Idhar Udhar Ki Baat

    "It is a waste of resources to hold the Kumbh Mela on such a massive scale," the man said when I mentioned that I hadn’t taken a dip at the Maha Kumbh. He had told me earlier that he was an atheist.     I smiled. "With your outlook, you will always see the negatives in religion. But from my military perspective, I see the Kumbh as a powerful demonstration to both our enemies and our allies."      He raised an eyebrow. "Military? What does religion have to do with the military?"      "Everything," I replied.      "Think about it. Crores of people gather, travel, and take a dip in unison. What does that signify? (a) The ability to mobilize millions at an unprecedented scale. (b) The administrative strength of the nation to manage such an event efficiently. (c) The unshakable faith of our people, willing to endure discomfort for a larger cause. (d) The great capability of our leadership.      "Isn’t...

“Which aircraft is better, the Su-57 or the F-35?” asked the young man, his eyes gleaming with curiosity when he found out that I was an ex-serviceman. I racked my brain for an answer but found myself at a loss. I was ignorant of their precise characteristics. Instead, I responded, “I don’t know which one is better, but I do know which one we will buy.” Seeing my nonchalance, he tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Isn’t it a proud moment that both aircraft are sharing the tarmac on Indian soil?” I raised an eyebrow. Proud moment? How? All I saw were two vendors knocking on our door, presenting their wares. A grand perception management exercise, nothing more. I couldn’t help but remark, “I see it as a slap on our face. It proves that despite our Prime Minister’s best efforts with Atmanirbhar Bharat , we are still poised to spend a fortune procuring one of these aircraft from abroad. People have to take his sublime vision forward, you cannot expect him to go around kicki...

"Afsaran di chitti laal rang di hundi hai (Officers letters are in red colour),” said this lady in our village when I asked as to how she identified our letter.   She was totally illiterate, yet a keeper of words. She had lost her husband after his retirement from the fauj but never lost her connection with it. Every day, she would eagerly wait for the postman, collecting letters meant for the fauji families, and then set off on her own little mission—distributing them with the precision of a seasoned clerk. She didn’t have a rank or a uniform, but she had something more—a genuine love for the joy those letters brought. It was almost like she lived for the moment a fauji's wife or mother’s face lit up upon receiving news from the border.     She would come to our house first, handing me the bundle and making me mark them with symbols so she could deliver them accurately. One day, curiosity got the better of me.    " Bibi, tussi saadi chitti kidan pehchande...