“He died, under circumstances when he could have easily saved himself. He died, mainly because he wanted to do something heroic for the country. He died, because he had no fear of death. He died, because he wanted to make his parents proud.He died, because he thought thats the most splendid fate of a soldier” These are the words of Sandeep Unnikrishnan’s maternal Aunt ( Mother’s sister), who is also my paternal aunt( My father’s elder brother’s wife).
If you don’t remember Sandeep, he was one of the NSG Commandos killed during the 26/11 attacks on Mumbai: Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan, Ashok chakra(posthumously).
He was the only son to Unni uncle and Dhanalakshmi Aunty. Contrary to her strong willed son, I remember Dhanalakshmi aunty as an epitome of tender motherhood. It’s impossible to measure her loss and makes me wonder how she would be coping with the void left over by her son. Probably he was her sole reason to live, and what’s life when one has no reason to live. Perhaps that’s why they would have refused the financial assistance, including the allotment of a fuel station in Bangalore, assured by the Govt. And when the whole world remembers her son on the first anniversary, its lot more sorrowful for the family.Its like scabs of old wounds are torn open, all over again, and for many-many years to come.
He was a Hero even before his death. He was one of the idols in our family. He was the benchmark and whenever annoyed, my father would tell us to learn from this lad. I was a tad bit envious of him, for all the attention he received. He was a Lieutenant when I was barely in college and struggling with my uncertain future in the world, full of jobless engineers, architects and MBAs. He was a commissioned officer in the Indian army, earning what I could only dream of. When I passed out of college, that was my biggest motivation: I wanted to be richer and more successful than him. I was naïve to quantum success in terms of mere currency notes earned. He has become the hero of a nation, defending a permanent place in the history of modern India.
Last I had been to their apartment was in 2004, when I worked in India and had gone on a meeting to Bangalore. I was treated with some fine home cooked chicken and kerala food and she made Gulab Jamuns, specially for me. I had gone in the afternoon and since I had had my Lunch, she made me stay until the diner. She was alone at the apartment and she made me see all the photo albums of Sandeep, including his passing out parade at the NDA Pune, saluting in front of his proud parents (Coming to more than a thousand photographs). I remember when Sandeep came on vacations to his taravadu (Ancestral home), it was nothing short of a festivity. I remember his mother mention his fondness for seafood and kerala delicacies like Puttu/kadala and appam and how the entire family would join in the food preparations for his arrival. Kalumukaya ( Mussels) fry was his favorite.
He is a true hero and his death is a great loss for the country. But I wish a lot more that he was alive and Dhanalakshmi Aunty was her old, cheerful self. I have not been to their place since the tragedy happened, being away from the country and visiting once a year, but I would like to go to her on my next visit and assure her that she can look up to me as her son. I pray that almighty provide her enough strength to accept the fact and move forward with her life. Hope almighty provides her another reason to live.
I got this as an E-mail forward and had posted earlier..........nevertheless read it again...its really funny..and i choke every time i read this.....
The original inhabitants of ancient India were called Adidases, who lived in two cities called Hariappa and Mujhe-na-Daro. These cities had the best drain system in the world and so there was no brain drain from them Ancient India was full of myths which have been handed down from son to father. A myth is a female moth. A collection of myths is called mythology, which means stories with female caricatures. One myth says that people in olden times worshipped monkeys because they were our incestors.
In olden times there were two big families in India. One was called the Pandava and the other was called the Karova. They fought amongst themselves in a battle called Mahabharat, after which India came to be known as MeraBharat Mahan.
In midevil times India was ruled by the Slave Dienasty. So named because they all died a nasty death. Then came the Tughlaqs who shifted their capital from Delhi because of its pollution. They were followed by the Mowglis. The greatest Mowgli was Akbar because he extinguished himself on the battlefield of Panipat which is in Hurryana. But his son Jehangir was peace loving; he married one Hindu wife and kept 300 porcupines. Then came Shahajahan who had 14 sons. Family planning had not been invented at that time. He also built the Taj Mahal hotel for his wife who now sleeps there. The king sent all his sons away to distant parts of India because they started quarrelling. Dara Seiko was sent to UP, Shaikh Bhakhtiyar was sent to J & K, while Orangezip came to Bombay to fight Shivaji. However,after that they changed its name to Mumbai because Shivaji’s sena did not like it. They also do not like New Delhi, so they are calling it Door Darshan.
