The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month marks the signing of the Armistice, on 11th November 1918, to signal the end of World War One. Till this day, Government and citizens of the United Kingdom have set aside this day, as Remembrance Day or Poppy Day, to remember those who sacrificed their lives during both the World Wars. Beginning in early October, most people of the United Kingdom-starting from the Queen to the common man- wear a red poppy to show their solidarity those who have served the nation.
Holidaying in London, I walked around a local store today, only to see an old man, hardly able to stand, at a small stall, selling paper poppy badges and wreaths. He is dressed in a deep blue two piece suit and takes tiny steps with the help of his cane. I struck up a conversation to find out that he is a veteran, and is 83 years old. Endless people came up to buy poppies and offer a helping hand.
Two weeks ago I went to Primark on Bond Street, and as my dad went up to the billing counter and extended his credit card to pay, the young boy at the counter noticing the title asked my dad, “Sir, are you serving in the Indian Armed Forces?”. “I retired a while ago”, responded Dad. The boy, paused. “We salute you, sir”, he said, raising his palm to his head.
I always regretted not growing up as a typical Army kid. Dad retired when I was hardly 8 years old. The only memories I have of the army are the “bhaiyas” who were there from morning to night to see to our every need and seeing Dad go to work in a splendid uniform, while mom was busy with kitty parties and other things Army wives did. While I grew up in Chennai, in a typically civil environment, studying in a convent, with non-armed forces kids, my home life was filled with the discipline and decorum of the Army. Today , at the age of 20, I have stopped regretting that absence of Army life, simply because I grew up in an environment that allowed me to contrast every bit of the army life and the people, with civil life and civilians and respect people from the armed forces so much more. I learned about the way the armed forces worked from my bi-annual trips to some army regiment in some absurd corner of India when we would visit several of Dad’s friends/juniors .About the civil life, I learned from the people I studied with and those who taught me, and I always thought, ‘Why do they call it the civil life, when it is so uncivilised?!’
Finding a common man/woman who knows decorum, who apologises when s/he bumps into a stranger by mistake, who stops his/her car for someone crossing the road, who holds the door open for a complete stranger, or who has the intention to spare an extra minute to help an old person has become harder than winning the lottery. People have no patience, nor do they want to care. Yet every year, when I’d visit one of numerous units on a holiday, such people seemed in abundance, regardless of what strata of society they came from.
Yet, regardless of the fact that the Armed Forces personnel are by far the most elite people, who live every moment genuinely, and not by defining sophistication through false air-kisses and expensive jewellery, but simple living; the government still refuses to give them the respect they deserve. Only today, was there a news article in the Daily Telegraph about the American soldiers who died in Afghanistan, accompanied by a photo of none other than Barack Obama himself saluting t
The inability of a government like ours to respect the Armed forces, is a massive disability in itself, and will cost the nation dearly. A famous quote by an unknown author says, “Army food: the spoils of war”, but if things go the way they are going for the Armed Forces today, we can be filled with unrest as there will be no food, ONLY war.
