On 2nd January 1981, I joined my first unit, 20 PUNJAB in Arunachal Pradesh. I had joined straightway from Indian Military Academy (IMA). I was about one week old in the unit, when I was asked to meet the Commanding Officer in his office. As per his orders, I was to lead a patrol party to ascertain the condition of a route from Dirang to the Bhutan border. This was likely one of the routes which the ‘Trans Himalayan Expedition Team’ could undertake. The team, other than me, consisted of one JCO …

On a short leave in late September 1984 was when I had to pass over Zoji La to reach my home. It turned out to be one of the most dreadful experiences in my life. At Kargil— where I was posted then— we had been experiencing bad weather since the past two days. Excitement to reach home was very high. Seven months had passed since I had gone home on my previous leave. It was a hard-earned leave. Relief to replace me had taken more time than usual due to the shortage of suitable officers at the uni…

In the blistering heat at the peak of those summers, temperature rose almost to 47*Celsius and sand kept boiling hot beneath our bare feet. Shadow of a wall on the side was a great relief and kept sand under its shadow comparatively cool. It was a great relief, however momentary. Affordability of shoes was a big deal, except only for some of us. Days spent in the village school have been a life leveling experience. Shadow of a ‘Kikar’ or ‘Seesam’ tree was an ideal place to work as a class room u…

I was there to pay my respect to the Kargil war Heroes. It was June 2014. I know the area well. It was my place of posting once, almost thirty years back. The tears in my eyes, I didn’t forget ever for a day. My heart was heavy. Yes, I did cry, tears had started rolling out of my heart and soul. I could not stop myself. The names and those plates, in some hundreds, of martyred soldiers, next to Drass war memorial made me cry, remembering the fallen heroes, far away from home. Before they breathe…

It was 1999 and I was posted to a unit, located in Kashmir valley. Of that duration, one heart touching interaction with a soldier on his superannuation has always remained fresh on my mind. I clearly remember that soldier for many reasons. He had a prominent young profile. Age wise, he was around thirty seven years or so. His striking military bearing would draw attention. He was more than six feet tall, with an ideal weight. He belonged to the state of Rajasthan. His qualities clearly defined …

In the morning and during night hours, one could feel the chilly cold. It was an early warning of intense winters approaching Kargil. It was late 1983 and Zozila Pass was about to be confirmed shut. It was a matter of time when traffic and other movements over the pass would come to a halt till May or June next year. Distinctly remember, it was around the same time. On my way to Leh from Kargil, I met Driver Jaswant Singh. I had travelled almost twenty five kilometers from Kargil, when I came ac…

On my first posting to a field area in Arunachal Pradesh, after commissioning from Indian Military Academy (IMA), I purchased a small and compact radio set following the advice by my father. This advice was profoundly rooted in his own experiences as an army officer. He knew well as to what a radio set meant for a soldier in pursuit of his professional duties at the loneliest of places and situations, miles away from own family. The word ‘RADIO’ reminds me of a journey of a change, which I witne…

I recall ‘CHINDIT CAMP’ which I attended during October 1980. This camp, if I remember correctly, was of twelve days duration. It is conducted about a month before one passes out from Indian Military Academy (IMA). This was the last major endurance activity before one could be commissioned as an officer into Indian Army. Going through this camp, one certainly gets a rare opportunity to discover hidden mental strength and potential determination of self. Revisiting ones strength is not always by …

{Genesis for this real story goes back to1985. This is based on a beautiful love story between one of my colleagues, Lieutenant Amit and his Kashmiri girl friend. I will refer to her as Desi. The way, I have decided to narrate the story is by assuming the plot and setting in the surroundings of 2020, when communication means like mobiles are easily available. Flow of the narration goes in letter form, assuming as it has been written by my colleague to her, as letter was the only way of communica…

When I look back at my life as a ‘Fauji’, I find my association with the Army’s one ton truck of the old days almost giving me the feel of the Second World War. It has been nostalgic. Nowadays, one does not see them. They vanished more than a decade back or so. Their make and shape, as appeared to me, always gave a feel as if I was visiting a war zone of the Second World War. The tarpaulin cover over its body gave it a feel of ruggedness, connected to tough conditions that a soldier would underg…