The Father Who Asked Us to Throw His Son Out

From the testimony of Lt. Gen. Narinder Singh Brar — Artillery, commissioned 1971

Some of the men in this book will not tell you their own stories. They served for four decades and call it "a job." They held the lives of eight hundred people in their hands and call it "managing." General Brar is one of these men. When I asked him for the one story he most wanted carried forward — the one whose forgetting would be a loss — he did not reach for a battle. He reached for a father.

He would never put this in front of strangers himself. So I will.

It was 1984, a hard year in the army. In the unrest of that year, some soldiers deserted their units. In the brigade where Brar was then the senior staff officer, men slipped away in the night; some were stopped, some were caught, and some did not survive being stopped. It fell to Brar to sit across from the families who came looking for their sons — to tell each one, plainly, whether the boy was alive, dead, under arrest, or gone.

One morning an old Sikh man with a white beard came into his office. Something in the face was familiar. Before the man had finished speaking, Brar said: "Aren't you Jagjit Singh?" The old man stood, came to attention, and saluted. He had been a soldier years before, when Brar was barely an officer himself — you are our GPO Sahib, he said — and now here he was, decades later, on the other side of a desk, asking about his boy. They held each other.

Brar told him the truth. Your son is alive. He is under arrest. He will be dealt with as the case requires. The old man thanked him. He seemed to want to say something more — and didn't. He left.

He came back the next morning to say goodbye, and Brar stopped him. Yesterday you wanted to tell me something. What was it?

This is what the father said. That whatever had happened was understandable — emotions had run high, there had been provocation; he did not excuse it, but he understood it. And then: But my son broke his oath. He took an oath, and he broke it. And so — Sahib, give him any punishment you think is right. But do not keep him in the army. Throw him out.

There were tears in the old man's eyes. There were tears in Brar's. They embraced, and the father went home.

I have thought about this story for a long time. The easiest thing in the world is to love your child more than anything else. This man loved something more — not the army as a building or a paycheck, but the word his son had given — and he was willing to lose his son to keep faith with it. He was, the General told me, barely schooled — class two, perhaps class three. He could not have written down what he believed. He only lived it, completely.

I don't know if he was right. That is why I keep returning to him.

Would you have asked them to keep your son — or to throw him out?

The events of 1984 refer to the period following Operation Blue Star, a military operation at the Golden Temple in Amritsar that caused deep unrest, including desertions within some units. General Brar served at the time as Brigade Major — the senior staff officer of a brigade.

I.The Cadet's Road

InterviewerSir, how difficult was the move from RIMC¹ to NDA²? Did it feel like a continuation, or like the beginning of something new?

VeteranNot at all, not at all. It was simply moving from one place to another. When I joined NDA I went to Alpha Squadron — and the squadron cadet captain, the squadron sergeant major, two or three sergeants, one of the divisional cadet captains, they were all Rimcolians³. So there was nothing new about it. For instance, we had K.S. Rao — you would have heard of him, the famous sailor who went around the world in the sailing vessel Trishna⁴. He was a sergeant major in Alpha Squadron when I was a cadet there. A little aside: years later, at staff college, we were in the same syndicate, sitting next to each other. Instead of paying attention to the class, we would discuss the lines, the route, the schedule — the problems of circumnavigating the globe. This was 1982. Trishna was being planned in those days, and later, of course, he went around the world on it, along with another Rimcolian, A.K. Singh.

InterviewerBut sir — you were the senior-most at RIMC when you passed out, and then you arrive at NDA suddenly the junior-most again. How did that feel? Was it difficult?