After the Mowglis came Vasco the Gama. He was an exploder who was circumcising India with a 100 foot clipper. Then came the British. They brought with them many inventions such as cricket, tramtarts and steamed railways. They were followed by the French who brought in French fries, pizzazz and laundry. But Robert Clive drove them out when he deafened Duplex who was out membered since the British had the queen on their side.
Eventually, the British came to overrule India because there was too much diversity in our unity. The British overruled India for a long period.They were great expotents and impotents. They started expoting salt from India and impoting cloth. This was not liked by Mahatma Gandhi who wanted to produce his own salt. This was called the Swedish moment. During this moment, many people burnt their lion cloths in the street and refused to wear anything else. The British became very angry at this and stopped the production of Indian testiles.
In 1920, Mahatma Gandhi was married to one wife. Soon after he became the father of the nation. In 1942 he started the Quiet India moment, so named because the British were quietly lootoing our country. In 1947, India became free and its people became freely loving. This increased our population. Its government became a limited mockery, which means people are allowed to take the law in their own hands with the help of the police. Our constipation is the best in the world because it says that no man can be hanged twice for the same crime. It also says you cannot be put in prison if you have not paid your taxis. Another important thing about our constipation is that it can be changed. This is not possible with the British constipation because it is not written on paper. The Indian parlemint consists of two houses which are called lower and higher. This is because one Mr Honest Abe said that two houses divided against itself cannot withstand. So Pandit Nehru asked the British for freedom at midnight since the British were afraid of the dark. At midnight, on August 15, there was a tryst in parlemint in which many participated by wearing khaki and hosting the flag. Recently in India, there have been a large number of scams and a plaque,it can be dangerous because many people died of this plaque in Surat. Scams are all over India. One of these was in Bihar where holy cows were not given anything to eat by their elected leader. The other scam was in Bofor which is a small town in Switzerland.In this, a lot of Indian money was given to buy a gun which can shoot a coot.
Presently India has a coalishun government made up of many parties, left,right and centre. It has started to library the economy. This means that there is now no need for a licence as the economy will be driven by itself.
India is also trying to become an Asian tiger because its own tigers are being poached. Another important event this year was the Shark meeting at Malas Dive. At this place, shark leaders agreed to share their poverty, pollution and population.
Sandeep had just been promoted. He was a major now. Several years at The NDA and then at IMA, he was finally a respected Army officer. Since he could remember, he dreamt of being in the army. He would do Work-outs, for the sole purpose of getting through Army. When his friends studies for Medical or engineering entrance exams, he would join them to the coaching classes, but would get up before the roaster alarm and jog several miles. He would look at himself in the mirror and extend his muscles and smile at his burgeoning shoulders.
His friends would stare at him as if they were looking at a crazy immature boy, about to devastate his own life. He was often asked what if he wasn’t selected for the NDA. He would smile at them nervously and say, “I would, no matter what.”
It was as if heavens were listening to him or some conspiracy by the gods, he was selected.
On the passing out day, he was advised by his superiors-, “As long as you are in the army, never fall in love. Have affairs no issues; even sleep with women, but never harbor sentiments for them. Women always brought pain and That could be the toughest and worst suffering. soldiers aren't meant to be such squishy creatures.” That was Colonel Venugopal who had advised him last.
“No Love shove, puttar”, he had said.
He was immediately posted to a remote border close to POK, infected with deadly Kashmiri militants.
That was more of the reason for the advice he received. It was almost a command, which he very well decided to abide; not that he had any more options.
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He met Anjali while on his vacation in Kerala. He had found her standing next to a car on a deserted highway and had stopped his car. He went to her and asked if she needed help. “Yes”, pat came the reply.
It took just ten minutes for him to change the punctured Tyre. As an appreciation she had agreed for a coffee with him. She even attempted to pay for the coffee, but refrained from insisting on seeing his changed facial expression. That was the beginning of a friendship.
Their lovely friendship was such that people all over talked about it. Everyone approved of their closeness; they looked like the most suitable couple if there ever was.
