Woman Of Substance

What does this actually mean? for me it means a woman who has belief, ambition, drive to do something and does it against all the forces that might try stop her.

She does not need to be a major business tycoon or wife of a biggie or one with some political or other power. For me a woman of substance is the one who has conviction, drive, the killer instinct to do it and goes behind it, all out.

Her being successful in task is not as important as her belief and commitment in doing so.

She may be a maid, who wakes up early morning, gets her kids ready for school that she can hardly afford, works all day in 8-10 houses, secretly saves money for rainy days- always believing that she will give her kids a life that she never had.

She may be a farmer’s wife, who starts working in field before sunrise and works through sunset - believing that the field she works in as a daily wage earner will be hers one day.

It may be a woman from working class who goes through struggle of life day in and day out - not only wanting to but knows it will make a difference in her and her children's life

or could be the business woman who wants to make big in the men dominated business world …

There are many forms of my woman of substance, but for now I want to narrate a story of a particular one …

She was born in a conservative joint family in a city of Punjab, where girls were sent to school with male escorts (brothers, uncles or a trusted male servant), girls always covered from head to toe, not allowed to mingle with many friends, it goes without saying, they would be grounded for months if seen as much as just talking to a boy.

The idea was to give basic education to the girl, so that she can be married off at the earliest to some businessman or a sarkari / office baboo making good money, have kids and serve husband and family as a good Indian housewife.

But she had a dream - to break free from this life, and live a life 'with' her and not 'for' her family... hence unlike her sisters she accepted a marriage proposal from outside Punjab, to an Airforce officer, where the life was not about only raising children, it meant having one’s own identity. A life away from the usual sunrise to sunset household routine. She argued back the objections raised by the family on challenges she may face - she was determined to beak free.

During the courtship they exchanged letters in two languages…she wrote in Hindi and got reply in English. On her fiancee‘s request she started writing back in English – irrespective of how the grammar or language might sound. From that point she knew that her life was about to change.

The docile girl from a city of Punjab got married and moved from city to city with postings. The life, culture and people were different, she coming from a tee teetotaler vegetarian family was surprised to see alcohol flowing in the messes. At every step there was a choice she had to make, either move away from the situation and get into a shell, or come out and adapt to the situation. The first meant, leading her life with her husband and kids at home with no or very less social life, and the other meant to compromise and adjust to the new way of life and thinking. She chose the second, and learnt to strike a perfect balance between the new life and her belief’s.

When she overcome the adjustments of social differences mentioned above, she found some new problems awaiting her. As she wanted to do more than just socialize and move around in messes, hence started teaching in a unit school. People around her, in school and in general showed sense of superiority because of their background and good command over English. Today it sounds funny thinking about this, as every kid is born speaking English. But think of the time, when this girl was time and again let down as she was not comfortable speaking the language. That is when she decided to study further, and do her Masters …in English. Since that time there was no looking back for her. Determined like a tigress, never again wanting to be talked down, she further went ahead in doing her BEd. Took English as her core subject started teaching junior classes and moved to teaching the board classes of Xth and XIIth in Delhi, with 20+ years exp she is now HOD of a leading school in NCR.

Today with her expertise on the subject, she is consulted within the family if one has a doubt on any facet of grammar or usage of the language. She is the final verdict when it comes to getting answers for bets or challenges within.

With time she had became more and more independent, and when her husband got affected by asthma, she took charge of the situation, packed kids to bed or neighbors house, kick started a bajaj scooter, and rode miles from a remotely located airforce station to the MH (military hospital) in city, with her husband panting for breath on back seat. She did this not once, but many times, be it day or night, she would never lose her nerve, always kept her calm for her husband and little kids. This only those can do who have a drive and belief in themselves.

She always stood strong like a pillar for her family. In rough times, the once meek girl from Punjab, stood strong in storms of life, and supported her husband and children, assured them and saw to it that they sailed through. Without her strength her family, her children would have been long broken. She is the house of willpower with which she fights her battles. If needed she will even make way with God and not let any harm touch her family.

For me, she, - my mother - is a woman of substance !!!

Time stands still…and will do so ...for ever...

I have been writing in anger and passion a lot about the army, the fight and the attacks, and had been running away from writing this last piece, as I knew this will take a lot of emotional energy…as I here will talk about a permanent scar which these sacrifices leave in the hearts of the family who send their son to fight the war.

Let me begin by sharing my encounter with some people with zero national character…those who are shame to our country

It was in year 1999 just before Kargil, I was having discussion with friends on bravery of our Army men and how they should be honored as they are willing to sacrifice their lives for the nation. And a friend shot back with an insensitive reply saying “well they join army knowing that they will die, they choose to die, so why worry?”

I still boil with anger when I think of that day, as this comment came when I was citing a heroic story of my cousin brother who had died just few months back in 34 hours encounter with terrorists in the valley...

and i get a reply “army men know they will die…and they choose to?"I wish I can go back in time and slap that person and tell him, that these men die to save civilians like himself , who rather than feeling thankful don’t even value the sacrifice?

9 years since and I hear another comment, well not that severe but still hurts “it is a known fact and not new, that it is not worth dying for this country”. I feel very sad when I think of those 1000’s of men who died to save people like these, rather than honoring them they make it look like an obvious mistake…

that is where I give up and feel that it was not worth it, when the people for whom our forces die for, the people who sleep in peace when our men take bullets at border…these very people, don’t even acknowledge their sacrifice and shamelessly take it for granted – that Army men are ready to fight war and die...that it is known that it is not worth dying for our country...

