Life of an intrepid soldier

On 26th January, 2009, Yogendra landed back in the laps of the mountains that had once embraced him. On the occasion of Kargil Vijay Diwas, Yogendra visited Kargil as a chief guest of the ceremony. The program had been organized at the army base camp in Kargil. The entire venue has been decorated with huge tricolor flags. Yogendra's eyes traced the roads and the mountains. So much had changed around the place over the years. Yogendra could not believe that they had fought a war in these mountains. Yet every peak had a story to tell. It nourished the screams of the martyred soldiers. Every nook and corner reminded him of his days during the war. The routes they took to climb the mountain and the places where they took guard from the attacks were clearly etched in his mind. Every object of nature in Kargil stands as a witness to the courage and sacrifice of the Indian soldiers. They had spent every last drop of their blood for their nation and every citizen is grateful for their service.

The event consisted of a parade by the soldiers and hoisting of the flag by the Home Minister of India. The guest had been facilitated with flowers and mementos. There was another musical performance. Around the end of the event, the chief guests had been requested to speak. Yogendra had been called to share his thoughts with the young soldiers. He had never been one of a public speaker. However, that day, he had been gripped by emotions. Yogendra addressed the crowd, "On the occasion of this special day, I wish every soldier and citizen of this country Happy Vijay Diwas. Although I am not entirely sure the experience was a completely happy one. The outcome of the victory had bestowed all of us with abundant joy but the war had snatched away precious lives. I had lost friends and companions whose absence cannot be ever fulfilled. As a nineteen-year-old boy there were several things I had not processed. In that age, we often go with the flow of things. However, after winning the Param Vir Chakra, for several years, I had questioned my existence. Why did I survive when my companions perished? The question to that was answered a few years ago when Hanuman Thapa escaped an avalanche in the snow-capped mountains."

There was pin drop silence around the ground. Only the chirping of the birds accompanied Yogendra. Everyone was engrossed in the first-hand experience being shared by Yogendra. He continued, "About nine soldiers had been trapped under the ice and Hanuman had been rescued. He expired after a few days of treatment in the hospital. Then is when it struck me. Hanuman had survived to tell the story of his dead companions. I understood that every human is destined to die but it is what we do while living that matters. Our land that we call a mother truly embraces us in her arms. We give our lives for her and she like a mother protects our memories. A mother never lets the act of bravado and sacrifice made by her children get buried and unheard. She makes one of her children the medium to translate the story of their heroism to the world. Hanuman Thapa had lived to tell the story of their struggle in the mountains. In the same manner, I lived to tell the story of the struggle between the period of life and death that my fellow soldiers endured during the Kargil War."

Many of the soldiers had tears in their eyes as they related to Yogendra's words. They would also be ready to give their lives for their nation or live to tell the tale. Yogendra concluded, "It is unimaginable the amount of emotional strength a soldier needs to possess to detach himself from the world. A boy from a village has to leave behind family, friends, and everything he loves for the most precious form of love for his country. The academy prepares a soldier for such a life where his companions become his only family. A soldier lives for his nation. Our responsibilities for the nation is primary and all other bonds are secondary to it. On the field the life of my companions become as precious as my own. Therefore, even after death the stories of many of my brave companions live within me and I deliver it to the world. This is the purpose of my life. Jai Hind!" Yogendra's speech was met with applause. It touched the hearts of the soldiers and turned out to be a learning experience for all.

Yogendra, on the other hand, travelled on the road of nostalgia. Memories flashed before his eyes. On his way back, he kept recalling the moments and reliving the good ones in his mind. The narrow mountain roads were blocked by the convoys. Yogendra was looking out of the window staring at the ice capes lost in his thoughts. He was suddenly jolted back by a tapping on his window. A little boy of around eleven years was tapping his window with his right hand, while his left hand held a bunch of flowers. The boy had stunning eyes which immediately captured Yogendra. His milky white skin had become red from the cold outside. Yogendra rolled down the glass and a burst of cold wind entered the car. The boy requested in a childlike voice, "Please buy some flowers." Yogendra kept on looking without an answer. The boy pointed at the flowers, "Your missus will love them. They remain fresh for a week." Yogendra had never really bought flowers for Reena. It would be a good surprise, he thought. He pulled out a note from his pocket and held it out to the boy. As soon as the boy heard the car moving ahead, he counted the change quickly and handed it back with the flowers.

Yogendra stared at the beautiful long-stemmed red flowers wrapped in a packet. Suddenly, a thought surfaced, he did not know the name. It would be quite embarrassing if his wife ended up asking as he had never seen such flowers in his hometown. The engine of the car had started and the boy had turned to walk away. Yogendra called out quickly, "Hey champ! What do you call these?" The blue eyes sparkled and a toothy smile appeared, "Tulips, Sir." Yogendra never forgot that name. Tulips. Of course, he had to find them. Yogendra looked up at the sky from his window, "Do you have any more wishes my friend? I am at your service."

(Excerpted with permission from Deepak Singh's Bravo Yadav; published by Har Anand Publications)