“Why should I fear? There is some magic in olive green and combat boots… it pours proud and strength to me and reflect the fear of enemies… I want to die by protecting the glory of my nation like a real hero and I am born for it”, these were his lines when someone asked him about his posting at Udhampur J&K and tension at the border because of Kargil war.
He was my cousin brother and hero of our village. Since childhood, I had seen him as hard working, social, charming, and a wanna be a soldier of the Indian Army. Soon his immense workout and hardwork paid to him and he got selected in the Indian army. Everyone there in our village was happy with this news. He was now a fouji…. Whenever he came home there were stories of the army, about the places he visited and a lot more. He looked more confident. Then the time came when there were questions about his marriage made him blushed.
It was the time of the Kargil war and only a couple of homes in our village had televisions. So in the peak hours of Doordarshan news, everyone gets stuck with the television to keep updated with war reports and pray for the safety of our soldiers. Little thing I remembered that my brother was posted at kaithal those days where there were reported some terrorist activities and the army was operating under “operation rakshak” to banish the terrorists from that area. Whenever anyone asks his mother about him, her replies were “he is alright.” But worries of her beloved son was not hidden from anyone, her worried face was not hidden from anyone.
That was the beautiful day of 15 August. The day to celebrate our independence. In the afternoon everyone was at home taking their lunch unknowing about the fact that the son of our village is fighting with terrorists and protecting the mother India.
The phone rang in the evening to pass that bad news. Another person on the phone gave the information that how bravely my brother fought with the terrorists till his last breath. The news was unbelieving to me and for everyone. It was very hard to engulf the truth that my brother is no more, he will no more to tease me, I will not be able to wear new frock in his wedding….and no more he will proudly chant the stories of the army to us.
My brother will not come again… the dream to enjoy his wedding will always a dream.because somewhere far in hills he has sacrificed his life and kept his words. The next day was not the same… there was much crowd at our village; there were ministers and and a lot of army personnel's…. Everything looked so extravagant in our little village. This was a proud moment for us that he kept his promises and protected the nation at the cost of his life but every heart was crying for the unbearable loss.
Time have passed …but memories are still as it is...the proud that he was my brother is still the same... the village have proud that soldier was born here... 15 august is not just the day of independence for me but also a day to remember my beloved brother who sacrificed his life for nation.
That time I was too little to understand what had happened. All I understood is that they came from Pakistan and killed my brother. When news of Pulwama attack hit my ears …….all the older memories recapitulated At that time, tears were rolling down from my eyes and I asked my mother,“Why don’t they understand that trying to disturb the happiness and peace of our country this way will result nothing but loss for both sides.”
Hate, war and attack is not the solution for anything. We have grown learning that terrorists comes from our neighbor country to destroy our peace and happiness but I pray and hope that time will come when I will say,“ we have good neighbors and our friends comes from pakistan…not terrorists.”
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