Kargil - Conversation With A Wronged Mother !

Some short conversations can tell you an entire story!

Disclaimer: This is a short conversation with a mother who lost her son in a war. A war fought in the high mountains of Kargil, a war that claimed many such brave sons of India, a war that made thousands of homes go silent in grief, a war that was ultimately won; but at what cost? I intend not to take any names herein; and even though this conversation was specific, the story is of many.

It was 2009, 10th anniversary of Kargil Vijay Diwas. I was posted in Drass, the lap of Tololing & Tiger Hill, where the very war was fought and won. 

Preparations were at its peak, the Drass war memorial was decorated no less than a ceremonial fortress. Tololing hill range and the one opposite to it were lit with firelights and ‘Vijay Diwas’ was carved on them. Of course, it was the day to cherish our victory.

Our Field hospital was assigned the responsibility to look after the health of all the guests. The guest list included the top brass from Army, Navy, & Air Force, the Veer Naaris (war widows), media, and government officials. Drass is a notorious place for any visitor without acclimatization, causing serious high altitude illnesses. Everything was going as per plan until we got to know that one of the Martyr officer’s mother would be visiting, not just the ceremony, but also the forward post where her son served. She was an elderly cardiac patient, completely unfit for that height. We had two days to prepare logistics; a mother wanted to see her son & it seemed worth all the efforts.

Back in 1999, her son along with his patrolling team were captured & kept captive by the enemy. They were tortured to an extent one could never imagine. Mutilated bodies with cigarette burns, split skin, amputated fingers, and damaged body parts were sent back. 

Imagine the plight of a mother to see her son’s body in this condition. The 22 year young son to whom she gave birth, whom she nurtured for years, with whom she had millions of memories; his body was lying in front of her in pieces.

I accompanied her to the post where her son was posted. Enroute, she was filled with excitement and energy, asking many questions about how is life there these days, if anything has changed after the war, if the government has started giving more facilities, advanced weapons, etc. Her way of showing concern and asking about comforts of soldiers posted there indicated that she still has something left there.I was just observing and was eager to actually talk to her. We reached one of the posts and got off the vehicle. She marched swiftly towards the last point to see LOC and POK. 

Her face — a mix of pain and pride. She looked at ease but still disturbed, appeasing and gratified, but seemed defeated. She had a little smile on her face, as if she could see her son in front of her, but her eyes were full of pain.

Suddenly, she asked me: Son, how old are you? I said: Mam, I am 23. She: My son was 22 when he came here and never came back. Me: It must have been difficult for you. She: I knew the consequences when my son chose to join the Army, so I have no grudges about what happened. I am hurt by the way it happened. I still get nightmares where I see his face & hear his voice screaming in pain when his body parts would have been damaged and mutilated. It sends shivers down my spine when I think of the moment when he would have screamed my name in pain. I am not happy the way our country dealt with this sacrifice. He was sent back cut into pieces, why was our blood still so cold?  Me: (With a long sigh of discontent) For whom did he choose this life? For whom did he get killed and had to leave you forever? Not many in our country would ever understand this, but few do.

She: True son, but parents like me are still fighting to get due justice for their sons who have been dreadfully killed. War also has some element of principles, history validates this.

Me: Mam, how come you didn’t leave the country after all that happened.

She: Smiled and said, that’s one question everyone asked and I could never reply. You’re my son’s age, so will tell you. He gave his life for not just his but our motherland. So what if we have some incompetent & insensitive people in this country, like you said, few good ones are still there and Bharat is still our Mother and needs to be protected from the evil. Which country is devoid of struggles we have here, doesn’t mean every disappointed Indian should leave the country. My son fought but didn’t quit, why should I?

I was speechless and felt insignificant in front of her honor, strength, and pride.Did we, as a nation wrong her and many mothers of India?

That day I realized - We all are born for a cause larger than our existence. There is a mission larger than the life we are living. The sooner we realize this, the better it’ll be for us to break all materialistic strings and rest in peace - either dead or alive.Jai Hind!