I HAD THE COURAGE TO KILL, TO MAKE HIM DIE FOR HIS COUNTRY. I WAS TRAINED; AND THEREFORE I SURVIVED,TO FIGHT YET ANOTHER DAY FOR MY COUNTRY.

“Good Morning! I am Teresa,” She said extending her hand for handshake to me. I was perplexed, the charming young lady was bold and I as a young infantry combat officer, did not anticipate this sudden move by her. The girls generally kept distance from us, because as combat officers, we were rough and lacked finesse to handle the fairer sex. However it would have been inane to decline or overlook this fine gesture from a young lady.
My response was not spontaneous, but fearing that she may change her mind, I was fast enough to extend my hand, for a very warm handshake, "I am Lt Rakesh Dubey and nice to meet you Teresa," I said. “Nice to meet you too," she said. “Well what can I do for you?” I added. "Commando Training is to commence shortly and I may not find any time for socializing thereafter ” I very humbly informed her. My lack of polish to handle beautiful and charming girls was evident. “Do not worry", she said, "I just noticed you, and thought I should meet you, the reason is as simple as that." "And if you are free? the dinner is on me tonight, the choice is yours? either MH Mess or any Restaurant of your liking, in Belgaon." She concluded. The days ahead, were interesting and eventful, till disaster struck one day.
It was Holi, the festival of colors; with combat infantry officers, the celebrations had to be wild. The madness was deliberately gigantic, because it was our last day of freedom and fun at Belgaon. The next day, we were to enter the dreaded and the grueling portion of our final training, our test of intelligence, endurance, grit and strength, The Commando Training Lag.
The colors were assorted, the drinks cock tailed, I was consuming hard drinks for the first time in my life, and therefore got totally drunk, enjoying with happiness to its ultimate. I was with my friends in the morning, and that is what I remember last. I woke up and gained sense at about 7 pm in the evening, and what I saw was equal to straight 440 volt, bolt from the blue; that hit me straight, I was shocked to find myself in Teresa’s room, vomiting; "You should not drink like this," she said, holding a bucket to catch my puke, "it is bad for your health," said the others in chorus. "Damn it!" I said, "I had never tasted alcohol earlier;" in any case, it was inconsequential now, the damage had been done. "May I request someone, to kindly show me the way out." I retorted. "Also, my sincere apology to all, for this inconvenience, drinks are certainly, injurious to health." I added.
Buddy, Beant Parmar (actual name), had plans to go for a movie, and that is when he spotted me, coming out of the gate, variegated due to Holi and tipsy. Couldn’t thank him then, my gratitude buddy, Parmar. He evacuated me to my room, I went inside and slept.
It was 4 am, pitch dark, my hangover was still intense, and I was hallucinating. The tall, burly Commando Instructor, standing nose to nose in front of me, broke my spell. "Why have you painted yourself?" He shouted. That is when I realized, that I had not taken bath, after yesterday’s Holi. My face and hand were black, blue and red, my hairs were stiff, with proper paint, my head ached and I wanted to vomit. There is no mercy in the Commando training, either you do it, or you are out of it. "One minute!" He shouted. He had pressed the stop watch. "Go round that Tower, if you do not reach in time, you are out." The damn Tower was 2km away. I ran for my life. Perspiring alcohol, I vomited the entire filth of my stomach, behind the Tower; and was in time to join the training. It did me good, cleanse my entire inner system. I was now ready, to go through the action packed, Commando Lag of the Combat Infantry training, a dreaded non stop hell for 39 days, with no break or holidays in between. The Commando Lag had commenced.
The Indian Infantry Commando Training was extremely tough, grueling and hazardous. It surpassed the world’s best Armies, Commando training in physical and mental endurance, in survival under difficult conditions, in grit and determination. The training was so designed that each one of us, were pushed to our edge, the brave and strong sailed through, and the weak gave up. Unfortunately, in the latest technology and weaponry, it lagged far behind from the worst western world armies. It was sad, that we were being trained to fight, armed only with our own courage and bravery.
We under went at an average, 30 km of daily run, in full combat battle gear including weapons and 28 kg extra weight on our back. The test culminating into 10, 16, 24, 32 and 40 km of Battle Physical Efficiency Test. During our final 40 km battle test power run, we were confined in the wild jungle for 24 hours; for survival training. We had been trained earlier for survival in the Tropical thick Jungles. On completion of the stipulated time, in the evening, we were supplied with a wild hare, some vegetables and enough flour, for us four, to cook and eat. To devour after starvation, is a mistake an untrained man will generally commit, more so, when the climax was, culmination of this survival training into 40 km of battle physical efficiency test. The run commenced after midnight. Running a km in 8 minutes required a professional approach; we were trained and had the mental robustness to undertake the test.
The Un Armed Combat (UAC), chapter of Commando Lag was painful; we were already into Parkour, the sport which is getting popular now. The strength training was hazardous and risky. I had blisters on my palm, my body scorched; I was transformed, into a hungry tiger, lethal and ferocious.
"Do not present a bigger silhouette, while standing face to face during close combat with the enemy." A robust and agile UAC instructor was demonstrating. "Drop to the ground, using your palm for cushioning, ensure your elbow is slightly bend and flexible to shock absorb the fall, tilt your body to right/left, depending on your position, swing your leg to hit the enemy on the ankle, breaking his balance to make him fall flat on his back, exploiting the advantage, swing the other leg, to hit him on the chin." "Thirty seconds is the only reaction time with you, in this eventuality. If you act, you survive, and if you happen to delay, either he will act or his buddy will take a pot shot at you, from a distance." "Act faster than the speed of light," said the instructor, dusting his dress, after the demonstration.
I enjoyed the training and had mastered all the specialized skills of the UAC. I did not realize then, that the Un Armed Combat will save my life one day in J&K.
The Commando Jump was fear factor many folds. I jumped into the big pool, dressed in my combat dress; swam, climbed the four storied pylon, walked the one foot wide plank, gaining more height, to climb the steps in continuation, on reaching the vertical rope, holding and hanging on it, using my hands. The feat is difficult to perform, especially when the entire structure is deliberately made shaky. The agony does not end there; I swung my legs, catching the rope with my legs, in a scissor hold, crawling in that position, to the centre of pool, releasing the legs, and hung awaiting orders to jump into the pool. I jumped, going deep into the pool; the combat dress became heavy soaking tons of water. I swam back to the shore, the task was well accomplished. Negotiating the Lagoon, during Pursuit of  the LTTE in  Sri Lanka was therefore not difficult.
The Commando lag continued. I gained expertise in the handling and use of explosives, mastering the technique of laying booby traps, which we used to our advantage during operations in J&K and Sri Lanka. The mock training drill, of penetrating deep into the enemy territory by stealth, in small group to destroy enemy Bridges/Head Quarters/ Capture Enemy’s Military Commander was practiced many times over.
I am still, nostalgic of those 39 days. There we were thread solemnized into professional military leaders, fit to lead men in war and trained to "Be Brave To Triumph and Not Foolhardy to Succumb". These words from The Sacred Revered Holy Gita always resonate in my ear, to be practiced and followed.
I joined my Infantry Battalion in J&K, and was right away moved on the mountain top, to be deployed at the forward military post. Young Infantry Officers never had the luxury of staying in the comfort of the base camp, which was reserved only for cribbing and broody senior officers. We also detested their company, anyways. The forward Post gave real thrill and excitement; we were on our own, commanding troops directly and with our personal example. I was Captain Rakesh Dubey, now, given the field area promotion, in my first year of service, this added more adrenaline to my already over blooming enthusiasm. I was enjoying the adventure.
