My New Book 'The one way street'

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It is said that lightening does not strike twice; but it does! BLS

She took her last steps supported by me, still as desirable when I had met her for the first time, then bubbling with the energy and vigour of youth, now a frail body, one moment she was there, supported in my protective arms, suddenly, the next she was gone and no more All through her illness, the hand, holding which was my greatest pleasure, with the current of togetherness flowing to and fro, to comfort her and reassure me that, somehow, I will manage to hold on to it, despite all the other indications, was no more there .

‘I don’t know what love is, but I can’t live without you even for a short time’ she confessed, in her now faint and hardly audible voice the day prior to when the cruel hand of death snatched her from me. Next day she left me and her abode, the emaciated body, withered by the repeated invasions by the surgeon’s knife and infusion of the massive doses of the lethal drugs injected over time, but with her still charm intact.

Some times later I wanted to keep some money aside for any emergent requirement and I picked her favourite black leather purse from the back of the shelf in the Godej steel cupboard. Inside among the nick necks, that I presume women tends to collect in their purse over time, among her personal things was her hair-brush, favourite lipstick and the vile of her emergency pills: ‘Pills’ now no more required as there would be no emergency.

Cleaning the lifeless and dull, bunched mass of her hair, tangled in the bristles of the brush, getting wet, under the water tap, suddenly, came alive. The now living hair from her mane, with the original bounce, sheen and colour all there for me to see; feel and touch rose from past; the famelier thrill of her touch, shooting up my fingers jolted my dulled senses to the new reality. I was thrilled and my joy knew no bounds: a physical part of late Jeet had come back to give me company. Alas it was too good to be true, the pleasure was short lived; my daughter- in- law, Jolly, with a fetish for order and cleanliness, noticing the brush, with the strands of wet hair embedded in the bristles, lying on the shelf, under the mirror in the toilet, unaware of my new found treasure, promptly washed it clean of her last vestige: the brush, now useless for me, soon confined to the dustbin. The feel of her touch, a gift that providence had, unexpectidely, brought for me from past, I lost once again ; twice in one life.
 
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cover page

The Cover Page

Kindly see the photo gallery for the title page of the book page
 
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Raw

Just a taste of the forbidden fruit,the entrance to eden BLS
RAW

In February 1986 I joined RAW, and there hangs a tale.

Approaching the age of superannuation, all of 54 years, while posted at Army HQ, I was looking around for some suitable postretirement employment. The DGR had kindly arranged an interview for the job of the chief security officer held at the SBI Corporate HQ, Bombay. My visit to the office Lt K Gen Balaram PVSM, the then AG, could only result in a possible security job with Tata’s.

As the DDG responsible for the EW of the Indian Army and member secretary of EW and EMI -EMC inter-service ‘Boards’ under the chairmanship of the Vice Chief, first Lt Gen S.K. Sinha and later Lt Gen Sundearji, security was way down on my job wish-list. Interestingly, as the matters stood at that time, there was no dearth of jobs, with my residential telephone constantly ringing with calls from interested parties and individuals, with tempting offers in which I had little or no interest, in any case I had no desire to move to one of the rooms reserved in Tehar jail for so inclined individuals in possession of sensitive information to paddle.

I had gone PPC calling to the office of Maj Gen Sethi, the then ADG SI, one of the members of the EW Steering Committee. Soon after the exchange of normal pleasantries and the regulation cup of tea, Sethi inquired about my post retirement plans, and if I would consider joining RAW. I had heard of RAW and had a vague idea that it was some hush- hush organization. I had at that time no desire to be within even a mile of such an organization. However, it would have bee highly discourteous to say a ‘No’ to the kind suggestion; after mulling over the suggestion for a bit I responded in affirmative. As desired by him, I sent him my Bio-data with an added confidential paragraph, giving my current job profile and having done my bit, I promptly forgot about it.

I and my wife suddenly noticed a quantum increase in the surveillance on my movements, my visitors and guests. Interestingly when, I had invited Lt Gen Sodhi the retiring So-in-C and other senior officers from the Signal Directorate, to my place in DK Part II for dinner, an individual was noticed, by my orderly, noting down the registration numbers of the visitor’s cars parked outside the residence.

