A gentleman forever

I vividly remember the day when our exasperated botany professor, objecting to his irregular work, remarked: 8220;Your files are incomplete. You have not been attending the lectures, and I have not seen youat the laboratory. What will you do in life?8221; Luv shot back: 8220;I will join the army, sir.8221;

After we passed out from the college, many friends drifted away. But Luv stayed back in Chandigarh because he felt the town was the right place to prepare for a career in the army. We both joined MA English evening classes at Panjab University. Luv also took up a job. 8220;I can8217;t see my dad footing my bills any more,8221; he said.

A strenuous morning jog, games, and keeping up to date on the events through newspapers became part of Luv8217;s daily routine. In 1996, he got the call for a Staff Selection Board interview at Allahabad. Four days later, an excited Luv called back to give the happy news that he had fulfilled his dream.

Early this year, Luv was posted at Sopore. Just before Kargil shot into the news, I tried to contact him, but could not because of security restrictions. I wasn8217;t sure if Luv had got to know that I had been trying to speak to him. But I got a pleasant surprise when he called on a Sundayafternoon. 8220;Sorry Veeru, couldn8217;t contact you earlier. Things here are getting a little serious. But I am sure the situation will become normal soon. I have been promised a posting at a family station. I am planning to get married then. And one great news, I have presented a car to my dad,8221; he said, promising to call back soon. That was the last time I heard from him.This month, I caught a glimpse of a young, bearded captain on TV, giving details of how he and his men had captured Point 5140 on June 19, paving the way for the final assault on Tiger Hill. Wasn8217;t it Luv? Yes, it was him. Behind the beard and the name Sher Shah8217; 8212; as his men called him 8212; was that familiar flamboyance. quot;Yeh dil maange more,quot; was his success signal, he told the interviewer.

I savoured every moment of it. I was euphoric. Then, without warning, a grim-faced anchor came on the screen and struck a stunning blow. Captain Vikram Batra of J and K Rifles had become a martyr the previous day. I was taken aback. Reality tooktime to sink in. Luv8217;s face kept coming back before my eyes. Flashes of the time we had spent together. Like the night when Luv went out in the pelting rain to catch frogs for the zoology practical exams the next day. The day when he salvaged an outing to Kasauli by arranging a car after some friends had backed out. The day he left for Dehradun to join IMA. As the bus started moving, Luv had turned back and shouted, 8220;I want you at my passing-out parade. Or you will have to face the consequences.8221;

Professional compulsions took me to Vadodara and I couldn8217;t attend the passing-out parade. Nor could I meet him again, although we did remain in touch. Now that he is gone, I am facing the consequences: the pain that he has left behind, the pride of having been associated with him.