It was one of the most beautiful and picturesque place, situated at approximately, 5000 to 6000 feet from the mean sea level, a snow bound area full of dense trees and thick vegetation. The forward post and picket had been sited to dominate the Line of Control, (LoC) the line demarcating limit of influence of India and Pakistan, in J&K. The deployment was not tactically sited, the overriding factor of  visually dominating the LoC was the primary concern in siting the outposts, since the tactics was overlooked, the Indian and Pakistani Post got sited dangerously close to each other. Where I was deployed, my military outpost was at a stone throw distance, from the Pakistani outpost. We could almost, peep and observe their entire activities. Inspite of the close proximity, it was still difficult to directly approach and reach each others Post on ground, this was due to the fact, that the entire area was heavily mined. The area between the LoC and our depth Post measuring approximately 1000 meters was not only mined but Booby Trapped and fenced with barbed wire. All the villages on our side of the LoC had been shifted behind the line of mountains, to be kept under our direct observation. The area which remained segregated due to this arrangement had developed into a thick forest, very difficult to penetrate; it also gave undisturbed breeding place to large number of wild animals, like wild boar,wolves, jungle fowl and hare, which we spotted almost daily. The wild panther and mountain leopard, another dangerous wild animal species; were also seen at times,    raiding our Post, whenever we received the consignment of meat on hoof (live goats), in large numbers, once a week
The wild animals had developed a very intelligent survival instinct and the skill; they cunningly avoided the mines and booby traps, rarely stepping on them. I had the similar intelligence, skill and capability to move by stealth and could reach closer to LoC unnoticed. My daily escapade, made it possible for me to dominate and map the entire stretch effectively.
On the Pakistani side the villages were located very close to the LoC and mostly inhabited by Pakistan Armies retired personals; an arrangement deliberately done by the Pakistanis to use the villages as launching pads of terrorists inside India. The entire area across the LoC was being cultivated and was clear of trees and cover. Therefore to patrol till the LoC, was difficult, as the enemy could easily observe our movement; the requirement of extreme amount of courage and bravery to dominate the LOC by physically moving near the LoC was paramount. My men thought that I was crazy, as I carried out such dangerous and fearless mission almost daily. They probably did not realize then, that I was brave and not foolhardy. Whenever, they were tasked to go on a patrol or lay an ambush, they went half way, sat cozily under a cover, came back and gave false report, I had to battle inoculate them.
It was 3pm; I ordered Riflemen Hira Singh and my JCO Vijay Singh, to accompany me that day, during my escapade to the LoC. I avoided carrying weapons, except the bayonet, which was more effective during stealth and covert operations. That day fortunately, the JCO was carrying a 7.62mm Belgium FN FAL SLR Rifle.
We moved carefully. On way, I educated my buddies in the technique to negotiate the mine fields, to locate the spot and avoid accidental tripping of the booby traps; it helped in raising  their confidence, their fear going to wind. How fast we had reached the edge of the jungle, we did not realize. The area 500 meters till the LoC was devoid of vegetation, but was rocky, with big boulders, good for covered move ahead. It was then I spotted a Pakistani, in black dress with a Rifle hung over his shoulder and a binocular, which he was using to observe something in the direction of our Post. He appeared approximately 500 to 600 meters, inside our territory. On critical observation of the place, where the Pakistani soldier was standing, it appeared that the Pakistanis had established a proper observation post, a very serious intrusion by them. They had to be dealt with severely. It was my test of leadership now; I had to demonstrate to my troops, that as a Commander, I will not accept any intrusion into the Indian side. We could not fire, because if we did that, we would attract, the attention of the Pakistani Post, which was located 100 feet, directly over our head.
The trained soldiers understand orders telepathically, they can read the commanders mind, understand his eye and hand gestures in order to understand execute his command orders effectively. I gave a tap on the JCOs shoulder, pointing in the direction, towards our side, the line of possible movement of the Pakistani soldier, and simultaneously showing him a fist and 5 fingers. The JCO understood that he has to take position inside the Jungle, to intercept the Pakistani soldiers, in case he decides to move deep inside our area. We synchronized our watches, the JCO tactically withdrew, to take his position in the stipulated 5 minutes.
I was crouched behind a boulder like a hungry Tiger, lethal and ferocious, ready to pounce on the prey, Rifleman Hira Singh was in similar position next to me, like a hungry cub, and ready to devour the meat after the kill.
GRAB THE OPPORTUNITY; IT WILL NOT LAST FOR INFINITY.
I had to act, we both were crazy; wanting to do the impossible, to catch the Pakistani alive. Five minutes had lapsed, the Pakistani soldiers started his retreat and suddenly disappeared in the confines of the broken ground. I was confident, that my JCO will not allow the Pakistani to move further inward, therefore my area of action lay only towards the LoC. We had to move fast, bayonets in our hand, menacing and ready to kill, we inched forward towards the LoC. The boulders provided ample cover, sitting bum to bum; we moved side ways, mimicking a spider, ensuring 360 degrees of clear observation. We moved along the grain of the ground and therefore moved with speed and undetected.
The Pakistani village which was right in front of us, had remained hidden from our view, due to rocky terrain and broken ground. I saw the same Pakistani soldier, entering the small house next to a water hole, forming into a small pond; there next to the pond squatted a Pakistani village woman, washing her face. We were into a peculiar situation, approximately 1000 meters inside the LoC, we knew we were in trouble, only advantage being,we were mentally ready and prepared, and in position not very far from the pond. Hira Singh tugged at my shirt, a signal to observe, and I saw the Pakistani soldier, walking in our direction. We had to act and act fast. The action was meticulously visualized and planned in that split second; Hira Singh will run from the left of the pond, in the direction of the woman, to divert attention, and I would to run from the right of the pond, after a time gap, to tackle the Pakistani soldier, and fall back here again behind the boulder. The boulder, was the point of rendezvous, before we were to plan extricate ourselves back to the safe confines our territory.
Bayonet in hand, Hira Singh ran first; he was like lightening, like a cheetah after its prey. My move had to be deliberate; I started my run, the Pakistani soldier and the Pakistani woman, did not realize the development and therefore could not assess the situation and were confused, this was advantageous to me. I reached the Pakistani soldier in no time, moving with the speed of wind. The Pakistani soldier could not believe his eyes, coming straight to him I placed a direct  shot with the base of  palm on his chin; he fell straight on the ground due to the momentum of the impact. I knew those first 30 seconds are very crucial, you delay, and he would act. I then heard a gun shot very close to my ears, almost missing me, I wasn’t hit; that is when I saw another Pakistani soldier appearing from the house and firing his weapon in Hira Singh direction. I turned from where I was , came and hit him on the ankle, he got off balance and fell flat on his back. My bayonet was in my hand, I had to act now, 30 seconds is the only time I had; as tiger, lethal and ferocious, I was ready to kill and scoot, placing the bayonet on his naval, I pushed it inside and churning it I pulled and ran back to the previous fallen Pakistani soldier; his end was also executed, in the similar lethal fashion using my deadly bayonet. I ran and reach behind the boulder, to rendezvous with Hira Singh, who had reached in time, his task accomplished. There was total commotion in the Pakistani camp, the Pakistani Army troops from the Post, which was located just 100 feet above our head came down, with their automatic weapons, and started indiscriminate firing, all over. They had not spotted us. They feared, and had presumed that the Indian Army had raided their village in the valley. The entire area was reverberating with the loud cry "Kafir Aagaya, Kafir Aagaya". The Punjabi Pakistani troops, were shouting abusively in desperation. We managed to negotiate, to quite a distance towards our territory, using cover of boulders. However, we were still a distance away from the safety of the thick jungle and busy green cover, I had warned Hira Singh to be quiet, and not to retaliate to the abusive Pakistani troops, who had still not spotted us and were therefore spraying bullets all over. That is when Hira Singh got up from the safety and cover of the boulder and shouted. Our position instantly came in their radar, they fired for effect using number of weapons with bullets flying all over and around us. The boulder splintered and the bullets became more effective, it was then I heard a close shot, I thought, it has hit me. Hira Singh flew backwards with the impact. He had been hit. The bullet pierced from front, below his left shoulder, missing all the vital organs, it retracted from the rear, from below the right shoulder blade.
I evacuated Hira Singh, to the safety of the jungle cover, The JCO did the rest; he was shifted to the Field Hospital at Rajouri in J&K, by the fastest means. Riflemen Hira Singh recovered after few months and was declared fit for war. I had battle inoculated my troops, successfully.