As it was destined , I retired on 31 July 1985 and shunning the tempting offers from the powerful firms, dealing in EW systems , with clout in higher places, to join or work for them, accompanied at times with covert threats, reported to my wife on permanent duty

First time with some money spare in the bank, unmindful of what the future held for me, I was happily enjoying my wife’s spending spree, a music system, change from B&W to a colour TV , upgrading of the old Kalvinator of 1956 vintage to frost-free double door Godraj refrigerator and sundry small and big items , fulfilling her over time bottled up desires.

I had also an offer from the Senior Kothari, a prominent industrialist of Chennai to head one of his production facilities down South. We had met for a lunch engagement with him in Taj Mansingh. New Delhi. After the not too long interaction, in his suite in the hotel, as we were moving down to the restaurant for lunch, I decided to apprise Mr Kothari of some of my shortcomings, that could be considered as negative attributes in the Corporate world ‘Sir,’ I said a bit seriously ‘if you are looking for some one who plays Golf I may be a wrong choice.’ As an added disincentive, I continued, ‘I am also a vegetarian and do not drink.’ Anticipating an adverse reaction, if I was required to look after the PR of the Company also, I was pleasantly surprised by his response. The old man looked please from what I had said, gave me a smile and said, ‘Time has come to bring some discipline in the industry, I am also a vegetarian, don’t drink and do not play Golf.’ That sealed the contract between us and thus started a long and enduring relationship , even when the offer did not materialise in my joining the enterprise.

As luck would have it the final decision in both the case came after some time, but unfortunately for its long term effect the offer from RAW came earlier. The How and Why of the unfortunate part, I will explain slightly later.

All this time, as I learnt later and had sensed earlier, extensive background checks were on about my suitability for the organization, some emissaries also went to Sena Bhavan, Army Headquarters and met Maj Gen S Mohan my past immediate superior His telling comment to the gentleman, as shared with me some time later, said it all as nothing more was left to say. ‘He is good but will he be available for you?

Some time later I got a call from Brig Arjun Verma, AVSM, and former DDG (SI) at Army HQ and now with the Telecom Division of RAW, possibly part of the same exercise, inviting me to his office. On a query as how to locate the place he advised ‘Come to Lodi Road, CGO Complex and look for the building with a large number of antennas sprouting out from the terrace and report to the reception.

There was once again a prolonged lull, till one day some times in the month of October 2005, I got a call to once again report the reception at the outer gate of the RAW building. This time I was processed and delivered at the door of the office of the Additional Director, Shri AK Verma. I reckon, by then a decision had taken to induct me in the organization and this was the final Face to Face. Shri Verma greeted me pleasantly , asked me to take a seat, I do not recall if I was offered a cup of tea or not; after a few general questions thrown at me he came out with the question that is asked even today from me when I am introduced to some one for the first time;. ‘Brigadier, what are you doing these days?’ he casually asked. I think it was my reply that clenched the issue. ‘Sir, I have neglecter my wife all these years while serving the Army; I am looking after her these days.’ My candid reply clenched the issue and I left his office with an assurance of sort that I have been selected for serving in the organization.

For the next four months, it was all quiet on the western front, with the pressure building from various quarters, with offers, to take a decision one way or other. I was in a bit of a quandary; all my queries even those to the level of Shri Joshi the Secretary RAW met the same response; ‘We are processing your case’. With this all round ambiguity I was getting a bit worried; the delay as I learnt later was for the fact that all appointments as the Director level had to be cleared by the ACC, the appoint committee of the cabinet. The Prime Minster, Shri Rajiv Gandhi, the chairman of the ACC, was too involved those days in the urgent affairs of the Party and the Government to have time for the long pending file..

I did gat the call to report from the Cabinet Secretariat to report for briefing and instructions. I think it was 20th October 1956 that I became spook in a spooky organisation with spooky and eerie empty corridors which would give creeps to any casual visitor...

The Month of October appears to have a special association with me and my life: My marriage date was initially fixed for October though later was changed to November to my chagrin, It was on the 20th October that I came under the artillery fire of the Chinese in far of NEFA, it was on 2nd October that I reported to school of Signals as an instructor and it was on 30th October 2000 that I lost my wife, Things good and bad happening to me , in equal measure in October but each changing the course of my life

An Extract from the book A Journey Through Life BLS
 
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Those were the days; students of Lucknow University 1950 -
1952
Extract

Also embarrassment at times; the three of us sitting at the table in the veranda of the department working on our practical notebooks indulging more in fun rather than work with Arjun, our own Jagmohan or Mukesh, singing with abandon and Satish beating the rhythm on the table-top with his fingers and I listening in rapt attention when some group of girls from the junior class would quietly pass by eyes down cast but amused by our antics the seniors perhaps with suppressed smiles .


