Army Today

Last Salute: Women in Mufti

   

The first batch of women Army officers turn misty-eyed as they bid goodbye to the uniform

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Ten years ago, on 06 March 1993, 25 feisty women made history when they joined the Indian Army. For each one of them, it was an olive green dream come true. One they lived every day for the last 10 years. Now it's time to give it up. Come March, and it will be goodbye to the uniform and the heady salute. No wonder Major Priya Jhingan, OIC, Judge Advocate General (JAG) branch in Chennai HQs, refuses to think about it. "I was in Class X when I shot off a letter to then Chief of Army Staff, General S.F. Rodrigues, demanding that I be recruited." Her eyes turn luminous as she talks of herself as a headstrong Shimla girl who told her police officer father in no uncertain terms that it was nothing but the Army for her. "I loved the uniform, the Jongas, the snappy salute, everything."

It was ditto for most of them. Captain Jatinder Preet Kaur, an Army Education Corps officer at the Delhi HQs, still remembers the way her heart used to thump every time she saw an Army vehicle whiz by at Bathinda. The one-page advertisement inviting women Army officers in 1992 came as a pleasant surprise to most of them. "When I told my father, a sergeant in the Indian Air Force, he simply smiled and said 'I knew you would go for it'," remembers Captain Ushasree Kumar, an Ordinance officer at Pathankot. A few months later, she went on to become the youngest woman officer to join the Officers' Training Academy (OTA) at Chennai.

The OTA didn't know how to deal with this spirited bunch. "I got the feeling they were handling us with kid gloves," remembers Priya. But all that became history when she outran the boys in the cross-country. "The physical training was no problem at all," says Ushasree, a national-level athlete and kabaddi player, who still sprints past her fellow male officers in the 5 km Battle Physical Endurance Test (BPET). The battle-hardened instructors were surprised when the girls took to the weekly 25 km-long marches like ducks to water. "I loved them, especially the chocolates at the end," says Jatinder, getting all misty-eyed. Today, ten years on, they look back with fierce pride. And hearty affection. It's not been roses all the way but these ladies never let the thorns hurt. Five years ago, a sozzled jawan barged into Priya's room at a remote station in the Northeast. "I gave him quite a thrashing," says the little spitfire. Later, he was court-martialled and booted out. But Priya insists it could have happened anywhere. "Look here," the petite dynamo is quick to rid you of any evil thoughts about the fauj. "I am in the legal branch and I've seen the dark underbelly of the Army — the corruption, misappropriation, gang-rapes, but I can tell you it is the cleanest institution in the country."

Which is why these girls can't understand the national disinclination to join the Armed Forces. "They're fools," snorts Ushasree, who says nothing in civilian life can compare with the salute, the quality of life. But it comes at a price. That may explain why only eleven of her course-mates have stuck on. It's the high josh quotient that makes these lady officers an object of high regard. Ask any new Lieutenant from the Indian Military Academy, Dehra Dun, about the instructors there, and chances are that he will talk in hushed tones about Captain Varsha Mohan. "She knows how to put you in your place." Mind you, that's a compliment. The jawans, the lady officers say, put them on a pedestal. "Wherever I've gone, they've just had one grouse against me - that I swear in a fashion most un-ladylike," grins Captain Ushasree, who quite enjoys spouting a string of wholesome epithets. Any Commanding Officer who dares to chide her gets the standard repartee, "Sir, I'll stop the moment you do."

Now with only days to go, she sighs: "Actually, I'll miss this sirring too." And a lot more that they leave unsaid. The Army is sacred, so they will wave away any spiel about their devoting the prime of their life to it. Jatinder hints that though she is okay with retirement at a ripe young age of 30-something, an extension would be welcome. Some officers have already sought five more years from the Chief. Pucca Armywallahs, some like Captain Vincy Thomas of ASC politely refused to parry any questions. "You'll have to seek permission from the CO," they let you know, going strictly by Army's 10 commandments, one of which warns against establishing any contact with the media. Their present may be picture perfect, but the future is a trifle tense. Ten years have just flown by, leaving them with nothing but a clutch of fond memories, some gratuity, and an uncertain tomorrow. And the parting hurts. As Priya, her voice suddenly husky, puts it: "Whenever people ask me, 'So, you are leaving the Army?' I say no, the Army is leaving me."

 

   

The Posting in the Wild

Twenty-one year old Lieutenant Punita Arora arrived in Fatehgarh after doing an internship in Ambala. Till then she had lived in reasonably big cities and found herself in what was the bad land of that time. "In 1968, Fatehgarh was infested with dacoits. I'd never seen a place like that before. Everybody roamed with a lathi or a gun." At the hospital, people mistook her mother who was comparatively young, as the doctor sahib and thought of her as the daughter accompanying her. In hindsight, Lieutenant General Arora feels it could not have had a better beginning. The area did not have many hospitals, no specialists and the nearest big hospital was in Kanpur or Lucknow, four to six hours away. The only train in that direction left at midnight. "If the patient missed the train you'd have to look after him/her yourself. So that gave me lots of confidence. It was a good tenure."

The 1971 War

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When the war with Pakistan broke out, she was still posted in Fatehgarh and had married her doctor husband who was at the base hospital in Srinagar. She had come to the scenic city to deliver her son -- currently a Squadron Leader in the Indian Air Force -- and left a month before the war began. Her husband who used to be on airport duty witnessed the bombardment, and Punita saw the war preparations in Jammu & Kashmir, where the situation was completely different from her base in Uttar Pradesh. "Fatehgarh never saw any war. People hardly knew what was happening. Like sitting over here, I'm sure you can't even imagine what's happening up there [in J&K]. If you go and spend even 15 days over there, you'll come back with a totally different feeling."

