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)