​
None of us at that time had the faintest idea that cupid was waiting for us beyond the horizon, with a quiver full of arrows. The arrow aimed at Satish found it’s mark and hit him right in the centre of the heart with a devastating force from which he never recovered. I was a bit fortunate; the next one aimed at me, as the target, went awry and passed by just grazing me slightly and got lost some where. However, the latent pain of that minor injury does manifest at times, bringing back the memories of those days that were so special.

I came to know much later that Arjun had dug a mote around him, for self protection from a girl who was also one of our own fellow class mates; he was already infatuated with a beauty whom he later married, unlike the heartbroken Satish. He was the luckiest of all in that his love was redeemed. BLS
 
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The Remedy


I was a bit worried and apprehensive not for myself but for Ranjit. If the report happened to be malignant remembering my own inner turmoil when I had walked the short distance from the Command Laboratory in Army Hospital to the car park where Jeet with a brave face was anxiously waiting for the reprieve or the death warrant with her malignancy report in my hand.

My fears came true Ranjit entered the room with the envelope containing the report in his hand and the statement `Malignant` on his lips and his feelings clearly bottled-up in side him.

Strangely I felt relived and the guilt I had harboured all this time with Jeet suffering her cancer and me hale and hearty albeit with a turmoil of foreboding in side me with - the guilt of survival a feeling difficult to explain but experienced by surviving soldiers more often than not while returning from the battlefield with friends comrades and colleagues left behind dead or incapacitated and battling for life was slightly less painful Now I was also a battle casualty in the same league as Jeet.

Apart from Ranjit my son and Jeet my late wife the other involved party was the surgeon Dr Arora who was unfazed and upbeat `Nothing to worry` he exclaimed ‘There is enough territory for surgery if required.’ He confidently declared.

Dr Arora, the surgeon, was referring to the 99.9% of my outer ear still available to him to explore leaving me to decide for myself to feel relived or apprehensive about what future held in store for me.

 
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The Wedding anniversary

an extract BLS

This day 21st November 2006 our 48th wedding anniversary takes me back to 21st November 1958 the day when in the early part of the night we got married Jeet and I. Figure two has some especial position in my life we got married for the second time on the morning of 22nd November 1958 this time by the ceremony known as Anand Karaj the Sikh ritual of the wedding a precondition of my in –laws the earlier one was a Vedic ceremony the desire of my family.

There are other two’s in my life I have two birthdays one official and the other biological even two loves one real Jeet the other virtual the Army. Even Jeet celebrated two birthdays 21 and 2 of May being under the Zodiac sign of Gemini.

Now with a bald head reasonably active brain a clear head fairly un-drugged body I don’t drink left smoking ages back a vegetarian and a frugal eater and a rather well preserved 76, as I look at the black and white wedding pictures in the album I see a reasonable handsome young man of 28, dressed in the wedding finery holding the hand of a young girl just 18, both avoiding looking at each other.

What may have been passing in her mind at that I can only make a conjecture of possibly happy with the prospect of tying-up with some one whom she had started loving may be looking forward to an exciting new phase of life? However I am very clear as to what was troubling me from underneath the joy and thrill of finally and officially holding her hand in public the excitement of getting together with Jeet was heavily tempered with the weight of the responsibility that I was taking on by holding the hand of a simple innocent and loving individual who was trusting her life and future in my hands.

The moment of our first fleeting eye contact, yes it was ‘Love at First Sight; her eyes deep innocent trusting and plaintive; mine transparent and guileless. That contact of the moment was possibly responsible to strike a deal of mutual trust between the two of us of an agreement to swim or sink together. It was our decision the role of the two families was to arrange and organise the event.
 
Wow..your marriage anniversary is my birthday Sir..21st November :)

I thoroughly enjoy reading your extracts..really shows how much you loved your wife and what a wonderful relation you both had..one naughty question though..did you guys ever fight for something and have u covered that in ur book? would be interesting to read that too.. meethe ke sath namak :) hope you won't mind..
 
