a long span of  17 years, I was going back to one of my favourite haunts where I had lived three years of my precious life. I still recall vividly how much in despair I was, when  my husband was posted there way back in 1994. I had never heard of Tengnoupal. It all sounded so strange and alien. When my friends rang up to congratulate us on the promotion and posting, I had to mention where I was off to. Unfortunately none of them had heard of this quaint, pristine hill station. So much for our Geography lessons in school !!The erstwhile princely state of Kangleipak remained so till our independence. Thereafter it was merged to the Union of India and called Manipur- one of the seven states of the North- East popularly known as the ' seven sisters'. But I must second the fact that the seven sisters are so beautiful, that anyone would crave to go back in time and again and yet will remain in a mesmeric trance !

Tengnoupal village



Manipur in the Meitei language means 'The land of Jewels' ! It has about 29 dialects, with a composition of  46 % Hindus who follow Vaishnavism since the 15th century AD  and Christians who comprise of 35% of the population. Manipuris are a highly cultured, soft spoken community. They have a rich cultural heritage to which they fiercely cling to. Theatre, sports and a form of martial art called Thang-ta  are extremely popular. Ras-Lila, the Manipuri dance form is very famous and is performed elegantly and rhythmically. Many of you will be surprised to learn that Manipur is the birthplace of Polo in the world. It has produced outstanding Polo players like Ojhatombi and Shyamjai Sharma who unfortunately did not get the opportunity of showcasing their talents in an International forum. The Manipuris are keen footballers too. Their woven fabrics, sarees and phanek- innpahi are to die for. Rice is their staple diet with a lot of fish and leafy veggies. It is a sight to behold - the wide expanse of paddy cultivated fields all along the exotic Imphal valley. As the old Burma road unwinds, snaking it's way uphill from Thoubal to Tengnoupal, pages of history slowly begin to unfold. This is the very road which has witnessed bloody and fierce battles between the Japanese and Allied Forces during the World War 2, all the way to the twin towns of Moreh 
( India ) and Tamu (Myanmar). It has been also a silent spectator to the havoc of the Naga-Kuki-Meitei insurgency. Sadly, a blood soaked road of yesteryears.

While we were there in the '90s we were privy to a yearly ritual of Japanese delegations coming in chartered buses to pay tribute to their dead. It is a heart wrenching sight to see the young and the old, reverently carrying a picture of their loved one around their neck. They call out to their martyrs who lie somewhere in the folds of the hills, anonymously in everlasting rest. They indeed call out each of their names, say special prayers, strew flowers everywhere and keep their favourite food too. Some very old men and women would tearfully bid a sad adieu not knowing whether they can ever make it again in this lifetime. Surely time and tide wait for none! Whenever we would do some new construction in this area it was so sad and disheartening to see skeletons, skulls, ancient Military boots, helmets, water bottles, personal effects like keys and copper coins tumbling out of the hills. A grim reminder of unsung, unknown heroes and an era lost to the present day civilization.

The Japanese delegation paying homage to their martyrs

Tengnoupal is approx 1490 mts above sea level in the Chandel district of Manipur - 'The land of a thousand whistling winds'. I recall vividly standing on ' Top of the World' overlooking the wide Burma valley (Kabaw valley). Surrounding hills and winds whistling past in urgency oblivious of any presence around, are all part and parcel of this wonderful place. When I arrived in Tengnoupal for the first time , the officers almost scared me by telling me that the sounds  I was hearing were not mere winds  blowing but second world war aircrafts coming in for an attack. It surely sounded that way!!

Tengnoupal I discovered, witnessed the most glorious sunsets. The skyline gets strewn with a myriad different colors and hues as though God himself was painstakingly painting this oversized canvass. I watched these pristine sunsets as often as I could and yet not had a fill of it. The sun would slowly and gradually sink behind the hills pulling the curtain over yet another splendid day. I would think to myself how fortunate I was while most of my countrymen had either not heard of this awesome part of India or endeavored to make a trip this side.

This time we had gone to specially attend a traditional Manipuri wedding of a friend's daughter.What a great experience it was! Manipuri weddings are a rather formal affair unlike weddings in other parts of  India.While the bride and groom are getting set to come to the Mantap , the drum dancers (Phung Cholom) perform a scintillating dance, an invitation to the Gods. The bride looks as radiant as an Oriental Princess dressed in a traditional Manda and all her finery. The couple does not smile or talk during the proceedings because they believe that if they do so, the opposite may befall them in their wedded life.

Our Manipuri Bride

Unless we Indians travel the length and breadth of our country extensively,we can hardly savor India in her true form and vividity. Also worth a visit is the Loktak Lake with its floating islands that move, called 'Phumdi' . The Seroi Lily in the Ukhrool district is a sight to behold.

