Kargil Vijay Diwas: Up, close and personal with a wife who had her husband in the thick of battle

My daughters and I were planning to spend the summer vacation in Kashmir, where my husband, a commanding officer, was converting his battalion into pure class 18 Garhwal Rifles, at Sopore. However, the day after we reached Srinagar, he was called to Kargil and we had to return home.

We left with an army convoy at 7.30am, heading to Ramban. The journey was smooth until the bus stopped at the Banihal Tunnel because a stray calf was blocking the road. Our driver, upset that this wasn't scheduled parking, overtook Bus no 1. We had just gone a few kilometres ahead when all of a sudden there was a very loud sound.

Bus no 1 had been attacked by militants. They had fixed an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) at the side of the road. Our restless driver had inadvertently saved us. One officer survived but lost his boy, girl and wife who were all hit by the splinters. A colonel was saved as the splinters grazed his cap. Another was hurt so bad, his insides were visible, and an officer, who was hit on his head, bled profusely.

I'm a daughter of an army officer. I was two years old, my sister, was one and my mother barely 26, when my father died in the 1965 war. I've been brought up in such a manner that these things do not shake me up.

That's how Kargil began for me.

During the war, home to us was the Separated Family Accommodation in Dehradun. As the 'First Lady of the Battalion', I felt like a mother and saw the army as an extended family. The role appeared glamorous and I received a lot of respect, but it also involved many responsibilities. Wives and mothers of the jawans would come to me for news about their men. Every woman underwent the same mental trauma. Each of their husbands was in the thick of battle. While consoling them, I myself didn't know the real picture. My husband didn't call or send a letter for 25 days during the war. I reasoned he was at a remote place. Before going to war, he told me, 'I will only come back if we win, otherwise I will kill myself, I can't take defeat...'

On June 29, when our younger daughter turned five, an officer asked his family to convey to me, "Ishani ka birthday zaroor celebrate karna nahi to colonel ko bahut bura lagega (Please celebrate your daughter Ishani's birthday otherwise the colonel will feel bad). We later got to know that my husband had gone on an attack as we celebrated her birthday.

One morning, a Rifleman from 6 Garhwal came with the sarpanch to see if I had any clue about his brother, Rifleman Narpal Singh, at Kargil. I told him not to worry as the war was about to end. On the fourth day, when my husband called me for the first time after the war began, I first asked him about Narpal. That's when I learnt that Narpal had died from a gunshot and had fallen off a cliff. My husband could see the body but was unable to recover it as the enemy would've fired from the other side. He told me not to inform the family until the army had recovered his remains. When the army did and informed the family, the brother and father came asking if they'd get to cremate the body. Alas, his remains were in no condition to be transported, but I insisted that he arrange for them to be sent nevertheless. "Unko shanti mil jayegi (The family will get closure)." On seeing the toddler and the pregnant young wife of hardly 20-21, I couldn't sleep the night after the cremation. I ensured she had an independent account to receive the entire Special Family Pension and had part of it fixed for the daughter. Narpal's widow is now happily married to his younger brother.

All through the day, the women would discuss the war. We'd decide who'd watch which news channel, then meet and exchange reports, discuss the attacks and casualties. We'd put our kids to sleep and then stay glued to the news. I watched the capture of Tiger Hill on Doordarshan and Barkha Dutt's reporting. Though we were close to the army, we got our news from the TV and newspapers — just like the rest of India did. We were not updated due to security reasons.

Kargil brought me and my husband closer. It made me stronger. Belonging to the army is a matter of pride. My older daughter, Captain Sharmista, 25, is a doctor with 15 Garhwal Rifles and is to marry an army officer. I want Ishani, 23, a fashion designer, also to marry an army officer. For us, the army is home.