"Battles are not won sitting in safety of  the War Room. Battles are won on the ground, by the officers and men of  the Indian Army, provided they are trained, motivated and battle inoculated.

My Learned wife, Vanita Dubey, my inspiration; always have an appropriate sermon to offer. "Plan what you can execute, and execute what you have planned".

This is a true account of an army incident. The real action sequences narrated, had taken place in the battle condition with the soldiers of the enemy country. It is a professionally executed job by the trained soldier’s of the Indian Army. The actions are dangerous and not to be mimicked or copied by anyone for actual/ fun.

COL RAKESH DUBEY, VrC (THEN MAJOR) ENCOUNTER WITH CELEBRITY WRITER ANITA PRATAP /ISLAND OF BLOOD ON IPKF AND SRILANKA

EXCERPT FROM HER BEST SELLING BOOK

,"A tall officer strode in and the Indian sentries rushed to tell him the good news--- -------The officer was immediately suspicious. He was young, smart and rather handsome in his combat fatigues. His name was stitched on the breast pocket of his uniform. It said "Dubey." He scanned us carefully. -----------------------then he looked me up and down again, slowly taking in every detail. -------You are Anita Pratap?" ------Anita Pratap the journalist? My heart sank to the soles of my bare feet. What cursed luck, to be recognized by some middle-ranking Indian Army officer who actually read magazines-----------------suddenly, the officer burst out laughing.---------------------" I can't believe you are Anita Pratap -----------------------."But you are so ugly!” he said convulsing with laughter,-------------------------I was miffed. I mean, I don't have fancy notion about my beauty, but nobody had called me a witch before. But there was so much mirth in the man, I couldn’t take offense, even though I wasn’t particularly pleased.------------------"By the way, I am Major Dubey---------------he said extending his hand to me------------------------------Major Dubey sat down, shaking his hand in wonder---------------"You may not be good looking as people say, but you certainly are tougher. It would be wrong to send you back. So you carry on to Jaffna while I look the other way. We have never met? OK -------------I was so overjoyed, I could have hugged him. -------------THANKS so much. I owe you one on this. You won’t regret it. YOUR GESTURE HAS MADE THE INDIAN ARMY RISE IN MY ESTEEM. Truly! “My gratitude has made me flatter him shamelessly, though I meant every word I said." I hope we can meet some day in better circumstances, and I can assure you that I normally look better than this. --------------------Thanks for everything, and for really not meeting you,” I gushed with a big smile.” Can I have your card?" asked Dubey, then pocketed it with a smile” I will be in touch.” I have never met him, but we corresponded for a while, exchanging bits of gossip and news---------------------.
This episode took place near a place called NAVATKULE in Sri Lanka on way to Jaffna, a place where I and my coy was dropped by helicopters, into the LTTE stronghold. We pierced the LTTE impregnable ring, fighting our way through to ultimately capture Jaffna.
IN OUR GALLANT AND COURAGEOUS BATTLE FOR CAPTURE OF JAFFNA STRONGHOLD, I AND MY INFANTRY COMBAT SOLDIERS, MENACINGLY DEADLY AND FIERCELY LETHAL MARATHA COMPANY, FOUGHT FEARLESSLY, FIGHTING HAND TO HAND, WHEN OUR AMMUNITION DEPLETED. WE KILLED; SUFFERING CASUALTIES. MY BRAVE MARATHA SOLDIERS FOUGHT WITH BRAVERY UNIMAGINABLE. THE NATION WAS PROUD OF US. FOR MY CONSPICUOUS BRAVERY OF VERY HIGH ORDER, BEYOND THE CALL OF DUTY;  I WAS DECORATED WITH THE GALLANTRY AWARD OF "VEER CHAKRA" BY THE HONORABLE "PRESIDENT OF INDIA".

WHEN THE GENERALS DOG DIED THE ENTIRE STATION WAS IN ATTENDANCE AND WHEN THE GENERAL DIED NONE CAME

Annual Confidential Report is very important in the Indian Army; and rightfully it should be related to your year’s professional out put. Nevertheless, it does not happen that way, the report undergoes total change at the last moment, depending upon the ingenious method of pleasing, the officers desirous of good report adopts. Some thing similar was to unfold at Gwalior. The officer was clever, he promised the Brigadier, that he can arrange free lift, in Air Force aircraft, to Chandigarh, whenever he desired. The Brigadier, made frequent trips to Chandigarh, nobody knew, why? This was quite an offer, as journey by train was painful, and getting reservation every time was also not easy. The time for the test arrived, the Brigadier was honorably seated in the air craft, he had no luggage as, he was going home and the flight time was hardly 45 minutes. The air craft took off, things were going fine, calculated the officer, job well done. Thanking his Air Force connections, the satisfied officer proceeded home. It was time to celebrate in the evening, come on gentlemen, the drinks are on the house, he announced. Yes! He said. Any help to anyone, any time. All were two to three drinks down, music was loud. The officer gave a smug smile, the report will certainly be outstanding, and the Brigadier is going to endorse the report on return, he was sure. A phone call for you Sir, someone shouted. Get the cordless. I suggest, you do not speak Sir, advised the junior officer, the one who had informed about the phone call; Why, asked the officer? The Brigadier is on the phone, fuming, the aircraft has landed him at LEH in Kashmir, and there is no scope of its take off from LEH today. Use your connection to get him off from that place, he is ordering
That was the end of, the officer’s bright future; the Brigadier was stranded in LEH for a week
.
Indian Army is a thoroughly professional army. The officers are constantly on move, to attend with regularity, War Games, Tactical discussions and actual Combat training exercises with troops.
The General was a master tactical prowess, a great strategic planner; he was known to leave nothing to chance. The General arrived in time, thanks to the Indian Railways and was received by a smart young officer. Good morning Sir, I will be your liaison officer during your stay here. Yes! Yes! Good morning, get these suitcases collected, the General ordered. As customary, the General shook hands with the young officer, simultaneously, enquiring every thing about him. He handed his return ticket to the young officer; get the reservation confirmed, was his next order. The General was escorted to the Army’s black ambassador car, after ensuring, the car star plates were correct as per his rank, the General sat inside. The travel time was approximately half an hour from the station to the officer’s mess; the time was rightfully, utilized by the young officer to update the General, of his engagements. Well! Thanks said the General, I will not be requiring your assistance for next two days, kindly ensure my return reservation and see me off on the last day. It was a dream come true for the young officer, officially he is supposed to be with the General, and here the General does not require him. Total break from the army’s tough life for two days, for the return reservation the Movement Control Officer (MCO), located at the railway station will be tasked
How fast the time passes the young officer did not realize, well the MCO had done his duty, and the reservation was confirmed. The young officer’s men were already at the station, to inform him about the train’s time of arrival. The General was escorted, to the railway station, ensuring that his and the trains arrival was so synchronized, that the General straight away boarded the train. The General was happy, things were as per plan. Thanks, he told the young officer, any thing I can do for you? The young officer was quite bold, yes! Sir, I want, to request you for my posting to Delhi. Well! That shouldn’t be a problem? I will get it done, said the General. Give your details. A duty well performed, the young officer, presented one of the smartest salute to the General and left, the train had already started moving. What a satisfaction, very soon I will move to Delhi, on a comfortable appointment, away from the hardship of the combat battalion. It certainly calls for a nice chilled Beer in the club, Cheers! Delhi. Nice girls. What a life.
Sir, the Commanding Officer (CO) is frantically looking for you, kindly leave for the battalion straightaway, informed the waiter. Yap, it must be to thank me, I think. Which train, did you board the General? The CO was fuming, The General has reached Bhopal, and he was to go to Delhi, do you know, there are UP and Down trains, the name may be similar.
The young officer did receive his posting order, but to the highest military out post in Arunachal Pradesh.
THERE IS A LESSON TO LEARN MY FRIENDS. MY LEARNED WIFE VANITA ALWAYS SERMONS, YOU AT LEAST HAVE SOMETHING IN LIFE, BUT TO MANIPULATE FOR THAT ONE THING YOU MAY LAND
UP LOSING EVERYTHING.

