Married to Martyrdom

I should admit that I am not very favorable to soldiers, the men and women in uniform, fighting to protect the nation from intruders and enemies. Not even because my father happens to be a former soldier, having served the nation for some 30 years as foot-soldier. I have not experienced anything which made me feel a sense of animosity towards these patriotic men, but I know deep within I am not in favor of this class of people. Does a country need soldiers, at all? Can’t we do away with soldiers, who are paid to protect the nation and the people, and who in turn are expected to pay back to the nation with their blood.

Today as I watched the Republic Day parade in Delhi, there was the awarding ceremony. The prime minister paid his tribute to the ‘amar jawan’ (immortal soldiers), by placing a wreath at India Gate memorial. The first citizen of the nation had awarded the brave soldiers with Ashoka Chakra medals, for their bravery. The soldiers who had died while protecting the national boundary, and fighting against insurgents and terrorists, are given great regard and respect by the nation. They are considered the nation’s pride, and we glory in them. But behind most of the soldiers, especially the foot-soldiers like my father, there is yet another self, which is often not talked about.

I have heard it from my father that he joined the Indian army, when he was barely 18, with education which was too little to join the army. He had to bribe the school authorities to give a certificate saying he had completed class 8, while in fact he had completed only class 5. The purpose? Not that he had great patriotic spirit, and a desire to give his life for the nation. No, not at all. He wanted a job, and it was easy to get into the army with such low academic qualification, and so he did. I had an opportunity to visit one of his camps, a few years prior to his retirement, and I was not pleased at the way he was treated by his superiors! But that is a different story.

Since my father was most often on duty, we were under the care of my mother, who had to take care of the five of us; she had to look after our education, farming, feasts and festivals. My father visited us twice a year, one annual leave and another casual leave, and often we would look forward to his coming, because we felt quite secure under his care, more than that of my mother. But one thing was for sure, we all missed the loving care of the father; it was only after his retirement that I came close to him. Being an introvert, I could hear my father pour out his real self, only under the influence of alcohol, and at other times, he was soft-spoken. I feel he too missed us all very much during his lonely battle with life in the army camps for so many years.

It is possible that we cannot altogether abolish army in a country, unless all the nations of the world decide to do so, and divert the money they would otherwise use to maintain the army, for developmental works, such as providing scholarship for rural education, job opportunities to the unemployed, research facilities on culture and religions, to name a few. But I feel sad when we hear the stories of army men living inhuman lives in the camps, and some of them even committing suicide due to loneliness and meaninglessness in the midst of adverse climatic and social conditions. Do we need to protect the land by spilling the blood of innocent men and women, and encourage it in the name of patriotism and bravery? We may have to look for alternative ways of protecting the nation, if at all there is a grave need, and not throw the lives of gullible men and women before the gun-point!