Your love waxes like the moon,
Her love wanes like the moon,
It will be your full moon,
When hers is the new moon.
Then, walk your path
In the starlight, friend,
It will soon be her new moon.
And, all the stars above,
Are your million wishes.
Who knows you may yet see
The blind side of her moon?
Brig PS Gothra (Retd) is from my unit.
I AM TO BE BLAMED FOR ToD
By Brig PS Gothra(Retd)
जब पहली बार गोली चलती है तो काफी लोगों की फटती है। और मेरी भी फटी थी।(I am not going to translate this). But as an officer one comes out of this because the responsibility on your shoulders makes you get up and look for the courses of action while under fire. You also have some experienced Jawan by your side who looks at you for instructions with so much reverence that you don’t want to fall in his eyes. No amount of training and simulated battlefield inoculation can help you to be absolutely calm during such a first firefight. It comes with experience and some people never experience it in their whole service time.
Today I read an article on tour of duty. Felt bad because we are blindly following some other Armies with only finances in sight. But then I asked myself who is to be blamed, the Govt or the Babus. A great deal of introspection and I see that I am to be blamed. I am guilty because I never shared my actual experience of soldiering. What ever I shared was bullshit sometimes to bachao the izzat of the paltan and sometimes for self glorification. How will the analysts come to know? I am sure they must be basing their decisions based on the inputs from some elite. The elite who as a two star never had the courage and conviction to thump the table that they are getting less pay and pension than a one star. The elite if you analyse the confidential reports written by them will clearly indicate that they have been dishonest or timid in grading everyone outstanding unless the person reported upon is already overlooked or low medical category. The elite who have been sending out the rosy lessons learnt on operations with no benefit to the future generations…………
The fact which I have given in the first para will ensure that a large part of our Army will have no experience of combat at any point of time due to frequent rotation of men in the likely system of tour of duty. How dangerous it is I leave it for the people with mathematical models to compute.
But let me share another thing. In a rifle company only 6 to 7 percent soldiers stick to the company commander under heavy fire and move forward with him. Rest just crawl or take position behind good cover(they are also required). This was higher at 9 to 10 percent in my tenures in Rashtriya Rifles. A company commander with experience has to know who these are. Mind you they may not be good sportsmen or good instructors or smart looking but they are there with you when the chips are down. Identifying these battle winning boys comes with time spent together. I experienced this in my combat life in Manipur, Sri Lanka, Two Rahstriya Rifles tenures and one tenure as Brigade commander on the Line of Control. People who have moved up to capture the heights in Kargil can share their tougher experiences.
By introducing the tour of duty we are reducing this battle winning density in a rifle company. God knows how we will win a war. And if we lose, I am to be blamed.
I am sure people who have been under fire frequently will have the same opinion but I also know that they are shy and after going through all the hardships settled for “Sanu Ki” attitude. And the smart ones who have not faced the bullets and some of them have managed gallantry medals or even wound medals will come out with wonderful justifications like, “हमारी तो रेजिमेंट बहुत बहादुर है यह उसकी रेजिमेंट में होता होगा.”
No betrayal from Happiness,
No betrayal from Joy,
No reason for melancholy,
No occasion to cry.
Happiness kept her promise,
And, never went away.
But, Happiness and Love,
Can't be used interchangeably,
This much I have to say,
It's happening.
Sleep is returning,
Dreams are returning.
Thank you for coming,
Albeit, a little late,
Doesn't matter,
If it is almost dawn.
Why do we categorise, still?
Aren't we all terminally ill?
Some with reason,
Some without reason,
Some with lesion
In the heart and mind,
Some even without a kind.
I think:
We all possess the gene of hope,
That gives us a long rope.
I know that she is far,
But when You patrol,
The Universe,
Stop by my lovely star,
Tell me if she's
Shining bright,
Can I bring her home,
Riding my kite?
Can she be my little wish,
If only for a blink?
Can she ride a shooting star,
And softly land on my moonlit rink?
Or, can I be forever near,
And yet be forever far,
And circle her,
Like her binary star.