Seroi Lily

It has a blueish pink hue and grows in the wild, over extensive areas. It flowers in the monsoon months of June and July, the peak season being May 15th-June 5th. The Seroi Lily is Manipur's state flower. You would also consider yourself lucky to see the wide variety of orchids that flourish in the wild.The History tour will not be complete without a visit to Field Marshal W.J Slim's bungalow nestled in the Kangla Fort, Imphal. Field Marshal W.J Slim was the Commander of the Allied forces in Manipur during the World War - II.

Loktak Lake

Loktak lake with the floating islands

A must see is also the RKCS art gallery, in Imphal.

So folks, next time you pack your bags and plan a holiday, do visit the North-East ... It is an experience of a lifetime.

I sincerely hope and pray that we all can put our guns back in the armoury, every one of us , and join the mainstream , thereby looking forward to a better tomorrow. Enough of blood has been spilt, we need to infuse life now and work shoulder to shoulder to develop this beautiful State. Let's dare to follow the star blazed road.

                  "Old candle - Let it burn bright - its light may show a path to someone in the dark"
                                                                                                                                   -Anonymous

* References:
Manipur - Wikipedia, the free encylopedia.
Available at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manipur

The Three-Legged Dog

The Army is a great meeting ground and I love it for this . After every single trip, I come back a more enlightened person. On one such sojourn, we had to take a midway break at one of the military stations on the Jammu-Pathankot highway. The Commanding Officer (CO) of the Regiment at that location, was bestowed with a great sense of humor. What I found delightfully refreshing was that for once, my husband's rank did not come in the way of our conversation. Otherwise more often than not, between seniors and juniors, it is usually a short, courteous, crisp exchange of pleasantries.

Most of us may have come across at some point in our lives, some freaky instances of the kind, I am about to narrate. When such situations stare starkly in our faces without prior warning , we do get a trifle disconcerted wondering whether these instances were tailor made specially for us.

The Army is very well known for its perfection in the execution of any task, military or administrative. In case you have closely observed a marching contingent, you would have noticed men almost of the same height , in proper uniform, heads tilted at the same angle. Hence it won't surprise you if I say that during the visit of a Senior Officer to a Regiment, everything would be ship shape without a ruffle. In fact, there is someone or the other overseeing the minutest detail. Squeaky clean porcelain, sparkling silver, stiffly starched Damask, are all usual. Even if it is a dry, parched area you won't be surprised to find a freshly laid out garden with a stately fountain spring up overnight! But in perfect detailing, there may be also blundering; depending on how the stars are positioned that day. It would not be a bad idea to read 'what the stars foretell' before choosing such an important date!

Many a time,when things do go wrong, it can really be catastrophic especially when everyone is all set to put their best foot forward. Prior to a VIP visit to a Regiment,  there is a flurry of activity. From nowhere is a meteoric shower of some weird characters, you may otherwise not be privileged to encounter on a normal day. A 'safaiwalla' with a long witch's broom looking for fallen leaves on a swanky drive way, just as the VIP convoy is turning into the gate; the most ill turned out sepoy ( left with a faint hint of olive green on his fatigues) pops out of the chaos, when he should not have been anywhere around; a washer man with a big paunch, yielding a threatening Kalashnikov at a prominent gate (an honor bestowed on him for that day by the aliens!); a sweaty, hassled cook running in a frenzy trying to locate the Mess Secretary to report that the potatoes for the cutless (read cutlets) have not arrived! Despite the racing heart beats and a nervous Adjutant trying to tuck in all such sore thumbs behind bushes, the noisy pesky fly shows up just in time to hover around the General's teapot!

I wondered whether these ajeeb (strange) instances happened only to a chosen few or whether others too had their share of such luck. Finally, all my doubts were put to rest and nailed firmly into the coffin when I spoke to this gentleman. The conversation that sunny, wintry morning went like this. Said the CO to me, that every General Officer visiting brought with him his slice of luck. He narrated how in his Regiment, every time a VIP arrived, there was  a prominent occurrence of a three legged dog appearing from nowhere right in front of the VIP, to be only seen subsequently at the next VIP visit.

The CO Saheb(sir) recounted how this ghostly doggone nuisance manifested the last time their GOC (General Officer Commanding) visited. The old man fatigued after a long drive through the wilderness, was trying to steal his last twenty winks when the flag car (VIP car) entered the pristine gates of the Regiment which still reeked of fresh paint. True to military ethos, no stone was left unturned for the visit, including white washing several blades of fresh green grass to showcase the Regiment's high standards!

All of a sudden there was a jarring sound of brakes. The old man in the rear seat had a rude jolt as though he was thrown off a precipice in a horrid dream. He forced open his droopy eyelids as wide as he could, only to see the three legged dog standing in the middle of the driveway, frantically being chased away by a dolt with a twig in his hand! Needless to say, the day did not begin on a great note. The CO became discursive, with beads of sweat on his brow almost forgetting his opening sentence.

