Manu Khajuria
The Twitter World was abuzz within hours of the Indian Army’ s trans border raid into Myanmar to eliminate some of the terrorists involved in the ambush of the 6 Dogra Regiment. Some actions call for tough reactions and this was one of them. It gives us some semblance of peace that this dastardly act did not go unanswered. It allows us some courage to look into the eyes of those who lost their fathers, sons, husbands and brothers. The Indian Army did what it had to, it got retribution of some sorts for its men.
But what do we do. Six sons of the Soil; our Soil; who were so far away from home came back last week as Heroes and Martyrs. These men who missed and thought of their family and villages every time they got a break in the midst of their duties; who packed their tin trunks, boarded a train from Jammu Railway Station and wistfully gazed at the fields, hills and dried up river basins as they sat by the window while the train took them farther away from their loved ones and everything familiar; whose families crossed days on calendars till their return; who called their Mothers and wives before they started the long journey back to prepare daal and ambal for them; for those men who did not get a chance to make that one last call to say goodbye and got home in wooden boxes; the question for us is, what do we do for them.
We have attended their funerals and spoken of them; we have expressed our anger on the CM not paying homage to our Heroes; we will demand appropriate ‘compensation’ for their families but what have we really promised these men. Have we made a commitment to remember and remind. Has the question that these men make us proud and how do we pay them back kept us awake.
These men who must have swapped stories of their beloved Land and family with fellow travellers; who probably placed bets with their buddies that their Mountains are the highest; their people most innocent yet the most courageous; their women the most beautiful; their Rajma better than the best; their rice the best quality there is; their Dogri the sweetest tongue; their youth the bravest. Can we prove them right or did they lose that bet even before they placed it. They are Patriots from a State where it is not correct to be so. Yet they dared and walked their own path.
We chuffed our chests and our eyes welled up with tears thinking of these men. We filled the social media with updates and our pride. But should that be all. To demand and install Statues of our Heroes and name roads and Buildings after them; what does it do really. Our Maharajas and valiant Warriors; their statues and memorials are merely places we drive by, only to be mentioned when giving directions. At best they may be a part of Coffee Table Books highlighting places of Interest. Were the Statues and memorials built to gather dust and be a resting place for birds.
If we look very carefully we will catch these silent sentinels watching. We will register the many deaths they die as they see the rot within us. Their pained eyes accuse and we stand guilty as charged. We are never just a people or a race. We are a combination of adjectives. We are either brave, beautiful, wise, hard working, successful, good, fighters or we are passive, lethargic, unwise, unimaginative, spineless and selfish. Some of these negative qualities coupled with ‘Chalta hai’ attitude is enough for our Heroes to disown us. These qualities are not a part of their DNA and it is only befitting that we are stripped off from claiming our right to call theirs ours.
What do we give these men who bid farewell to their families and left for the Borders to protect, defend or even expand our territories today and years back; Monarchs, Leaders and Statesman who were visionaries and much before their times; who did not care if history wronged them as long as they could die knowing that they did their best; rebel activists and reformers who raised their voice for all and died fighting for us; the writers who hail from a linguistic minority and who write not for commercial viability but for the love of the language and its preservation; the grandparents who retold these stories time and again with the hope that we will hear and become these men and women.
It is time we asked ourselves the tough questions and looked inwards. Who am I and what makes up my DNA. Who do I identify with and how do I define myself and is it how others define me too. What do I represent and how. Who are my people and my true Heroes. What is my past because it affects my present and my future. What is my song that I dance to. What moves me and what makes me tick. If I am proud of who I am, do I really know where I come from. If I cite my ancestors with pride do I know what my ancestors did; the sacrifices they made and the price they paid so that I could hold my head high where ever I went. If my past is as glorious as we claim it to be, why do duty and gratitude not move me. Do I owe nothing to my people and my land. If it’s a Legacy worth shouting off from the rooftops is it not my responsibility to carry the legacy forward. Do I do it myself or wait for some knight in shining armour to do it for me because if that is what I am waiting for, I may stand witness to and be held responsible for the decline of everything that is a matter of honour for me.
Do we give back to our martyred Soldiers and our people long gone. We do give them back but leaders who are still finding their voice; who will misuse government resources in a State where they are glaringly lacking; they will vacation when they need to lead from the front; they will administer divisively and will be motivated by vote bank politics; they will fight dirty for seats; they will make promises and backtrack; they will confound and confuse; some will be merely poster boys/girls; administrators and politicians who will not do anything about health, water,electricity,and roads. The People with power to change things make it a land of contradictions; the homeless and hungry stand in sharp contrast to some of the grandest ‘kothis’ to be found in a City. We may just have to apologise and admit that we stopped giving birth to leaders long time back.