VeteranThat happens throughout your life. It happens throughout your service. You are senior-most in RIMC, you go to NDA junior-most; senior-most in NDA, you go to IMA⁵ junior-most. I was a battalion cadet adjutant at IMA — the so-called boss of the battalion — and then I went to my regiment and I was the junior-most there. (laughs) So it goes on. I don't think it makes much of a difference.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · Rashtriya Indian Military College (RIMC): A military preparatory school in Dehradun, founded in 1922, that prepares cadets for entry into the National Defence Academy and a career as commissioned officers.
2 · National Defence Academy (NDA): The tri-service academy at Khadakwasla, Pune, where cadets of the Army, Navy and Air Force train together before pre-commission training.
3 · Rimcolians: The customary term for alumni of the Rashtriya Indian Military College.
4 · Trishna: An Indian Army ocean-sailing expedition that completed the first Indian circumnavigation of the globe under sail in the mid-1980s, crewed by army officers including Gen. K.S. Rao.
5 · Indian Military Academy (IMA): The Indian Army's officer-training academy in Dehradun, where cadets complete pre-commission training before being commissioned.

II.The Pull of the Wing

InterviewerWhy Artillery, sir? Was it a fascination from the very beginning, or simply where you ended up?

VeteranNo, no. My father and my brother were Sappers¹ — Engineers. So logically I should have followed them. But the basic problem was that I am not technical, and there was no way I was going to get into a technical arm; that was one constraint. The other was that I had a genuine choice, because I passed out among the first twenty at IMA, so I could pick any arm or service I wanted. My father had served, technically, in the Faridkot State Forces², the old pre-independence princely-state forces; for a year Faridkot had served with the Deccan Horse³ in the 1930s. He was very insistent that I should go to the Deccan Horse — the Armoured Corps. But I didn't want to.

VeteranNow we come to the crux of your question. During one of my terms at NDA — a very hot summer, like this one — we were on the NDA special train from Khadakwasla⁴ to Delhi, taking cadets on leave. One hot afternoon the train stopped at Jhansi⁵ station. On the platform I saw a young captain, very smartly turned out, a starched olive-green uniform, with wings on his chest. That set me wondering — who is this army man with a pilot's wings? As a cadet, you are inquisitive. I found out it was something called the Air OP⁶ — what is today called Army Aviation. In those days it was specific to the Artillery; only Artillery officers became Air OP pilots, to direct artillery fire from the air. So that was one motivation — I said to myself, I must have a wing on my uniform. And second, I had a company commander at IMA who was from the Air OP, a very fine officer. After that there was no doubt about where I wanted to go.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · Sappers (Corps of Engineers): The Indian Army's engineering arm, responsible for combat engineering, fortifications, bridging and demolition.
2 · Faridkot State Forces: The military forces maintained by the princely state of Faridkot in pre-independence India, later integrated into the Indian Army.
3 · Deccan Horse: An armoured (tank) regiment of the Indian Army's Armoured Corps, with origins in the British Indian cavalry.
4 · Khadakwasla: The location near Pune of the National Defence Academy.
5 · Jhansi: A major railway junction and military cantonment town in Uttar Pradesh, central India.
6 · Air OP (Air Observation Post): A role in which Artillery officers flew light aircraft to observe and direct artillery fire from the air; the forerunner of the present-day Army Aviation Corps.

III.The Field and the Motherless Place

InterviewerYou've served both in field commands and in planning roles at Army Headquarters. How different were those two kinds of responsibility for you?

VeteranIn the field, your foremost concern is your command — your subordinates, your unit, their well-being, their performance, their training. At whatever level you are, that is your primary concern. But when you go to a staff headquarters as a staff officer, you are devoid of all that. You have no responsibility for any man. Your only concern is to deal with the issues that fall within your charter: planning, analysing, formulating, recommending, presenting to the powers that be. They are two totally different worlds — but in our army everyone transits between the two, and one gets used to it.

VeteranIf I may put it without using a harsh word — a headquarters is a motherless place. (laughs) A unit is a family. I still get calls from men who joined as recruits in 1970, '71, '72. In fact, I had a Subedar¹ when I was a second lieutenant in '71. Later we each moved on; he retired and settled in Jammu. About two years ago I got a call from his grandson, who said, "My grandfather is coming to Chandigarh, he wants to meet you." I asked who he was. "Subedar Swarup Singh," he said — "he is coming from Jammu specifically to meet you." After forty-six years he had found out where I was and come all that way. That is the bonding of a unit.

InterviewerYou commanded in places as different as North Sikkim, Rajouri and Nagaland. Does the geography itself shape the nature of military leadership?

