From Grandmother's Diary Part - 3

Myself with my friend Nirmala and our dog Gypsy 

 As sunsets thoughts of my  grandchildren eager to listen to bedtime stories, six quizical eyes looking at me stubbornly refusing to lie down till I narrate some of my adventures. Memories start surfacing like bubbles from can of of a fizzy drink. 

Now I do not want to give more ideas to these already naughty kids, so that they repeat my mischievous activities, rationalising them by telling their parent "arey your mother told us she used to have fun doing it" , quite comfortably forgetting about whacking I got as a reward 😅

So tonight my sweeties I am going to tell you all about my experience during war with China and Pakistan. 

After independence India had to fight off the enemies from our eastern and western border both. 

I remember least of war with China in 1962, as I was just 6yr of age, studying in second standard. Only thing I remember is that we were in Delhi, black outs, sirens and my parents huddled around radio (sigh you have not seen radio which was the only mean of news and entertainment,  apart from news paper and books). 

But I vividly remember  1965 war with Pakistan. Soldiers in camouflage  marching to Frontline  in foliage covered vehicles. We  as small children could do only one thing that is to cheer them by waving our Tricolor and shouting with loudest voice "Vande Matarm". "पाकिस्तानियों को हरा कर जल्दी वापस आना". They used to wave back to us and that moment used to be most emotionally charged moment. I get gooose bumps yet remembering it. 

They came victorious, bringing Patton tank and other armory of Pakistanis (of course all made in America.), putting all victory bounty for display. The Patton tank was biggest war Trophy. We children used to have fun climbing in and out of the captured tanks and shouting "Pakistan murdabad, Hindustan Jindabad". At that age I hardly understood what it meant exactly. But nevertheless I shouted the loudest. 

By the time  Bangladesh war was fought in 1971, I was already in 12th standard, preparing for my pre board exams. 

Our house was as always in cantonment near main Military hospital. We were in Kanpur. 

The urge to be a contributing factor in those difficult time made me opt for crash course /training in first aid in our school. 

Boys used to make sure black outs timings are strictly adhered with. Elders said it is unsafe for girls to go around the huge campus, house to house making sure not a single light ray escapes out from any house. 

So what do you think I did? Hmm? Well The Florence Nightingale in me started stirring and I begged to my father to let me go to MH and look after the wounded soldiers (Due to heavy inflow of wounded soldiers MH required some helping hands. Someone who could read and write letters, read newspaper to those who were incapacitated). Military jeep would pick us from our door steps and drop back. 

Permission granted. So I along with my friends used to go every day for 15 days till my pre board started. Help putting slings, bandaging, cleaning small wounds before doctors would do the needful, running around to bring medical supplies from store, or to just be around the brave hearts assuring them "सब ठीक हो जाएगा हम सब आपके साथ हैं".  

What I saw there shook my soul. Our brave hearts had suffered with loss of limbs, gashes all over the body, some had lost vision , bones broken but their spirit was not broken. They were smiling even in excruciating pain, because they had fought the enemy valiantly which ultimately led to victory over Pakistan. 

Now you will say "but what did you do there? 

I read the letters for those who due to being in direct line of attack from Pakis were so badly wounded that they were unable to use their eyes or both hands. Omitting any part which could bring them mental agony without them finding out was a skilful act. 

We used to write letters to their loved ones. Even letter to their wife which they dictated. Words fail me to express the feeling I used to get while reading and writing the letters. I was asked to be discreet, so I used to remain expression less while they would pour their heart out. Just write. My vision would blurr due to tears when I was told to write "बस थोड़ा घायल हुआ हूँ, जल्दी ठीक हो कर भारत माता की जय बोलते जीत का झंडा फहराते घर आऊँगा". No mention of pain, broken bones, split head etc. Why? Because their spirit was not broken, rest all is repairable (they said). 

In their words "बेटा ये तो कुछ भी नहीं, सब ठीक हो जाएगा, हमारा मनोबल कोई नहीं तोड़ सकता, हम भारतीय सेना हैं "

Yes I really did tell lies to them. Sometimes letters used to be about child falling sick, not doing good in studies, crops failing due to nature's vagaries. I used to tell them exactly opposite. They required positivity around them. But it was not easy. Sometimes I would breakdown on our way back home.

 Why? Was it due to soldiers physical condition, mental toughness, their family facing daily challenges alone or my telling them lies that all is well at home front, I could never make out. 

