Col GN Purandare

The Mahabharata is replete with stories of human foibles, daring and endeavour. But my favourite story was the one that my friend, Girish Purandare, often recounted to me during the heady days when we did the Young Officer’s Course at Mhow. Girish was a strapping young lad of physically immense proportions but with a heart of gold. Now for the story. Dharmaraj Yudhishtra and his brothers are making the long arduous trek to heaven, and one by one his brothers fall. Finally, only Yudhishtra and his dog reach the gates of heaven. While the dog is allowed entry Dharmaraj has to see hell for a day for having told a truth with bad intent that caused the death of Dronacharya. During his brief sojourn in hell, he finds all his brothers including Krishna’s favourite Arjuna undergoing the torments of hell. When he finally enters heaven, who should he find there but his arch enemy Duryodhana. A nonplussed Dharmaraj is told by Yama, the God of Death that Arjuna could’nt get over the failing of pride over his prowess as an archer. And Duryodhana? Simple, he died on the battlefield fighting for his mother land. Having divine sanction for our sinful actions as young officers we willfully entered into an orgy of pleasure, wining dining and wooing in Mhow. Given the hostile neighbourhood of India our chances of doing a Duryodhana– Houdini escape act was rather bright.

We were again together during the three year long degree engineering course at Pune and Mhow. After the dusty UP towns where our regiments had been stationed, Pune was like heaven on earth. We were virile energetic young bachelors packing in as much action as we could into every minute of the day. The Course itself was academically demanding and it was an exciting time to be in the field of telecommunications. The possibilities of telecommunications and computers converging into cyber space was close to becoming a reality. We were the best of friends playing squash, wining and dining together, but it soon became clear that we would both be vying for the top honours. For a while, it seemed that I would give him a good run for his money until he went and fell in love with a tall beautiful engineering student Radhika, from a local College. Before, you could blink your eyes he was married and well settled while I continued on my philandering ways. After that there was no contest and he was cantering away. By the time I got hitched to Jayanti in the final semester at Mhow it was too late and I had to settle for second spot while Girish walked away with the Gold Medal. Jayanti of course always made me choose ‘the harder right instead of the easier wrong’ but that is another story. I had the minor satisfaction of giving him a good hiding in the squash finals and to his eternal mortification our names as winner and runners up for 1988 still stands in the Walker Squash Courts. We were both nominated for Post graduation studies at the IITs. Again he chose the more difficult field of computer sciences while I settled for telecommunications. Meanwhile, we had both been blessed with lovely daughters quickly followed by a strapping boy each. Life was full of promise.

The first hint of our rivalry not going the full distance came when it was time to appear for the prestigious Staff College Entrance examinations. I opted only for the Technical Staff course while he duly got selected for the Staff College. He scolded me,’ I thought we would fight to the finish, and you did’nt even turn up at the start line’. After the course, we went our respective ways, he to the troubled Kashmir Valley and me to Shimla. He again distinguished himself when leading an adhoc operation by knocking off three terrorists. Fate willed that we be brought together again and we were both posted to Delhi. Here he created a software package for qualitative analysis that would provide decision support for procurement of weapon systems, for which he was commended by the Chief of Army Staff, while I slaved away at the Postings Branch an object of much criticism. The powers that be however felt that we were both eligible to command units and detailed us for the Senior Command course at Mhow. As India progressed on the vehicle of Manmohanomics, Mhow seemed to have been left behind.. Except for a few grey hairs on the moustaches of our favourite tailors and an odd sign board advertising mobile service providers Mhow seemed to exist in a time warp. Our respective bosses had exhorted both of us to come back with flying colors, but the soothing environs of Mhow coupled with the absence of our nagging spouses made us regress back to our Young Officer days. Come the post lunch hour and a keen look would appear on Girish’s face. ‘ Can you hear it?’ he would ask much as the Gopis longed for the sweet strains of Krishna’s Flute. He was of course referring to the aged lambretta of the Kulfi wala who knew where the connoisseurs of his wares lived. We muddled through the Course, reveling for once in the anonymity of mediocrity. Not for long though, as we were again forced to rise to the challenge of commanding units in the backdrop of OP PARAKRAM. Apparently we had both been good commanding officers as we found ourselves nominated for the Higher Defence Management Course at the College of Defence Management, Secunderabad. The competition here was much stiffer as the course had the best and brightest officers from the three Services. Girish, however still excelled coming second on the course as also receiving the second prize for his dissertation on The Indo US Nuclear Deal. I had to remain content with the first prize for the best case study. After, the course while I stayed back as an Instructor he was posted on staff to the North East. He had by now left his squash playing days behind and become an enthusiastic Golf player outdriving other more skilled players by using his sheer physical strength. Which was why it was such a shock seeing him lie comatose in the Command Hospital at Kolkatta, his body racked by the low grade fever that characterizes Leukemia.

The first round of chemotherapy had thinned his hair, darkened his face and enlarged his spleen distending his stomach. He had undergone severe bodily discomfort including blister like eruptions and a debilitating diarrhea due to the side effects of chemotherapy. His defences having been laid low he was susceptible to infections, and no visitors were permitted to meet him. I had to pull strings to meet him, the sanctioning authority being his wan but resolute life support system, Radhika. She warned me not to speak of his illness, but true to his great fighting spirit he was confident of his chances and getting ready to move to Delhi for two more rounds of chemotherapy to be followed by a bone marrow transplant. I assured him our rivalry would continue as he was certain to make it in the Brigadier’s promotion board scheduled in Apr 2009. He could’nt talk for too long as he tired quickly. Now, I am no Reiki Master, but when he asked me for therapy to ease the pain, I called upon all the healing powers in the Cosmos to descend on my feeble palms. When he seemed at peace I left the room. Later, that evening Radhika told me that he had benefited from my touch but could’nt see me as the fever had returned. As darkness descended, Girish again demanded to see me. I walked in not knowing what to expect. True to form, there was soft music playing and Girish was conducting an invisible orchestra as the soulful hindi numbers of our youth filled the room. We listened in silence as Kishore, Lata and Mukesh expressed all that we couldn’t say. He soon began speaking of how he had not let down the Corps of Signals when called upon to analyse the Chinese threat, of how proud he was to be a Signals officer and of how much he owed to the Corps. He had written a poem on the day he was diagnosed of blood cancer and was keen on circulating it to his course mates and obtaining their opinion on it. The poem was remarkably moving expressing the paradox of surrender to the almighty while simultaneously being engaged in a pitched battle with him for the gift of life. He was determined not to give up.

But as the John Lennon song goes,’ Life happens when we are busy making plans’. Or, as in this case, death happened. That great heart was stilled by a cardiac arrest at 1800h on 26 Feb 2009. The cancer had insidiously eaten into his vital organs. Girish had fought his final battle, and here he was wrapped in the tricolor, lying lifeless as the buglers played the Last Post. The crematorium was a sea of green as the arms guard gave him their ‘Salami Shastra’. His beloved Corps of Signals was represented in full strength. I was not in green however, for, you see one can’t cry in uniform.

I don’t know if his battle for life meets the exacting requirements of Yama, but the courage with which he fought the good fight could not have escaped the notice of the Great Reaper. The religious teacher who performed the last rites, seeing my tears told me, ‘Ab woh sare bandhan se mukt ho gaye hain’. It was then that it hit me. In the race that mattered his soul had made it to the finish line before mine.

Colonel C Mani