'Those are pearls that were his eyes'

Dear Lieutenant Commander Kapish Muwal,

As the defence ministry and navy indulge in the inevitable blame game and try to duck the charges of alleged gross negligence and callous irresponsibility that resulted in the INS Sindhuratna mishap in which you and your fellow officer Lt Manoranjan Kumar lost your young and precious lives, I write to you to beg forgiveness.

I beg forgiveness for the fact that young men like you, with dreams in their eyes and courage in their hearts live in a country whose government has such scant regard for them.

I beg forgiveness that we constantly and periodically let our officers down through acts of omission and commission; I beg forgiveness because I know, very soon after the breaking-news headlines die, we will forget you, others like you and get on with our self serving and selfish lives.

According to the papers you had celebrated your 28th birthday in New Delhi only a few weeks ago. The elder son of a Dwarka-based family, your loved ones describe you as adventurous and outgoing. They narrate how after you celebrated your birthday you said goodbye to them saying you would be back soon.

A girl you had befriended recently on a social networking site describes you as being full of zest and something of a fitness freak. You would tease her, she says, about being lazy. "Five days ago, he called me and we had a long chat. He told me he was excited," she says about you and your excitement at landing your new assignment that would take you deep under the ocean, only a few miles off Mumbai's coast.

I have been in one of those submarines too, Lt Commander. As a child I recall how a family friend had arranged to treat us to an afternoon in a submarine. I recall the strangeness of the experience, the intricate and highly complex machinery of the interiors, the vast mysterious ocean around us and the unfathomable silence and loneliness that engulfed us once we descended deep in to the bowels of the ocean.

Even then we realized the close and present danger that a life under the ocean meant. Even then we knew how the lives of people who lived in them hung precariously on a string.

What amazes and horrifies me Lieutenant Commander is how these facts escape the notice of the very people who are responsible for ensuring your safety.

The INS Sindhuratna tragedy is the tenth in recent times to have struck our defence services. Concerned officers have been crying themselves hoarse for years about the dismal quality of the equipment their forces have to use; the stench of nepotism and corruption surrounding defence procurement and the monumental apathy and slackness that politicians display when it comes to our military.

An apathy that has resulted in countless lives being lost and many unreported hardships endured.

Many years ago after reading about a school bus accident which had resulted in the death of many innocent young children, I had written in sadness and rage that I did not want to live in a country where I had to read about a single more tragedy like that.

Today I say the same: I do not want to live in a country where young officers like you have to die so needlessly because of the irresponsibility and callousness of our politicians.

You deserve better. We deserve better.

Your Facebook friend says you had promised to get her to exercise when you returned.

I think of you as I write this, many miles below this sorry land of ours, still in your ocean bed, dreaming of all the exciting things you will do when you surface.

Or, in the words of Shakespeare's Ariel in The Tempest, I think of you as :
'Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.'
Goodbye and Godspeed brave officer! You are in a better place than us!
Yours sincerely, etc

Malavika Sangghvi
The writer believes in the art of letter writing