His letters were my treasures: A soldier’s wife remembers Kargil War

By Abha Sharma

As we celebrate the 25th anniversary of Kargil Vijay Diwas, I find myself transported back to those days 25 years ago. My husband, then Lieutenant Dushyant Sharma, served the nation during the war at the Batalik sector, so it is closer to my heart. He was in the frontline with his infantry unit.

The memories are as vivid as if they happened yesterday, and they still give me goosebumps. Each day from that time is etched in my mind, flashing before my eyes. Watching the Hindi movie “LOC” feels like reliving our story, a poignant reminder of the trials and emotions we endured.

We were not married at that time, so before leaving for the frontlines, he made a promise: we would marry upon his return. To keep his spirits high, I vowed to write him a letter daily. With that, he departed, leaving me to grapple with the uncertainty of war.

For over forty days, communication was a luxury. I diligently wrote letters, filling them with love, prayers, and hopes for his safety. I believed these letters were a lifeline for him, just as his survival was for me. Each letter was a testament to my unwavering faith in his return. I would visit the post office at least two to three times a day, eagerly awaiting any reply.

His letters were my treasures, a lifeline connecting me to him. Each letter was a tangible piece of him, a sign that he was still there, still fighting, and still thinking of me. Reading them was nothing short of a celebration for me.

One day, to my surprise, I received a letter in the same envelope I had sent him. He had written his response on the back of my letter because they didn’t have any stationery. Another time, a letter arrived on a chocolate wrapper.

These makeshift letters, written under such harsh conditions in Kargil, were precious to me. They were filled with his thoughts, his experiences, and sometimes news of the loss of our brave men. 17 soldiers from 22 Grenadiers sacrificed their lives while capturing important points in the Batalik sector during the Kargil War.

Occasionally, there were snippets of good news about our victories, which brought brief moments of joy amidst the sorrow. I read the letters over and over again, each time with tears streaming down my face. The tears blurred my vision, but I couldn’t stop reading. They conveyed his struggles, his hopes, and his unwavering determination. Even now, all those letters are preserved with me, cherished more than any of my other valuables. They are a testament to our love and the sacrifices made by our soldiers.

With no mobiles in those days, the phone calls were few and far between, each a precious moment of relief amidst the despair. There was one occasion, after what felt like an eternity, that I heard his voice through a satellite phone or a mobile phone of a media person. The call lasted barely a minute before it got disconnected, but that brief moment gave me immense relief.

News broadcasts became my constant companions, a desperate search for any information about the war’s progress. The fear of the unknown was a constant shadow. The war continued, and even after it ended, the fear didn’t dissipate. The dread of “what next?” loomed large every day.

After the war, whenever a soldier came home on leave, I made it a point to meet them and hear their stories of bravery. They shared incredible experiences: sleeping on stones, walking miles in the dark nights, all drenched in rainwater and bone-wrenching winter, occasionally having hot or fresh food to eat except gur and chana. Once, they were promised fresh food so they left their old puris behind, only to find out the fresh food couldn’t reach them. They went back and retrieved the old puris. Everything, from juice to eggs, was frozen and had to be boiled using makeshift arrangements. Each one could get only a litre of water for washing and drinking.

One soldier also shared that my husband was saved by a fraction of a second from a bullet’s target; as he sat down, the bullet struck the stone where he had been standing. We still have that bullet with us. Life at the frontline was unimaginably tough.

Kargil Vijay Diwas is not just a day of celebration but a day of remembrance. I salute all the soldiers who laid down their lives for our nation. Their bravery and sacrifice are unparalleled, and their memories live on in our hearts.

As I reflect on those days, I am filled with gratitude and pride for my husband, for all the soldiers who fought valiantly, and for the veer naris of their families. Their sacrifice will never be forgotten, and their legacy will continue to inspire generations to come. I thank them for their service, their courage, and their unwavering commitment to our nation. Jai Hind.