Surviving LOC

Life is a beach, they say. Most times, I''d construe that as a cynical comment. But not after an unexpected encounter in Goa on New Year''s eve.
Col. Jaideep Sengupta V.C., group commander, NSG, was minding his own business, relaxing on a deck-chair with his wife Joyalakshmi and their two kids, when I was introduced to him.
A batchmate of Sengupta''s from his NDA days asked the startled armyman to show me his scars - one in the gut, the other on his thigh.
Embarrassed by the attention and conscious of the rather bizarre setting (think about it, only a few meters away, Salman Khan was strolling with model Katrina Kaif) the colonel, nevertheless obliged.
Big mistake. Once my husband and I had seen the awesome scars, we naturally wanted to know more.
Sengupta stubbed out his cigarette and laughed. "Tamil Tigers," he said briefly. "Night ambush, while I was leading my men across a canal in Sri Lanka." The story that followed was riveting.
Here was someone hand-picked to lead a crack team, finding himself hit in the leg - not realising then that a bullet had also got him in the gut. What was your first thought, I asked, having just seen a dreadful film called LOC.
"I knew I had to go after the guy who''d fired and get him." Did he??? "Yes, of course," he exulted, before adding, "Please don''t ask how many people I''ve killed...."
Frankly, I couldn''t handle it. This was the first time in my life I was having a detailed conversation with someone who''d been shot at and who''d shot others. Death never looked as simple an option - kill or get killed.
Behind us, the sun was setting. Fairy lights were coming on in the lawns of luxury beach front hotels. A tycoon''s yacht shimmered in the distance. And here was this man recounting the moment he could''ve been history himself, while his lovely wife listened quietly and his kids played happily in the sand.
Looking at them, who would know their story? Of how Joyalakshmi thought he was a "bedsheet seller from Howrah" when they were first introduced at her parents'' home in Kolkata?
How his father made a joke about his condition to spare his mother, when the standard army form arrived informing the "next of kin" that something awful had happened to their previous child?
How his pregnant wife nearly bit off her tongue after saying "Thank God", when an army commandant''s wife mouthed "bad news", and she thought it was her husband who''d died when it was his team mate....
I was privileged enough to be told the most human, most vulnerable stories about life as our brave, fearless soldiers live it. It was in the retelling of these delicate moments, that I could understand the bigger battle.
Sengupta described it all vividly and with uncommon passion, often aided by his wife who filled in details. She spoke feelingly about living with uncertainty without ever flinching.
About cherishing their time together. About honour and commitment. Tough. Very tough. Especially when your life partner''s life itself is on the line every day and you don''t know when, or if, you''ll see him again.
Sengupta talked about this futile search for Veerapan, describing him accurately as "a creature of the jungle, an animal". It''s a fight that will be fought with the hand and not firepower, using psychological rather than military strategy. Sengupta seemed confident of getting his man.
"I''m not a gladiator," he joked. "Today''s situation requires a tough mind and a fit body. You don''t need to be pumped up or beefy. You need to think clearly in extreme situations... that''s what I''m trained for."
Meeting Sengupta on the last day of the year, my heart soared. It was a perfect New Year gift. I salute you, Colonel. India is proud of you and your co-faujis. May your heads always remain as high as our beloved tricolour.