AMUSING REAL ARMY INCIDENTS; DO GIVE YOUR COMMENTS

BABA IN YOUR BED ROOM

Every morning, every day, without fail, "Ramdeo Baba" is in your bed room. He wants to communicate some thing important to you, I think? His dedication and Perseverance does not seem to wither. "But he is primitive, his clientele is generally rural, does he know English"? The lady seated next to me, during a formal sitting in dinner party, uttered softly. "Do you, exercise, madam"? I asked. She appeared starved thin and not exercised fit; "Yes" she replied, "I go for Kick Boxing and Aerobics". It is a fashion, I presume to be part of such fast mushrooming pseudo exercise club centers. The gentleman, on my other side played golf, the one in front was regular at tennis, but none of them were eating any thing? Why? "I wondered". I was enjoying, every dish prepared and served. It was later revealed, that the lady was on insulin, the other was having high blood pressure and the one in front was suffering from severe joint pain. The regular soft exercise regime in the cozy air conditioned environment of posh clubs, was making no difference to their modern life style misery. 
We were deployed on the heights the Saichen Glacier, the highest battle field in the world. A virtual war zone, where there is perennial day and night threat of enemy intrusion along with permanent survival excercise; the most dangerous and extreme rough terrain under hazardous and difficult weather conditions. You have to be there at the glacier and undergo a personal experience to understand the vagaries of that horrific, although beautiful place. It is the Infantry combat soldier of the great Indian Army which operates on those heights, beyond imagination and reach of any other army in the world. The  precarious heights where only expert and trained mountaineers did expeditions, earlier. The training is highly specialized, the fighting technique extremely sophisticated with emphasis on survival training of very high order at 18000ft and above. There is age a limit for the Indian Army combat soldiers to operate on the Saichen Glacier heights, a tough and detail medical examination is carried out before we are made combat fit to militarily operate on the precarious, precipice Glaciated top. The normal temperature during winter is minus 50 degree Celsius. During bright sunny days, the ice surface reflects pure ultra violets rays; any direct eye exposure can cause permanent blindness. The place is solid ice; the best of digging equipment fail to create even a small dent on the ice surface. Water is not available, only way is to melt ice to drink water. There is absolutely no appetite due to severe and extreme high altitude conditions that is in spite of the best availability of nutritious and ready to eat food. Oxygen is scarcely inadequate; we remain breathless most of the time. It is very difficult to take bath, shave and change clothes on those conditions. A misconception that drinks prevent cold is put to rest, there is total prohibition on the glacier. Drinks dehydrate the body. No metallic thing can be touched with your bare hand in that temperature, it is like holding a red hot iron, the skin peels with flesh. The clothing supplied is the best in the world, but it is certainly not the best on those heights and conditions. It protects you from cold till the time you are on the move, but the moment you are inactive, you freeze. One has to fall back into the warmth of the fiber glass huts during inactivity. The tenure on the glacier takes a heavy toll of the Infantry Combat Soldiers body, both medically and physiologically. Nothing can compensate the damage suffered by us.
My entire inner system had to be set in place, I thought? The constant, climbing of steep Ice walls and negotiating crevices, during daily combat patrols, was telling on my body. I had to remain fit, as no medicine is my resolution.
The "Ramdeo Baba" continued his foray into the bed room, the elitist were against him, as he did not match up with their style and culture. A man was outdated and a down market.
I did confront Ramdeo Baba; I found him to be a total miracle, a wonder, he speaks from the Hindu Vedic scriptures, no Religion, only pure Hindu system of health and exercise. The elitist, and all those who are on constant life support medicines for ailments, which has no known cure are really missing something important. It’s their bad luck. Amusing? How complacent they are towards their poor and deteriorating health condition.
I had to go through my periodic medical examination; a thorough medical check up in the Military Hospital. The Army doctor, who was finally endorsing my medical report, was surprised in disbelieve, "How can it be", he said? "Your report is as per our medical manual, ditto". "You are perfect fit". "Thanks", I said. "No! No! Do not thank me", he said. "No" I said. "I am thanking Ramdeo Baba, who disturbs many in the morning". He did not understand the meaning of my utterance and I had no desire to explain to him, the reason of my joy. I took my report and left.
Our Army exercise tables have been taken from the British Army; fortunately, the British have copied it from our Vedic Scriptures, the Yogic exercises which the Baba teaches. His Pranayam, the Yoga, the exercises of the outer body and the inner organs, mind and soul, which he teaches and explains with so clarity and transparency, that you need no book to be consulted thereafter. Apprising of benefits, each exercise ritual does to your organs and body.
Your High/ Low Blood pressure, Diabetes, Joint pains etc, will get aggravated if you venture on an unscientific exercise routine in a gymnasium, golf course, long walk etc. The daily intake of medicine to control ailment/ disease along with strenuous unscientific exercise is a deadly combination causing fatal results instead of benefits. The modern medicine has no cure for these ailments, it can only control. Try Pranayam and Yoga to feel the wonder.
I remember having frequent allergic cold in Bangalore; no amount of medicine could cure it. The doctors gave only one advice; leave Bangalore, as this place does not suit people prone to cold. I started Pranayam daily, and the cold has vanished for ever. I take no medicine ever and I suffer from no ailments, remaining fit to do any kind of strenuous exercise, I run daily at the speed of, 7.5 miles per hour for 20 minutes, do my biceps and triceps exercise with 60 kg weight in each hand, my chest exercise regime with 100 kg weight, shoulders and back with equal amount of heavy weights. My hair line has not receded; it is as thick as ever, still have to shave hair from my forehead. I never discuss my age and never celebrate my birthday.
I am no extraordinary man, and therefore I advise that each one of us can live healthy, without being dependent on medicines. The excuses that my working, living, eating condition and the vagaries of nature and place of work, are the reason of my poor and ill health is a weak argument. Nothing can be worse than the glacier. My wife "Vanita Dubey" always propagates, if you are healthy, every one will enjoy your healthy company, but if you are sick and on the bed, the agony will be yours, no one can share your pain, your dear one can only watch you suffer.
WAKE UP! BEFORE IT IS LATE "RAMDEO BABA" IS IN YOUR BED ROOM WITH SOME USEFUL MESSAGE.
I did visit the kick boxing class with the lady. The instructor was a black belt. "Welcome", he said, to me. "I have been teaching people kick boxing, so that they can protect themselves and remain fit". The lady was all thrilled by his introduction, she felt privileged. "Demonstrate", I said. "Oh! Yes", He came and stood in front of me, forming himself in a position to attack, it was enough provocation, and I swung my left leg, hitting him straight on the right cheek. In the Army we are taught to hit the neck, that is fatal, I deliberately avoided that. The instructor lay in pain, "What should I do"? He cried. "Nothing", I said, "Take a deep breath". I left the place, followed by the lady. She never came back for the Kick Boxing class ever.
Take a deep breath; hold it for 2 minutes, not more. Exhale, by Resonating "OM" through the mouth, it will soothe and massage your internal system. "OM has thousand meaning and has 1000 cure".
BASED ON A TRUE LIFE INCIDENTS. DO GIVE YOUR AND COMMENTS

