Bhay ko dekhna ho nat-mastak...
(to see fear with its head bowed...)
Just a few days back I received from a reader - entangled in a very disorderly page of the diary - an extremely orderly call. I talked to him at length but his list of queries related to the pages of the diary was so long that eventually I had to tell him that answering all his questions was like scaling the vertical climb of this high, snow-clad mountain. His laughter, coming in fragments from the other end of the mobile,brought some solace too that these disordered pages of the diary were, more or less, getting their meaning across properly. There was one question in particular - asked generally also by friends and family - which kept lingering for long in my mind. A question that has brought back with it a flood of so many indescribable memories.
As they make their way towards a certain death, how do soldiers feel ?
To tell you the truth dear diary I do not have words apt enough to enable me to weave even one proper sentence in reply ! I am reminded of that battle of nineteen years ago. A mission... ere embarking on which the commanding officer of the battalion had made each member of our chosen team write a brief letter addressed to our families in case we didn't return safe and sound ... ! It's another matter that the letters were never despatched... the entire team had been called back from midway as cease fire had been declared. There were countless such letters however, that did reach so many homes in the country... to grieving, wailing families. Many of these letters reached home along with the bodies of the martyred soldier. In fact there is an old tradition of making soldiers write a letter to their families before leaving on a dangerous mission during war.
...so how does it feel moving towards a certain death?
Come dear diary, let me - in answer to this question - read to you the last letter of a brave soldier. Had that war of nineteen years ago not happened on those icy heights of Kargil, Nimbu saab would have turned twenty-five that July Of nineteen years back. Nimbu Saab... Captain Neikehakuo Kenguruse of the Rajputana Rifles... honoured posthumously with Mahavir Chakra... who, bare foot and holding a rocket launcher, climbed a height of sixteen thousand feet to free a cliff captured by the enemy, was well aware of his destined death. The letter written by Nimbu Saab before leaving on that last mission has the capacity to melt the driest of sensibilities...
Dear Mummy-Papa 20 June 1999
I had never thought I would ever have the need to write this letter. But it appears necessary today to share my last message with you.
The Pakistanis had captured some of our region by infiltrating and we have therefore had to move to the Drass and Batalik sector of Kashmir. I know that I have God on my side and that he will protect me... but if God wills a supreme sacrifice by me then I may not have another opportunity to address you.
I am feeling very sad. Just the thought that I may never see you again is so hurtful. My dear mummy and papa, I love you a lot. I have always tried my best to provide good care for you and have always wished you happiness. But perhaps I have failed in my purpose in this short span of my life.
I know I have embarrassed you many times and caused you trouble. Please forgive me my mistakes. You two have given me so much love and have taught me so much that I have remained a good leader to the last moments of my life. I am so grateful. Thank you very much.
My dear papa, thinking about my young siblings I want to cry. Please guide them well to become good human beings. Tell them that I loved them a lot. Tell Grandpa and Grandma also that I loved them a lot. Give my regards to all my friends and family and ask them to forgive me if I have ever hurt them.
Even if I ask you not to cry when I am no more, I know you will because you love me so much. But please be happy thinking I will live on in your memories. Write to all my friends whose addresses are there in my diary.
Papa-mummy, I want to share something very personal with you. I have a girlfriend... and you also know her. The two of you may not like her. But I love her very much and she loves me a lot too. When I'd come last on vacation in May, I had asked for her hand and she was willing to get married to me. In case I do not return, please look after her also. She's a true friend of mine. We used to share all our problems with each other. I know she loves me truly. Do something for her if I fail to make it back. This is my humble request to you both.
May God always bless you. I wish you both good health and peace.
Your loving son
Neibu"
...so how does it feel moving towards a certain death ? No, I do not have an answer. A fear... a subdued, head-bowed fear...of parting...of not being able to see one's loved ones again... and also, amid all this a hidden 'guilt' that one has not been able to do enough for life... for one's people. It feels...as if everything is getting left behind ! An excerpt from a poem by Neel Kamal comes to mind...
"Bhay ko dekhna ho
natmastak, kar baddh
to dekho us aamee kee aankhon mein
jise maloom hai
zindagi kee ultee gintee"
"To see fear
with its head bowed, hands folded
look into the eyes of a man
who is aware of the count-down of his life"
-x-
(to see fear with its head bowed...)
