Monday, February 22, 2010

Pleasure of being an Indian Army Man

Yesterday I had a long chat with a friend, also from the army, where we were catching up on various stuff in the personal and professional front. We talked about life was so different at both our ends, in spite of being in the same organisation. As army men, the major chunk of our conversations are based on the balls-less/steel-ball-ed seniors (yes, it’s the same balls you are thinking about), the stupid/dumb/over-ambitious boss, the unforgiving terrain, the long talks we have with our beloved, the surprises we have in store when we would go on leave and the list goes on. But one thing we never would forget to touch on is about the place where our next posting would be from here. Where we would head to. What would be the kind of home we would get. How good it would be if we (him and me) would be posted together in some establishment and how then we could paint the town red. Oh, it’s always a welcome thing to have conversations like that and plan things one after the other which we both knew is like building sand castles in midst of high tide. And it is a conversation we had before, with different people, at different places, at different times. I have had conversations like this in medical school, where we were cadets. As cadets, we used to plan while studying together that we would all join one particular hospital and we would, as mentioned earlier, paint the town red. But then the results came and our ranks were dispersed like white light through a prism, into various ends of the spectrum, and before we even knew, we all had assorted hospitals in our hands. But then, as it had to be, we assured each other that there would be no day where we wouldn’t call each other and update each other about all that is happening in one’s life. It did not seem difficult at all then. What must have been herculean thinking would have been how the hell we would not have. I mean, come on! We have been literally been together for almost 15 hours a day for the past 5 years and not a vacation passed when we dint call each other and yap yap yap to glory. So, this wasn’t a test of time at all. But then like a bolt from the blue, we were catapulted into our respective locations. And life started playing its symphony. I know how i felt then. I felt like as if the entire shit was being directed at the ceiling fan, and I was the only one without an umbrella. And I would call and emit like a 4 year old kid just out of class, who was missing mommy so much. But then, that too did not stay long, because the demands of the job were such.
Time just ticked away, and like the unfailing minute hand, we discharged our duties, one after the other, many ours and many more of others because, we were the lowliest creatures that walked the hospital. Anyways, time passed and a call a week become the norm, which progressed exponentially (deteriorated rather) to once a month, and now three years down the lane, yes Vasu did call me to wish me on my birthday, and texted me on my wedding. LOL! Well, what I am trying to get at is that, no matter how much you plan and work out an agenda, things will happen the way they are supposed to. We really can’t dictate it. All we can do however is to try and mould it, in some way, so that you rush your way into the train you wanted to catch.
Being in the army, you have that chance to build so many castles in the air. Especially since you have no idea as to where you would be tomorrow and also since we have a very friendly neighbourhood. We would be at war at any second, and the posting that we are happily pinning, would just give way into some trench or bunker near the enemy lines, where the plans to go to a rock concert would evaporate into the drilling sound of heavy artillery fire and machine guns. But then again, it’s still so wonderful to be planning all this. My wife Babitha and I are almost sure as to where our (more she, less me) furniture would fit in, what our crockery would be like, where to stack all the china we got for our wedding, what our wall paint would be, the curtains, our electronic item list (now this is my forte!)...we’ve planned it all...but we still don’t know what our home would be like, where it would be, and when we would get it. That is the level of uncertainty.
They say ignorance is bliss, and the army man soldiers on ignorant about his tomorrow, oblivious of where the roads will take him tomorrow, but with that unfailing hope and faith, that tomorrow, he would be far from chaos, far away from line-of-control, far away from long days and lonely nights, close to the ones he loves, who love him – at home, where he would gather grace.
Hope they say, in the flick Shawshank Redemption,” is a good thing, probably the best of things”. Because it allows you to see things the way, not as they are, but as you would want them to be, and there is happiness in it, because your dreams and your love make the warp and weft of it. I am also dreaming about that dream that I hold so close to my heart, that which I hope will come true, someday, anyday, not far from today.
And anyone who comments along the lines of "you get paid well to do all this" can kiss my ass.

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