BE A ROLE MODEL NOT A ROGUE MODEL

I was deployed in Jammu and Kashmir and given the task to search and flush suspected Pakistani armed intruders, if any; from the villages located on the base of the Pir Panjal Ranges in J&K. The task required my moving outside the safe confines of the well fortified defensive positions and camp into the open mountain plains and jungles of J&K. The atmosphere fortunately during those days was still friendly and serene, and therefore moving outside of our safe defenses and to camp in open was not difficult .My camp was established near the road head, and I got on to my task straightaway. It was not an easy assignment, every house of villages in the near vicinity was required to be thoroughly searched for militants, weapons, explosives or any war like material; meaning entering their privacy. Therefore, there was all the danger of creating disturbance to their woman folks with full scope of antagonism towards our action. It was one evening, a total surprise awaited me, a group of approximately fifty women, children and men, after being off loaded from the bus, straightaway came to my camp. Fearing the worse, apprehensive of trouble, presuming, that my combat troops, during the house searches; inadvertently, must have got into some kind of problem with this crowd and therefore this force approach to my camp by the villagers.
"Janab"! "We are late now to reach our village, and it is unsafe for our woman folks to travel along with us, at this time of the day, can we therefore leave our women folks, children and these two old men in safety of your camp tonight, before rest of us proceed to our village without worry". "Kindly do not refuse Saab, because we know you are a very good man and a thorough gentleman; during your daily search operations, your soldier have been found, to be highly disciplined, respectful and never seen or found to touch, harass and intrude or disturb the privacy of the women folks nor did they ever disrespect the old. It has never happened earlier. You are our role model Saab", he said! Expressing, that in his style.
The Sri Lanka military combat operations were very difficult, even for the most hardened and seasoned combat soldiers. The Indian Army was operating in an alien land, for a cause which the normal citizens of India were not aligning with and the right decision of the Indian Government was being questioned. In spite of all these odds, the Indian Army’s Infantry combat soldier was making the supreme sacrifice, unabated. I was a very important member of this team, we fought bravely regardless of safety to our life, being the combat soldiers of the elite Indian Army. In my pursuit for victory, I must have inadvertently; though I was always careful, must have caused pain to many en route. LTTE was ruthless, it warned and gave threat to many Indian Army officers;they were meticulous, cunning, cleaver and therefore always executed their threats smoothly and successfully. It was on one such occasion, the LTTE ambush party in a crowded market place, threw a grenade inside my jeep. The grenade did not explode, fortunately; we manage to catch the LTTE cadre. On checking it was found that the grenade was without its fuse. Why,we wondered? On interrogation, the cadre revealed, that in spite of LTTE dictate, the cadre which comes from the general population did not want to kill me, he further disclosed, that in view of that he had removed the fuse from the grenade. He also confessed that they respected Maj Rakesh Dubey,Vir Chakra as the perfect Combat Soldier, he and his combat troops, never in any military operations showed disrespect to any women folk, girls or harass anyone old or weak. The captured LTTE cadre also disclosed, that it was a well known fact amongst the LTTE, that Maj Rakesh Dubey,Vir Chakra and his combat troops never adopted or used any kind of third degree method during interrogation of their captured cadre. Information traveled very fast in military operations, was evidently clear. It was further disclosed by the captured LTTE cadre that the LTTE would never kill, Maj Rakesh Dubey, Vir Chakra, by deceit, because he was brave, strong and fought like a true brave combat soldier with rules of engagement I was their "Role Model" I presume and believe?
In Jhansi, I was regular in attending a well equipped gymnasium, in civil area. My driver, due to my daily visit had selected an exclusive spot, for the vehicle parking. None would take liberty to park their vehicle at that designated place.
But, one fine evening, when I came to the gym, it was seen that two motor bikes were parked on that particular spot. I knew my driver would get it vacated by the strength of military force and authority, but I never wanted that to happen. I therefore, instructed him to park the vehicle at some other place. Few youth standing a little distance away were observing the entire incident, rather heard the conversation between me and the driver. The moment I got down and was walking towards the gymnasium, all of them approached me. "Sir"! They said, "We are proud to meet you and talk, anyone else in your place and authority, would have thrown our motor bikes out from that place and spot. You are a different man, Sir! Different from the rest. You are, A ROLE MODEL, to all of us. And they took my autograph.
All the above incidents are normal, a duty and conduct, all responsible man in authority are supposed to perform. If we are conscious of this simple fact, "WE BECOME A ROLE MODEL" to people around us, and if we are casual in our thinking and approach, we are "A ROGUE MODEL TO THE SOCIETY". Everyone can become "A ROLE MODEL" to people around. Pick up that "NATIONAL FLAG", thrown by the reveler on the road, after the "REPUBLIC DAY CELEBRATION". Help that old man cross the road, the one who blocks your car, rather than keep sitting in your car cribbing. "BE A ROLE MODEL", by saying "NO TO DOWRY" and "NO TO PORNOGRAPHY" because you can prevent someone’s mother, sister and daughter from exploitation somewhere . There are thousands of reasons and ways, which can make you "A ROLE MODEL", therefore go ahead and be one for the society.
ALL THE INCIDENTS ARE TRUE. DO GIVE YOUR COMMENTS

