Memories from the 1971 War
Dad ! I was very young during the 1971 war—too small to fully understand the gravity of the times, but old enough for the memories to leave a lasting mark. My father was in the army, posted in Jalandhar, and we lived in a house close to the air force base. Nights were tense. The air raid siren would inevitably sound, and we’d quickly take shelter in trenches near our home. I remember how frequently my father was on emergency duty at the military hospital, sometimes gone the entire night. Through my child’s eyes, the rifle fire looked like bursts of colored light, almost surreal. Massive aircraft often flew low over our house, their presence both awe-inspiring and ominous. Oddly enough, we were never truly afraid. The strong, reassuring presence of my father—and many relatives who were also in the armed forces—gave us a sense of security amidst the chaos. Two incidents from that time remain etched in my memory. One night, a group of Pakistani paratroopers mistakenly landed behi...
