Risaldar, he had to be

World War II had just begun. The British started recruiting soldiers with a great frenzy in India to fight for the empire. They employed touts and agents to muster young men for enrolment.

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One such tout spotted my father, who was barely 16 years old. With the lure of a lot of adventure, he took him to the recruiting officer. Noticing the moustache just sprouting, he said he was too young to join the army. “Don’t worry, sahib, with military rations, he will grow big very fast,” replied the tout. Claiming his commission of Rs 2, he persuaded him to recruit him.

Reaching home in the evening, when my father broke the news, everyone was happy, but his mother’s heart sank. After all, he was the youngest of her five children. He had lost his father in his childhood. The responsibility of grooming him fell on the shoulders of his eldest brother.

Soon, he left home and after a brief military training, embarked on a ship to land at Istanbul. The war took him through the entire Middle East from Turkey to Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Egypt, Gaza and modern day Israel. He had very fond memories of the people of that land. He used to say that women of the Middle East were the most beautiful. He fought the war there continuously for five years before returning for his first vacation.

Before leaving for war, he provided for a monthly family money order of Rs 16 in the name of his mother. The first time that the postman called on her door, proclaiming “money order”, her joy knew no bounds. The blessings poured out deep from her heart: “Mera putt Risaldar bane. (May my son become Risaldar).”  That used to be the highest rank that an Indian soldier could aspire for those days.

Days and years rolled on. He became a Havildar (sergeant). Many a time the thought of his mother’s blessings would cross his mind, but then he would dismiss that as wishful thinking of a fond mother. There was no rank of Risaldar in his regiment, only Subedar.

Soon after the war, India became independent. The axe fell on the armed forces. The size of the army was reduced. Many regiments and battalions were disbanded. The battalion of my father was one of them.

Not finding a suitable job, he rejoined the Army. But, they enrolled him as a Sepoy treating him as a fresh recruit. This time, he joined the Armoured Corps where a Sepoy is known as Sowar. He worked hard. He earned “AX” grades in tank driving and maintenance and gunnery courses. He was posted as Instructor Gunnery at the Armoured Corps Centre and School, Ahmednagar. He rose to become Dafadar (equivalent to Havildar).

He was a proud soldier and served with elan. Soon, he became “due for retirement” even though he was fit for promotion to the next rank of junior commissioned officer in all respects. The reason was that there was no vacancy in the regiment. He came home on leave preparatory to retirement. And then, suddenly, a telegram came asking him to rejoin immediately.

A sister regiment had written to his unit to transfer the suitable NCO (non-commissioned officer) fit for promotion to them. He was transferred and promoted. He went on to serve for another five years and became a Risaldar. Providence contrived to honour the blessings of a mother.

He was Risaldar Harbans Singh Bedi. Last month, we observed the first anniversary of his passing away.

The writer resides in SAS Nagar