WHEN MY BOOK FELL INTO WRONG HANDS - Brig PS Gothra (Retd)

 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 rushing back. Was my book reaching the wrong audience?

I reread the chapter, worried. But there was nothing inappropriate—nothing remotely close to the lurid thrillers of James Hadley Chase or the titillation of Harold Robbins. I smiled, remembering that after the Hardy Boys in Class Seven, 'Square Root to Sex' was my first novel—and I had survived that just fine.

Then another realization struck me. Published in 2021, the book had sold steadily, yet no adult had ever called with such passion. Most copies had gone to military libraries—not for the content, but because the title carried the word “Soldiering.” Many preferred the audio version anyway.

The very next day, an English teacher phoned. She told me she was using my book as an experiment to revive reading habits in today’s children. To her delight, it worked. With parents’ support, she simply placed the book in rooms of children above eleven—and within three days, they had finished it. 

"Why place it why not ask him/her to read," I asked.

She replied, "This generation rebels anything which they feel, is being forced down their throat. I want to expand the experiment. Please donate some copies of the book."

With a heavy heart—because giving away your own books (free of cost) feels like giving away a piece of your worth—I handed over ten copies I still had.

But then it struck me: if these young readers ever wear the uniform one day, and if even one lesson from the book saves a life, the gift is priceless.

Jai Hind.