The Present – The Life of a Veteran
By the time the train screeched to a halt at Jalandhar railway station, I was already at the coach door, eager to disembark. The cold March air brushed against my face, carrying with it a peculiar mix of freedom and nostalgia. My belongings—two black boxes stacked neatly, a bedroll, and a bag—symbolized the closure of one chapter and the uncertain beginning of another. Behind me, fellow passengers hesitated, eyeing my boxes as if their descent would create a domino effect. The urgency to exit mirrored my inner turmoil, a blend of excitement and apprehension.
The platform, alive with the cacophony of porters, vendors, and passengers, seemed to echo my internal chaos. My footsteps felt heavy yet purposeful as I navigated through the crowd, balancing the weight of my luggage and my thoughts. The chilly air, biting yet invigorating, felt like a strange welcome—a stark contrast to the regimented warmth of the army camps I had left behind.
I had just taken leave from the army after 19 years and 3 months of service. A service that had defined my identity, disciplined my spirit, and etched indelible memories on my soul. Now, as I stepped into the unfamiliar territory of civilian life, I was both exhilarated and uneasy. The joy of coming home was palpable, yet a gnawing uncertainty loomed over my future.
Settling into Civilian Life
I arrived at my rented house in Jalandhar’s Central Town, where my wife awaited me at the door. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and pride. I had written her a letter about my arrival, but seeing her standing there, clutching the doorframe, felt profoundly grounding. The children were still asleep, their innocent faces untouched by the complexities of adulthood.
The first morning at home felt surreal. The routine I had adhered to for nearly two decades no longer dictated my day. No 5 a.m. reveille, no physical training under the stern gaze of a commanding officer, no meticulously polished boots or crisply ironed uniforms. It was a liberation I had long yearned for, yet it left a vacuum.
For a few days, I reveled in the simplicity of domestic life—waking up to the aroma of parathas, sipping chai in the veranda, and basking in the laughter of my children. Yet, the novelty wore off quickly. The pension, though steady, was insufficient to meet the dreams I had nurtured—building a house, securing my children’s education, and ensuring a comfortable life for my family. Reality nudged me, and I found myself scanning newspapers for job opportunities.
My first job was as a clerk at Cargo Motors in Jalandhar, located conveniently near the bus stand. It was a modest start, but it provided a sense of purpose. The daily grind was starkly different from the rigor of the army. The familiarity of hierarchy and camaraderie was replaced by transactional interactions and mundane paperwork. I adjusted, but not without longing for the disciplined chaos of my previous life.
After a short stint, I moved to Army Public School in Beas as an LDC Secretary. The environment, though civilian, retained a semblance of military structure, offering a comforting middle ground. Yet, I yearned for more. A position at Bharat Box Factory in Ludhiana as a Security Officer followed, where I managed logistics and personnel, drawing parallels to my army responsibilities.
Then came an
opportunity that would take me far from home—a position as a clerk at Akal
Academy, Baru Sahib, nestled in the serene Himachal hills. The tranquility of
the mountains was a balm to my restless spirit. Over time, I was transferred to
Akal Academy in Bhadaur, Punjab, as an admin officer. This role introduced me
to the intricacies of educational administration, a field I grew to appreciate.
The Call from Abroad
Out of the blue, a phone call offered me a job in Dubai as a Security Superintendent. It was an irresistible opportunity, promising financial stability and international exposure. Dubai’s glittering skyline and Abu Dhabi’s bustling streets were a world apart from the barracks and fields of my past. Yet, amidst the towering skyscrapers and desert heat, I often found myself reminiscing about the simplicity and camaraderie of army life.
After two years, I returned to India, drawn back by my connection to Baru Sahib. The academy, now expanding its horizons, entrusted me with a pivotal role at the newly established Akal University in Talwandi Sabo. As the Superintendent of Accounts, I was among the first staff members, witnessing the institution’s growth from its inception. Over the years, I was promoted to Assistant Registrar, a role that allowed me to mentor young minds and share the values instilled in me by the army.
The Weight of Memories
Despite the new roles and responsibilities, the memories of my army days remained vivid. Every time I saw a military vehicle or a soldier in uniform, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. I would recall the disciplined mornings, the camaraderie during challenging missions, and the quiet pride of serving the nation. The contrast between my past and present often left me melancholic yet grateful for the experiences that shaped me.
In moments of reflection, I realized that my civilian journey, though vastly different, was a continuation of the lessons learned in the army. Leadership, resilience, and adaptability became my guiding principles, whether managing a school’s administration or navigating the complexities of life abroad.
The Stories Yet to Be Told
The life of a
veteran is a tapestry woven with threads of pride, sacrifice, and longing. It
is a journey marked by the transition from regimented service to civilian
uncertainty, from shared camaraderie to solitary reflection. Through this book,
I hope to share the stories that define my journey—stories of courage, humor,
hardship, and hope.
As I sit at my desk, pen in hand, I feel the weight of these memories pressing against my chest. Each tale is a window into a world that, though left behind, continues to shape who I am. These are not just my stories but fragments of a collective legacy that binds every soldier who has ever served.
So, come along as I take you on a journey through time—a journey that begins here, in the quiet of my study, and winds its way back through the annals of my army life. Let us revisit the barracks, the battlefields, and the bonds that defined an era. Let us honor the past and find meaning in the present.
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