VeteranA major role. A major role. In Sikkim I was at ultra-high altitude — my unit was above sixteen thousand feet², and we spent three years there. The environment was extremely harsh: poor roads, poor living conditions, temperatures dropping to minus twenty-eight, minus thirty in winter, and minus eight even in the daytime. You have to make sure your men do not suffer frostbite, chilblains, or high-altitude pulmonary edema³ — things that are simply not a problem elsewhere. It makes a major impact on how you approach those areas.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · Subedar: A senior rank among the soldier cadre of the infantry and artillery, ranking as a junior commissioned officer in the Indian Army.
2 · Ultra-high-altitude posting (North Sikkim): Operational deployment above roughly 4,800 metres (about 16,000 feet) along the northern borders — among the most physically demanding postings in any army.
3 · High-Altitude Pulmonary Edema (HAPE): A potentially fatal build-up of fluid in the lungs caused by rapid ascent to high altitude; a constant operational hazard for troops in the high Himalaya.

IV.Friendships Born of Small Things

InterviewerIs there a particular incident, or a story, that has stayed with you from those postings?

VeteranDo you want a humorous one, or a serious one? … I was a Gun Position Officer¹ in 1971. In the artillery, a young second lieutenant serves as Gun Position Officer — there is no other officer in the battery², you are the only one. We were deployed around November of '71. Near our gun position was a well, and in the evenings we would go in batches to bathe there. As a young officer you have no inhibitions of rank; you are friendly with everyone. I went, put a bucket down the well, and drew up the water. As I set it down, a young Sikh boy came up to me and said, "Gyani³, let me bathe first." So I stepped aside — and he coolly used the bucket I had filled, bathed, and walked off. Everyone else was stunned, wondering what this fellow was up to. He was a new recruit who had joined only that day. He thought I was just one of them. In the evening he came to apologise, and I told him, don't worry. We were friends from then on. I went on to become CO⁴ of the unit; he became a Subedar. He passed away during COVID. A lifelong friendship, born out of the most innocuous incident.

VeteranThe second was on the very day I joined my unit. At the gate was a sentry — Inayat Ali Khan. He played the fool with me: "Who are you? Where are you going? You can't enter here," and so on — which is normal with any young officer. Later we became good friends. He too became a Subedar while I was CO. He retired and settled in Rajasthan, and would call me every time; his family, his sons, would call me. That is the kind of bond you build out of some trivial beginning.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · Gun Position Officer (GPO): The officer responsible for the technical control and firing of an artillery battery's guns from the gun position; traditionally a junior officer's appointment.
2 · Battery: The basic firing sub-unit of an artillery regiment, comprising a group of guns and their crews.
3 · "Gyani": A respectful, informal form of address (literally "learned one"), commonly used in the army for a Sikh soldier or comrade.
4 · Commanding Officer (CO): The officer in command of a unit such as a regiment or battalion, usually of the rank of Colonel.

V.What Changes, What Endures

InterviewerHaving watched the army across four decades, what changes in the officer culture have concerned you most, and which have given you hope?

VeteranThings change with time; they cannot remain static. The officer cadre today is certainly different from what it was fifty or sixty years ago, when I joined, and there are reasons for it. One is the great expansion of the army — naturally you draw a larger, broader cross-section of society. Second, what society values today shapes the youth: their attitudes, their aspirations, their hopes. And a fundamental change is the reason men join. In my time, my father was in the army, my brother was in the army — it was a foregone conclusion that I would join too. Today's entrant comes with an aspiration — to step into the officer cadre, for social advancement, to rise a grade in his standing in society. But, all said and done, the officer today still performs as the officer always did. His job and his purpose remain unchanged. Other things may change; that has not.

InterviewerWhat would you say to young people considering a career in the services?

VeteranOnly two things. Serve honestly, and serve with honour. Do your job honestly and everything will follow on its own. Handle what is in front of you today well — whatever it is — and the next thing will come automatically. Don't begin by imagining yourself five rungs up the ladder. Do what you are meant to do, and do it honestly — with honour and pride. That, to me, is what it comes down to.