The youth are detrimental for the present and future of any State or a Nation. We have a history of outstanding martial traditions and our brave young men are a considerable presence in JAK Regiment which was initially made up entirely of our State Forces. The word Dogra rarely shows up in any National discourse yet the supreme sacrifice of our Six brave men made it a front page news. The Dogra Regiment and the martial traditions of our People were highlighted. But on the other hand there is a rise in alcohol and drugs amongst our youth. We also see a majority of our youth increasingly being reduced to Internet squabblers and agitators without a vision. There maybe poor roads and education but Internet has made its inroads everywhere and its biggest consumers debate and discuss only on Social Media platforms. The nature of real versus virtual makes them bolder, and sometimes shockingly irresponsible as was exemplified during the recent tensions which erupted in Jammu. One does not pay back to our Heroes by fighting uselessly from the comforts of one’s bedrooms. Trolling, abusing, bullying and threatening on the Internet does not behave the children of such ancestors. One is not a warrior and one will never be this way, lest we forget. Neither does one gain knowledge and is called well read if one only reads status updates. Is that our youth of today.
Our young and old rightfully complaint of a lack of conducive atmosphere and discriminatory policies as practiced by Kashmir centric Governments. But what we need to ask ourselves is that what do I choose for myself. Do I choose to be a victim of my circumstances or do I rise and shine as a Survivor. If I am not taught my language do I still demand to hear, speak, read and teach it. If I am not taught my history and I do not know it despite living in Jammu can I find my way to any Library to read the Gulaabnama. How many have actually entered the treasure chest of knowledge that is the Ranvir Singh Library to seek answers. Do I not need to know what I must live up to. If little resources exist it is also because none ask for it. Last December I walked up and down the streets of old city Jammu looking for a book. It was to be found only in one shop, and the bookshop had nothing else available on Dogra History. Starved for stories of my people I asked him why he did not keep these books only to be told nobody wants to read them. How long can we say that we are from J&K but know not much about how it came into being. The less we know of the facts the more fiction is born.
How many know Bana Singh, Param Vir Chakra Awardee who as a Naib Subedar led his men to victory and conquered the highest peak in Siachen Glacier in Operation Rajiv. The Peak is named Bana Top in his honour. A Sikh Hero from our State whom we should celebrate and learn from instead of creating fault lines where none existed. Bana Singh and Chuni Lal a Bhaderwahi together, along with their men climbed a steep 457 feet wall of ice during the operation and we cannot bring ourselves to bridge the gap between brothers and restore peace to our city.
Bana Singhji who is from Kadyal, Jammu, after retirement was offered a measly sum of Rs 166 monthly as pension. He protested since other State Governments provide Rs 10,000 and above as pensions to PVC winners. He was offered a 25 acre plot and a pension of Rs 15000 and more cash by the Punjab Govt if he moved to Punjab. Bana Singhji refused to do so saying he is a resident of J&K. Such loyalty despite poor treatment by his own people seems fantastical in a world which cannot think beyond personal and material comforts. Our State puts him to shame but we do no better by forgetting him.
Naib Subedar Chunni Lal killed three terrorists on 24 June, 2007 before laying down his life in countering an infiltration bid by terrorists in Kupwara sector of J&K. This brave Bhaderwahi hero was decorated twice for bravery on earlier occasions. He was also awarded Vir Chakra for beating back an attempted intrusion in Poonch sector in 1999 and the Sena Medal for operation Rajiv in Siachen. These are the men we are truly answerable to. If we are grateful for their legacy let us speak of these men and and learn from them.
There is always a choice. And there is always a consequence. The 6 men who donned the uniform like many others before them and like many others who will after them, left their homes and hearths to defend us, did so knowingly. They chose. The consequence inevitably follows the choice and hence even in their death they are Heroes who inspire. They brought us together in huge numbers to their funeral pyres.
One can easily gather crowds but what one does it for is of the utmost importance. One can always read but does it motivate and lead to the development of self and others. One can always write but does it uplift. What we choose to say, write or do will unlock a series of events. How we choose to live will determine the kind of life we have and will impact others too. The greatest teacher and influence in my Life, repeatedly said, we can choose between existing and living; we can choose between being and well being. Similarly we can choose to do just lip service and pay homage to our martyrs of today and the past; merely set the Twitter abuzz and fill other social media platforms; or we can really pay our respect; with honesty in thought, intent and actions.
As a soldier and a dear friend said we must decode ourselves to know the standards we need to imbibe and mirror. Duty before right and gratitude which is action oriented is the homage we need to pay our Heroes of both the past and the present. We must be the little seed which fights its way up, circumventing every rock it encounters; breaks soil ultimately and grows up to be a gorgeous tree nurturing and sheltering, doing proud the glorious Forest it calls home.
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