Idhar Udhar Ki Baat

“There is no future for Manjinder in the Army. I believe he has disobeyed an order. That too in operational area." remarked an officer casually one evening. The words hit me like a punch. I spent the evening wondering what Manjinder had done. It was 1988. We were in Batticaloa , Sri Lanka. The following day I met Manjinder at Nala Junction. “What happened?” I asked. He looked at me for a few seconds and then shrugged. “You remember Rajiv Sandhu's column was ambushed three days ago?” I nodded. “Rajiv had fought bravely. He was grievously wounded. I organised first aid, evacuated the wounded and arranged helicopter evacuation for the casualties. Rajiv died on the way to the hospital. That night a captured LTTE cadre was sent to me. I was told to finish him at the ambush site to give a message to the LTTE,” said Manjinder. “And?” “I refused.” The answer came without drama. Without anger. Without self-righteousness. Just a statement of fact. “I thought about...

“Aaj CMP aa raha hai, Saab!” Sepoy Ravi 's face was glowing with happiness. For a moment I thought some senior officer from the Corps of Military Police was visiting our cut-off post. I later realised that CMP was not a military policeman. It was the chicken. More specifically, those old layer hens with a bright red comb on its head that resembled the red beret of the Corps of Military Police . The live chicken was being brought to the post for dinner. And that was enough to make the entire post cheerful. That day I learnt something important. Indian soldiers find happiness in the smallest of things. A kheer-papad in a Barakhana . A plate of chai-pakora after a long patrol in rain and slush. A bright sunny day after a week of snowfall so that clothes can finally dry. A rainy morning accompanied by the magical announcement: “ Aaj PT nahin hai! ” Wearing civil clothes on the administration day. An extra peg in the rum issue. A volleyball match against the neighbouring unit that...

“Sir, gas pass kiya?”The nurse asked me the question in her unmistakable Malayali accent on the morning after my appendicitis operation . In my sixty years of life, I had always considered this a somewhat indecent question. Among friends, it was usually asked only when someone was accused of poisoning the atmosphere. Naturally, my defensive instincts took over. “No,” I replied. The nurse looked worried. Half an hour earlier, a nursing assistant had asked me exactly the same question and had displayed the same concern at my answer. At that time, I had assumed they had planted some sensors. Now a second person was asking. The matter was clearly becoming serious. Fifteen minutes later, the surgeon arrived. His first question was also, “Have you passed gas?” At this point, I became curious. Instead of answering, I asked him why the question was so important. The surgeon patiently explained that after abdominal surgery , the return of bowel function is an important indicator of recovery a...