Finally while departing, the GOC could not hold himself back. As a parting shot to the CO he said, "Look friend, in case you do insist on keeping a dog in this Regiment, at least keep one with all four legs!!"

An ode to a DAUNTLESS DAD on his daughter's wedding

As I reminiscence through the kaleidoscope of the days gone by, there comes to memory a myriad different thoughts in many hues. I had joined the Batallion for the first time in 1984 and I was introduced to this couple, not realizing that a wonderful relationship was soon to unfold. I remember that beautiful sun drenched morning in Hasimara when I stepped into their single room accommodation and saw a cradle in the corner of the room, with a lovely angel in it - their daughter Lira.

NJD was a guy full of irresistible loads of fun and energy and his wife Subadani - a beautiful, demure lady.  Little did I know then, that he was indeed living life to the hilt, unable to foresee what lay ahead.

In the course of time, we too shifted to a house nearby. It was aptly named 'Count your blessings' by my better half SKH. The name worked wonders on my psyche, because every time I wanted to cry out hoarse and complain, this name caught my eye, etched bold into the wall. The house had no formal doors or windows except for the frames which were intact. But we certainly had expensive curtains hanging on bamboo sticks, substituting for curtain rods! We were immensely proud that we had a roof above our heads and were granted permission to live together in a field area (areas close to the border). With our toddler, these were tough times. The sun's harsh rays and the wind's fury were all uninvited visitors who came at will.

One evening, I was told that NJ and some of our friends were calling on us. I expected the guests to make a formal entry through the so called 'door' ! But to my amazement, I saw NJ enter through the window, sitting on the ledge, wishing me a pleasant good evening ! He was a great friend of SKH, and the rest of the evening was spent in riotous laughter, over hot paranthas and andey ka bhujiya (an Indian variant of scrambled eggs) - the ever favourite army quick fix, laced with high spirits over exaggerated stories of angling for rainbow trout in the frigid waters of River Paro Chu !

When SKH was in Cooch Behar, NJ and his wife were his next door neighbors. One great lesson that the Indian Army taught me was the spirit of sharing - not just in words but in action. This aspect which all religions emphasize, I have seen it being executed extensively in the Army. This husband and wife team were very fond of fish and every time fish was cooked at their home, my husband was a sure invitee.

We were all proudly part of the 4th Batallion, the 5th Gorkha Rifles (Frontier Force) [ 4/5 GR (FF) ], a family which is as close to us as our kith and kin. It is here that I literally grew up from a naive 21 year old learning the joy of giving and sharing. We felt immensely honored to be part of such stouthearted officers and men. The motto of the Batallion, KAFAR HONU BANDA MARNU NIKO (It is better to die than be a coward !) was ingrained into our very existence.

Our famous regiment, the 5th Gorkha Rifles (5 GR), was formed in 1858, with the robust, sturdy and brave soldiers of Nepali origin. Thereafter, they proudly fought every war including the 1st and the 2nd World Wars, and all the wars post independence, with grit, valour and determination. We always reveled in the fact that our officers led from the front, though they paid a very high price in bearing the brunt of the casualties.

History is replete with many examples of the Gorkha weapon, the indomitable Khukri.

The curved shape of the weapon is supposedly the third eye of Lord Shiva. There is a famous saying amongst the Gorkhas that once a Khukri is pulled out, it must taste blood before being put back into the sheath. There is also a funny anecdote that I know of. After dealing a deadly blow, the enemy asked the Gorkha soldier, "Missed" ? "Try shaking your head" was the instant reply* ! In the present day context of war, Khukris are pulled out only as a last ditch effort when hand to hand combat is imminent. Our batallion had won the famous battle of Sylhet during the 1971 war when they were heli-dropped right in the midst of the enemy. Some of the operations involved the extensive use of the Khukri, in hand to hand combat.

The deployment of the IPKF (Indian Peace Keeping Force) in Sri Lanka from 1987 to 1990 is known to every citizen of this country. There was hardly any reaction time and our forces were airlifted into various pockets of Northern Sri Lanka, to bring an end to the civil war between the LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam) and the Sri Lankan armed forces. Unfortunately, they were sucked into an unenviable whirlpool of fighting.

