Last Salute: Women in Mufti

LAST SALUTE: WOMEN IN MUFTI

By Manraj Grewal

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

Captain Jatinder Preet Kaur 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."