THE STRONGEST OF ALL WARRIORS

“The strongest of all warriors are these two-

Time and Patience.”

- Leo Tolstoy

My grandfather was a farmer and my dad was a mechanic. My aunts and uncles were all simple souls, with the most basic education…

Did I say ‘the most basic education’?

Yes, I did.

One of my dad’s younger brothers, with his ‘most basic education’ and driving skill, had joined the Indian Army, where he served as an army truck-driver. During the Indo-Pak war of 1965, he was posted in Kashmir frontier… I was a little boy of 7, then. I still remember my uncle’s war stories! He had sustained several injuries during that war…

But, those days, there was no way in which we could get any report about how things were in the war zone… TV, mobile phones, Internet, Social media, good news, bad news, fake news – yes, none of them existed, then. The local papers carried nothing and still, my grandparents, parents, my other uncles and aunts – yes, all of them were at peace. My uncle had gone to serve in the army… And, back home, the simple souls prayed for him and our country… They did not want war with our neighboring countries… But, if the war broke out, they were prepared to forego a member of the family!

After his bond period was over, my uncle chose to join BARC, where he served as the driver of one of the Group Directors. He lived in a one-bedroom quarters given by BARC. When I came to Bombay (now Mumbai) seeking my better future, he and my aunt were generous enough to let me live with them for eight long years! They treated me like their own son, with no discrimination whatsoever. Those were my struggling days… Though my uncle and aunt had no money to support me, they gave me a roof over my head, and food in my plate… Above all, they gave me love and respect, enough of it.

My uncle was an army man, always… with impeachable discipline, in both his personal and professional life. Dr. V.K. Iya, the Isotope Group Director, my uncles’s boss, admired my uncle for his incredible discipline and thorough gentleman ship. I had the privilege of teaching Rekha, Dr. Iya’s daughter, at their residence. Dr. Iya, a fabulous gentleman himself, never ever made me feel conscious of the fact that I was his driver’s nephew… I became very close to Dr. Iya’s family… The friendship still continues… When my uncle retired from BARC, Dr. Iya and another boss of my uncle, Dr. S.M. Rao (I was also privileged to be the teacher of his daughter, Radhika), both, took initiative to host a farewell function in one of the top auditoriums of BARC. For a driver to get that kind of sendoff was a great honour. My uncle was moved by the speech Dr. Iya had given that day… He had mentioned me too, in his speech, my uncle told me that evening. I took it as an honor, no doubt…

But, more than feeling honoured, I really felt very proud that I was my uncle’s nephew… who was an ex-service man… A soldier in the Indian Army who drove those heavy Shaktiman trucks in the war-torn Kashmir…just the way Anna Hazare did during the same war…

Often, when I reflect on the life of Anna Hazare, who, too, was a truck driver in the Indian Army, but a  tougher soldier in moral spirit… yes, whenever I reflect on Anna’s life, I remember my own uncle… He possessed an indomitable spirit and moral strength… I learnt to be simple and strong from my uncle… I learnt the self-disciple and self-dependency from him… I learnt to be a ‘fighter’ from him… and, above all, I learnt to be a peace-loving soul from him!

Some ten days ago, my uncle was hospitalized following a massive brain hemorrhage. For five days, he remained in a coma before passeing away peacefully. I felt the loss immensely... He was like my dad, a pillar of strength when I needed it the most, in Mumbai, in those initial struggling years of mine…

As my uncle remained in coma in the hospital, he was oblivious of the terror attack in Pulwama in which about forty soldiers (CRPF) had lost their lives…  Almost all of those soldiers hailed from very ordinary families… They were poor like we were when my uncle served in the Army… I was disturbed by the ghastly killings on the one side and my uncle’s helpless state on the other… I prayed for both…

And, I kept praying that better sense prevailed… When many around me kept crying for revenge, I feared in my heart… For, I knew the pain and anguish of the families whose sons fought for us in the battle fields!

It is easy to thump our chests in a false bravado… But, not easy to do so, if a member of our family has to face that burden on our behalf…

Today, a cousin of mine (Mom’s youngest sister’s son) is a Lieutenant Colonel in the Indian Army. Another cousin’s son (Mom’s another sister’s grandson) is a Major in the Indian Army. Yes, I know, what a war means to the family!

No one ‘wins’ in a war…

We only think, we do!

May calm descend…

Let’s pray!

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: Aparna Deshmukh