Maj N J D Singh was a Company commander with the Batallion when they moved to Sri Lanka. The operation was launched on 9th Oct 1987. Bullets were flying all around and our men were fighting many a gallant battle against tremendous hurdles and hardships. Maj N J D Singh was ordered to link up with a column of 13 Sikh Light Infantry (13 SIKH LI) and 10 Para Commando (10 Para Cdo) in the area of Kondavil University. There was huge enemy resistance and heavy militant fire. He and his brave men kept forcibly surging ahead clearing the road blocks and successfully completing the task by dawn. Thereafter, the Batallion was ordered to concentrate at Urumpirai for undertaking further operations. This move was to take place through an urban built up area with large open spaces in between. While this was being negotiated, the LTTE managed to occupy all the buildings surrounding this area, bringing down heavy fire. At this juncture, Maj N J D Singh with a few of his stoic men, occupied a dominating position, and actively engaged the militants but unfortunately got isolated from his own company due to a high rise wall. His position was being continuously attacked and he radioed the Officiating Commanding officer asking for urgent reinforcements and ammunition. Even while this was being organised, he radioed "I am out of ammunition and am charging through. Good bye and out". He indeed charged and killed all the 5 men in the LTTE position which was bringing down heavy fire on them. During the charge, he and his men relied heavily on the Khukris. Unfortunately, he was grievously injured and succumbed to his injuries. The LTTE position was silenced. NJ fought true to the maxim -' last man, last round '. Alas, the King fell just as in NJ's favourite game - C H E S S.

Hey NJ,

Subadani has diligently completed your unfinished task of bringing up Lira and Punmark. Lira is a petite, young doctor and Punmark is a handsome engineer who plays chess just like you. Lira's wedding cards have arrived, and it is beautiful. Subadani, Lira, Punmark and all of us from the family of FOFIF will always be proud of you. We will miss you on the auspicious occasion of Lira's wedding. But I am more than sure, you'll be there to shower your blessings on her. NJ ... are you listening ??

A grateful and proud nation conferred the Gallantry Award of Vir Chakra on Maj N J D Singh posthumously on 26th Jan 1988.

COWARDS DIE MANY TIMES BEFORE THEIR DEATH. 
THE VALIANT FACE DEATH BUT ONCE ...   

- Julius Caesar (II, ii, 32-37),   William Shakespeare

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References:
-*Illustrated Saga of the Gorkha Brigade (1952-2012)

          

Band Baaja aur Confusion

The swish of Kanjeevarams, Banarasis and Paithanis, the glitz and glamour of jewellery, the joy that engulfs the environment, fun and laughter, 'mithaai' and 'phool'- all uniquely part and parcel of an Indian wedding. Two individuals coming together for the most important occasion of their lives !

The happiness should be infectious rather than like a marsh marigold having a big colourful head but growing in the marsh sans strong roots. I wonder who compels us to put up a front in public, even though this is not what we genuinely want to do. Is it that we live to please people at any cost, forgetting what is ethical and what brings happiness to the family, especially the children being tied in wedlock.

Early February of 2013, I had the privilege to attend a wedding with all the above frills. Everybody was exuberant and looking forward to this event, planning and preparing. Finally, the 'D Day' dawned. According to me, it was one of the cutest events I had  attended in the very recent past. The reason being, it was a wedding out of the fold and all the rituals and customs were a big education for  me since we were not so adept with all of this. It was a fine and elegant amalgamation of traditions and beliefs, the old and the new.

The bride was radiant and beautiful and the groom looked as successful as Prithviraj Chauhan from the pages of history. To sum it all, a big success story for which the couple had swum against many an odd, over many years of rough seas. At this point in time, they seemed to have conquered Everest !

When I gazed into the crowd, I noticed many a near and dear one with unhappy faces, and a feeling of complete letdown. I was surprised at this callowness. Was it just because the couple belonged to different faiths ? Are relationshps this fragile ? Why was a safety razor no where in sight ?Why did no one within the family think of improving the situation ? People holding so called responsible positions in society,highly educated, what makes us behave like this ? The marriage was taking place with the consent of the families. All the main attributes of an Indian marriage were met, then why cling on to trivia ?

It is when a girl goes through life's billows that she requires her family the most. This is certainly not the time and place to spread unhappiness. You need to hold her hand tight and reassure her. Your children need to feel and know that you are with them. That is every parent's responsibility. This is the moment for sagacity.

The shocker was yet to come. When the family were finally leaving, strict instructions were being served like 'paan' at the end of an event. The photographs of the ceremony were not to be shared on Instagram, just in case any body from outside was inquisitive about the events and ceremonies at the wedding. In other words, a kind of censorship was being imposed unmindful that others have their own freedom of choice, thought and expression.

Whom are we trying to please ? A psuedo society ? Why can't we stand up for our own individuality ? I certainly feel that people will look up to us with more respect and dignity if we follow our own voice. Once a decision of this magnitude is taken, we should hold our ground and go out of our way to support what is right. Others are not in the reckoning. Are their diktats and verdicts more important to us than our own ? Why is this canker holding us in sway ? This toxic nightshade must be cut off from the roots, at its very inception.

Somewhere along the way, everybody seemed to have forgotten why we had gathered. Ego and people's opinions slowly took centre stage displacing the bride and groom. Alas, we were groping in the dark and had digressed !