A Life Less Ordinary ... Life Of A Solder!

 Born in the heart of pre-independence India in 1939, my father entered a world of uncertainty and resilience. The exact date of his birth remains a mystery, as meticulous record-keeping was a luxury in those times. My grandfather, guided by memory and a deep connection to nature, chose February 14th—a date etched in his mind by the memory of a fierce storm that swept through their village.

My father was the fourth of my grandparents’ sons, the son of a humble farmer. From the start, life demanded perseverance. Each day, he ran 20 kilometers to attend school, a testament to his unwavering determination to learn. Beyond academics, his days were filled with endless chores, the rough camaraderie of three elder brothers, and the firm discipline of a father who believed in the transformative power of principles and hard work.

Though challenging, these early years were the crucible in which his character was forged. The grit and discipline instilled in him during those formative years would later become the foundation of his remarkable journey. This journey transformed a farmer’s son into a soldier, a leader, and a beacon of inspiration for everyone around him. 

My father, a restless child more interested in playing and herding my Grandpa's cows, was sent to Gurukul Kangri by my Grandpa, who believed the school would instill discipline and character in him. The Gurukul, derived from the Sanskrit words for teacher (Guru) and family/home (Kula), emphasized education through Hindu holy texts and character-building activities, such as household chores, self-discipline, politeness, respect, spirituality, and good humanism.

My father woke up at 3 AM daily to complete his chores before studying until sunset. He participated in Hawan/Yajnas (acts of devotion and worship), cooked for other students and gurus, and recited sacred texts. Despite his restless nature and desire to make his mark on the world, he was determined to do more than just study. He constantly plotted his escape from the Gurukul, which was 110 km from his village.

Travel was daunting in post-independence India, with few paved roads and limited transportation. At age 10, my father decided to escape the Gurukul and return to his life of play and cow-rearing. One night, while everyone slept, he began his journey on foot without understanding the concept of money or how to use buses and trains. He relied on his knowledge of his village's name and the general direction he needed to walk.

Over seven days, he survived by stopping at shops and using Dakshina (alms) for food and water. He mingled with sadhus (holy men) and tantriks (Indian voodoo priests), singing and chanting holy scripts with them. Despite his young age, he showed remarkable determination and survival skills, eventually reaching his village without his grandparents ever knowing he had run away.

When my father returned, my grandpa was both angry and proud, having demonstrated incredible character and resilience. Though brief, the Gurukul education laid the foundation for my father's future. It prepared him to face challenges and obstacles with the discipline and qualities needed to conquer them.