Diary Of A Sepoy

It was raining hard on an icy cold winter. A sudden gunshot had broken the stark silence of the night and a few minutes later another was heard from almost the same place. Shyam came running to me, gasping for breath, sweating like anything. It was late at night almost at the stroke of dawn and I was resting at the barracks. Shyam started crying as he reached the door and was unable to speak further.

I held him in my arms and consoled, "Shyam, was that an infiltrator?"

Shyam replied in awe, "No Sir, Hari tried to kill himself."

My heart started beating fast. I picked my rifle and moved straight to the post where Hari was put on duty.

As I reached the post, I found Hari shivering like anything, his arms trembling, confiscated by fellow soldiers. I was further aghast to see a local boy clad in pheran fallen on the ground shot on the chest bleeding to death. Asif, as I could recognize -was our dude, a local guy of a nearby village who used to bring us the newspapers, some daily essentials which were otherwise not available in canteen. Though not a spy, he used to give some information and vital leads about disturbances. As his smile was slowly fading from memories, I gazed that had Asif been shot by militants, why were the soldiers not guarded and why was Hari shivering?

Quickly I instructed the company to take positions & called Sukhwinder to office for a brief. Sukhwinder was dumbstruck and seemed to be confused with the fast sequence of horrendous activity that had preoccupied his sensibilities.

Sukhwinder confirmed that it was no outsider who killed Asif. Asif came with no harm in mind. Hari shot Asif at point blank rage. Hari, then attempted suicide.

Asif breathed his last that night in the camp. The rest you may know (who follow the news of the valley) as the news had struck the headlines. I did not try to goof up the dead body or the news as I knew Asif at least deserved his last rites, if not the life or in that case the death.

‘Culpable homicide’ was what national and local media charged us with. Local residents were disturbed and humiliated. Mistrust took a central stage and violence erupted in various parts of the valley in protest of the killing. Army followed the code and an inquiry was initiated. I couldn’t explain why Asif at that hour of the night was present at the camp. Neither I could explain why Hari was not granted a leave as my senior didn’t find a replacement for him.

Hari’s sister was gang raped in full daylight as some Khap decided the same for marrying a man of other religious belief. Hari was desperate to attend his sister yet I couldn’t grant him the leave. That night when it was raining hard, Hari couldn’t identify the kid who was carrying a cell phone. As the cell phone rang all of a sudden Asif had reached his pockets to receive it, Hari mistook him for a militant trying to hurl a hand grenade. Hari could not forgive himself so went on shooting himself. We stopped him a couple of times but finally he gave in to deteriorating family crisis & escalating media galore.

Finally I was left the only person to answer all questions. As per the code, I was discharged of all responsibilities. As days passed facing the inquiry, I was losing my calm and had started behaving roughly with my family & friends. My count of friends slowly decreased and distances with my family increased manifolds on the other hand. The commission charged me with lack of leadership as I couldn’t control the battalion in the crisis. I was charged of being a bad disciplinarian as I couldn’t answer Asif's presence at the camp.

I had fought many a battles in my life. Firstly it was the stiff competition clearing the NDA tests, then the stiff training, a few fierce gun battles in the valley. All that was for the institution and for my country but this time it was against it. As days passed, I was without work, doing nothing but only answering questions while those answers were never accepted. The institute wanted itself clean & safe and even I never wanted to malign it.

Back home when my family needed my help, I was striving to survive myself. My little girl Mili who was once proud of her brave father grew up enough to understand that her friends were not taunting her for no reasons at all. I was losing patience and all night I used to stay awake with the ghastly images of Asif’s body occupying my thoughts. The worst thing started happening with me when I started questioning myself regarding the calamity. Slowly I was losing my self-confidence and esteem. I started making myself responsible for the incident. As a result, I started aging faster than my colleagues. I found myself a lot frail than before.

I visited a psychiatrist only to know that I have moved on to severe depression couple of months back. The lady whom I was visiting for these consultations was kind and nice. She told me to express myself which I had stopped doing since the start of trials. I resisted as the proceedings of the inquiry were supposed to be kept secret. But one night, I just woke up sweating and started to type in my type writer. The text you are reading are a few excerpts from same.

A day came when I had almost stopped hoping but that was the day when I found that the jury of the Army court was replaced with a younger officer. He took a fresh look at the case & treated me with respect. Later, I came to know from him that he took artillery training from me prior to commissioning. He also told me that I was regarded for my hockey heroics amongst his batch-mates.

Later, the case was closed. The findings were confidential but as a consequence I left the force and started working with an NGO. Now I am far from the valley, Asif, Hari, Swetha (my wife), Mili, the olive green, the metal medals. I am nearer to the seas working with helpless people like me. But I believe till date that what happened with Asif was wrong but what happened with Hari was far worse.

I try to keep myself busy so that I am away from the images of a blood soaked Asif and a shivering Hari. Whatever I earn, I try sending some money to Hari’s family every month as his kid would also be grown up like my Mili. I do dream these days as someday I will see Asif smiling again, Hari back to his family, Swetha proud of her husband and the valley peaceful and happy!