The Indian Army on Wednesday paid floral tributes to Colonel Santosh Mahadik, Commanding Officer of the 41 Rashtriya Rifles, who was killed while battling militants near Line of Control (LoC) in north Kashmir’s Kupwara district.
The Colonel was critically injured during an operation in the Haji Naka forest area of Kupwara near the LoC in Kashmir on 17 November.
This is a previously published article written by an Army officer’s wife, Nishtha Gautam, who pays tribute to all Army martyrs and salutes their bravery.
One balmy afternoon in the Lolab Valley, in Kupwara, Kashmir, I was chit-chatting with Col Neeraj Sood, my husband’s boss and the Commanding Officer (CO) of 18 Rashtriya Rifles. We were planning some party games over lunch for a get-together at the Sector HQ the next day. My husband was at work, coordinating with the various patrolling parties in the battalion’s area of responsibility. His posting order was out, we were actually due to fly back to Delhi in two days.
My husband did board the flight to Delhi two days later, but without me. And for a completely different reason – escorting the mortal remains of his CO while comforting his bereaved family. Col Neeraj Sood was killed by militants in an encounter just a few hours after that lunch I shared with him. As a matter of fact, I even heard the gunshots fired during that encounter as it took place quite near the battalion HQ, where I had been staying for the past three weeks.
As an infantry officer’s girlfriend, and later wife, I was aware of the dangers that the men and women in uniform volunteer to face.
And I thought I was brave. But, no stories, no discourses on honour, service and patriotism could have prepared me for the shock of hearing from my husband that his CO had been killed. That he had died on the spot.
The jovial young “Old Man” of the Unit who was there to bless us on our wedding day and ensure a steady supply of alcohol right up to the ‘varmala’ stage, was no more.
And the worst was that this tragic event suddenly exposed me to all the fears that I had so far shut away from my consciousness. Earlier whenever I heard of my husband’s gun battles and grenade lobbing incidents, I told myself that this was happening in a parallel universe and all was well in my own little paradise.
The news of Commanding Officer’s martyrdom hung like a black cloud over the battalion. The men were visibly disturbed, the pool table in Officers Mess shrouded. My husband had moved out that evening upon hearing that the CO had been hit. He did not come back for three days and stayed by the side of his CO, now martyred.
Those three days taught me what an incredible lot these men and women in uniform are. Though ‘orphaned,’ the battalion carried on with its routine. Tears were shed for the man, yet no hysteria was on display. The show went on.
Coming face to face with a seven-year-old girl who did not know how to react to her father’s death and a lady who mourned the loss of her doting husband was an emotionally draining experience. When I met her, Mrs Sood asked me about Col Sood’s mood during our last lunch together. She also wanted to know whether he thought of her before breathing his last. It was my husband who had to break that life-altering news to her. The experience has left an indelible mark on his psyche.
During the flight from Srinagar to Delhi, with her husband’s remains, Mrs Sood kept talking about him as though he were still alive. This year will be Col Neeraj Sood’s fifth death anniversary. Mrs Sood has picked up the pieces of her life that had been so brutally shattered. She lives with her parents in Delhi and teaches at a school. We are still in touch on social media and I sometimes see their happy faces on my wall with some positive quotes and forwards. It is immensely reassuring.
Every family struggles with the harsh reality of death. But losing a loved one to a bullet, is a tragedy of epic proportions for any family. Yet, those few days taught me that while there are no replacements for the departed, the show must go on. Coming within earshot of what is called ‘killed in action’, I have learnt to appreciate life much more. I banish dreadful thoughts almost every night even though my husband now serves in a ‘peace’ station. These thoughts, however, do not cloud my resolve to live an eternity in each shared moment. My daughter and I are my husband’s treasure as he is ours. We live in different cities, braving our own battles and drawing strength from each other. That’s how most army families live.
Col MN Rai’s martyrdom has refreshed many wounds old and new within the army fraternity. Although everyone is shaken by it, I still have not mustered the courage to watch the video of his proud daughter’s last salute. I do not know whether I’m qualified to assess the extent of the grief that Col Rai’s family is grappling with this moment. Pain and grief are best left unmeasured anyway.
But I want to tell his wife and daughters that we all sail in the same boat, being tossed about, from pride to grief to reconciliation. The juggernaut called the Indian Army is built over as many proud salutes as tears shed. We are together in it.
(A proud Army Wife, Nishtha Gautam teaches English Literature in Delhi University, and is associated with Observer Research Foundation, a leading Asian think tank. She writes on culture, gender and military life in leading national and international publications.)
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