But I did feel proud and strangely satisfying to be there with them even if just for two hours.

 

Reading paper, telling them of our school and friends, playing ludo, cards (court piece), or singing songs with them used to cheer them up. 

"चलत मुसाफ़िर मोह लियो रे पिंजरे वालि मुनिया " was favorite of one jawan so it was sung daily. 

सब बेसुरे होते थे पर खूब मजा आता था सबको। 

Because of our and MH safety we were asked to keep our MH visits to ourselves. So no gossiping in school. 

Those were the days we were supposed to do our duty without photo ops and expectation of rewards /certification etc. Just a pat in back and a toffee daily by doctor was huge reward for us. 

Patriotism was enculcated and embedded deep into our heart by parents at home and teachers at school. 

I wish the Florence Nightingale in me remains alive . 

By the time I finished they were emotional and touched, soon they fell asleep but not before telling me impishly "Not so serious next time". 

Good night my darlings till next time. 

From Grandmother's Diary Part - 1

Born in verdant surrounding of Almora 70 years ago, she was the little joy of bundle to her parents (In uttarakhand gender disparity doesn't exist to a large extent, birth of girl and boy both are celebrated with happiness and festivities.). She had lost her paternal grandfather before she even entered her mother's whomb and grandmother when she was just three months of age. She was lucky to have maternal grandparents alive till she herself became mother. Her Naana and naani (Maternal grandparents) were very loving and caring.

She was given name which meant moon light (चंद्रमा का प्रकाश). She grew up to a caring and loving child.

Let me tell you few incidents from her childhood.

It started when she was 2-3yrs old. When ever any member of family fell ill, she would sit with a hand held fan or a hand towel and would fan the sick person continuously with a firm belief that fanning by her will blow away the illness. She would stubbornly refuse to budge by the bedside of ill person. This continued till many years. Deep in her heart she was a nurse and when she grew older she was influenced by life and work of Florence Nightingale.

She nursed her grandfather, father, mother,  father in law in their old age and sickness. She was the Florence Nightingale of her family.

Another incident which now I find hilarious is that her brother being elder to her started going to school before her. Convent school's session used to start in January. So on asking when will I go to school (she was desperate to follow her brother) she was told when January comes you will also start going to school. So each day she would wait for "Januar" to accompany her brother or father, or just knock knock knock at the door. It was disappointing for her to see her brother /father coming home without "January" and January was also not coming knocking at her door all by herself. At last the calender changed, January came (for that little child as if out of blue) and she was happiest child on earth. She had done her ABCD's and 1,2,3,4's at home, so straight to standard 1 in St. Maria Goretti convent school.

Cousins marriage that she remembers so well. When she was in 2nd standard, there was an festive occasion of her cousin sister's marriage. She so much wanted to have a gold earing with three red stones just like her mother had. Doting parents got it made for her. On the day of marriage she was flitting around like a butterfly in new frock and most precious thing The Earrings!.

While the ceremony was on the way she realised that one of her ear is without earing. She started crying inconsolablely. Some older girls started teasing her by singing film song

ओ ढ़ूंढ़ो ढ़ूंढ़ो रे साजना ढ़ूंढ़ो रे बालमा मेरे कान का बाला,

मेरा बाला चंदा का जैसा हाला रे,

जामें लालि लालि ललियन कि , हो लालि लालि ललियन कि लटके माला...(ओ my beloved find my earing,

Which is beautiful like moon,

Which has strings of red beads hanging...)

The earing could not be found. She was heartbroken. Next day new ones were ordered. Though she wore new ones for years, the old ones were her first love with special place in heart. She kept the lone survivor of the old pair as memento for a long time.

Even today when she sees something similar to her old earnings, hears that song or similar type song, she can picturise vividly the place where she lost her earing decades ago, while playing during marriage and a her heart flips. O my darling earing!

Do you know dearest children who that little baby girl born in uttarakhand in April 1956 is? Correct! You three are very intelligent. Indeed she is yours and only you three's (Vir, Mihika and Ajay's) grandmother 'Jyotsna (Meaning Moon light /चंद्रमा का प्रकाश)'

She plays with you, she prays with you, she has fun with you, she reprimands you all, she teaches you and also preaches a lot, you know why? Because she cares for you three. Last but not least she loves you three from the core of her heart. ♥️

I will came back to tell more about mischievous, naughty, patriotic, and many sides of myself.

Naani of Vir and Mihika

Daadi of Ajay.

😘😘😘