The Transition

 Beyond the piqued curiosity of my clueless mind,
 About a fate mantled with remarkable obscurity,

 I ponder over the life I will leave behind,
 A life vibrant with comfort and security.

 Possibly a concomitant of simply growing up,
 Or a bizarre manifestation of a quarter life crisis,
 The heart longs to hold on to a time that is up,
 To the departing fleet of memories, now devoid of surprises.

 Marriages, employments and beginnings, are all over the place,
 Some are even working, towards advancement of human race,
 Amid all these developments, I live with a lackadaisical mind,
 Such is the vexatious essence, of this prosaic transition phase.

 It's a gruelling  journey, this transition I must say,
 The heart is in the past, and the mind is disarrayed,
 But I strive and I strive for progression,
 So I must acknowledge the course of change,
 Accede to the defunct relationships,
 And the friendships that lie hackneyed.

 Such a wonderful journey, this journey we call life,
 Brimming with possibilities, spirited beginnings in time,
 And so I accept this change and have learnt all this while,
 That only "nothing lasts forever" will last forever as divine.

  

  

  

  

A Memory

"Lives of great men all remind us
 We can make our lives sublime,
 And, departing, leave behind us
 Footprints on the sands of time"
                                - A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Isn't it true in someway? No matter how screwed up, purposeless or monotonous our lives might be, but don't we always have the power to turn it around into a profoundly wonderful journey filled with surprises, successes, joys and eventual happy endings? Mr. Wadsworth sure is wise in his poem about making our lives sublime. However, sometimes it just doesn't work in the way we want it too. And that's real life !

We can not "always" turn a bad situation into a good one and make it all go away. However, we can think of life as a learning experience and apply our experience to improve things in future. Experiences add quality and maturity to your way of thinking. Bad experiences add twice as much as good ones do because those are the ones you never forget. A lot of things in life are inevitable and out of our control. Irrespective of how much we desire to change these things, they 'will' happen and we just have to deal with them.

Today I want to share one such story with you, which is an incident that happened around April-May 1999 (so 14 years ago). To refresh your memory, this was the time the Kargil conflict was slowly escalating into a deadly war. I was an 8 year old child totally oblivious to the concept of war living with my parents in Air Force Station Mohanbari in a place called Dibrugarh in Assam. But I vividly remember the events of that time that taught me lessons about life and death.  

It was a good time and typical of all air force stations, we used to have parties in the officer's mess every 2nd day. Long sessions of badminton in the evening and cycling across the campus with surreal cacophony of the Mi-17's and Mi-8's flying past us every now and then was a routine I was well accustomed to since I had never seen civilian life. Studying in one of the 14 schools I went to, every time a chopper flew over the school, all of us would start pointing to it and say,"that's my dad", then someone else would say,"No, that's a Mi-17, it's my dad". Finally, we would strike a deal, the rules of which gave slots in the day to each of the dads in that before the break, all choppers that flew over the school had my friend's dad. And all those that followed in the afternoon, had mine :) Games period would usually be in the afternoon and mostly we would not get the football we always wanted to play with because there would be only one and it would be with the seniors. So, instead of playing, we would sit and discuss what to do for today's party in the mess and what was being cooked. Parties would usually consist of a lot of air force families chatting over drinks in a big hall, where kids were sometime's not allowed, so everyone just sat in the TV room or played around with their friends. Me and my friends would go to the officer's bar and have coke and collect the bottle caps, which at that time gave some numbers at the back by which you could collect some postcards of cricketers. We would fight for the chicken leg piece during the dinner time and always loved the custard dessert. Their would be a lot of music and elegant dancing. The party would end and every senior officer would go back in their blue IAF jeeps with their families. There were times when my dad would take me to the runway to sit in the helicopter, which was still sitting on the tarmac. I would sit on the captain's seat and pretend to look cool wearing the headset with microphone. Today when I look back at those times, I realize how simple and yet fun-filled life it was in Dibrugarh ! How different and respectful IAF life really is and how you go so many places and learn about India in a way no one else can ! I miss those days terribly !

