LETTER FROM EDITOR

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Of good intentions and positive motives

NAME THE COUPLE that has been in the eye of the storm recently. Anushka Sharma and Virat Kohli (or, Virushka, I am told). And for what? For Sharma’s open letter of support to her husband, after he stepped down as India’s Test captain. Frankly, I think the letter’s content is nobody’s business but Kohli’s, to whom it is addressed. And, I was moved by the second paragraph of Sharma’s letter.

 

She wrote: “In 2014 we were so young and naive. Thinking that just good intentions, positive drive and motives can take you ahead in life. They definitely do but, not without challenges… But then, this is life right? It tests you in places where you least expect it to but where you need it the most. And, my love, I am so proud of you for not letting anything come in the way of your good intentions.”

 

Both of them would have been around 26 in 2014, and how many of us have not been in that situation that Sharma describes so beautifully. Where we trusted that “just good intentions, positive drive and motives” would be sufficient in life. I think all of us, but the most cynical ones, have been there. And then, we were tested, and how! So, I get what she says about what life taught them.

 

This Republic Day special of your favourite newsweekly is about our warrior women, the Veer Naris who stared down life and death to rebuild themselves from scratch. The Veer Naris in this bouquet of stories—except Colonel M.N. Rai’s daughters, Alka and Richa—were young women who began life with their husbands with “just good intentions, positive drive and motives”, until life dealt them a cruel hand.

 

All that these women wanted was to serve the nation to the best of their ability, grow old with their soulmates, see their children do well, see their grandchildren…. But these simple wishes were snatched away from them. They could have blamed fate and pined away. But they did not, and that is what makes them truly veer.

 

As a phrase, rebuilding oneself seems so simple, pedestrian. I am writing this in late January, when most New Year resolutions are dead in the water. Jogging shoes are gathering dust. That book of daily accounts is already missing. Your sleep cycle has been upended by Netflix, again. So, imagine the grit of these women who came out of mourning, appeared before the Staff Selection Board, cleared the exam, joined Officers Training Academy, persevered against cadets younger than them and got commissioned.

 

Special Correspondent Pradip R. Sagar writes that all of them had common motives—to honour the memory of the dear dead, and to be a role model to their children. I would say they have achieved more than that. They have become role models for all of us. As the brother of a sister and father of a daughter, I send you brave-hearts my love and prayers, and thank you for your service. May God bless you and your families.

 

This issue also carries the budget package. Principal Correspondent Abhinav Singh has interviewed Montek Singh Ahluwalia, former deputy chairman of the Planning Commission, for it. And, Senior Special Correspondent Pratul Sharma looks at why the budget should be kinder to women who have been left behind by the pandemic. He has highlighted an interesting term, too: “She-cession, derived from recession, is the term often used to describe how the failing economy is unkind to women.” True, this special issue is tilted to women, especially the cover package. But then it is the least that we could do for naris and veer naris.

 

The loss of a loved one refuses to fade away, especially when it is in sudden and cruel circumstances as it is often in the armed forces. I have seen this up close in the life of my dear friend Shamsher Singh Ahlawat. His brother, Captain Badan Singh Ahlawat, died in an avalanche in Kashmir in the early 1960s. While the tragedy happened, their father, (later Haryana assembly speaker) Brigadier Ran Singh, was commanding a brigade in the same area. The captain’s body was recovered after three months.

 

To this day, Shamsher often wears the watch his brother wore in death. Every time I see it, I am reminded about the enormous cost of service.