How Blessed Are We In South of India!

As war rages with our northwestern neighbor, Pakistan, we in the south of India, are completely oblivious to the disruptions to daily life that ordinary people are experiencing in various cities and towns in the northwest.

The states, districts, cities, and towns that are affected by the ongoing war include the following: 

• Jammu & Kashmir: Srinagar, Avantipora, Udhampur, Jammu, Baramulla, Nagrota, Poonch, Kupwara, Uri, Mendhar, Rajouri.
• Punjab: Amritsar, Pathankot, Firozpur, Fazilka, Ludhiana, Bathinda, Chandigarh, Mohali, Barnala, Patiala, Sangrur, Malerkotla, Gurdaspur.
• Rajasthan: Jaisalmer, Barmer, Bhuj, Kuarbet, Lakhi Nala, Samba.
• Haryana: Sirsa, Panchkula, Ambala.
• Gujarat: Bhuj, Kutch.

Mock Drill and Preparedness

Currently, Civil Defense Mock drills are being conducted in different parts of India, to enhance the preparedness for war-like situations and disasters. Such mock drills are crucial for those residing in southern India, where the daily realities of warfare feel distant. 

Copyright: Hindustan Times

We at Sobha Silicon Oasis, are going to have one such mock drill under the aegis of Civil Defense Corps in our apartment complex of 900+ residential units. It will be conducted today, 10 May 2025, evening in two batches: 7-8 pm and 8:15 to 9:50 pm in our amphitheater facility. 

In order to better appreciate the objective of the mock drill and what type of war-like situations and hostile attacks we are going to be prepared for and in what manner, please read the following.

Real-life War Situation

The following account of a real-life war situation, as narrated by a 10-year-old girl, will give us a better idea of how the daily lives of people are being affected in the northwestern parts of our country. 

The war with Pakistan changed everything. I was ten, living in Agra with my mom and my two little sisters, one just five years old, and the baby, only one year. 

I remember young people, volunteers, gathering us all in a large open field, and instructing us on how to protect ourselves during a bomb blast: lie on the ground, chest up on elbows, and tightly cover our ears. Soon after, trenches were dug throughout the city, even in front of each classroom.  They weren't straight; they were shaped like letters - I, V, L, and T. I learned that the zig-zag shapes were to keep everyone safer. If a bomb piece, a shrapnel, landed in one part, it wouldn't hurt people further down the trench.

At school, we practiced drills – running to trenches at the sound of the bell. We'd crouch within them, heads below the surface, seeking meager protection. As the war worsened, schools eventually closed down. Darkness fell each night as a blackout was declared.

Panic echoed amidst the darkness. Instructions, "Light band karo" (switch off the lights), crackled from an unseen source. Fear gnawed at us. The chilling wail of the siren sent us, my mom, two sisters, and our neighbor's nine-year-old, scrambling into the trench. I, a mere ten years old, huddled close to my six-month-old sibling nestled in my mother's arms. Running to and hiding in the trenches had become a nightly ritual, a grim routine of the war.

One elderly Sikh grandmother, ever-present in the trench, recited prayers in a continuous murmur. One day, my five-year-old sister, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, innocently piped up, "Is Dad coming to drop bombs?" A chuckle rippled through the tense atmosphere amongst our neighbors!

One night, I was jolted awake to an uproar outside. The sky bled crimson, filled with fiery red balls. Cries of "bachao bachao" (save us) resonated from nearby villages. Meanwhile, frantic knocks pounded at our door, urging my Mom to join our neighbors in the trench. My Mom stood calmly by the window, gazing out. Fear welled up inside me, but exhaustion due to the frequent drill routine seemed to have settled on my mom. She whispered, her voice strangely calm, "We all have to die someday; let it be today."

Sometimes during the day time, the phone in our landlord's house would break the monotony of the day with its occasional ring. It was usually for Mom, either from Pathankot or Leh. The line was always noisy, with lots of static, and it was hard to hear. Consequently, Mom often wouldn't clearly understand who was calling or what was being told. But, just the illusion that it was Dad's voice, made her at ease and a bit more comfortable. Our neighbor was very worried and would convince Mom to stay in the trench.

Postscript

The above recollections refer to the Indo-Pak War of 1965, which lasted barely a month in August and September. The girl, then 10-year old and now 70, had her father, Wg. Cdr, NTV Nambiar (late) serving in the Indian Air Force, then stationed in Pathankot, while her Mom and two sisters of 5-years and 1-year, were staying in Agra. Now, she happens to be my life partner, Vasantha Unnikrishnan. 

Finally, those living in the south will gain a deeper appreciation for their good fortune in being spared from the tensions and horrors of actual warfare.