Issuu

ROLIBOOKS

Dedicated to

THE MILITARY WIFE

whose resilience, adaptability, creativity and versatility is what legends are made of.

foreword

It is my privilege to write the foreword for this inspiring book, which chronicles the remarkable life journey of Brigadier Lakhbinder Singh Lidder, SM, VSM. Brigadier Lidder was an exceptional Regimental Officer who endeared himself to anyone who came in contact with him.

This book, lovingly written by his wife, Mrs Geetika Lidder, is a testament to Brigadier Lidder’s unwavering dedication, unrelenting passion and unmatched commitment to the Indian Army. Through its pages, we are transported to a world of courage, sacrifice, and resilience, as we witness the vicissitudes of Brigadier Lidder’s illustrious career.

As a soldier, a leader and a family man, Brigadier Lidder’s life serves as a shining example of what it means to live a life of purpose, honour and integrity. His story is a reminder that true leadership is not about seeking power or glory, but about serving others, inspiring those around us and leaving

ROLIBOOKS

a lasting impact on our organisations and communities. The Indian Army remains committed to upholding the bond with the families of our fallen heroes, ensuring their continued well-being and support.

I commend Mrs Geetika Lidder for her labour of love in writing this book, which is not only a tribute to her husband’s remarkable life but also a valuable contribution to our understanding of the Indian Army’s history, culture and values. Brigadier Lakhbinder Singh Lidder’s story will inspire, motivate and remind us of the enduring power of courage, duty and sacrifice.

‘Jai Hind’

General Upendra Dwivedi Chief of the Army Staff

December 2024

that fateful day

It was 8 December 2021. Like any other regular morning, Toni and I were enjoying our morning cup of tea, which in the Lidder household has always been a ritual. It was to be savoured, sipped slowly and consciously, taking in the joys of conversation coupled with amicable company. We were best friends first and always had a lot to say to each other. That day, we chatted about the immediate future. Toni had been informed about his next posting, which was also a promotion. Although this was conveyed to him informally, he told me it was bona fide information. The dates for moving to the new location had been discussed the previous day at work. That was what the morning conversation was about, planning the move ahead with hope and gratitude. He tenderly said that God (Toni always referred to God as my Babajee, since I was the devout one in the family) had been more than kind to us. We almost always got everything we wished for. At times, we

ROLIBOOKS

admitted to each other, a thought which was a subconscious wish, somehow came true. I had every reason to believe that I had led a charmed life. Until 8 December 2021. A day that the entire nation will remember with me forever. Every moment is etched so clearly in my mind – Toni dressing for work and losing his temper because the wrong uniform was given to him; I was frantically searching for the agelets (ceremonial golden braids) he had to wear; then Toni hurriedly getting dressed and leaving.

This wasn’t an everyday scene in the Lidder household. Since November 2020, Toni had started keeping long hours at work and it was difficult to keep pace with the different sets of uniforms he would need and when he would travel. Toni was the Defence Attaché (DA) to the Chief of the Defence Staff (CDS), General Bipin Rawat, who was the first triservice chief of India. He was appointed to the top post on 31 December 2019 to act as an advisor to the government on military matters. This post was a big step towards reforming the Indian military. General Rawat was known to be a very hard-working officer; he typically started his day at 9.15 a.m. and worked till about 9.15 p.m. Toni planned and scheduled the day’s meetings for him. General Rawat hardly took a lunch break because he had so many meetings lined up and sometimes these would extend into one another. Since this post was new, he was involved in working out the finer details of the job. In fact, for a large part of the day, he would be in discussions with either the Raksha Mantri (Defence Minister), National Security Advisor (NSA), or the three service chiefs, and then meet other senior leaders to take forward decisions that were made. Once General Rawat left

for home, Toni wound up the day’s work after giving broad directions to other officers. Typically, about three suitcases of files came in as mail or daak, which he used to clear after dinner so that he could put them before General Rawat the next morning.

Toni was with him most of the time and as a result, he hardly spent much time at home. He got home from his office at the usual 9.30 p.m. and had to leave early in the morning. Yet, our love for our tea together was such that we made time for it by working backwards and starting early.

