ON a summer afternoon in 1967, I went to swim at the army club in Pune (then known as Poona ). I found a powerful swimmer doing quite a few lengths in a methodical crawl and could not match his stamina. But, when he climbed out of the pool, I got the shock of my life – both his legs were missing!
That was the first time I saw Pankaj Shivram Joshi, who recently passed away. A graduate of the National Defence Academy, Joshi was commissioned in 8 Gurkha Rifles. He retired as Lieutenant General and was decorated a number of times. The honours included PVSM, AVSM and VSM. His is a saga of courage and determination to overcome adversity. He lost both his legs at barely 24, stepping on a land mine in an operational area in Sikkim.
In 1967, the newly formed Artificial Limb Centre (ALC) at Pune provided a glimmer of hope for Armymen who had lost their limbs. There were many such cases in the 1965 India-Pakistan war. I would see them limping across to our unit canteen, trying out their newly acquired legs. One of my most poignant memories is of meeting my drill instructor from my cadet days – Kartar Singh, a JCO from the Jat Regiment. On seeing me, Kartar broke down. “Saabji, I was good only as a drill instructor. Without my leg, my life is finished,” he said. I had no words to console him because in those days Army personnel who lost their limbs were sent home with a disability pension.
But Joshi, who too was fitted with artificial limbs at the ALC, was of different mettle. From day one, he never gave up. He fought every inch to overcome his handicap. He came to the swimming pool riding a bicycle. His friends said he was on the dance floor within a month of getting the artificial legs. Fortunately for him, the Army changed its medical categorization rules in 1978. Physical capability rather than physical condition became the determining factor for retention of physically handicapped personnel. Joshi’s grit and willpower enabled him to achieve what was seemingly impossible when a special medical board examined him.
His physical capability was found to be on a par with any officer’s. Years later, when I attended the Senior Command course, I saw Joshi as an instructor at the War College, Mhow. Nobody spoke of his handicap as we saw him climbing high ground with us. I heard a number of stories of his achievements: his participation in the Himalayan Car Rally as part of the Army team and his cycling 40 km in a cycle expedition. There was no stopping him as he went on to command a battalion, brigade and corps. So we were not surprised when he was made Commander of the Central Command with Lt General rank.
Joshi’s life is reminiscent of Britain’s World War II hero – Group Captain Douglas Robert Steuart Bader of the Royal Air Force. He was commissioned in 1931. A flamboyant personality, he lost both legs in an air crash while attempting a low-level slow roll in response to a dare. He was retired on medical grounds in 1933, but relentlessly overcame his limitations and showed the RAF he could still fly a fighter aircraft. When World War II broke out, the RAF took him back. He flew many fighter missions and took part in the operations in Dunkirk and the Battle of Britain. He made 22 “kills” of German aircraft. Bader was taken prisoner when he baled out after his aircraft was shot down during a mission over occupied France in 1941. He escaped in August 1942 only to be recaptured and sent to Colditz Castle, a prisoner of war camp for those who made repeated attempts to escape. He impressed even the German ace pilot, Adolf Galland, who became his friend. When the war ended, the RAF refused his request for continued service and he retired in early 1946.
The legend of Bader still lives in British memory. He remains a visible manifestation of the nation’s proud “never say die” attitude. Like Bader, Gen Joshi was an ideal role model for young people. Unfortunately, he was born in a nation that lauds only filmstars or cricket players as role models. The others who hog media headlines are politicians who kindle the worst divisive instincts among the public. Little wonder that Joshi’s passing away went unnoticed by the mainstream media.
YET the armed forces will continue to produce more Joshis. Recently, there came heart warming news of the Army deciding to promote Brigadier SK Razdan, a paratrooper paralysed from the waist down, to Major General. Fifteen years ago, Razdan suffered a spinal injury in a fire fight in Kashmir where he saved the lives of 14 women. He has been confined to a wheelchair since. He won the Kirti Chakra, the second highest award for peacetime gallantry.
The media report of Razdan’s promotion said, “Razdan would often tell his friends about how he had cheated death, but sometimes he regretted not being a martyr.” There must be many more Razdans in other walks of life who are not as lucky. They push on but their grit and leadership qualities go unrecognized. The nation is the loser as the flock has no role models worth the name.
Courtesy:GFiles Magazine, May 2010
URL:http://gfilesindia.com/title.aspx?title_id=117
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