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'He dedicated his life to the Army'
Special: The 1971 war
'Here's my pistol, come shoot me'
Sam Bahadur's life and times
'India's bravest son'
Destiny played its part
An interview with Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw
President Kalam meets Sam Manekshaw
When Sam quoted chapter and verse to Mrs Gandhi
The passing away of the only Indian to be appointed Field Marshal when in active service has been remarkable for the warmth of the ordinary men and women, who queued up to say meebeenamet to the adorable dikra who put his life on the line for them.
It has also been remarkable for the complete lack of grace and gratitude, civility and courtesy, decency and decorum on the part of the bold-faced names rapaciously grazing the lawns of power in Delhi and elsewhere, for the brain behind India's only decisive military victory.
Sam, the Bahadur, had been unwell for a while now. From about 1000 hours on June 26, reports of his being "critically ill" had appeared in the media. Yet, when the "expected tocsin" sounded at 0030 hours till the guns were fired in salute around 1500 hours on June 27, "civil society" chose to show its incivility.
Politicians may have their reasons. They always do. Maybe, there are issues like protocol. Maybe, this is one way in which 'civil India' shows the armed forces its place. Maybe, this is why we are not as militaristic as Pakistan. Maybe, the knees are just too old to climb the hills.
But what about the armed forces itself?
The fact that the defence minister was represented by his deputy Pallam Raju, the fact that the navy and air staff sent two-star general rank officers, shows that however high or mighty, however rich or powerful, civilian or military, if you should die as you must, you should do so somewhere in the vicinity of New Delhi -- or Bombay. Or else, they must have some use for you.
Or else, too bad.
As he rightly surmised once: "I wonder whether those of our political masters who have been put in charge of the defence of the country can distinguish a mortar from a motor; a gun from a howitzer; a guerrilla from a gorilla -- although a great many of them in the past have resembled the latter."
The contrast couldn't be starker:
Our VIPs and VVIPs have time for dead and dying celebrities, charlatans, fixers. Not for a field marshal?
In his biography, K M Cariappa, the only other field marshal India has had (and who too died at age 94), writes of his father's cremation in May 1993:
"Honouring him in death as they did in life were Field Marshal Manekshaw, the three service chiefs all of whom belonged to the same course and at whose passing out parade from the joint services wing father had presided, the gracious chief minister M Veerappa Moily and C K Jaffer Sharief, Minister for Railways representing the President as the supreme commanded of the armed forces."
Somebody should have told the geniuses in Delhi that Sam, the Bahadur, passed away in Wellington, Ooty, not Wellington, New Zealand [Images]. The nearest civil airport is Coimbatore, just 80 km away.
If this is how we say goodbye to Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw, any wonder why Rang de Basanti [Images] could successfully tap into the angst of an entire generation?
Krishna Prasad, former editor, Vijay Times and one of India's finest young journalists, is the guiding spirit behind www.churumuri.com
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