Kargil for me

This stay with my father in Kargil was something that I'll never forget, being the oldest of the children and around 12 years old, these memories became a part of my experinces that I went on to narrate in my adult life (obviously to people that would care to listen). I remember the "Bukhari" (the coal heater)that Ajay is talking about, without which we would freeze I'd say.
The landscape (sorrounded by towering peaks and mountains) outside was spectacular (wish we'd captured it on camera - nevermind), I remember we could see a triple peak, what they

called the "Trishul" these were pickets (20 odd thousand feet) bordering Pakistan from our glass house bedroom. Another time I remember us being chased by wild dogs, us (me and other kids) running away at top speed with my brother and sister in tow on either of my hands (what can you say...we beat them chaps to safety).
Besides those secret outing us kids had trekking down around 150 feet of trecherous pathways to the "Suru" river in the afternoon's on the quiet without informing our parents.
Then once dad took us to some display Artillery firing (culmination of an excercise)along with families of other officers, to observe the canons booming on to targets up the peaks (we had to observe them with binoculars as they were real high), and in the breaks we'd hang around unmanned observations post bunkers with magazineless sten guns ying around and me and the other grown up kids would pick them up to play around with it, obviously till we got discovered and told off.
Dad was central for us in all our experiences in life, he liked it that way and we appreciated that way too.

High-altitude Posting

This was when he served his high-altitude 2 year period (1978-1981) posting at Ladhak-Kargil sector. He held the position of second-in command here.

The officers are permitted to bring their families for a period of 4 months during their tenure. I vaguely remember our stay there in a glass house with bunker beds ! It was very exciting for us! I remember a big Sigri (coal heater) was at the center of the house, though I don't think we used it as it was summer time.

There are many more exciting memories of those 2 months, but most of mine are formed by the stories told by my brother, sister & parents. Maybe my siblings can pitch in here as they were old enough to know what was happening!

An uncorrupted Indian who stuck out like a sore thumb!

Yesterday we had been to the local sub-registrars office as we (the children of Lt.Col. S.A.Maria Dass) wanted to release our share of the inherited property over to his wife and our mother. All this because my father failed to make a formal will!

The sub-registrars office was a typical Indian government office. A shabby run down home converted to an office with second hand furnitures, plastic chairs and bits of paper strewn all over the place. On one side of the wall hung a huge portrait of Gandhiji with a Sandalwood garland decorating it! I never understood why they have this, were they hoping somehow that they would finally learn what Gandhiji stood for just be looking at his portrait! It really escapes me why these government officials make such a spectacle of themselves!

There is a huge idealogical difference between the man in the portrait and the men working below the portrait. The man in the portrait stood for truth and honesty, he denied himself the pleasures of life to serve the people of this country. The men below the portrait stood for the ultimate corruption eating into the fabric of this country like wood borers! A stark contradiction! I wish these men could at least not be such hypocrates.

The sub-registrar through her pimp demanded a sum of 6000Rs to do her work! We pleaded with her that this would be too much to pay for a widow who lived on her husbands meagre pension. But, she stuck to her guns and said that she needed that amount as it gets distributed to everybody. Everybody, implied "everybody" from the pimp, to the neta!! We parted with the amount for fear that our job wouldn't be done, finally becoming a part of the organized corruption run by "everybody. The goons extract hafta, the police extract hafta, the government servents extract bribes thats no different from a hafta, and all these people operate on the fear of helpless people!

A few people like my father didn't easily give in to such fears. I still remember how he used to boldly walk into the chairmans office and tell him, "I am from the Army. I fought the most severe wars to defend people like you and I never asked for more than my salary!". That was usually enough to bring down the most strict IAS officer's to their knees!

There is one humble request I would like to make to all serving and retired defence personals. Please don't corrupt the Indian Army. The Indian Army is a prestigious institution and my father lived to uphold its honour and glory to his death. He stood for the true gunners moto -
"Sarvatra Izzat-O-Iqbal” (Everywhere: With Honour and Glory).

He hated the Army for what it was becoming! He couldn't come to terms with the politics and corruption wrecking the foundations of this great institution!