Just a few days back I received from a reader - entangled in a very disorderly page of the diary - an extremely orderly call. I talked to him at length but his list of queries related to the pages of the diary was so long that eventually I had to tell him that answering all his questions was like scaling the vertical climb of this high, snow-clad mountain. His laughter, coming in fragments from the other end of the mobile,brought some solace too that these disordered pages of the diary were, more or less, getting their meaning across properly. There was one question in particular - asked generally also by friends and family - which kept lingering for long in my mind. A question that has brought back with it a flood of so many indescribable memories.
As they make their way towards a certain death, how do soldiers feel ?
To tell you the truth dear diary I do not have words apt enough to enable me to weave even one proper sentence in reply ! I am reminded of that battle of nineteen years ago. A mission... ere embarking on which the commanding officer of the battalion had made each member of our chosen team write a brief letter addressed to our families in case we didn't return safe and sound ... ! It's another matter that the letters were never despatched... the entire team had been called back from midway as cease fire had been declared. There were countless such letters however, that did reach so many homes in the country... to grieving, wailing families. Many of these letters reached home along with the bodies of the martyred soldier. In fact there is an old tradition of making soldiers write a letter to their families before leaving on a dangerous mission during war.
...so how does it feel moving towards a certain death?
Come dear diary, let me - in answer to this question - read to you the last letter of a brave soldier. Had that war of nineteen years ago not happened on those icy heights of Kargil, Nimbu saab would have turned twenty-five that July Of nineteen years back. Nimbu Saab... Captain Neikehakuo Kenguruse of the Rajputana Rifles... honoured posthumously with Mahavir Chakra... who, bare foot and holding a rocket launcher, climbed a height of sixteen thousand feet to free a cliff captured by the enemy, was well aware of his destined death. The letter written by Nimbu Saab before leaving on that last mission has the capacity to melt the driest of sensibilities...
Dear Mummy-Papa 20 June 1999
I had never thought I would ever have the need to write this letter. But it appears necessary today to share my last message with you.
The Pakistanis had captured some of our region by infiltrating and we have therefore had to move to the Drass and Batalik sector of Kashmir. I know that I have God on my side and that he will protect me... but if God wills a supreme sacrifice by me then I may not have another opportunity to address you.
I am feeling very sad. Just the thought that I may never see you again is so hurtful. My dear mummy and papa, I love you a lot. I have always tried my best to provide good care for you and have always wished you happiness. But perhaps I have failed in my purpose in this short span of my life.
I know I have embarrassed you many times and caused you trouble. Please forgive me my mistakes. You two have given me so much love and have taught me so much that I have remained a good leader to the last moments of my life. I am so grateful. Thank you very much.
My dear papa, thinking about my young siblings I want to cry. Please guide them well to become good human beings. Tell them that I loved them a lot. Tell Grandpa and Grandma also that I loved them a lot. Give my regards to all my friends and family and ask them to forgive me if I have ever hurt them.
Even if I ask you not to cry when I am no more, I know you will because you love me so much. But please be happy thinking I will live on in your memories. Write to all my friends whose addresses are there in my diary.
Papa-mummy, I want to share something very personal with you. I have a girlfriend... and you also know her. The two of you may not like her. But I love her very much and she loves me a lot too. When I'd come last on vacation in May, I had asked for her hand and she was willing to get married to me. In case I do not return, please look after her also. She's a true friend of mine. We used to share all our problems with each other. I know she loves me truly. Do something for her if I fail to make it back. This is my humble request to you both.
May God always bless you. I wish you both good health and peace.
Your loving son
Neibu"
...so how does it feel moving towards a certain death ? No, I do not have an answer. A fear... a subdued, head-bowed fear...of parting...of not being able to see one's loved ones again... and also, amid all this a hidden 'guilt' that one has not been able to do enough for life... for one's people. It feels...as if everything is getting left behind ! An excerpt from a poem by Neel Kamal comes to mind...
"Bhay ko dekhna ho
natmastak, kar baddh
to dekho us aamee kee aankhon mein
jise maloom hai
zindagi kee ultee gintee"
"To see fear
with its head bowed, hands folded
look into the eyes of a man
who is aware of the count-down of his life"
-x-
No comments:
Post a Comment