Jai Jawan! Jai Kisan!

In the number of booklets that my Daddy published, where he had constructive suggestions to make India the most powerful Nation in the world, one of them dealt with the Farms and Arms theory. He felt that to break the vicious circle of over population, ignorance, ill distribution of land, uneconomic holdings, and failure of the government to introduce land reforms, we should produce enough food in State farms run by the Army personnel.

His conception…and I quote ‘was of a productive army that would be self- reliant and which would make the country self sufficient in food. The first charge of such an army would be to kill our real enemy- hunger. In other words let our army have the satisfaction of protecting a nation of healthy people, not semi-starved skeletons.’

Perhaps some of Daddy’s suggestions were weird but a few of his ideas, like raising the marriageable age of the girls, were actually incorporated by the government. He also proudly insisted that Shashtriji’s slogan ‘Jai Jawan Jai Kisan’ had actually been coined after Daddy had sent him the booklet ‘Farms for Arms’.




Even if I don’t agree with some of Daddy’s theories, I still have a lot of respect for the two unsung professions of our country- that of the Kisan and of the Jawan. Both do not exactly have jobs where they can come forward in their best suits, embellish their resumes, undergo a series of interviews, find a job in the office and then relax and carry on giving their autographs on endless files. In fact it is just the opposite.

The Kisan is forever being promised that globalisation will ultimately bring new techniques and knowledge in his once- upon- a- time outdated ‘field’. And he lives on hope. But we all know that agricultural fecundity is not godsend. This direct product of human toil is what we Indians call paseene ki kamaai. And in spite of all the green revolution, the Indian farmer still continues to remain in a state of extreme physical and mental distress.

The Jawan is forever being given an assurance that one day, when war is ruled out and peace reigns, history will finally take note of his heroic deeds. But everyone knows that there is human suffering more at the hands of each other than through natural disasters. And whenever the clarion call of Peace is played, the world chooses to be deaf. Bertrand Russel felt that war does not determine who is right- only who is left. I can imagine the final act before Operation Earth is carried out- A sole survivor standing atop a barren globe and proudly declaring- ‘Ha! Russel was right after all. I am the only one left!’

For the Jawan and the Kisan, a fragment of agony is always present in their thankless jobs. And I feel that both these kind of heroes are nothing but digits on a balance sheet. More like lifeless objects that can be used and then discarded. For all said and done it is the bigwigs that often take credit and none of these actual heroes are even present on the stage whenever the curtain falls!

Rather, in our nation of 62 long independent years, heroes are those that garner runs on a field, revive the tradition of Swayamvars, make their private moments of truth public, keep alive their lineage by the name game, or through the misuse of state exchequer make their permanence felt by etching themselves in stone. And at the altar of dignity, it is only the Jawan and the Kisan that are sacrificed again and again.

The Kisan toils so that we can eat. The soldier dies so that we can live. And what does a nation that has always been infected with the Spine Flu give them in return? Bury their JaiJaikaars and sing Jai Ho instead. Or make stupid policies like awarding compensation for committing suicides. Or give them the royal ignore as far as the pay commission is concerned.

The least we can do is immortalise them and not our ‘living’ leaders. When the entire world looks up to their heroes for their valour and their drudgery, why can’t we give some form of visibility to our invisible heroes? For every farmer buried in debt and for every soldier done to death, it’s about time we constructed a memorial- perhaps a mammoth sculpture of a man with arms and a man with a plough. And what better words to engrave upon the monument than ‘Jai Jawan! Jai Kisan!’


Poste below are a few of the memorials I saw on our trip to the US of A.

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There is a beautiful Immigration Museum in the Ellis Island. It chronicles the immigrant heritage and honours even those that arrived unannounced and settled there. This is just 'one of the many in memory of the immigrants'. It was taken while we were lining up to go see the statue of Liberty.





The Iwo Jima Memorial- dedicated to the marines who gave their lives during one of the most historic battles of World War II. You can ignore the two figures sitting below. They have nothing to do with valour ;-}




The 'field of the dead where Valour proudly sleeps.'It is called the National Arlington Cemetry.



A walk in this solemn park is like an excercise for your soul.
I heard a very interesting conversation here. An old lady was explaining to a boy about how soldiers, with their families were laid here and continue to be buried even now. 'And what happens when we run out of place Grandma?' the child asked. I didn't wait to hear what the lady said. For most this would seem like an innocuous question. For me it was the wisest definition of the futility of war!



The tomb of the Unknown Soldier. This is guarded throughout the day. This is the change of guard, which takes place every hour.


The World War II Memorial. The whole plaza is dead with a revered kind of silence. And yet it is alive with rememberance. Only because the crowds that throng here daily ensure that every day is Memorial Day!






Unlike us the Americans are smart. They not only look up to their heroes but also ensure that everyone else who goes there, looks up to them as well!