SOLDIER, MAKE GOODNESS AN ADDICTION, AND ENSURE IT GETS CONTAGIOUS

(A true incident which made my life, and can make yours if you try.)
The train from Jabalpur arrived late at Delhi railway station, nothing new; this was the problem every time. I had to rush and run on the platform, rucksack on my back, to catch the train. Shatabdi should have departed by now to Chandigarh.
Glad! I some how made it to the train, which was sliding from the platform. Holding the bars of the door, I tried to board it. It is then I realized, that a boy in front of me, was blocking my way? “Chandigarh Jana hai.”He retorted, “Than go inside” I said loudly, "train is moving", I added, " Is it the right train"? He again blurted. I had no choice, but to push him inside, to board the train in time. "We have made it", I said, "we would have missed the train, the way you were deciding"? I tried to explain to the boy. He was perplexed. I was wondering, looking at him, as the boy seem extremely poor, with poor clothing and a mere torn cotton bag as his belonging, and therefore was appearing, in AC chair car compartment; visibly out of place. Well, he may be having reasons, to be here -- I thought!!. Pushing the glass door, I made my way inside the AC cool compartment, nice and cool gust of AC was soothing; Selecting a vacant seat, I sat down.
"The Indian Railways has gone to dogs", she said. I turned my face, near the widow seat, I noticed her, a beautiful lady, although her face now was in scrimmage, not happy as the train was departing 10 minutes late. "Yes I said, but had it departed in time, I and the other boy would have missed the train".
Where is the boy? I looked around. That is the time I noticed, the boy was having some problem with the Ticket Collector, few other passengers were also crowding over him.Sensing some trouble, I got up and went outside. “He is a ticket less traveler;” the on lookers, standing in circle around the same boy, who had boarded the train with me; shouted in one tone, "they are thieves”. "Do not let him in" they all added.
“He has a Ticket” I shouted, "leave him", I said, flashing my Vir Chakra, Gallantry Award, Government of India,  Railway Free Pass, “he is with me.” The over zealous passenger shouting around him, were now left astounded.
I took the boy inside and offered him the seat in-between me and the disgruntled, beautiful lady. “Who is he?” she complained, shrinking in her seat, “do you have a ticket”, she asked the boy. "No", he said, than “why are you here?” “I do not know?” He said. What! She screamed. She got up and went to the ticket collector, never returning back, probably, she was able to manage a better seat.
The boy was a poor farm labour, going to seek work in Chandigarh. Meal was served; we were hungry and enjoyed the wonderful journey, of course with discomfort to other elite passengers. I did a good deed, this was probably the first time the poor boy felt and enjoyed comfort and coolness of an AC coach.
WE ALL HAVE THAT STREAK OF GOODNESS IN US, BUT HOW OFTEN WE DARE TO TAKE THAT STEP. MY WIFE VANITA DUBEY, ALWAYS TELLS ME, DO A GOOD DEED; HE MAY NOT BE ABLE TO REPAY IT. BUT SOMEDAY, SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE ELSE WILL REPAY YOU WHEN YOU ARE IN NEED.
THIS IS A TRUE STORY.

YES! WE KILLED HER

I Maj Rakesh Dubey,VirChakra, along with my fierce and lethal fighting machine, the menacing Maratha Guerrillas; was Helicopter dropped on the outskirt, south of Jaffna. We were allotted a dedicated flight of 4 X MI-17 huge transport combat helicopters, to land by slithering from Helicopter hovering at the height of 100 feet. The two and fro flight time from Palali military airfield to the highly volatile and explosive battle zone at Navatkuli, at extreme fast speed and under dangerous heavy weapon enemy fire; was approximately 35/40 minutes. We were well trained professional combat group of 68 dangerous combat soldiers and with our equipment and lethal weapon consignment load, the 4X MI 17 carried out 3 X one way sorties. I Maj Rakesh Dubey,Vir Chakra was tasked to lead the attack into Jaffna, after many earlier combat groups having miserably failed. Our attack and entry into Jaffna was preceded by disconnecting the electricity supply of the entire Jaffna Peninsula and ensuring through leaflet drops, from high flying dedicated Psychological Warfare Combat Aircraft and via Artillery Long Range Guns. The leaflets instructing the civilian population of Jaffna to vacate the entire Peninsula and shift to designated safe transit camps. A definite time frame had been announced for Jaffna residents, the time limit deadline was now over and it was safely assumed that the Jaffna Peninsula had been vacated and now only Liberation Tiger of Tamil Elam (LTTE) militants were operating in the entire area. The freedom to execute our military deadly combat operations against the LTTE, without fear of any collateral damage to the innocent civilians; was now possible. I Maj Rakesh Dubey,Vir Chakra and my lethal and deadly Maratha combat soldiers, single handed captured Jaffna; the Head Quarter of LTTE and Command Centre of the most dangerous and cunning LTTE Supremo Prabhakaran. The battle of Jaffna was most fierce, it is estimated that the casualties suffered by the Indian Army was more than, what it had suffered in 1965 war. In my successful pursuit to capture, defeat and ultimately destroy the might of LTTE in Jaffna, my menacingly professional combat outfit did suffer casualties both wounded and martyred; but despite the odds of fighting in an alien land, unknown terrain, harsh tropical rain forest jungles, our combat military achievements far exceed the LTTE enormous effort of placing its entire might against us. The LTTE had realized that the combination of menacing Maj Rakesh Dubey,Vir Chakra and the fierce Maratha combat soldiers was difficult to defeat. LTTE for the first time after Indian Army entry, into the Sri Lanka conflict; suffered heavy casualties both severely wounded and large number of their cadre as dead. I captured Jaffna, and was declared the Hero of the Jaffna war, with The Army Commander personally announcing my coveted gallantry decoration for conspicuous bravery of very high order. I was instructed to remain deployed in Jaffna and to hold and control Jaffna town, being totally in know of the entire area; as it was captured by me and my fierce combat outfit single handed.

WHEN SOMEONE YOU LOVE BECOME A MEMORY. THE MEMORY BECOMES A TREASURE.

The tall Tamil middle age gentleman stood outside his bungalow gate, open heartedly welcoming me. He a Tamil Brahman, in his fifties; along with his four tall, smart and movie star like handsome sons were extremely happy and pleased to welcome me. The family was aware of my frequent military foray in that area, and was therefore waiting that day to draw my attention, to welcome me in their house. Their presence in front of the gate was to conspicuous to be missed, I signaled my driver to stop in front of their house, and got down from my combat jeep. I was in my battle gear, accompanied as always by my men who were fearless fighting machine, and therefore felt slightly odd to visit a known civilian family. I stepped forward to meet all of them in front of the gate. I couldn’t reciprocate with the same zeal and happiness, for the reason best known to all of us; the state which these proud Tamils were so bravely exhibiting. We shook hands and I hugged each one of them affectionately. I was very lovingly escorted inside the gate and it is then I noticed in full view a very obvious and prominent landmark inside the compound, a “Grave”, a place nicely done up and decorated. I was fully aware of this place and therefore couldn’t stop myself from being attracted to the spot. It reminded me of an incident, with tear drops on my cheek; I touched the Grave in reverence and prayed.

DO NOT THINK THERE IS NO DANGER BECAUSE THE WATER IS CALM.

Jaffna saw one of the most Fierce and deadliest battle of the Indian Army in close combat in built up areas fighting the LTTE, the most dreaded militant group in the world. It was purely an Infantry Battle, man to man without technology and with no heavy weapon support. The Survival, during combat in Sri Lanka was purely on local resources. Indian Infantry combat Soldier was Tough and Resilient he feared only his God. Jaffna town and the entire peninsula had been vacated of all civilians, shifting them into camps outside Jaffna. Therefore in the entire Combat Zone of Jaffna we had only LTTE militants to fight and destroy.

The flash back was terrible; I could and will never forget the “Grave”. There was lull in the battle that day; the Jaffna had fallen in my hands with heavy cost to my brave combat outfit, losing my brave and gallant combat soldiers with some being severely wounded. I Maj Rakesh Dubey,Vir Chakra and my brave Maratha combat outfit had killed the LTTE in large strength, killing them at close quarters, hand to hand with our Khukri and Bayonets. We were holding ground and now deployed near a heritage mammoth structure called “Residency”, but popularly referred by the LTTE cadre as “Old Park”.

