Dear Abhinandan Sir,
It’s been precisely 4 weeks since you went in unannounced into the neighbouring country, embarrassed them by apparently praising them, sipped a Tashan-full cup of tea and made a grand re-entry back to us in less than two days. While you were busy in engaging the Pakis, ‘I am not supposed to tell you that’ took the country by storm. From errant students to their teachers and smug husbands to their wives, everyone used the phrase with carefree abandon. Now that you have seemingly settled into a normal course of life, it’s time to try and deconstruct on how you could behave the way you behaved.
16 years ago if someone were to tell me that I would address a Sixth termer from 104 Course as ‘dear’, I would have declared him to be a mad man from Mars, no less. Such were the vibes that your course generated in the academy. Notwithstanding the sheer numbers of the entire 104 course, every individual in himself had that X factor that clearly distinguished him from any other sixth termers that we’d seen at the academy. Once your course passed out of NDA, the academy was never the same. The aura that you guys carried around you was a mark of the confidence and assuredness that accompanied each of the cadets at that time. I was a 1st termer then and I admit unashamedly that we were in complete awe with the 104 Course.
Now that we have deconstructed the anatomy of this particular course, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to see you behave the way you did. As a cadet from the feared 104 course, that was the only way you knew! Alas, the Pakistanis didn’t know this bit of important history.
What you said while being blindfolded, bruised, battered & in captivity showed the stuff that you were made of. I can’t begin to imagine what the chain of thought in my mind would be if I were to crash land in enemy territory just minutes after probably having a homely breakfast with comrades on a chilly winter morning. That you, in that short while, intercepted an enemy air package (with the other IAF pilots in tandem of course), shot down an F-16 and tumbled across in a bid to do justice to duty, ejected after taking a hit to your aircraft and fell into unchartered territories was just the beginning of what would transpire for the next 48 hours.
I must confess that the first visuals that were floating on in WhatsApp made the stomach churn and feel sad for a fellow countryman who was held captive by the enemy. It was gutting, really. The blood-stained face, the manacled hands and that blindfold painted a bleak picture. We hoped it wasn’t true. If that were not enough, the initial video of the locals raining blows on an unarmed you started doing rounds. That was just enough to feed the angst and fuel the agony that was simmering within each Indian. I didn’t know who you were then, but my heart went out to you. It was very gloomy.
And then the second video went around. The one in which you were being quizzed initially and you replied only what was absolutely necessary and curtly refused to divulge anything further. The poise, the strength of mind and the disregard for the captors clearly emanated from your persona. The fact that you were still blindfolded and had no knowledge of being filmed was testimony to your true strength of character and will. That was the moment I felt that there was more to you than what met the eye. The Pakistanis had bitten more than what they were capable of chewing! The time to worry about you had passed and to celebrate your courage was on.
The details kept tumbling out even as the neighbours tried to keep a tight lid on the goings on. The fact that you tried your utmost to evade capture, destroy the sensitive documents and tried also to cross over to the right side of the LC would now be recorded in the annals of our history. It was nothing if not sheer audacity and the impregnable will to survive. It was a testament to the rugged Indian soldier and the training imparted in our various academies. It was reminiscent of the saga of courage that the Indian armed forces have consistently displayed over the long years and in some part, it also showed what a sixth termer from the 104th course was capable of if he were to come into his own!
A salute to you sir and your audacious courage. May you and your comrades in the air shoot down many more F-16s (and whatever else they come up with in the future). It is also an unabashed tribute to my sixth termers who we held in awe and wonder in our first term at NDA.
Cheers
Ikki
H/109
It’s been precisely 4 weeks since you went in unannounced into the neighbouring country, embarrassed them by apparently praising them, sipped a Tashan-full cup of tea and made a grand re-entry back to us in less than two days. While you were busy in engaging the Pakis, ‘I am not supposed to tell you that’ took the country by storm. From errant students to their teachers and smug husbands to their wives, everyone used the phrase with carefree abandon. Now that you have seemingly settled into a normal course of life, it’s time to try and deconstruct on how you could behave the way you behaved.
16 years ago if someone were to tell me that I would address a Sixth termer from 104 Course as ‘dear’, I would have declared him to be a mad man from Mars, no less. Such were the vibes that your course generated in the academy. Notwithstanding the sheer numbers of the entire 104 course, every individual in himself had that X factor that clearly distinguished him from any other sixth termers that we’d seen at the academy. Once your course passed out of NDA, the academy was never the same. The aura that you guys carried around you was a mark of the confidence and assuredness that accompanied each of the cadets at that time. I was a 1st termer then and I admit unashamedly that we were in complete awe with the 104 Course.
Now that we have deconstructed the anatomy of this particular course, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to see you behave the way you did. As a cadet from the feared 104 course, that was the only way you knew! Alas, the Pakistanis didn’t know this bit of important history.
What you said while being blindfolded, bruised, battered & in captivity showed the stuff that you were made of. I can’t begin to imagine what the chain of thought in my mind would be if I were to crash land in enemy territory just minutes after probably having a homely breakfast with comrades on a chilly winter morning. That you, in that short while, intercepted an enemy air package (with the other IAF pilots in tandem of course), shot down an F-16 and tumbled across in a bid to do justice to duty, ejected after taking a hit to your aircraft and fell into unchartered territories was just the beginning of what would transpire for the next 48 hours.
I must confess that the first visuals that were floating on in WhatsApp made the stomach churn and feel sad for a fellow countryman who was held captive by the enemy. It was gutting, really. The blood-stained face, the manacled hands and that blindfold painted a bleak picture. We hoped it wasn’t true. If that were not enough, the initial video of the locals raining blows on an unarmed you started doing rounds. That was just enough to feed the angst and fuel the agony that was simmering within each Indian. I didn’t know who you were then, but my heart went out to you. It was very gloomy.
And then the second video went around. The one in which you were being quizzed initially and you replied only what was absolutely necessary and curtly refused to divulge anything further. The poise, the strength of mind and the disregard for the captors clearly emanated from your persona. The fact that you were still blindfolded and had no knowledge of being filmed was testimony to your true strength of character and will. That was the moment I felt that there was more to you than what met the eye. The Pakistanis had bitten more than what they were capable of chewing! The time to worry about you had passed and to celebrate your courage was on.
The details kept tumbling out even as the neighbours tried to keep a tight lid on the goings on. The fact that you tried your utmost to evade capture, destroy the sensitive documents and tried also to cross over to the right side of the LC would now be recorded in the annals of our history. It was nothing if not sheer audacity and the impregnable will to survive. It was a testament to the rugged Indian soldier and the training imparted in our various academies. It was reminiscent of the saga of courage that the Indian armed forces have consistently displayed over the long years and in some part, it also showed what a sixth termer from the 104th course was capable of if he were to come into his own!
A salute to you sir and your audacious courage. May you and your comrades in the air shoot down many more F-16s (and whatever else they come up with in the future). It is also an unabashed tribute to my sixth termers who we held in awe and wonder in our first term at NDA.
Cheers
Ikki
H/109
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