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)