THERE IS NOTHING WORSE THAN MEETING THE PERFECT PERSON AT THE WRONG TIME.

A team of “Special Forces” Parachute Commandos somehow manage to establish contact with me, their sole aim this time was humanitarian; conveying a frantic request from a Tamil Brahmin Technocrat, located in a safe Camp outside Jaffna; the gentleman wanted to desperately meet me, and he knew my name. I agreed. The “Special Forces” Para Commando team provided the Tamil Gentleman a safe passage and escorted him and few of his close friends and relative; to reach my location early morning the next day. I was about to hear and encounter something terrible, the discloser of a fact and incident for which I was not prepared. The Tamil gentleman requested for burial of his wife in the compound of the house which we unfortunately were occupying as part of our deployment.  “We do not bury our dead being a Hindu”, he said. Surprising I thought, and here he was requesting us to help bury his wife next to his bedroom window. He started crying, uncontrollably, “where is the body of the lady?” I inquired. “I desperately, would need your help”, he said and led us to a spot approximately 1000 meter away from our location; inside the compound of another palatial house. Lifting bodies was not our task, however I instructed my troops to ferry the body of the lady, from approximately a kilometer; to the spot where the Tamil gentleman wanted to bury her, it started raining, a tropical weather always under overcast. The body had badly swollen slightly decomposed; she was dressed in a costly sari; adorning heavy Gold ornaments on herself. This was probably due to the fact that, they had no safe place in the Transit Camp to keep such costly items. My Troops dug and prepared the Grave, burying her as per his desire. The last rites as per Hindu rituals were performed by the Tamil Brahmin gentleman himself.

THE INCIDENT THAT OCCURRED, HAPPENED RAPIDLY AND WAS TOTALLY UNFORESEEN

Jaffna was the highly volatile combat zone; the instruction to my troops was shoot first than ask question, and with LTTE, we could not afford to be complacent at any moment or time.  Since Jaffna had been vacated of all the civilian population my troops were operating with freedom and having no fear of any collateral damage to civilians and therefore had shot at the target intruder two previous nights; it was a precision shot from our Telescopic Rifle. The lady was not supposed to be there, slipping away from the Transit Camp at that time of the night. She along with her son holding a folded umbrella was trying to approach the house in the dark. The intruder appeared at that distance and at night as someone holding a weapon in hand approaching our defenses. It was a single Telescopic Rifle shot and She Fell Dead. Another single shot was fired at another moving target, it was her son accompanying her, who fortunately managed to slip unscathed and ran back to the safety of Transit Camp; narrating the entire episode to his father in detail. I withheld nothing from the bereaved brave Tamil Gentleman; I owned up and accepted my responsibility, the damage had been done and it was a colossal loss to the family. War I thought brings so much of a pain to your heart; I did not know how he and his brave sons will cope with loss in life; apart from feeling sorry I could do nothing. The Tamil Brahmin Gentleman, left back for the camp escorted by the Special Forces team. I do not know why? The man had no malice against me; before parting, he held and hugged me tightly, crying his guts out; I did not stop him and held him in that position till he desired and released me. We bid Bye to each other.

MISTAKES ARE ALWAYS FORGIVABLE IF ONE HAS THE COURAGE TO ACCEPT THEM.

I was visiting that house for the first time after that incident. Jaffna was now inhabited, the entire civilian population had been asked by the Indian Army to return back to their homes. The Tamilian Family escorted me to their sitting room, we sat down. “Sir”! He said, “A Head Quarter has been established in the Residency building, to look into and accept any report from the public of Jaffna, to disburse War Compensation to those, who have Lost Property and Life during the IPKF Operations”. He continued by asking “What should we do Sir”? “You should claim the unfortunate Loss of your Wife”, I said. “Get a blank sheet of paper”, I requested. On the paper I wrote in bold letters.

“THIS FAMILY HAS SUFFERED A LOSS OF A MOTHER TO THREE SONS, A WIFE, A SOLE MANAGER OF THIS GREAT TOUGH FAMILY; THEY HAVE LOST THEIR MOTIVATION TO LIVE; DUE TO MY COMBAT ACTION, UNDER MY ORDERS AND COMMAND. I THEREFORE REQUEST THAT ALL NECESSARY HELP AND COMPENSATION BE GIVEN TO THIS UNFORTUNATE FAMILY”. And I put my signature, writing my Rank, Name and Designation boldly, and handed the note to the Tamil Family.

The Tamil gentleman took the paper and read it loudly, repeating the reading several times, and gave the slip back to me. “No”, he said, “I cannot take it; it may affect your career, your future in the Army”. I stood, getting up from the sofa to leave and placing the signed note on the table. “Do not worry” I said, “Your loss is bigger, larger and huge than my career”. They did not know how to react, and before they could again attempt to handover the said note back to me, I shook hand, hugged each one of them and left. I could see them waving their hand, standing near the gate; till my silhouette was visible.
Much time had elapsed and after many months, I happen to be there, right in front of their house. I was now carrying out combat military operations in another difficult jungle area in the neck of Jaffna Peninsula, towards Colombo, and therefore my frequency of visit this side had reduced.

AT SOME POINT, YOU HAVE TO REALIZE THAT SOME PEOPLE STAY

IN YOUR HEART, BUT NOT IN YOUR LIFE

I saw the three boys standing near their compound gate, it seems they had premonition of my visit. I stopped my jeep and got down to meet them, they rushed out to welcome me. After our formal hand shake, I proceeded towards the “Grave” to pay my obeisance and respect to the departed soul, their “mother”; I bowed and touched the “Grave” and prayed, my combat protection followed and did the same. It is then that I noticed the Tamil gentleman coming out from his house, I turned towards him, he came closer and hugged me, I could see that he was carrying the same “Umbrella” with him, my troops also noticed. “How are you”? I asked, “And did you receive the compensation”; and at that moment, I noticed the said note held in his hand; “No”! He said, “We cannot put your military service in trouble. Kindly take this letter back. You are a brave and a great warrior Sir”, he continued; “I would like my sons to be like you”. He said. He was crying holding the umbrella closer to his chest. “Our Salute” he said, “To You and the Indian Army”.

 
“Tamils are tough and surely can make great sacrifice, I could easily surmise. I have therefore developed an unending respect and love for this unique class” I shall always pray for their well being, I decided.

 
I bid farewell to this extraordinary brave Tamil Family, “We would probably never meet”? I said, “As my combat military operations were taking me away from your location and therefore I have come to say final Bye to you all”. My statement came like a bolt to them, crying loudly, all of them came closer, held and hugged me tightly and won’t leave; “their another close family member was leaving for good”, they said. All four Brave Tamils, walked with me, holding my hand and escorted me to my jeep. I understood that “AT SOME POINT, YOU HAVE TO REALIZE THAT SOME PEOPLE STAY IN YOUR HEART, BUT NOT IN YOUR LIFE”

My wife Vanita Dubey, after reading my true and real combat action narration, with connected loss of valuable lives; very aptly commented, “IF WAR IS THE ANSWER, THAN WE ARE ASKING THE WRONG QUESTION.”

