Ketki Borgaonkar: September 2014

Power of 49, will be best narrated by the first lady cadet of the Indian Army in 1992, as she reveals her story of living each day as a dream during her 10 year service period. This is a story of the Journey of a lady from being ‘Cadet-001’ to ‘Major Priya’, and more.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up with a start, at hearing a loud blow of a whistle in my ears. I sat upright on my bed. It was 4am and the ambiance was dead silent. My three year old son and my husband were sleeping peacefully besides me. I looked at them; I felt a sense of love with new responsibilities. This morning was a start to my new life. In this new life the day does not begin as early as it did before. But because I brought home the habits from my past, I choose to utilize this time by going for a walk. As I got ready in my track suit and was about to leave the room, Amar, my husband woke up.

“Good morning, sorry I woke you up. I thought of being on a morning walk.” I said as he wiped his eyes staring at his watch.

“But it’s only 4am. We decided to go at 6am Priya,”

Why do people call it a morning walk I really wonder at times? For them morning is anything before 12noon. At the OTA we started our day even before dawn. I gave him a grin and said, “I will be back by the time you get ready for your jog.”

“Roger, Major Priya,” he said and smiled.

I jogged uphill towards the Hanging Garden. The road was deserted. It was still dark; the smell of wet soil and the soft drizzling rain drifted me twelve years back in time.

I had grown up in a joint family of Haryana. My father; Lieutenant Colonel Vijay Rajput never meet me with love. As I was growing up I learned that he always wanted to have a son from my mother. He wanted someone to take his place in the army to serve the nation. A daughter, he felt was nothing but a liability for the family. I was felt hurt by his behaviour towards me during that little time when he was home. I got enough love from my massi and dadi, but there were times when I really missed my mother, who had passed away while delivering a baby girl when I was in my fifth grade. Even the new life could not live for long and expired in few days. My two cousin brothers were taking their military training at the Officers Training Academy in Srinagar. I still remember the smile on their father’s face when they received an acceptance letter from the OTA and I also could see the sorrow in my father’s eyes as he congratulated them. He had no son who could give him the same happiness. But why only sons are so important to families? Why not daughters? I decided to apply in the army. When I shared this thought with my grandmother she laughed and said, “Beauties like you are not fit to hold heavy weapons my dear little girl. They do not allow girls in the army.”

This was unacceptable to me. Why this partiality? Soon after I finished my graduation I wrote a letter to the Chief of Army Staff, General Sunil Rodrigues, requesting him to open the doors of the armed services to women. Everyone claimed this act to be highly childish and uncertain, until I received a reply letter. The General wrote back saying the Army was planning to induct women in a year or two. That morning was like a day of hope. This was still not known to my father. I wanted to surprise him. I had read somewhere what Law students were given special preference in the army. With this thought in mind I decided to do my post-graduation in Law. The day my father came to know of the letter I received from General Sunil, he felt my desperate attempts to make my presence felt to him. He got the letter framed in a golden bordered frame and asked me to hang it in the living area. That was the first time I saw his eyes twinkling with pride. He hugged me and said, “I am proud of being your father and I apologise to you for I once sinned to feel that daughters are any less than sons. I do not care if the army opens their doors for women or not, I know you will achieve success in which ever field you choose to go.” I said hugging him firm, “It will be in army soon pitaji.”

And finally, one fine morning I saw a full page ad by the Indian army in the newspaper. I quickly followed all the given instructions in the ad and applied. I was selected and sent to the OTA in Chennai. The day I departed from Haryana was a very emotional moment for my family, especially my father. He had tears in his eyes when he hugged me at the railway station and waved me a goodbye.

“I really miss your mother today. I see her in you. She was a fine lady. God took her away from this brutal world because we never deserved her.” He said.

His last words to me, remained as a puzzle in my mind; the train left before I could ask him, “why?”

