REMINISCENCES OF A SOLDIER

K Govindan Nampoothiry

Dedicating 

His

First

Short Story

to Indian Soliders

Pain, excruciating pain, assaulted me again and again. As a chopper moves against an adverse wind, I tried. But pain won, finally. Seeing my attempt to get up, my caring wife came to help. Yes, I realized. I’m handicapped with the right leg and the right hand.

A hot tea awaited me. With a hot sip, I started my journey into the world of news. Is it a journey? Why not? Daily we are reading, hearing and listening a lot of reports, starting from Crime, Entertainment (now acts as Masala Box as more space is devoted for gossips of celebrities) Sports, Business and Education. Yet, the media fail to cover a major section in our society. I searched a lot, but…

Pain once again holds the rein. Slowly, I surrendered and took a cat-nap. Memories beckoned me. Years moved back to 1999. Now we are standing in the country’s strategic battlefield. While fighting against chilling weather, one day I got a call from my family. ‘’State is celebrating another hartal of the month”. 12:30 that’s the ratio of ‘evil holiday’ there! I thought; here setting aside our personal matters we are fighting for our nation, there fighting for more holiday based hartals by fuddy duddy people.




Our strength is decreasing as infiltration is peaking. Consent for counter attack from Central Government. We were waiting for that for the last two weeks, but hitherto no response. Only news is – hectic parleys going on between two countries.


Time is 7.40 pm. Our food van was approaching our camp, but a few meters away militants’ grenade attack engulfed it, leaving six more soldiers killed. Another fasting day for us flashed through our minds. Tongues were in search of a little drop of water.

We ransacked through the deceased. Oh, what a destiny? Dismembered bodies of our colleagues. A tear-jerking scene. That’s army life. We have to cope up with unexpected situations. We continued our rescue operation. But no one was alive. Only separated blood stained legs, hands and heads. Suddenly, a hand caught my leg. I turned back; saw sand filled half face murmuring. I sat and removed sand. Oh, it is Vikram, I recognized. Tears from eyes fell on his face. I carried him on my shoulder and waddled to our medical camp.

Memorable scenes with Viki (as we called him affectionately) wiped and dissolved into my mind. He had finesse for communication at the time of serving food. Charming smile of Viki won several hearts. Interaction with him erased woes of us in a little time. Sometimes, he will dance, sing and enact some Bollywood stars. Oh what an energetic man he was. Every troops, wished to spent time with him.

We reached near our medical camp, but destiny had another say. Militants exploded the camp. Doctors, nurses and injured army personnel perished into flames. We tried to move in another direction. With a foreseeing power they traced us! Another attack. We survived it. I am totally exhausted. No food, no rest. Body is begging for water and Viki immediately needs it. I can’t walk even a two steps forward. I set Viki down. My legs waddled. There was no answer for militants’ another grenade attack. We separated into two sides. Distance between us increased forever. The steel particles entered into my right hand and right leg.

Vande Mataram, Vande Mataram…I opened my eyes, saw two children saluting me. Their determined eyes, clarity in words. It echoed the sound of Viki in battlefield. Yes, I found an association of Vikram in them. Vande Mataram, my reply also came.


Delivering Bharat Mata Ki Jai, they embraced me. It was a horripilating experience for me. I saw a woman’s half face near the door. Her eyes bore a sad look. Lending their hands to that woman, the children went away.


Tasmat sarveshu kaleshu
Mam anusmara yudhya ca
Mayy arpita-mano-buddhir
Mam evaishyasy asamsayah
(Chapter VIII. Attaining the Supreme; Verse: 7)



Grandmother’s chanting of Srimad Bhagavat Gita slokas crept into my ears.

Wife gave me second set of newspapers. I went through it and finally found our news- Independence Day honours for Army personnel who had died and injured in the war. Oh, newsmen managed to give one column. It carried- Kin of soldiers died will receive 10 lakh and injured 5 lakh. The deceased were Manoj Raj Singh, Ashok Agarwal, Vikram Krishna and injured - Vishal Patel, Pankaj Thiwary, R. Sivasankar Nair…

Then radio announcement came- Nation celebrates its 62 Independence Day.

Hearing national anthem, patriotism in me awaked. My right hand slowly raised and took a salute.

Coincidentally, my wife entered into the room and my salutation welcomed her. Yes, really as a person, she must get salutation. Because, she offered her hand to me in tough condition. Manages my matters home and kid. She also visited top brass army frequently for gaining grants and other monetary benefits. She has become leaner, but still approaches me with a lovely smile, remembering our marriage days.

My caring wife sat near to me. I dithered to find words. Are you happy Gauri? My words came. Without delay she answered. “There is no need of being sad as you are always near to me. Whatever may be the consequences in future, I am with you- my dear. We will live together whether it is sad and happy situations.” Her boldness, it makes my life going.

I snuggled on to her shoulder. Her caring hands patted my hair and body, lifting up my courage to confront with life.

As bathe in Ganges washes off our sin, Gauri wiping away my sorrows.