AFVOA Newsletter 03 of 2020

Section 4 – War Diary CV 2 No. 03 / 2020 Page 58 of 167 7 A Family Tale in War Zone Mrs Lalitha Mohandas Genre: Life In The Forces vividly remember my father telling us one evening in the later part of 1971, after the family prayers, about the heightened state of affairs – the imminent war looming large over our heads. By October we had put layers of brown paper and newspaper to darken the window panes in the eventuality of a war. We all had a trench dug in the backyard of our houses to take refuge in case of enemy bombings. By November end, the Officers married quarters area had a forlorn look, bereft of little ones in the children’s park, the infants in their prams or older ones cycling around with friends. In fact we were just a handful of families hanging around. One day when father asked us all to go to Delhi, to my uncle’s place for a holiday, we kids expressed a desire, which surprised him no doubt. We reiterated “All of us live or die together”. Parents were taken aback, but relented. One of the officers in the forward base was admitted in the Military Hospital. My parents wanted to meet him during the visiting hours and did so on the evening of 3 rd December 1971. My younger brother and I were playing tennekoit on the terrace. At dusk we saw some fireworks and apparently thought that a circus had come to town. On earlier occasions we had seen this happen and presumed this time around too, to be the same. Our immediate neighbours yelled and screamed at us – “Get down both of you, it is Pakistani planes bombing us”. Both of us were shell shocked. It took us a few minutes to realise what was happening. We rushed down and hid in the trench till parents returned. They also were caught unawares on the way back from MH. From day One we vowed to follow all rules strictly. No lights were switched on at night. We had a drill to follow – upon hearing the siren-- get into the trench and come out only after “all clear siren”. My brother was assigned the task to carry a basket of fruits/snacks/water, I had to switch off the electricity mains, my mother the gas and kid brother carried the torchlight—with which we found our way to the trench. We had a chair placed in the rear veranda with blankets as it was biting cold outside. It was easier to run out during the day than night. Slowly all of us got used to the new way of living. Even during the day, we got used to having a bath in a jiffy not to be caught during the air raid. Many a time mother had to abandon her cooking midway, even if it was half done, for the siren wailed-she had to restart the process. We didn’t mind eating early or late as long as we were all safe. I