The day I entered the gates of the OTA-Chennai was spectacular; and will remain as an eternal memory. I reached the place at five in the morning and signed the muster book under ‘Batch 227’ against ‘Cadet-001 Priya Rajput’. I was asked to wait in a hall with five ladies who were already in and a few more joined us soon. It was a hall with a stage like structure built with wooden planks in the centre. Few wooden chairs were arranged in a semi circular pattern around the stage. I sat watching the other ladies and their huge trunks. I had only a small trunk and a shoulder bag with me; but their trunks looked huge. These huge trunks were filled with fancy clothes and other accessories they thought they would wear to all the social dos at OTA. I never in the wildest of my thoughts thought that I would witness a ragging even in the army, I assumed it was only limited to the civil colleges. Few of the ladies from the back office of the army’s medical department asked a girl to open her huge pink trunk in the presence of many cadets around. Our commanding officers almost hit the roof when he saw our trunks and the list of requests some of the ladies placed - warm water, tube lights and a saloon. The requests were basic but this was not a place where we had come seeking our basic necessities; we were here for a training to survive in the nastiest of life conditions.

Right from day one, our instructors told everyone to call us 'Sir', not 'Madam'. Later too, we were addressed as officers, not as ladies or gentlemen. They believed that a cadet is a cadet, and all are to be treated equally, be it men of women. This sounded great when we heard it from Major Nandan. But when it was implied in the everyday life it turned to be embarrassing moment often.

There was only one washroom for our batch of 25 ladies. For the first few days every morning we heard an awkward scream from the washroom. The doors of the washroom had no locks and it was a lucky trip if you had a privilege of using the washroom with a bulb glowing inside. Often, we would barge in and see someone else bathing in dark. So, soon I devised the system of singing loud while using the washroom. It was fun. This was how we had overcome the awkward problem very playfully. But there were some bumpy moments we just had to walk through. The parallel training did create gauche moments for the shy lady cadets who never imagined they would have to get into the same swimming pool as the gentleman or train under the watchful eyes of male officers. One of such moment happened on field while taking the ground training. The Major called out everyone for a march early morning when most of the cadets were either in bed in their night suits or in washrooms bathing or getting ready half bare or the worst - in towels. The men were used to this surprise morning march but we were unprepared. We had to take our places in the march in the attire we were in. Some men were only in their under-wears and some men had uniforms only till their waist and the rest aired nude. The cadets from our batch were too shy to even come down on the first call. I stood alone in my nigh suit and wrapped myself in a shawl. In a few seconds after Major gave the second call to the batch, all ladies came down in a very awkward walk and took their positions behind me in a row. Not one amongst them had managed to get into full uniform. Everyone was very conscious for the first few minutes of the march but soon we had to drop down our shame and move ahead with force. From that very day, we kept ourselves prepared for such surprise march; mentally.

A rigorous physical training with stringent standards that matched the male cadets wasn't a problem; the problem was their mind-set and their behavior towards the 25 new lady cadets. In their perspective women were added to the army only to add colour. Women were a part of the back office and medical departments of the defense system but never were they a part of the on field training practices. This stereotype thinking showed in their behavior often. We all were resting in our rooms one evening when we heard loud music being played from the OTA hall. Soon we heard knocks on our doors. Few jawans from the other batch invited us to the night party at the hall. Some of the ladies went while some denied. I had no interest in partying when every part of by aching body was pulling me to bed. I politely denied the offer and went to sleep. In the morning when I asked the ladies about the party they complained that they were made to serve drinks and look after the supplies for the party the entire night. They complained to their immediate seniors but were unheard; and going to the Major with these pity issues did not sound right. We hence could do nothing about it. I was disheartened by this incidence because even in army the lady was ill treated by the so called gentlemen and there was no one to hear us out.

But soon, I had a first-hand experience of the army jurisprudence when a drunken jawan tried to barge into my room at midnight. He knocked my door after their party and asked for water. My room-mate stayed on the door not allowing him in when I went inside to get water. He pushed her and force opened the door. I rushed towards him and tried pushing him out of the room. He was muscular and we both just could not control him. We then called for help and soon General Sunil stood by the sight. They took him away and asked us to see him at his office at noon. After hearing the entire story from us and few others the jawan was court-martialled and sent back packing within days. Everyone was shaken after this incident. All the parties doomed after that day and many behavioral changes were spotted. Justice in the army is very quick.

The stereotype mindset of women not being able to stand in defense of the nation with the men was tone apart when the first lady’s batch of the Indian Army won the best batch award by the end of the three year training; and declared to be fit to be given on field tasks and responsibilities. It was a proud moment for the entire batch and Major Nandan, our mentor and General Sunil for his decision of giving daughters of the families a privilege of standing tall with pride with their brothers. I still remember his words that he said on the stage holding the trophy, ‘The power of 49, that is the 49% women population of our country is least utilised till date. They have the power, the intelligence and the courage to stand equal with the men. So how could anyone keep them away from being a part of the defence? The decision was taken late but rightly made because of the letters that we received from brave ladies like Priya who showed interest and passion to join us.’ His words just made me feel proud. Finally a day had come when women will be treated well after 25 random ladies amongst the 49% of India proving themselves in the army.

