Posting in a duty Battalion of CRPF is most often a grueling experience especially as it is the grass root level establishment of the Force which provides all the manpower and data required for efficient functioning of the Force. For those in the Ministerial Cadre, like me, dealing with paper work whole day takes its toll, especially when you face staff crunch and have to manage a lot more than your allocated work. But the feeling that this back end support that I give from the office front, is essential for the upkeep of morale and motivation level of a jawan battling on the field performing law and order duties, fighting insurgents, naxals, cross-border terrorism in inclement weather conditions, makes me forget my own aches and pains due to the long hours at work.
It was a late evening, and the exhaustion of an exhausting day at work weighed heavily on me as I returned home on the office bus from 77 Bn, CRPF, Poonamallee, Chennai. My colleagues in the bus were chatting away about one or the other topic. But my mind was too tired to either join in their conversation or pay attention to what they were speaking. I sat silently in my seat, watching outside the window of the bus. The bus slowly entered the Group Centre CRPF Avadi, and as it moved forward, my eyes were drawn to the flag post ahead.
A cool evening breeze was blowing, and our Tri coloured National Flag standing tall was fluttering so gracefully in the breeze. The colors of the flag looked vibrant against the illuminated night lights. Something about the sight of this vibrant and majestic flag soaring high was magical. At that instant, my fatigued body and mind, forgot all it’s tiredness, the fluttering flag in front of me appeared to be alive, moving in a rhythm to a music of the winds, which my heart could hear. The flag - a symbol of pride which by it’s mere silent presence brought back new energy and enthusiasm in me.
As the bus moved further into the campus, my attention now moved to the pictures lining both sides of the road—photos of the brave martyrs of this great Force. I noticed the gentle glow on their faces in the night lights, I could visualize a poignant story behind every photo that stood lining the road, As the bus moved slowly inside the campus, my gaze moved from one face to the other. Some of them looked so young, their eyes so full of hope and dreams galore, not a life to be cut short so unexpectedly.
My fertile imaginative mind now started thinking about the lives of these brave hearts before their ultimate sacrifice for the nation. They must have had dreams of a future filled with laughter and love. Perhaps they had planned vacations with their families or envisioned watching their children grow up. They must have planned to build a good house for their family members, take care of their ailing parents, arrange marriage of a younger sister, support higher education of a younger sibling, fulfill all their responsibilities towards their families and lead a peaceful retired life thereafter….
Sigh, all those dreams and aspirations were abruptly gone when duty beckoned. A lump formed in my throat just thinking of all that they have sacrificed. I felt my eyes moisten as I thought about the families they left behind—the parents, spouses, siblings and children who had to carry on their lives forever, changed, by an unimaginable void.
I thought, was there a greater act of bravery, a bigger loss than laying down your life for the country ? Automatically, my thoughts next wandered to, the reasons for their sacrifice - Cross-border terrorism, militancy, naxalism, fidayeen attacks- So much senseless violence, cruelty, and insanity. How could human beings inflict such horrors on one another?
The bus came to a halt, breaking my reverie. It was time to disembark and head home. Yet my mind remained entangled in the strings of the emotions still fresh in my mind.
I could visualize the mortal remains of the martyrs’, draped in the National Flag as their final honor—a symbol of their valor and their supreme sacrifice for the nation they served. As I walked slowly towards my home, the thought of the flag still lingered in my mind. .Though there was an untold story behind every life lost, yet, the undeniable fact remains that their sacrifice was not in vain.
To be wrapped in the National Flag after your death—to be honored by the nation in such a way—was a death not of despair, but of glory in it’s real essence.
It re-iterated the realization that this Tri-colour was more than a symbol of a nation.
It stood as a testament to the spirit of those brave hearts who lived and died for its ideals.
It flutters not just in the wind, but in the hearts of all those who cherish and revere it.
At the end of the day, I felt proud of my country, proud of my flag, and felt deeply grateful to the heroes whose sacrifices ensured that “My National Flag” continued to flutter high in the skies.
JAI HIND 🇮🇳