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She was the only daughter of a cardiac surgeon settled in America. She was born and brought up there and it was after the need came, when her parents thought of installing certain Indian Culture and values in her that she was asked to stay with her grandparents in India. That was when she had travelled to Kerala. Like every immigrant, her parents too had sought greener pastures but when the time came for their daughter, they insisted that she take lessons the Indian way. “These American youngsters, confused to the word T”, they often proclaimed.
She had overheard her father speak to grandfather, “Achan, we are sending her there so that she could pick some Indian Values. And not teach American customs to Indians”
She smiled when she heard her father say that. Parents can be so over protective, especially when it came to daughters. She had managed to live whole of one week as per the life and values prescribed by her parents. But after a week, she bunged on her own.
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It took much less time for the cupid to strike; in the form of Sandeep. They met everywhere; Restaurants, coffee shops, Mall, parks.
However, their favorite place was the odyssey book store at the Forum Mall. They bought so many books that the sales assistant was instructed by the manager to order soft drinks when this crazy couple arrived.
They would sit in the food court and talk for hours; about everything under the sun and when the sun decided to set, they would part.
In between, he would suddenly look sad and she would inquire. He would tell her about his Army life; the toughness and the uncertainties that was part of his life.
“ Its difficult, but I know I would be able to face it now.” He had said once.
“And how would you know that you would be able to face it?” she had asked.
“Oh, someone special has entered my life.” She smiled gleefully each time she heard him say that.
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They would go to Music world, and he familiarized her with Hindi songs. She appreciated his knowledge of Hindi and his liking for Kishore kumar and Lata duets. They would listen to many of the songs and he would translate the lyrics for her in English. She would laugh at the English he used.
“Kali palak tere gori” became, “Oh beautiful one your beautiful eyes”.
It was during one such musical escapades that she kissed him on his lips.“I must take the reins in my hands now”, she had said laughingly, “else if left to you, you would take an eternity”
She had never thought that she would see him blush, but he blushed beetroot red that day.
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Finally, they made plans for their future. He informed her that it would take five years for him to resign his commission. She agreed on the time, she to needed to finish her studies. It would take another five years for that.
He informed his parents about Anjali. They were shocked but soon their shock turned into contentment, when they met her. Anjali captured their imagination of the future daughter-in-law. Her parents too liked him and his family. They decided to accomplish the engagement ceremony.
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Their engagement ceremony was held during the last week of his leave. Relatives and friends from all over the globe arrived to attend the function. However, her parents couldn’t make it, but they sent their blessings telephonically.
Colonel Venugopal too had called. “Bachchoo”. He had said. “So you are trapped, huh? Koi Nahi, she is a nice girl, she would bring you luck”.
Sandeep was in profound joy, hearing his mentor say those words. He had tears rolling down his eyes.
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His leave finished before hers. The entire families were present at the railway station to send him off. Anjali was in tears. He tried his best to console her, but to no avail. He promised to write to her every day. When the train left the platform, she broke down and cried.
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They say he died a brave man. He disobeyed his command and went to save his fellow men. The men were saved but he died.
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Years later Anjali’s husband could never understand why she broke down every time the Kishore-Lata duet “bohut door muje chale jaana hein” played.
P.S: This story is 75 % mine. I had read a somewhat similar(though,without all those romanticism and Kissing part) story many-many years ago, though the ending and the narrative was different. I have borrowed(Desi-fied) the plot from that unknown story by some Unknown writer( I Think it was an American story); with his permissions.
Click here if you wanna read a story with happy ending. I recommend you to read this.Personally its one of the favorite stories of mine.Sorry about that shameless self promotion....:D
Last year, we had proud moments when Aravind Adiga won the booker for “The White Tiger”. I bought the book soon after, and to my horror found it to grossly whack our very persona, of that of an Indian. I felt a sense of embarrassment at being discovered. I felt like burning the book or blasting it off with Diwali leftover Fire crackers. It was highly derisive of the state of our poverty and a loud announcement of our sorry state to the world. Then came “Slumdog Millionaire” and this time it was a bigger shock. It coolly won several Oscars.
As with an average Indian, I was hurt and ashamed at the display of poverty, but it also made me ask questions. Aren’t we a snobbish society? We keep our front clean but what about our back yard? We live in a country where there are ridiculously shameless ways at which the wealth is flaunted. We also live in a country where there is disparity between a rich and poor to a level of insanity.
