I enjoy time travelling. No it’s not as technical as it sounds. All you need to do is pick up a memory from the past and revisit it. The link to time-travel is usually around you, like some song, some jokes or maybe a face. For me, this time it was newspaper headline on current situation in J&K. My memory immediately transported me to my regiment, back to my first experience of this beautiful state. The year was 2003. I was only 8 months old in my regiment; “baby” of the unit as everyone would…

As the nation remembers and salutes its 527 brave officers and soldiers who were martyred in the Kargil war, immortalized on war memorials with their names etched forever in pride on our hearts and soul, I am reminded of another soldier, another mother, and another country! When the Kargil war broke out on the steep, icy and rugged slopes of the Himalayas, I as a Brigadier found myself stationed as the Defence Advisor to the High Commission of India in London, UK. I had till then (and afterwards…

As a teenager, life was pretty good in Gurgaon. Mornings would be dedicated to college and then evenings and night at the call center, working. Never realized in the three years of college life that having a girl-friend was as important as college or studies. Then One day I went to AIIMS to meet my friend Aabha, some more friends joined in and we all went to Ansal Plaza, the only so called Mall in South Delhi. It started to drizzle on our way back. Aabha and Raj took an auto and Prachi decided t…

I still vividly remember the exact moment the baton of Command of my infantry battalion of the SIKH Regiment passed to my hands. It was a very cold morning in the battalion head quarters at 12500 ft where we were deployed at the highest battlefield in the world but the smiles of the 300 brave boys who had assembled were warming our hearts. ‘Never a dull moment! I assure you Raj’ said Colonel PC Nair as he handed over the Commanding officer’s baton at the special ceremony called darbar ‘All t…

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 …

Midnight knocks at my door continue to be fresh in my memory lane. I clearly remember that it was 05 January 1999. When I looked at my watch, it was around 1 AM. On having opened the door, I found, it was snowing heavily and there was an accumulation of snow almost up to four to five inches. It was all white and freezing cold. Insurgency was at its peak in Kashmir valley. Our unit location was surrounded by villages from all the sides. This made security a more complex issue. We had perimeter se…

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 …