We had a grand celebration that evening where no lady was made to serve drinks but be a part of the party and cherish their success. It was the first time when every lady from the batch of 25 felt equally privileged and honored as the other jawans. And it was also the first time when we got a chance to take out the fancy clothes that we had brought in our huge trunks to wear on special dos. This indeed was special.

OTA-Chennai and many other training academies in India opened their doors for women. I saw eight batches of women growing brave in my sight during my ten year commission period in the army. Just like me, it was their single-mindedness that won them an entry into the army. Soon it was the day when I was conducting a seminar for them for the last time at OTA. I could never understand their policy of a ten year commission. I wanted to ask for an extension period but seem they had decided what is right for me and my family. I wondered why? I also requested General Sunil to post me in the infantry. But he playfully replied saying ‘may be my great-grand-daughter would get a chance to serve in the infantry.’ I would be waiting for that day, surely; I told him.

On my final day General Sunil called me in his cabin. He handed me a letter from my father. He had passed away last night at the Srinagar headquarters. He suffered a heart attack. I was badly dazed by the news. They arranged for my visit to Haryana. I immediately left in a jeep to the railway station. I was thoughtless all the while. I spoke nothing, I just broke down when I took my seat in the train and the train left. I felt a vacuum within. I remembered the moment when I say him the last. Our conversation played in my head all over again. I was weeping aloud. There were not many passengers in my coach that night. It gave me enough space to vent out my emotions. I pulled out the letter from my bag; and was shocked to read my father’s final confession.

In the letter he said; he could read my mind and the confusion in it. The questions that evolved by his last few words to me on the railway station that was all answered in this letter.
My mother had died a natural death while giving birth to a baby girl; but, the little infant was brutally killed to death due to mere ignorance and belief of her birth bringing in bad luck to the family. My mother was a fine medical student and served the Army Medical Department at Srinagar for ten years. She had to quit because of my father and his family’s force. She was grounded in the family life and was never allowed to do what she wanted. She wanted to open a hospital in our village; she wanted to treat people for free. But against all this what the family thought was important is a baby boy to carry the name of the family and be a proud part of the army. When she delivered me, she had to fight for my survival, which she did and hence was boycotted from the family. My father still stood by her side not wholeheartedly but out of love for her. He gave up when the same happened for the second time. He could hardly have time for my mother and me which kept him unaware of the ill treatment happening with my mother at home. My father’s ignorance killed her.

By the time I had reached the last word of the letter I had developed hatred towards every single person who I saw involved in my mother and my little sisters death. It was not just them but the ruthless laws of the society for women. The illogical tradition and beliefs and the blind headed elders demanding a pregnant lady to give birth to only a baby boy. When will this end?

I went home, prayed my last dues and left that house forever. I spoke to no one. Aman had called and asked me to stay there for a day and he shall come to pick me up. I had no strength to stand there and breathe in the air that killed two innocent lives. I told him I will be taking the first flight to Mumbai and reach by noon.

“Hey Priya, wait for me.” Aman’s voice brought me back from the pain of my past to the drizzling morning of today. I turned to see him panting as he ran uphill to reach me.

“Why did you come this way if you know you can’t?” I asked.

“Because I knew I will find you here.”

“Why did you come hunting for me? I told you I will be back by 6.”

“Because I wanted to walk with you Major.” He said and smiled.

“Roger Dr. Aman. Come soon, come on.” I stimulated him to speed up.

We stood on the top of the hill watching the beauty of the city connecting with the sea and the mesmerizing view of the marine drive.
The sun was rising, marking a beginning of a new day, a new life.

“So Major Priya, what’s your plan?” Aman asked.

I looked at him, into his eyes and said, “Trigger the Power of 49 in this country”

- The End -

Ketki Borgaonkar

Pages

Tuesday 30 September 2014

for their might not be 'Tomorrow'

Saturday 27 September 2014

Day & Night - Poem

Thursday 4 September 2014

Power of 49 - Short Story, Fiction.