I was rolling up the sleeve of my uniform, preparing for a call up that might never come, when I realised that somehow I was overcome by a strange sense of pride, a pride that wanted the length of my sleeve to be precise as I have always pictured in my mind. Any longer, I would look shabby. Any shorter, I would look amateur.
Then I donned the green, tightened the velcro around my waist and looked in the mirror. It was just like before and the memories started flooding me. I never really liked it when I donned it for 2 years in a row. Then I was in a place where I detested the culture, the harsh discipline, the unreasonable demands and the lack of purpose in everything I did.
But now that it was over, when I look back, it was perhaps the greatest time of my life. The suffering, the digging, the starving, the cold, the banter, the rowdiness, the jungle, the marches,the mountains, the food, the stories, the friendships, it was all worth the 2 years.
A girl friend of mine once asked, "I don't understand why guys love to talk about NS?"
I wish I could tell her, but she would not understand.
Because some things, you have to feel it for yourself.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ybju5hb8nkc, bro your 2nd last statement reminded me of this.
ReplyDeleteNice video.
ReplyDelete'Its about the man next to you'
I guess it is