I RELEASED A DREADED TERRORIST

Punjab and Sardar were always known for their big heart, great fun and tough people, a martial race, an apparent symbol of pride, for India. Hindus were Sikhs and Sikhs were Hindus, their origin, their parents and therefore their blood was same, and they were aware that “THEY WERE NOTHING WITHOUT BROTHERHOOD.” This obvious fact did not go down well with Pakistan, a known failed state of the Indian Sub Continent, India’s belligerent neighbor. Rest is History, militancy struck Punjab like a bolt from the blue during 1980, exploiting the martial contents of the Jat Sikhs against its own Indian brothers; the unfortunate dark phase of the Punjab’s glorious history. It was during late eighties, the Indian Army combat soldiers, including brave Sikhs soldiers; were deployed in Punjab to put a final stop and end to this grave menace plaguing the good fortune of Punjab. Our mandate was clear, no collateral damage but maximum hit to the militants. I Maj Rakesh Dubey,Vir Chakra was part of this combat menacing and lethal force, my Area of Combat Operation extended from Mohali near Chandigarh; to Anandpur Saab and beyond, till and near Himachal Pradesh state border; an extremely large area to dominate and to carry out Lethal Combat Military Operations.

A PERSON’S ACTION WILL TELL YOU EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW.

He was unusually very tall, well build and extremely handsome old man, on all probability over 80 years of age. He had a personality, surely an envy of every male ego, this old tough and smart Sardar, stood in the middle of the road, blocking the move of my combat jeep forward; his action was dangerous to his own survival, intimidating, inviting instant retaliation from my combat soldiers. We were professionals; well trained, and used to such unpredictable steps by strangers in highly volatile explosive environment. We would therefore, not do anything or react aggressively until and unless the opponent flashed is weapon to fire. The tall old man did nothing or took any action of that kind, he stood firm and fixed to the place, the spot, where he had appeared suddenly from in-between the morning mist and winter dew. The handsome old man was smartly dressed, in his traditional Punjabi tight white pajamas’ and knee length white coat. His appearance in immaculate dress seems unexplained at this time of the morning, we were combat soldiers, for us this was a routine movement, a regular combat military patrolling. The old man unexplained action was more surprising, because public avoided confronting us, they generally ensured to keep away and at distance from us. I ordered the jeep to move little closer, towards the tall old man. It was when we were at arms length from him, our weapons poised for action; the tall old man clicked his heels, presenting a smart military salute to me. The man was a veteran soldier, wearing his medals on his white coat, many of them earned for gallantry in war. Surprising, as it seem, the old man was crying, standing ram rod straight, without movement, like a tough professional combat soldier. I alighted from the jeep and responded by saluting back, extending my hand for a warm handshake, the old man did not extend his hand, infact he took a step forward and gave me a tight hug with tears still continuously rolling down his cheeks. He was a war veteran, having fought in 1^st and 2^nd world war with gallantry, a war wounded, who had contributed immensely to the pride of this great Nation India. The tall old soldier was also carrying an album, as a proof of his military adventure all over the globe and in India, though the photographs were few and meager, it definitely established the honesty, dedication and sincerity of Indian Army Soldiers.

CRYING ISN’T A SIGN OF WEAKNESS. IT’S A SIGN OF HAVING TRIED TOO HARD TO BE STRONG FOR TOO LONG.

Those were the times when Punjab Police, would get intelligence of militant movement of youths, who had crossed over to Pakistan for terrorist training; and were returning back to Punjab for subversive and militant activities, to cause death and mayhem on innocent civilian population of Punjab. It was during such Police operations; the veteran soldier’s 20 year old grandson had been picked and arrested last night. The brave veteran old soldier was unable to hold back his tears, because he told me that his grandson had nothing to do with any kind of terrorism or militant activities, he honestly confirmed to me and assured me that boy was totally innocent and had been wrongly implicated by the Ropar Police.

SOMETIME THEY JUST NEED ASSURANCE, BUT I, Maj Rakesh Dubey,Vir Chakra, PROMISED HIM MORE THAN THAT.

The time of arrest, the old war veteran soldier told me was approximately 3-4am in the morning and his grandson was presumably taken to Ropar Police Station. If that be so, I calculated, since the boy was taken into custody last night, he would still be in Ropar Police Station, as action of shifting the suspects to an undisclosed location for further action would take place only after sustained interrogation; and was always executed during dark night. Further to avoid hassle of extended and prolonged court cases, generally no charge sheet was prepared; the arrest was kept unaccounted with final juridical powers resting with SP Ops at Police Station level, to execute punishments.  

I requested the old Sardar war veteran to hop in my jeep, taking the driver’s seat; we rushed to the Ropar Police Station as fast as we could. Time was paramount, I drove at break neck speed to ensure and deny the Police any time to shift the boy to any other location. It did not take much time to reach the Police Station. As a combat drill, we always drove our combat vehicle at 100 km and above speed, our usual tactic to deny, neutralize and weaken the militant’s ability to take a pot shot and activate precision IED on our moving vehicles .
We reached the Police Station in no time; I entered, closely followed by the old war veteran, he immediately located and recognized his grandson, sitting on the ground, inside the lockup; behind bars. Punjab Police was no run of the mill Police Force, they were well trained, very alert and equipped with modern weapons, a thorough professional force; as compared to Police Force of other Indian States.
I called for the Station in Charge, who was off duty and was catching up with his lost sleep; due to his late night Police Operations. As he appeared, I asked him to justify with evidence and proof the reasons for the particular boy’s arrest? He was shocked and surprised, as nobody till date had questioned him for his Police Actions, and was therefore not accustomed to listen to such arrogant and authoritative question. I was firm, and he was intelligent to fathom that I was serious and meant business, demanding a definite answer from him. He became adamant, telling me that the said boy was a Dreaded Terrorist and for that he has no proof to show, I further inquired, if any weapons or any incriminating material or documents had been recovered from him? “None”, he said. “Then why have you arrested him?” I asked “I cannot tell you,” he said.

 “The boy”, I said, “is a grandson of our old war veteran, this old Sardar ji, standing next to me is an Indian Army Proud Soldier, and therefore his grandson can never be a militant or a terrorist; and now in his ripe age of 80 years, he is standing with me to restore his family honor.”

My address to the Police Officer was explicit, firm and displayed serious repercussion, if he failed to take suitable corrective action

 “FIVE MINUTES,” I said, “FOLLOW MY INSTRUCTIONS OR GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY,” I ordered, “LEAVE THE KEYS ON THE TABLE AND GET TO ONE SIDE,” I further added.

My combat soldiers were now menacingly positioned inside the Police Station, poised to shoot and kill, they were aware, that Maj Rakesh Dubey,Vir Chakra would not hesitate to exercise this extreme option, to ensure the release of the veteran’s grandson, a member of the Indian Army Family.

The Police Officer was sensible, he understood the gravity of our demand; placing the lockup keys on the table, he ordered his men to step aside, joining them in a huddle, in the corner of the Police Station hall.

“Pick up the keys and release your grandson,” I requested the tall Sardar the old war veteran. Taking long strides, the tall Sardar ji, picked the keys from the table proceeded to unlock the cage; releasing his grandson with pride, he came straight to me, with folded hands and tears flowing, he came and hugged me; he had never ever imagined, that help would come to him in such bold form. His 20 year old grandson came and fell on my feet, again crying with total awe and joy. He was in shock, and had not imagined that he would be set free in such a grand style.

“I DO NOT KNOW?” I SAID,” WHETHER YOU ARE A MILITANT OR A TERRORIST? IF YOU ARE ONE, REFORM YOURSELF. AND IF YOU ARE NOT, THAN YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR; WORK FOR THE GLORY OF THIS GREAT NATION.

“FREEDOM IS NOTHING BUT A CHANCE TO BE BETTER” That is what my wife Vanita Dubey tells me.
(This is true and real incident of a combat soldier)