Maj. Atul Ghildiyal. Friend, Husband, Son, Father-to-be, Martyr.

(Picture Source: sainiashwani.blogspot.com/)

The smiling guy, turning and looking at the camera was, is Maj. Atul Ghildiyal of the 3 Dogra regiment of the Indian army. One of the coolest, most laid back guys I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. His voice also had that lazy drawl that personified everything that Atul was. I met Atul when he was still a bachelor and was posted at Jalandhar. I'll never forget the crazy nights of drinking rum with warm water sitting out in the lawn on bitterly cold winter evenings at the 3 Dogra Officer's Mess. Had the pleasure of meeting his wife, Urmila (Urmi as we all call her) soon after their marriage. They made a perfect couple, both very warm hearted, open and chilled out. I lost touch with Atul when his unit moved out and came to know of his martyrdom much, much after Atul had left us all. It has been over seven years now but the pain is still as fresh, as raw as ever. They say, time is a great healer- well, it is not. Try telling it to Urmi and his son, Anirudh, whom Urmi was carrying when Atul was martyred. Try telling that to his parents who lost a son in the prime of his life, try telling it to his friends, who had a great buddy cruelly snatched away.

(Maj. Atul Ghildiyal is  second from Right. Source: sainiashwani.blogspot.com/)
I feel we are a nation of ingrates. The only mention i can find of Atul when i Google him is on the blog of another Fauji officer, Ashwani Saini (from whose blog i've taken these pictures), who was posted with Atul in Jalandhar or in an archive of 'The Tribune' listing gallantry medals to armed forces. While i have the greatest respect for Maj. Sandeep Unnikrishnan and Hemant Karkare, as i have for all  the men and women who have or are wearing the uniform and laying their life on the line everyday for India, I do feel Atul deserves more recognition, as does every man and woman in our armed forces, police and paramilitary, who has died to keep our nation alive. Why does it take an invasion by Pakistan or its trained assassins to awaken our nationalistic fervour? And why does it die down like the froth on a glass of beer(I know in heaven, Atul must've had a laugh at this simile!) once the war is won? Patriotism, like fitness, is not a fad, it is not a habit, it is a way of life, and it requires us to remember our heroes, our martyrs every day and to pay our homage to them for every breath that we take in freedom. Every day, the truth that someone laid down his life so that we, total strangers- bound only by thread of being countrymen, could enjoy our freedom, should be enough for us to bow our heads in respect. Why are not Atul Ghildiyal, and many, many martyrs like him in our mind every day? Because we take our freedom for granted. We believe the government is paying these men to take the risk, to lay their lives on the line. Such cynicism! How many of us will be willing to lay it on the line for the kind of money an army officer makes? Everyday, day in, day out? Maj. Atul Ghildiyal, like Maj. Unnikrishnan, had the opportunity, and the authority, to take a position in the rear and direct his men to take on the terrorists, thereby getting himself out of harm's way. But brave men, men of honour, men of character, do not do things like this, their bar is set way, way too high for mere mortals like us to even begin to understand. These martyrs led from the front, lead by example, and setting aside thoughts of personal safety, bit the bullet for us.

From accounts that I've heard of Maj. Atul's martyrdom, he was alive, though hit by bullets when he fell in a ravine. He could've been saved had he been evacuated on time, but the Kashmiri/ Pakistani (they're all the same for me- either you are with us or against us) kept up the firing and didn't allow rescuers to reach him and evacuate him. I wonder what Maj. Atul must've been thinking in those last hours, was he thinking of Urmi and his parents, or was he thinking of his yet unborn child? or was he thinking of all that he still wanted to do/ accomplish? What would you be thinking if you'd just taken bullets and rolled down a ravine, knowing you were taking your last breaths, for a country and countrymen who won't even know of you when your name was mentioned?