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IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 117- THE VANGUARD OF CHANGE Brig P S Gothra(Retd)

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“Dadaji, do you just not get technology?” my grandson Goldie asked, rolling his eyes as I handed him the Wi-Fi router to reset. I chuckled. I remembered wearing that exact same expression decades ago, when my own father asked me to light the Petromax lamp after failing for the fourth time. “Goldie,” I said, “the technological transitions I’ve witnessed would make your head spin.” “Really? Tell me,” he said, sitting back, the router momentarily forgotten. “In my childhood, walking was the primary mode of transport. For longer distances, we relied on bullock carts or horse carts. I still remember the day our village got its first bus service—it felt like royalty had arrived. Trains were marvels too, though the steam engines left us covered in soot and coal dust. We carried our own bedding for journeys that lasted days. Today, a twenty-four-hour journey takes eight hours on the Vande Bharat, and you arrive fresh enough to walk straight into an interview.” I smiled at another...
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IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 116- GOODWILL CROP Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

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  "It was sad to learn that you lost your property during the 1984 riots," I said as I sat down next to the elderly doctor. She affectionately offered me a delicious matthi . It had the perfect balance of crunch and softness, melting in my mouth with a sip of tea. "Our house was burnt to the ground in the '84 riots," Dr. Trilochan Bhatia said calmly. "That must have been devastating?" "Yes, it pinched a lot," she replied. "But then you find new motivation to work. As you can see, by the grace of God, we have rebuilt it even better than before. Bas, Waheguru da shukr hai —we are indebted to God." "Indebted to God?" I couldn’t help my skeptical reaction. "At least Waheguru saved our lives," she said. "All our family members were abroad at the time. That is His mercy." "Did the government pay any compensation?" "Yes, a pittance. We decided to give it to charity. God has given...
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IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 115- BADMASHI Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

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“Aa ja… I’ll send you the sponsorship and an air ticket. We’ll roam around in Manhattan,” said my father’s cousin on the phone. He is just an year older than me and was my classmate till Class 5. The offer was tempting. But temptation has a memory. The last time we landed in the same college, he stayed in the hostel while I rented a room outside. Three months later, he was thrown out of the hostel and landed in my room. We got along well, despite having ambitions that couldn’t have been more opposite. I wanted to join the civil services. He wanted to own a horse—to smuggle opium and illicit liquor after college. Simple dreams never excited him. In 1983, we decided to watch highly subscribed movie 'Betaab'. Seeing the long queue, I said, “Pinke, let’s go back.” “Don’t be a coward,” he said calmly. “I’ll arrange free tickets and snacks. You just stand near the ticket window and be ready to buy four tickets.” Before I could ask how, I found myself standing near the ticket window. ...
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WHEN MY BOOK FELL INTO WRONG HANDS - Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

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  When I first learned that an eleven-year-old child was praising my book 'Soldiering: A Life on the Edge', I felt oddly insulted. It is unexicting to see your book read by kids when you have written it with pride for young military leaders. A book that shares my own mistakes, impatience, and lessons from counter-terrorist operations. My hope was simple: if patience could save even one life, the book was worth writing. The seed to write the book was planted the day I could no longer bear the sight of a mother wailing over her son, killed in action. Two days later, that feeling of insult shifted to guilt. Another young boy called and said, “Uncle, I didn’t sleep the whole night reading your book.” I braced myself, expecting fear or confusion. Instead, he said, breathless, “It was so gripping I finished it in one night.” Before I could digest that, a twelve-year-old girl told me, “Uncle, I loved the chapter about Captain Bharat honey-trapping the terrorist.” The guilt came rushin...
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IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 113- COURSEMATES. Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

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“Khalse, I am so handsome, you are so ugly and still I never dated a girl?” Asked my coursemate dragging me in front of a mirror on hearing my sexploits.  People may call it body shaming but such name calling is common among the course mates. Course mates are the only people on Earth who can insult you, analyse you, expose you and still hug you later without losing a drop of love. Because they have seen you all naked. The Academy strips you down—physically, mentally, emotionally—and these fellows are standing right next to you during every fall in, punishment, drill, heartbreak,  boxing bout, and the tiring tactical exercises. “Oye, bakwaas band kar ,” Will be said by your course mate when you try to hide yourself behind chikni angrezi picked  in your unit. Or when you pretend to be elegant, refined, polished by putting on classy clothes chosen by your sophisticated wife. Because they have seen the seams of safety pins which held your clothes intact in the Academy Meeting...
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IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT 112- BOSS MANIPULATION Brig PS Gothra(Retd)

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      “Your new boss is an a**hole,” my friend announced the moment he walked into my office.      “Why do you say that?” I asked.       “He never grades anyone as outstanding. He’s kaan ka kaccha  (gullible). This is your grave.”      “I’ll manage,” I said. “Don’t worry.”      “Yes, yes, you’re one hell of a smart alec. How do you do it?”       “Not difficult,” I replied. “One boss was convinced I had a relative who owned a mango orchards. Another believed my cousin had an apple orchard. A third was sure my brother-in-law controlled duty-free shops. And then there was a tough one—so I made his wife believe my family was in the diamond trade.”     “That’s pretty unethical.”     “What?”      “ C h*t* ye ko Ch*t* ya banāne mein kya galat hai? (No harm in making an idiot out of an idiot)” I shot back. “If a man doesn’t know that apples are not h...
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इधर उधर की बात – मूली दे परांठे Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

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     “ मूली दे परांठे खा लिए जाएं आज ?” — मैंने बड़े प्यार से कहा। पत्नी ने जो डर्टी लुक मारी , लगा जैसे मैं   परांठे नहीं , सोने का गहना मांगने की बात कर रहा हूँ।      नौकरानी नहीं आई थी , तो सोचा चुपके से किचन में जा कर कुछ कर दूँ ताकि पत्नी की   मदद हो जाए ।      तीन स्ट्रोक में पहली उंगली कद्दूकस , खून नहीं निकला तो जारी रखा। तीन और स्ट्रोक — दूसरी उंगली भी शहीद। धीरे से बैंड-एड लगाया , ताकि वो न देख ले।      अगर देख लिया होता तो पूरा   ऑर्डर आता — “ निकल जाओ मेरे किचन से बाहर!”      फौजी हूं , इतनी जल्दी हार मानने वाला नहीं। सोचा — “ग्रेटर की जगह मिक्सी क्यों नहीं ?”       मूली काटी , जार में डाली , पाँच मिनट बाद देखा — मूली के बड़े बड़े टुकड़े थे परांठा तो नहीं बन सकता था।        फिर मैंने मूली को छोटे जार में डाला और घुमा दिया मिक्सी को मूली का स्मूदी बन गई। परांठा तो नहीं डोसा शायद बन जाये।   चुपके से मूली की स्मूथी को पॉलिथीन में डालकर डस्ट...
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