Siachen, Mumbai and the country in between

Recently, I took a trip to Leh in Ladakh. It wasn’t a trek or a vacation, but, in fact, a course in mountain medicine. Ladakh is beautiful. Not the blooming, rosy, fresh, young beauty one finds in the garden-strewn Srinagar. Not the flashy, breathless, twinkling gaiety of Mumbai’s nightlife, or the too-perfect, postcard quality prettiness of Manali. Not the lush and craggy imperfection of a Sahyadri hill. Leh is beautiful in a stark, lonely, wistful sort of way. It is a beauty that tempts you to discover the solemn secrets of a time past, which it holds close to its bosom… a beauty that haunts you. It is the beauty which one associates with graceful aging, with scars - with dust and history.

Well, the whole trip was a wonderful experience from start to end. Since we were attending the course conducted by the Indian army, we were living in the army transit camp at Leh. With me in the course were seven more civilians and sixteen participants from the armed and para-military forces. There was just one other Bombayite. These people with us had all seen a lot more of the world than me… many had taken part in expeditions, most had defended the country's borders at some point of time, some had dealt with Bangladeshi militants, some had done time on Siachen and one had even eaten leeches in early morning patrols in Sikkim! But most of these very interesting people had a little awe for the two Bombay kids. ‘Awe’ sounds very pompous and I know that we don’t deserve it. Just because Mumbai happens to have the film industry, a plethora of nightclubs, the famed nightlife and busy trains and a pulsating never-asleep work culture, I think there is a feeling that Mumbaiites must be confident, bold and fun. I’m sure nobody consciously thinks this of us. It is an assumption that we must be slightly street-smart, confident, and brazen and bindaas. Well, this generalization is (like most) largely incorrect.

I’m not a very patriotic person. I don’t think that drunken renditions of the national anthem when we win the cricket world-cup or watching the tax-free “Chak De” and suddenly developing a love for the national sport are signs of patriotism. The concept of both watan and war are alien to me. In fact, the very usage of the word watan irritates the Tamilian in me… it is as though the North is the sole representative of India, and let’s just use the Bangalore example when it’s convenient to say that we are “world-leaders” in software technology. I also have little patience with North-Indians who lump everyone South of the Vindhiyas as “Madrasis”. (Notice the irony in that previous statement.) In fact, the entire “North-East Indian Idol” fiasco is a scary reminder of widespread ignorance, double-standards and inability to see the country as one. It is amusing how newspapers suddenly report the inability of politicians in the North-Eastern parts of the country to provide the basic civic amenities. All of a sudden, they focus interest on how politicians are using a singing contest to resurrect pride in the more neglected regions of the nation. Somehow, the timing of such reports itself adds to the irony.

At most times, I really cannot grasp the concept of “nation”. But, in Leh, we went to have a look at the “Hall of Fame” museum. The museum has, among its many informative displays related to all the wars of independent India, a little wall dedicated to Siachen. It tells us why we need to keep fighting off an enemy army in the bitterly cold, inhuman terrain. They are after our land, nibbling into it; piece by tiny piece. It is then, that it strikes one that the distance between Siachen and Mumbai isn’t that far after all. The freedom that we don’t even realize we have, that we take so much for granted is definitely bought at a price. And suddenly I feel selfish and scared. Selfish because I, who cannot understand what the word “nation” really means, desperately want to belong to a country that gives me my freedom. Scared, because, I suddenly realize how much I have and how much I might lose. Out of this fear and self-interest is born the notion of “freedom and nation”. It is pathetic. I think we should all be made to serve in the army for a while so that it gets through to our thick heads what it means to be the member of a free nation and how grateful we ought to feel. And I wonder what the soldier standing at his post in Siachen, reading his copy of yesterday’s newspaper today (it’s the earliest that the paper will reach there) thought about the boys in blue who received the “hero’s welcome” for winning the Cricket War.