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As I wandered on the rocky,
barren and wild mountains
I couldn’t help but wonder...and admire in awe....
the cold raw nature and beauty of this poignantly beautiful desert and
water body.
I walked on a land --
- the splendor of which every writer wants
to pen down.
- the beauty of which every poet wants to shower hyperbolic adjectives
on,
- the panoramic view of which is every
dreamers delight,
- the trail that every traveler wants to tread,
- the mountains that every mountaineer
wants to scale,
- the hues of colour that every painter
wants to put on canvas,
- where prayer flags snap in the wind
on high passes
and villages lie marooned amongst
spectacular mountain scenery.
A place - so quiet , so peaceful , so serene....
....I quite lost my self there -
But it was only for a moment.....
....and then a bell rang somewhere -
at the back of my head.
Was it a bell?
Or was it the roar of a gun?
It took me back in memory....
Wasn’t this the same place-
that just a decade ago
at this very time of the year-
was not as quiet and serene as I saw it today?
It had echoed the bold steps of the Indian
soldiers who had walked on so fearlessly.
It had reflected the blasts of the arty shells that were fired from
both sides.
It had seen the bloodshed of the brave men who died so gallantly for
this very land.
I had known some who had laid their lives here,
but there were so many more....
....those who I would never know.
They called it “OP VIJAY”......”vijay” was ours,
the cost was high...
... precious lives
... brave men
...young hearts
...high spirits.....
...that was the price we paid.
For a while I wondered....
for these barren, rocky mountains-
a terrain so difficult for habitation....
was it wise....to pay this heavy a price?
My doubts vanished in a jiffy.....
the moment I stepped into the
Gallery of Martyrs.
I read every name on the board of honour.
The photographs I saw were -
of hardships faced during the operation,
-of medical aid on the roadside,
-of soldiers - some wounded, some dead,
some on the tread.
The photographs I saw were those taken by
soldiers themselves
who had no idea what lay ahead.......
...yet there was a TWINKLE in every EYE,
a SMILE on every FACE ,
and JOSH in every SMILE.
I was here to visit...
....on a luxury holiday as it seemed
to catch the rainbow on the mountain tops
to climb a glacier or two
to ride the snow scooters
and build snowmen with my daughter.
But these men had come here to fight
They had scaled these wild mountains with treacherously high passes
...not for fun...
...not for pleasure....
They would Die Here
these men had known.
I felt so small.....
I saw the “KARGIL KALASH”
I felt a lump in my throat
My heart cried for every soul whose name I had read on the martyrs
list.
My heart went out to every family who had lost a part of their past ,
present and future….here.
The Martyrs Gallery and The War Memorial at Drass, I feel, every
Indian should visit…..
……a sense of gratitude for the brave men….
Hats off to the men in ‘green’ for
they have actually married the ‘Olive Green’. |