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pnauhwar21 said:
Wow..your marriage anniversary is my birthday Sir..21st November :)

I thoroughly enjoy reading your extracts..really shows how much you loved your wife and what a wonderful relation you both had..one naughty question though..did you guys ever fight for something and have u covered that in ur book? would be interesting to read that too.. meethe ke sath namak :) hope you won't mind..
Click to expand...

We fought every day on non-issues as there were no issues to fight upon ; that is the secret of love BLS
 
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[FONT=&quot]"I am not dwelling on the past, the past to me is like a favourite book which I can flick open from any where at random and start reliving [/FONT][/quote]"

Halo BLS ji,

recently got through the excerpts of your book, its really a wonderful narration of your life and times you spent in the army and with your loving wife. the feelings are simple yet so strong, i am really impressed.

looking fwd for the book to be released...

Regards,
Sandeep.
 
Respected Sir
I hv just read from

Long back,some times ..................................which I can flick open from any where at random and start reliving

I really appreciate you Sir

Thak you for sharing
 
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as I was proof reading I came to this BLS


In the mean time my father on learning about me and worried about Jeet had written to her a letter, which alluded to and confirmed the spirit back home if one was required,

We were happy to be back safe and sound. The ‘Guilt of Survivor’ was yet to hit us with,though the celebrations a bit too premature; it was too early to be fully aware of the terrible losses of equipment, the no of lives lost friends and colleagues missing or dead; hoping every day for some good news about those still trudging ahead, still unaware of the fate of those herded across to languish in the prisoner of war camps or those mortally wounded lying unattended in the valley, on the riverbank, up the slopes, life slowly draining out without food, water or medical aid in abject misery and unbearable pain with no one to provide succour and no hope

Unawares till then that the Commander Brig Dalvi had been taken a prisoner by the Chinese so also the Lt Col Tewari the CO who come visiting me a day previous and was spending the night with one of the forward Infantry Battalions.

The news of Maj Ram Singh the 2I/C of the regiment whose hospitality I and my wife had enjoyed earlier at Agra had been shot dead along with the valiant pilot of the helicopter was still in future.

Final telly 1, 388 Indian Soldiers were killed 3968 were taken prisoners and 1696 were missing​
The enormity of loss of men armament and equipment was yet to sink in not the least the loss of the name and fame of the Indian Army the blot on the Nations face all avoidable a failure of the political leadership and Army’s higher command
 
bls31 said:
'A Journey Through Life'

Only Journey is written and not the Destination


BLS
Click to expand...

Greetings Brig for penning down this journey which I'm sure you looked(looking) as an innocent child . Life is like a game of golf ;only meant to be played,not to win.Good luck and best wishes.
 
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Another extract from the book BLS



The sit-down dinner at the residence of the Indian High Commissioner, with the Police Commissioner of Islamabad on my left and a senior MEA official on my right was an embarrassing affair: I being a vegetarian and the dishes placed in front of me and removed untouched by the efficient waiters consisted mostly fish ,chicken or Mutton.

In Islamabad, I was under normal surveillance and was escorted, rather un-obtrusively, by the Pakistani team. However, Karachi was different , some thing unsavory had happened back in Delhi, with a Pakistan High Commission staff, resulting in swift reciprocal reaction in Pakistan; any move of mine was tailed both back and front. The car I was traveling in was boxed tightly: front and rear, if the car speeded the escorts also speeded and if it slowed down so did they, always maintaining the same lateral distance with the car. My escorts, possibly familiar with such ‘Cat and Mouse’ games; were excited, widely gesticulating and giving a running commentary on the progress. I on the other had, confined to the car and not used to what was happening both in and outside was getting extremely tense by the minute and was I insisting on terminating the sight seeing trip; Sharma, having fun, who was driving the car on the other hand was bent upon extending the chase for as long as possible .
 
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Thanks for the interest. I wonder about the term master piece. editing , printing release does take time . in the interim I have got a couple photocopied in A4 , for spell check and feed back and comments , but it costs about Rs 500 per copy. so you may have to wait. sorry for the deley. REgards Brig lakshman
 
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Possible the final extract from the book that I would be posting . I am thankful to those who read and especially those who commented Regards Brig lakshman

DELHI- Hospital: Buy One Get Two Free​
​
… A fleeting glance at the gory sight of a blood spluttered body on the table with a couple of green draped and masked, surgeons and OT nurses, 'ghoul' like in appearance straight out of a horror movie​
​

Hospitals are a world of their own; now that I am also admitted in Base Hospital Delhi it is the only world for me till I am here.