I am an Indian and I love my country. In fact, I love my country so much that I feel it’s close to being a romantic love. I call it a romantic love because It’s unconditional. I love the food, I have travelled length and breadth of it, I love its culture and diversity, I love its demographics and I love so many things, which would take so many words to describe that my readers would get awfully jaded.To cut a long story short, I love it as much as any other Indian. But I must admit that I love it more when India is playing in a cricket match, or India is attacked by terrorists. Recently, I have started to love my country so much more, the reason being the entire hullabaloo about us getting racially abused in a country called Australia. “Its curry bashing time in OZ land”.
We are an extremely proud nation. Our pride is so much that, if someone calls us snobs, it’s anything but an exaggeration. We think we are superior, we are intelligent and we are better than any other race on earth. The fact is, we are, but so are the whites, the blacks or the Asians. We are extremely cunning. We don’t trust people and in most cases we don’t even care about our neighbors. But we call ourselves the land of “Adhithi devo bhava”. Holy Shit!!
India is a crazy country. I mean , It’s crazy out there. I have realized it only after I have moved out of it. I was a bike enthusiast when in India and I cared and loved my Enfield Bullet machismo, as much as I love my wife now. I almost had my eyes welled up when I was departing it, but now, whenever I come on vacation, I am shit scared for my life when I think of taking it out for a ride. Look at our roads. There is absolute mayhem everywhere. Tuk-Tuk’s(autos) pass you as if they are eve teasing you and come just short of groping your wrong parts of the body. The level of smoke is so much that I hate wearing a white shirt out of fear that it may require a dry cleaning. Our drivers love the sound of Horn so much that their hands are glued to it, as if with Fevicol.
And I haven’t talked about our 50 % of the population. It’s a Thursday and it’s a weekend. I don’t want to feel depressed and screw my Fridays and Saturdays. It’s in a sorry state and we know it much more than anyone else.
We live in a Fool’s paradise when we compare ourselves with China. There is only one comparison and that’s in terms of population. Rest of the comparison is as naïve as comparing a sparrow with giant Panda, in terms of the size. We should know that China is almost twice as big as us and for that size, their population is marginally ahead of us. But for rest of the comparisons, they are a cool 50 years ahead of us. Their roads and highways are much better (in fact they are of the international standards), they have much better public education and health system.
OK, they don’t have democracy, but what’s democracy when you are starving and your children don’t have cloths to wear?
We have made our presence felt around the world. Take the case of the gulf countries. Most countries here have more than 30-40 % Indian population. We compare ourselves with China, but there are absolutely no Chinese laborers working here. Oh, I dint tell you about Indian laborers; they work in +40 Degree C temperatures for a paltry wage of less than 7 $ a day (around Rs 10 K/ month). And I don’t want to mention the cost of living in this country.
Every time I see them move around in bunches, loitering around in Bus stops or having a meal on the pavement, I cease to believe that we are a great nation.
We think we are great specimens of refined society, but I hate to say that we lack basic social sense. We rush ourselves everywhere. Every car wants to outrun the other car and ever bus the other. We don’t give way to the pedestrians and curse and horn loudly if someone comes our way.
Try crossing a road here in this country that I live. A speeding car would wait, and the driver would wave at you to cross the road, probably understanding that you are not as comfortable as him in the car. Isn’t these kind of gestures unheard of in India?
We hate to go to Indian restaurants, as my wife hates men who gape at her. We also hate because Indians make so much of clatter, as if wanting to say they care two hoots about anyone else around them. They are as yet unaware, that people go to restaurants not just to eat, but also to unwind or to have some private moments.
I feel, if we want people to treat us fairly, we need to earn their respect and not cry for it.
I feel we have no right to feel proud of ourselves. We should realize that we are one of the poorest people around and if we are getting bashed by people in some country, its not a curry bashing or a bashing of our skin colour. It’s a bashing of our sad state; it’s a bashing of our poverty.
Having said so much, I must also admit that I have started appreciating writers like Adiga, who have dared to give a picture of India the way it is, and not show an unblemished depiction, a’la Bollywood.We need to see reality as they are and not live in a false sense of well being.
Lets hope that we would have a day in our life time, when we Indians would get to be as proud of our nation, as a Japanese or a French feels for their country and rightly so.
Jai Hind.
P.S: My intention was not to hurt anyone. However, if i have done so, i seek an apology. It was unintended.