That day, Toni had to get ready to accompany General Rawat to the Defence Services Staff College (DSSC) in Wellington to give a lecture to student officers. At this prestigious college, a group of 350 officers from the three services – the Army, Navy and Air Force – attend a career course which they can only be admitted to after a tough exam.

Hence the scurrying around in the morning for those ceremonial golden braids – the agelets. I used to love seeing them on him because they looked so grand, royal, and ceremonial. I chided Toni, ‘How would I know what you must wear in the morning? You should tell me which uniform to prepare a day in advance.’ Usually, he didn’t go in that ceremonial uniform because he would always say in his trademark way, ‘Dulha banake bhej dete ho.’ (You dress me up as a groom.) But on that day, he said, ‘There is just no time between the lecture and the flight landing – we need to be in proper ceremonial dress.’ In my casual banter, I said, ‘Chalo, saab ko toh aaj hero banke hi jaana hai.’ (Come on, you will go dressed up as a hero today.)

the adventure begins

Lifein the defence world is never uneventful. I was soon to learn this through a series of adventures.

I was reading I Married the Army by Doe Nair one day and the first chapter was on Along (now called Aalo), a remote town in Arunachal Pradesh. I was enjoying the descriptions of this amazing faraway place when Toni called to inform me that his unit was going to move to the very same town in the Northeast. ‘I will be joining it after I complete my course at the MCEME,’ said Toni. I was struck by the coincidence, how the book was a sign of things to come. I was aware that it was a non-family station, which meant I wouldn’t be joining him when he went there in May 1999. We were married for about two and a half years by then.

Typically, an infantry officer of the Indian Army has a parent unit. Toni’s unit, for instance, was 2 JAK RIF. The infantry officer belongs to that unit till he commands or

ROLIBOOKS

becomes too senior to be serving in it. The unit will forever go through a cyclical movement of peace and the field. This means it will oscillate between different types of postings such as non-family, tough field areas, and a peace area, which is a family station.

Our unit was now settled in Along, and as a young wife, I was not happy about Toni joining it because I would have to stay away from him. However, he was so guilty about already being away from the unit for three years that he was really looking forward to this posting. That part of him, happy to go to field areas and non-family stations, really baffled me because I knew how much he would miss me there. When I went to Delhi to see him off, I met the then-CO, Colonel N.K. Bhatnagar, who was known for his sense of humour.

‘Geetika ji, where is your bag? Are you not coming with us?’ he asked.

I was baffled and replied naively, ‘Colonel Bhatnagar, I didn’t know ladies are permitted.’

He looked accusingly at Toni and said, ‘Lakhi, why haven’t you told her yet? Do you want her to stay in Chandigarh and work or do you want to play the good soldier bit to impress me?’

Toni later told me about the daily challenges of the new place and why it wasn’t suitable for army wives to live there. However, they could stay at the base, which was far, but Toni had no idea about the distance, connectivity or mode of travel. For most of us, the Northeast is so remote (in those days it was more so) that one cannot comment on it until one has actually seen it. He told me that if a woman stays at the base, she might get to see her husband more often than

the others, but he did not want to take me with him yet. Listening to him, I was curious about this place but then decided against going there. As I said ‘bye’ to Toni outside the airfield, I felt the pangs of our first separation. I sincerely hoped that I would quickly get a job in Chandigarh to keep me occupied.

Within twenty-five days of his leaving, Toni called and asked me to come to Guwahati, the capital of the state of Assam. He said, ‘You are already in Benaras, why don’t you just reach Guwahati and I will be there to pick you up!’

Incidentally, I was on a short holiday at my nani’s house in Benaras.

My father was upset by this sudden call and tried to dissuade me from going alone. He told me that I knew nothing of the Northeast, of how bad the monsoon is, and how bridges collapse and people disappear. But I had made up my mind. My stubborn youthful heart heard the distant drummer beckon and refused to believe any of my father’s logic. I went ahead and bought a ticket, fought with my parents and boarded the Rajdhani Express to Guwahati. All through the journey I had visions of Toni being there at the Guwahati railway station to receive me.