Delhiets are always busy, attending marriages, birthdays, funerals and hospitals, dutifully standing vigil in front of the OT (Operating Theatre) serving no purpose in so far as the person on the table inside

Yes it is a matter of prestige-how many came to visit the patient; VIP's welcomed the riff-raff accepted. It is not as to who came but who did not also how many did come, the count is important not the person,

Soon after the mandatory welcome 'Get well soon' remarks or a wish for a quick recovery, condolences and congratulations as the case may be, groups get formed, to discuss what such groups discuss, at the same time casting knowing glances at the late comers.


I am expecting no visitors and thus have solitude and also time to think. Every time I am given a prick I remember her, the more painful the injection, the more the feeling of remorse. With her post operation, chemotherapy that had shrunk her veins; narrowed and hardened difficult to locate, even more difficult to prick. Pain, pain and pain for one who was, painfully scared of the pain, Why she had to suffer all that? A question oft asked by me to myself but never answered. How much pain she, Jeet, my late wife, had to suffer and over time she had become a virtual pincushion.

APRIL 25 - From Room to OT

‘Let's go the Vehicle has come.’ Requests my escort.

I look for the ambulance, which ferries the patients to the OT, there is none. Just a black Ambassador car parked outside. I, it seem am a VIP at least till the OT, where rank, sex and religion loose all significance, where every one is just a body on the table.


A short ride and a shorter walk to the OT Complex I am guided to the room of the Senior Advisor in Anaesthesia, a pleasant and jovial Colonel Ramesh who is in the process of changing from uniform in to OT Greens. I also soon loose my identity, donning the offered green gown, open from the back-currently the latest fashion in ladies wear!

I am left in his office, to wait for my turn for the operation scheduled for 8 AM, in the company of another distraught husband who in desperate need of the holding of his hands, as a matter of fact; we both need to hold each other's hand. He worried about his wife, being operated inside for Cancer; I with thoughts of my late wife and her Cancer and with my own anxiety, being next in the line.

As my number comes up I am walked into the freezing cold OT complex, where I can see a number of stretchers occupied by living 'cadavers' if some thing like that is possible. The OT presents a frightening sight, with huge lights, shining instruments of torture, clearly visible in trays and in cupboards. A fleeting glance at the gory sight of a blood spluttered body on the table with a couple of green draped and masked, surgeons and OT nurses, 'ghoul' like in appearance straight out of a horror movie make me made me increase my pace.

I am guided to the next room and made to lie on a stretcher, there to wait in solitude with just my thoughts for company till the Colonel, in green, appears with a syringe, the largest with the longest needle that I have ever seen; not a very reassuring sight for person in my state of mind. I am told it was to block my area of operation.

Another wait of hour or so, I am asked to walk to the same OT which I had crossed, so quickly, only recently, albeit this time made to lie, strapped, on the narrow operating table. Soon I am 'a wired man'- with transducers attached all over me with my pulse, the hear-beat and other parameters starting to beep on the scope. The IV needle is deftly inserted by the surgeon in one of my left hand vain: I keep talking, more like babbling, till I hear someone say- ‘How are you?’


The time had stood still for me during the operation that was preceded by a period of anxiety with the actual process neither felt nor observed a blessing in disguise.


On of the pleasures of female company-touch, holding hand or the hand being held, a pleasure denied to me since long. After ages some one held the hand, with empathy and compassion for me the patient on bed in pain, while administering the IV injection also a painful affair. However, the feeling of comfort flowing from her fingers to my hand amply compensated for the torture of the injection being administrated.

Pampering: the few pleasures of falling ill- a glass of water offered, a cup of tea handed over in bed , the switching on/of the fan or light, being covered with a sheet when required, also a chance for throwing tantrums, all now deprived to me. Jeet my wife, used to say, ‘you don’t know how to fall sick.’ All this I am now learning as ‘On Job Training’

Strange when my clips were removed in the Minor OT of the hospital, it was on the same table where the post operation stitches of my wife, were removed a couple of years earlier.


I had gone to the hospital for Hernia and came back with Piles and Prostrate, a most uncomfortable and painful condition, possible after effects of anaesthesia, till it lasted. It was a case of ‘Buy One Get Two Free’

[FONT=&quot]
BLS[/FONT]
 
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