The Summer Tragedy

In May 2002, when terrorists entered an army camp at Kaluchak near Jammu, killing soldiers and their families, Lieutenant General Arora was the commander at the base hospital in Jammu. The crime was dastardly. Terrorists travelled to the camp in a Himachal Pradesh Roadways bus and targeted the soldiers' wives and children. They also killed seven passengers on that bus. Some who died in the tragedy were infants. The dead and wounded were brought to the army hospital where Lieutenant General Arora rallied her staff to administer prompt medical assistance. For her leadership and quick response to the mass casualty, the President of India decorated her with the Vishisht Seva Medal, an award instituted for exceptional service and leadership rendered in the armed forces. "It was very tragic. Our aim was to treat them. My driver, my staff in the casualty, my doctors, surgeons, anaesthetists, nurses. It was team work."

Did it make Her Angry?

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"Do we gain anything by being angry? Yes, when you see your soldiers being killed, for a moment we thought we should go and kill everyone who is responsible. Not only me, anybody who is there would say -- 'why, these innocent children, why this family?' Like you feel angry with what happened in the school in Russia. But then those three terrorists died, whom do I take out our anger on? Probably I'll be losing my temper on some innocent people. These things need to be sorted out politically which are leaders are doing so beautifully. We leave it to them. Our job is to secure our borders and treat our soldiers."

   

Here I Am

Lieutenant General Arora has received 15 medals and awards in her career. She also received a Sena Medal for establishing gynae-endoscopy and oncology facilities at the armed forces hospital. Joining the army just happened, she says. "I joined AFMC, then the army, and here I am today -- proud of being an army officer and that too of the Indian Armed Forces." For an army that is short of officers, Lieutenant General Arora is an impressive brand ambassador. Listen to her speak, and she may just win you over.

"Guys, this is what you miss out on: First of all, the youth don't know what the armed forces is. I think they miss out on so much because they really don't know. Secondly, people think you will be posted from one place to another and will not have a comfortable life from the money point of view. After all, how much money do we spend on food? What we spend on is the quality of life -- a club, squash court, a pool, good life -- the army gives you better than that. We have infrastructure -- lovely messes, swimming pools, health clubs. How many can afford going to Shillong or Ladakh? They'll be paying through their nose, people take holiday packages and spend money to live in tents. While we naturally stay like this over there, isn't it?. The armed forces gives you 100% free medical treatment. So the quality of life is excellent."

Captain Dinesh Bhardwaj Singh

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As far back as Lieutenant General Arora can remember, her father wanted her to become a doctor. "At every step I used to think if I want to be a doctor can I get my ears pierced or not? I was conditioned that way." When she went for admission to the government college in Saharanpur, the college told her it was only for boys but she could get a seat if she found two other girls. She did and got admission. She joined the Armed Forces Medical College, Pune, as an undergraduate in 1962, did her post graduation, came back as faculty, was posted to its command hospital and has now returned for its top job as commandant.

   

Five Doctors and a General

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The gynaecologist, who is one of the seven lieutenant generals in the Army Medical Corps, has a family of doctors. Husband Brigadier P N Arora (Retd) served the army as a dermatologist. Son, Squadron Leader Sandeep Arora is also a dermatologist posted at the Air Force base hospital in New Delhi. His wife too is a doctor. Daughter Sabina left the army after a 6½ year tenure to pursue a post graduate degree in Connecticut. "When my daughter wanted to go abroad, we didn't know how to go about it. We had nobody in America. We told her you have a good career but she was determined. She did everything herself and I'm proud of her."

   

Lieutenant General Arora's India

In a time when it is easiest to find fault in a system that fails us repeatedly, the general sees the brighter side. Her India does not suck. It delivers. Whether it is getting a train reservation, a car registration, or State-promised compensation. "How much we criticise," she reasons, citing the example from the passengers on the Himachal Roadways bus travelling to Kaluchak. "Believe me, by afternoon payment was made to each and every person who was injured. People think otherwise, but the government machinery works. One patient who received Rs 25,000 was a labourer who had never seen more than 2,000 in his life. He became so insecure that he wanted to leave with all the tubes stuck to his body. He was scared that someone would run away with his money. He even became suspicious of his wife. Think about it, do we ever get to see human nature, feelings from so closely?"

Lieutenant General Punita Arora, SM, VSM

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If you are driving near the Southern Command headquarters in Pune, the board outside the gate to what will be Lieutenant General Arora's home in the city will make you stop and notice. The feminine name stands out amongst the neat row of male officers' homes. The house behind the gate is being readied for its new occupant. Till then, Lieutenant General Arora will live at the guesthouse, where she leaves for her office at 8:15 a.m. and returns by 5 p.m. "The moment I come home, I have a cup of tea and go for a walk. That's a must. I don't like to exercise inside the room at all -- where's the greenery? On a walk you see a little bird, a squirrel, in the room you see only those four walls, nothing else."

Just then the phone rings. The general takes our permission to answer the call and thanks her bhabhi who is on the line to congratulate her. A few cards neatly stand on a table. A defence staff reminds her about tomorrow's keynote address. "I know, that will not take much time," smiles India's first lady Lieutenant General, someone who has never felt out of place in a male dominated army. She is an officer of the Indian Army and that's how she'd like to be known.

The Indian Express - 23 February 2003