Then, everything changed ! My dad was watching the news in our bedroom, I walked in to find my mom and dad glued to the news about something in Kargil. Pakistani intruders had entered inside LOC during the winter time (when both Indian and Pakistani forces usually step back from their posts, which is a 'so-called' mutual understanding between the 2 nations) and set up their bunkers on the hills on the Indian side. The Army and Air Force were being called in to 'retake' the lost Indian soil. Never having known enough about what the real job of IAF was, I was shocked to know pilots from our Air Force Station would be called in to bomb the hills and that the Pakistani's have the equipment to retaliate. It did not take long to realize that helicopters are an easy target. As I was never a part of the discussions about my dad's job between him and my mom since I was 8, I never really knew if he would be called in or not. Everyday some or the other pilot would leave for Kargil and the 24x7 news about the wounded and the killed in Kargil made me more aware of the gruesome reality.

One day, a couple came to our home for dinner, who were good friends of my parents and I had known them for some years now. They had a 2 year old son named Dhruv. Muhilan uncle was a Mi-17 pilot along with my dad. That night we had a nice dinner. My mom and Bina aunty were talking about something related to AFWWA (Air Force Wives Welfare Association) and my dad and Muhilan uncle were talking about Kargil. I don't know what the talks were about, but then later that night, uncle and aunty left with dhruv. Everyone was happy and jovial, bid goodbyes and "goodnight sir"'s. I still very vividly remember the image of them leaving that night after dinner smiling back at us saying "goodnight". Because that was the last time I saw all three of them together.

Only a few days after that day, Muhilan uncle was called in for an attack mission in Kargil. He dodged surface to air missiles and carried out his attacks efficiently, when 2 stinger missiles hit his chopper and it crashed. Flight Lieutanant Subramaniam Muhilan was killed in that crash on 28 May 1999 along with his crew. He is survived by his wife Mrs. Bina Muhilan and his son Dhruv (who at the time was 2 years old). The news came shocking at our home since we just saw him a few days back cheerful and happy as he was. Regardless to say Bina aunty was inconsolable, not to forget their 2 year old son, who had no idea at the time what heroic mission had his dad been a part of and that his mom's status was officially changed to 'war widow'. News about fighter pilots was all that was talked about at the time and little was known about the heroic actions of the helicopter pilots of IAF.

When I first heard the news, it did not sink in. How could this happen? I just met him. He was filled with life. Why would something like this happen to someone so wonderful and loving? How can life change so much in such a short time? Few days back, he was right here chatting, eating with us. And now he is gone ! That was the time I first experienced the feeling of someone's permanent absence from life even though I wasn't really that attached to him. He was just a good friend of my parents. But he is gone, just like that ! A life ends and a new one begins. Unfortunately, his life ended when his son's life was only just beginning.

Life is like the sand in an hourglass. You can just sit and watch as it falls off completely or you can choose to do something so extraordinary that people remember you for generations to come. He did what any IAF pilot would have done in his place, but he immensely inspired everyone who knew him. That experience taught me a lot about life and how it can fall apart in a split second. Each day you are alive is a blessing by god. It's also a message from Him to live each day with complete joy and happiness. When I remember Muhilan uncle, the last image of him in my mind is of him smiling with every bit of his face expressing contentment and exuberance. A life worth lived, a respect well-deserved !

The sands of time in the hourglass won't stop falling and will empty off one day. You may think the time has long gone for turning around a pointless life into a meaningful one, for improving a failed relationship, for apologizing to a lost friend or for reconnecting with a parent you left away in an old age home. But, you can decide to make up for it in whatever small time you have left and live up again, start any day and make a new beginning. 

Because when you do that.............. you will realize the hourglass inverts and life begins again !