But no, that was not to be. Instead of the man standing tall at 6 feet 3 inches I was expecting, I saw a very cute Gorkha soldier, all of 5 feet, with a disarming smile waiting for me at the station. He was Prithvi Ram Thapa from 2 JAK RIF. He informed me in his sweet manner that ‘saab’ would see us the next day at Rangia. I did not know what Rangia meant or where it was. I asked him if we could leave just then. He told me that we would first go to the transit camp

arunachal diaries

Along was one of the prettiest places I had ever seen. I fell in love with the landscape and the flora. The beauty of Arunachal Pradesh was so pristine that I never got enough of it and often wondered, ‘Why should anyone go to Switzerland, when we have our own right here!’

I entered the area known as the Battalion Headquarter or BHQ. A battalion, like 2 JAK RIF to which Toni belonged, is divided into four companies, each comprising about 300 soldiers. The BHQ was at the base camp and all the companies were at the forward posts, which were very far away. To give you a sense of spatial distances, there was no motorable road to any of the posts. Instead, they were maintained by air. If jawans or officers were not lucky enough to get a chopper ride, they had to walk to the post carrying their baggage or other belongings with a group of soldiers. The walking time could vary between three to seven days depending where

ROLIBOOKS

the CO decided to send them. Each post had a Company Commander and some young officers. The most sensitive post, Taksing, which was our last post on the India-China border, was headed by the CO or second-in-command (2 I/C).

The BHQ in Along was a quaint camp. It was situated on a hillock and on top of the hill was the Officers’ Mess in a large hut. A little below it was a round hut which could be seen while a vehicle trudged up. That was the CO’s residence or as our unit called it, the Bodyguard House. There were about three small, two-room tin huts (bashas) which were for married officers if they wanted to stay with their wives. On the other side of the hillock, about 300 metres away, was a sprinkling of four to five one-room sets for single officers. On the other side of this hill were dwellings for jawans who would stop in Along on their way to their hometowns while on leave or awaiting induction to their posts. One post of about 200 men was at the base to maintain it and manage logistics for the forward areas. This is true of every unit which leaves a few men down to manage the rear.

I was received warmly by the CO, Colonel Bhatnagar and his wife Renuka. Three more officers were always stationed at the base – the unit doctor, Captain Kartikeyan Bala; Lieutenant Sudesh Singh, the Quarter Master who took care of the rations and stocking up at all levels; and Captain Gunjeet Arora (Monty), the Adjutant. They would look after all the administrative requirements. Mrs Bhatnagar was the only other lady in the camp. The Bhatnagars had two school-going daughters, Shreya, who was in Standard XI, and Shruti, who was in either Standard VII or VIII.

I am a Soldier’s Wife

All the other officers had left behind their families in their hometowns, very much like we had earlier planned before I changed my mind.

The quarter allotted to us was very basic, a humble tinroofed basha. Though we didn’t have a fan or light most of the day, life was comfortable. It may sound paradoxical but that was the reality. Let me explain. There was no fresh milk or vegetables, so we ate what we could grow. We had to sleep with a torch by our side because when we stepped down from the bed, one had to flash the light to check if there was a lurking snake. The same drill was followed in the bathroom. And then there were the giant-sized rats – we had to sleep inside the horrible-looking mosquito net to protect ourselves. It was broad daylight at four in the morning, so one was forced to wake up early. Nights, on the other hand, were not comfortable; various insects shrieked all night, making it difficult to sleep. Yet, there was joy and wonder, and the love of the paltan, which made it a pleasant life.

We used to all eat together in the Officers’ Mess and were often joined by officers passing by, making our meals a festive occasion. Our CO and his wife were a loving couple. They adopted me as their third daughter and called me ‘Bachcha Number One’. I basked in the warmth of their affection. I soon became friends with their teenage daughter Shreya and spent a lot of time with her. At times I ate with the Bhatnagars, which worked for me since I lived alone in the camp when Toni had to go to the forward post at the China border, which took seven days to reach. Yet, in this godforsaken place, in that tin hut, the basha, drinking chai made from powdered milk, I never felt alone because I was