Well in all of this they very conveniently forget one word “men” attached to the word army. Have they ever thought what happens to the families of these people, have they ever thought that these guys may have wife, kid, siblings, parents, friends?

Let me throw some light...

They are humans like us with families and friends – with dreams and hope. Like a Army officer i know of - father to be when he was called to fight in the valley, his wife 5 months pregnant ,he made promises to buy pram and toys for the kids on his return…and left with many more such joyful thoughts. The father being and ex army officer sent his son to the war with pride, mother packed paratha's made in milk so that it remains soft for long, only later to receive the news that their son died a death of bravery. His younger sister then pregnant too was called from Delhi to Dehradun, on some pretext to meet parents, not knowing that when she reaches she will await with her parents for her brother’s coffin. My hands are shaking writing about happened 10 years back…as it shakes the very core of us even today.

The news on media fades and your candle flame dies – but life for these family go on…think of the young wife, who has to bring up a kid on her own, think of the kid, who has never seen her father and will grow up looking at papa’s pictures and listening to his stories, think of the sisters plight every year on festival called raakhi..think of the parents who now spend their life looking at the picture albums, and lie to each other hiding their pain, fearing they will add on to spouses pain if seen crying.

Life moves on for the world…but it stands still for the family who looses their son…media forgets the sacrifice in 20 days, minister forgets the speech on bravery in 20 minutes, but you visit that house after 20 years…you will still find the parents holding their son’s picture, the son they sent to fight the enemy at front for all of us…

For them the time stands still, and for this family I know the time stood still in August of 98…

Sibling

Recently I was talking to a friend on how our generation is all about “one child only” philosophy, the debate went on that siblings are important to learn sharing, have memories etc and some how the conversation went to how my childhood and thought how my childhood would have been without my brother (2 ½ years elder to me).

I thought of my times as a kid, and I could not remember or think of any single memory without my brother. He was always there – everywhere. And then I learnt that my childhood would be so empty without him. Yes had I grown as a single child – I would not have anything to compare or miss…with totally new memories without him...but then, I do not want any childhood without him.

No no…we had our share of fights. We were never best of friends, nor are we today. We have a “Elder” brother and sister relation. He always strict on what I wore and whom I made friends with – even girls…but still I love him beyond words. I want him in every corner of my childhood and growing up.

I wonder if I choose the philosophy of 1 child only…I will be taking away privilege of so many memories the kid could have of the sibling, but then the debate goes on…with both parents working, parenting being so tough blah blah blah…

Well I do not have the answer to what is right…this post is written on yet another realization on how much I love my brother…and the times I had with him…even the horrible ones :)

A tribute to Capt Tarun Kumar

Lt Col V K Trihma (my Tayaji) once told his son Tarun Kumar (my cousin)

"Son do something in life that makes me proud and people know me as your father rather than you as my son"

My cousin fought at the border in Kashmir and sacrificed his life saving the nation, including you and me, he made not only his dad but entire country proud...

today...Tauji is known as Capt Tarun Kumar's Father!!!

Bhaiya, we miss you!!!

My Dad

“Scramble” “Scramble” the announcement from the speakers and these few young flying officers in their blue dungaree, with wings on their chest, helmets in the hand, rush out and before you can say the word “go” they are climbing up the ladder into the cockpit. With the first ray of the sunlight they are flying up in the air, touching the heights and the speed, playing hide and seek with each other, an hour later they land, walking back with smile on their faces, knowing this was one of the perfect saurtis. Even 30 years back this was the common exercise for the Pilots of the Indian Air Force (IAF), one of the handsome faces walking back was of my Father – Pilot of the IAF.

Today I was looking at him sitting in the hospital, gasping for breath, I could hear the wheezing from his lungs even four seats away….this is something that we have grown up seeing, his asthma attacks. After some years of flying he got his first attack, and then he was grounded.

He was lost in the battle of lungs and air, when this Airman came and wished him, he had no clue that someone was talking to him, looking totally blank into the air, fighting to get some breath in him….. 

I remember clearly, when I was young and use to pass the guardroom with him, the guard would give him a perfect salaam with the rifle and thud of the feet, and dad keeping his back erect would reply to him with a strong “Jai Hind” and I would be so proud of him, knowing that he was the best, today he was looking into the air unaware that someone was calling for him, in response we could only hear his wheezing, I gave the Airman a smile acknowledging on Dad’s behalf. 

He who at one time use to take his plane up in the sky not once but day after day for years, one who in the war of 1971 had been to the war struck areas, into the neighbouring country flying low to drop food for our army men, who was fearless of any danger that laid ahead. Today when we go out, he quietly opens the car door and sits next to the driver’s seat waiting for me to come and take the wheel.

Later I was next to his bed watching him draw oxygen from the oxygen mask on him, how different were the reasons for which the mask was on now and when he use to have it on, up in the air.

I can not explain what I feel when I see him struggling for breath each time, I cannot come to terms with the fact that he is the same person who was so independent and carefree, one I use to be scared of as a kid, now is emotionally dependent on us, his children. He is the same person who had temper on his nose tip now is patience personified. The man who did not care for the world was now living for his family. Man who ruled the sky once was now confined to the safely of the fresh air of his room. May be that is life.

I think it is time for us kids to realize that our parents have done enough for us , and we need to stand up and give them what they have given us, they want nothing much, all they ask for is - Love, patience, respect and most of all, Our Time. Lets start doing it now, before it is too late.
*.*.*