InterviewerIf you could revisit one day from your years in service — not to change it, but simply to live it once more — which would it be?

VeteranI can't put my finger on one single day, but there are landmarks. The day I was commissioned. The day I assumed command of my regiment. Perhaps the day I finally superannuated. Those are the important occasions of a service life.

InterviewerAnd looking back, what gives you the greatest sense of fulfilment today?

VeteranThe command of my regiment. I commanded for three years in high altitude, and before that, as a lieutenant colonel, I commanded another regiment for a year — so a command tenure as CO of four years, which very few people have; most do eighteen months or two years. I enjoyed it thoroughly. I have no regrets.

InterviewerSir, before we close — could you share one story you feel should be carried forward and never forgotten? Something close to your heart?

VeteranI'll tell you two incidents, both about what loyalty means, and about the relationship between the man and the officer.

VeteranThe first you'll recall — in 1984, after Operation Blue Star¹, there was a great deal of trouble. A number of Sikh units faced problems; there was desertion. In one battalion of the brigade where I was Brigade Major², a lot of desertion took place, and in trying to stop it, several men were killed, and many were arrested and held behind barbed wire. It became my job to face the relatives who came to inquire about their sons — to tell them what had happened: alive, dead, under arrest, or discharged.

VeteranOne day a Sikh gentleman came into my office — white beard. This was near Ganganagar³. Something about him was familiar. As he spoke, I said, "Aren't you Jagjit Singh?" He stood up, came to attention, saluted, and said, "Haan, Saab." And in Punjabi he said, "Sir, I recognised you too — you are our GPO Sahib." We embraced, sat down, and I checked everything for him. I told him, "Your son is fine. He is under arrest, and he will be dealt with as the case requires." He thanked me. I always made sure that those who had come from a distance were kept for the night, looked after, and sent off the next morning.

VeteranHe wanted to say something, but he held back, and he left. The next morning he came again to say goodbye, and I said, "Jagjit Singh, sit down. Yesterday you wanted to tell me something. What was it?" He said, "Sahib, whatever happened is all right — emotions ran high, there was provocation, all of that. That is all right. But my son has not been true to his oath and his salt⁴. He should not have done this — he took an oath of fidelity." And then he said: "Sahib, give him whatever punishment you wish. But do not keep him in the army. Throw him out." There were tears in his eyes; there were tears in mine. We embraced, and he went away.

VeteranI thought to myself — look at this man's idea of loyalty, of honesty, of the oath he believed his son had taken. He was a tough man, uneducated by the standard of those days, perhaps class two or three pass. I have written about him in a book. Jagjit Singh.

VeteranThe second was my buddy⁵, Allah Saab — a Muslim from Karnataka. I was under posting and my baggage had to move; he was to accompany it. Everything was loaded, and he left ahead of me. I reached two days later, and once everything was settled he said, "Sahib, I have to go on leave." I asked what had happened. He said, "My mother passed away — the day we were to leave with your baggage." I said, "Why didn't you tell me?" He said, "If I had told you then that my mother had passed away and that I had to go, who would have handled all this? It was my responsibility." That was the loyalty of a man towards me. These incidents — and there are many more like them — are the crux of soldiering. They are the ultimate and the most cherished memories of having worn the uniform.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · Operation Blue Star (1984): A military operation conducted in June 1984 to remove armed militants from the Golden Temple complex in Amritsar; its aftermath caused unrest, including disturbances and desertions within some units.
2 · Brigade Major: The senior staff officer of a brigade, responsible for coordinating its operations and staff work; a key appointment given to a selected officer.
3 · Sri Ganganagar: A district in northern Rajasthan, close to the India–Pakistan border.
4 · "Oath and salt" (namak): In the soldier's idiom, fidelity to one's oath of service; "to be true to one's salt" (namak halal) signifies unwavering loyalty to the institution one serves.
5 · Buddy (sahayak): The soldier who assists an officer; the bond between an officer and his buddy is a long-standing and trusted relationship in the Indian Army.

Lt. Gen. Narinder Singh Brar