Can only marvel at the batman

Lt Col AK Ahlawat

An elderly Army couple was travelling from Delhi to Pithoragarh in Uttarakhand to attend a wedding. The small bus whirled and bumped through tunnels of dust on broken roads.

The bus screeched to a halt, raising a shower of dust in its wake. They were at the Ghat bridge. The green waters of the Saryu river raced southward, singing over rocks. The elderly man had been a much respected General in the Infantry. Tall, rugged with flowing pepper silver hair, he looked every inch a soldier. His long moustache imparted to him the aspect of an 18th century warlord. After retirement, he had started writing books and memoirs about Army service, which brought him acclaim and satisfaction.

He was working on another book when this wedding journey had pulled him away from his desk. He alighted from the bus and offered his hand to his wife.

They saw retired Havildar Mahesh emerge from a chai-khana where two gaily caprisoned ponies stood ready for the remaining journey. Behind old Mahesh walked his son, whose wedding it was. He was also a soldier in his father’s paltan. The two old comrades met and bear-hugged warmly without a hint of the wide chasm between their ranks.

Mahesh’s village lay three hill hours away. Mahesh had been the General’s batman many years ago.

The year was 1993 and Major General Sengar was then Major Sengar. The paltan was at Sopore, a Kashmiri town famous for its apple orchards, the Wular lake and its free roaming terrorists.

In those days, bullet-proof jackets were just being introduced and were in short supply. Issued 30 per battalion, barely three or four came to a company’s share. The officers avoided wearing them thinking that the men didn’t have them. The men said if our officers aren’t wearing, we shall also make do without them.

One day in September that year, Major Sengar was leading a column through terrorist-haunted Sopore town. The ominous alleys were narrow, with the houses welded together in rows. Terrorists started raining heavy fire. Bullets clanged and sparked and richocheted all around. Major Sengar, pinned in a doorway, fired back. Receiving a tremendous amount of fire, he felt it was only a matter of time before a bullet found him. He saw the figure of a man come darting through the spray of bullets and jump in front of him. It was Sepoy Mahesh.

“Mahesh, what gall! Get back. You got two little kids to look after back home. Get aside and stop shielding me,” protested the officer. Major Sengar also had two sons aged two and three-and-a-half years. Mahesh had two daughters then and his son, whose wedding the Sengars had come for, was born later.

But the adamant soldier didn’t budge. He behaved like a deaf man and ignored his officer’s entreaty. Other guardsmen were advancing now, retaliating and picking up terrorists firing from upper storey windows. Gradually, the terrorists’ fire diminished and they melted away. The Guards’ battalion again started probing through Sopore.

After the day’s battle, Major Sengar called Sepoy Mahesh and admonished him sternly, “Why did you take such a grave risk? Why did you become a human shield for me? It’s lucky that both of us are alive.”

“Sahab, I am assigned to you. It is my duty to protect my company commander. If a bullet had struck you without first going through me, I would have failed in performing my duty properly.”