Tuesday, April 5, 2011

UNKNOWN UNSUNG HEROES

This was an email forwarded to me -definitely a must read --
An ode to the Indian soldier
March 09, 2011 7:57:38 PM

Manvendra Singh

While India has chosen to forget the sacrifices of its soldiers in
foreign land, Sri Lanka has erected a memorial in honour of the IPKF’s
fallen heroes.

I was on the lookout for Harpal’s name. Like all those who knew him I
too had been devastated by the loss of the Ropar Khalsa. He had that
infectious persona. I had last seen him at his unit mess, during the
1987 cricket world cup. Even as the country partook in its cricket
craze, there were those who didn’t have that luxury, as they were at
war for India.

Harpal didn’t want to remain in the rear, looking after his unit,
ladies and children. An officer of 1 Para Commando, Harpal lost his
life during Operation Pawan in Sri Lanka. His battalion, like
countless others, had been part of the Indian Peace-Keeping Force that
ended up fighting the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Elam when they had
gone to keep the calm in the island.

Nothing captured the irony and the idiocy of the situation more than
an officer injured early in the fighting telling me later, “I was
injured by the LTTE who were using arms and ammunition supplied by
India, and saved by the Sri Lankan Army who had been supplied by the
Pakistanis.” But it is not for the soldier to question political
decisions, however bizarrely they may turn on their head.

A dear friend, Harpal had been the subject of the first article I had
written about the IPKF in my early days as a journalist. It was on ode
to Harpal, by name, and through him to all the others of the Indian
Army who had fallen in a battle they had hardly prepared for.

So when I learnt of the memorial to soldiers of the IPKF, a visit
there became inevitable. To bow my head, say a prayer, pay respect,
and search for names that carried memories of fondness. And there it
said — Capt H Singh PARA. Touching, and I was grateful.

Standing at the foot of the memorial I gazed in awe at its beauty and
solemnity. Officers and jawans etched in perpetuity, white on black,
and from across the country. There are Kashmiri names, just as there
are Naga names. All casualties of a political decision to battle those
they had gone to protect.

Every infantry regiment, and more, was recorded there. Tank men who
volunteered for infantry duties, and didn’t come back to India are
remembered for their valour. I saw the name of Col Chabra, whose son
now dons the same uniform of the same battalion as he did while
fighting for his country. It was humbling to stand before them, all
together in memory, for posterity.

When the awe and pain of going through the names subsided, I couldn’t
believe myself that there was, finally, a state inspired and funded
war memorial to Indian soldiers. The fact that a Government-created
memorial could be so beautifully made was as hard to believe as seeing
one constructed in the first place. It is not a citizen’s initiative
like, for example, the memorials in Chandigarh and Bangalore. It has
been inspired by a national Government, funded and constructed by its
agencies.

But, alas, in this case the state is not the Government of India, and
the agencies that created it are not its PWD or MES. The credit is
owed only to the Government of Sri Lanka, and the construction has
been done entirely by the Sri Lankan Navy. And it has been done
strikingly well.

Even as the Government of India resists the pressures of its soldiers
and citizens to make a post-independence war memorial, Sri Lanka has
recognised the significance of the Indian soldiers and sailors who
died for its integrity from 1987 to 1990. The memorial has been made
entirely from Sri Lankan funds, architectural consultants, and the
contracting agency is the Sri Lanka Navy. Creditable when one
considers the absence of any Government-made war memorial in India.

A plaque reads in English and Hindi: “This monument is dedicated to
the members of the Indian Peace-Keeping Force who made the supreme
sacrifice during the peace-keeping mission from 1987 to 1990 in Sri
Lanka.” Another plaque says: “Indian Peace-Keeping Force — Valiant
were their deeds; Undying be their memories.”

The IPKF memorial resides in the new capital of the country near
Colombo, Sri Jayawardanepura Kotte. Past the Sri Lankan Parliament,
the IPKF memorial is but a stone’s throw from the Sri Lankan national
memorial for their own war heroes, rows upon rows of names etched in
eternity. They fought to the bitter end with the LTTE, losing hundreds
of brave soldiers in the process. And it is touching the level at
which Sri Lanka values the contribution of the IPKF, for such is the
pride of place which they have given to, and erected a memorial for,
the sacrifices made by Indian soldiers.

I recall vividly the coincidence of dates in 1995. In the space of a
few weeks there would be the 50th anniversary of the end of World War
II and the 30th anniversary of the 1965 India-Pakistan war. I remember
formally asking the Ministry of Defence as to how India was going to
mark the events, both of which cost precious Indian lives. A
bureaucrat replied, without any trace of irony or humility for the
dead, that India was a peaceful country and did not believe in marking
events like wars. The classic ahimsa line.

I was aghast, especially since the British Government was taking all
Indian Victoria Cross and George Cross winners to London for the big
celebrations. And India was silent on its own contributions. That
attitude persists even today.

India’s attitude towards its soldiers, sailors and airmen can be
gauged from the fact that a black plaque bolted on the IPKF memorial
remains unlettered, blank. The Prime Minister of India was meant to
inaugurate the memorial and have his name etched on this plaque. The
inauguration was put off on account of political sensitivities within
India, so the plaque remains bare and black.

Votes and political alliances are more important in India than
respecting the memories of those 1,200 soldiers and sailors who lost
their lives on account of the follies of their rulers. The bare black
plaque stares back at visitors, conveying a message of ingratitude,
insensitivity, and disrespect. As true a reflection of Indian
attitudes to fallen soldiers as there can be.

In the meantime, Sri Lanka honours Indian soldiers and sailors just as
well as they honour their own.

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