Major Chandra Bhushan Dwivedi – an artillery officer with the 315 Field Regiment died in the Kargil War of 1999.
Listen to his daughter, Neha Dwivedi recount the little time spent with her father.
When I think about my father, the first thing that comes in front of my eyes is his ever smiling face. I don’t think I ever saw him with a frown, even when we would go to Srinagar where he would be at his busiest. One of the main things that I have learnt from him is also how much of his heart and soul he would put into every job that he would do. Like, for example, he would help me with my studies. So, just to explain and give a better idea to me about say, a ray diagram or a pinhole camera...he made sure that he bought those small concave and convex mirrors to make those ray diagrams and give me an idea as to why it works the way it does – or he made a pinhole camera at home to show me, so that my concepts are clear. I had no idea at that time, or even now, who would go to those lengths.
And besides that, he used to plan his leaves according to our exams, just so that he could be around. But it’s not like when he came here he would only focus on us. He would focus on our mother too. So typically, his day would begin like this: he would wake up in the morning and make sure that if anything needed to be done around the house, he’d do all that. Then he’d sit with us, he’d make us study. Then, my mom was very fond of going to to the club...we had something every Saturday or Wednesday or something...and he would make sure that she’s happy, she goes there. He had a scooter that time, so he would drop her there, come back, help me finish my studies, and then take Diksha and me and go back to the club. Then, we would all have dinner together and come back.
You know, one would think that he’s on leave and he should be just chilling and having a fun time and probably resting. But no, that man, from the time he woke up to the time he slept, would just be roaming and making circles around the women of the house and just keeping everyone happy. The one thing that he probably gave to me was that he raised my standards really high.
When we met for the last time, it wasn't really supposed to, obviously, be the last time that we were going to meet him. We had gone to spend our summer vacations with him [on 13 June] which was a summer ritual for us. But strangely, this particular time when we had reached...he had come to pick us up...but the minute we reached, we were told that we had to go back since he and his men had to go up because apparently the war was declared. But I don't think he said that. He just probably said that there's some disturbance there and I'll have to go. Of course, we remember that we were sad about it...Diksha and I, as much as we could understand. Strangely, from the time that he picked us up from the transit camp, I have no recollection of what happened until early in the morning the next day [on 14 June] when he was leaving. I remember Diksha and I were sleeping. My mother must've been up since before and we were both woken up and my mum said “Daddy's leaving. Say bye to him”. I remember we woke up all sleepy and groggy and hugged him and he just left after that.
I remember thinking about it later that, you know...I wish I had known. That this would be the last...this is so unfair...was this the last time? Was that supposed to be the last time? Why didn't I have the slightest idea? I wish I would have known so I could have made that hug a little longer...I could have tried and stayed up a little longer...gotten up a little earlier to spend some more time with him. I mean...I know it sounds very irrational right now but at that time, when something like this happens, that's the first thing you think. It was so unfinished...like we just couldn't do what we should have or were supposed to do. So, it was really emotional that time, more because we were really saddened by the fact that, you know...we were always really excited about our summer vacations, but for us, they just suddenly ended the minute they started.
His last letter we received after we'd got the news and we came back to Meerut and we'd gone back to Bihar. All the rituals were done, all the decisions were taken and we had come back to Meerut to pack and shift to where Mummy had decided to shift, which was Delhi. So when we reached, there was a letter there which he had probably written earlier...and it was waiting for us at home.
It was...for me, I kept thinking...I used to really struggle with myself to kind of accept the fact that he's not there. I used to struggle with myself because I used to keep thinking...you know, I just hope that I wake up one day and get to know that all this was a dream. I would pray so hard to God that I wish that I wake up tomorrow and get to know that I have just been dreaming or all this was just a confusion or there was some mistake and it's not him, it was someone else or any of those things. I kept thinking...can we rewind time? Can we rewind time somehow? Can something else change the story because this story needs to be changed because this can't be true. I can't remember till what time I kept thinking like that. So when we received his letter...he had written things like “don't believe the news...don't believe the TV...they don't always show the right thing, they over exaggerate...” You know, reading it at that time was so ironic because it was like....you're lying, we know you're lying. It's just...it's an inexplicable feeling. I am not sure I can put it in the right words. We probably should have felt great to receive one of his last letters...something that we were not expecting, but it was also very tough to accept it.
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