They greet with good mornings, we salute Jai Hind,
They dreamt of limousines, we rode a 40-ton T 90 Combat Tank,
They visit fire stations, we sailed warships,
They go in school buses, we go in Dhai Ton,
They call them friends, we have Batman Bhaiya,
They call it Eat Outs, we enjoy in Unit Mess,
They have Parties, we dance in Badakhanas,
They shop in malls, we get lost in Station CSDs,
They call it uniforms, we wear our pride,
They wear boots, we wear DMS,
They call it a profession, we call it a way of life,
They call it Military cantonments, but I call it home.
Jai Hind Shrimaans and Shrimatis, I am Pari Bhatnagar, a proud Army Brat. Born to a fauji, in a military hospital, raised in army cantonments and transferred through towns.
As a proud Army Brat with roots spread far and wide, allow me to take you on a journey of discovery, one that begins with a question and ends with a revelation. You see, my life’s journey, much like the military life I’ve led, has been a constant dance on the tightrope of uncertainty. I’ve been straddling imaginary lines, not in the physical sense, but in the very essence of my existence. It’s like living in a world where the idea of belonging constantly shifts, much like a line drawn in the sand that’s washed away by the tides of change.
It often makes me wonder, why am I so different? Why can’t my civilian friends relate to me? Why can’t I express myself? For them, I am someone similar yet very different and I don’t blame them for it. Because we army brats don’t like to keep our life simple, it’s rather something from my dad’s regimental motto, Men apart, every Man an emperor.
The thread of mysteries starts from the title we proudly adorn, and carry with honor, just like the stars on our dad’s shoulders, and the medals adorning his chest. We call ourselves a class apart, a race unknown. We call ourselves the Army Brats, wonder what that means? BRAT stands for born, raised and transferred. Packing and Unpacking, shifting and adapting, making new friends is a way of life for us.
I never even imagined, to transfer 12 cities,10 states, 2 countries and 18 houses. With such an unusual lifestyle, I often found myself stuck with a question I could never answer, “Pari where do you belong to?” All I could say was “I don’t know”.
Amidst the hustle and bustle of army life, I was born. A young dandelion, who had a life to live, a mark to leave, a change to make in the world. This innocent dandelion, saw the army life, full of changes and challenges, aspirations and adventures and knew one thing for sure: an easy life doesn’t exist.
And today, get ready to unravel with me the mystery behind a strange question that has been hounding me, much like an insistent sleuth on the trail of a curious case. “Elementary my dear Watson”, Let me take you through the mystery of my “hometown” …
From the Medieval forts of Gwalior to the palace of Jhansi ki rani, from the Garden of Shrine, Ahmednagar, to the city of Dreams, Aamchi Mumbai, from the tribal headhunters and hornbills of Nagaland to the ringing bells and diyas of Padmanabhaswamy Temple of Thiruvananthapuram, from the Queen of Deccan, Pune, and now to the Merlion City, Singapore. I have been shifting stations every 2 years. With each move, the idea of a “hometown” became more and more elusive, as my sense of belonging expanded beyond the so-called conventional boundaries. For me, my hometown was every cantonment I have been to, my home was every guestroom and every government quarter that I stayed in.
Every time I tried to answer this question, I found myself lost in thoughts.So, I went to dad, and finally asked him.
Hey Dad, can I ask you a very very important question – I spilled the beans WHERE DO I BELONG TO?
Dad burst into laughs. I was devastated, here I was having an existential crisis and my dad laughed at it, WOW! But what he said next was even more mind boggling. “My darling, you are the daughter of a Fauji, but more importantly, you are also the granddaughter of a Fauji.” So, yes, I am a proud granddaughter of a war veteran, my grandfather, who too was an army colonel for 3 decades in the Gorkha Regiment. So, wait, that meant that my dad, serving the army for the past 2 decades in the Mechanized Infantry, during his childhood was an Army Brat. NO NO NO, this is not going in the right direction. He continued to tell me something more, “You know Pari, I asked your grandfather the same question when I was the same age as you, this same strange question, But I never got an answer!”
While I have shifted 9 schools, my dad on the other hand had been to 10 schools in his 16 years. And this question lingers on from generations…
Just like a stubborn bug in a piece of computer code, I had to debug it, where should my hometown be? Bugs now remind me of my long-lost bestie, my Pet Tuffy who loved bugs, who grew up with me. Even though, i may have left hundreds of friends behind in those postings, one who always stayed by my side, wagging his tail and sniffing his way to my bed to wake me up every morning with a wet cold nose. And yes, I miss him dearly, he has crossed rainbow bridge, but life goes on, memories stay on. He taught me that small things in our life have a huge impact. And those postings weren’t just shifting, they were experiences for me. It wasn’t the room I was packing; it was the memories I was stuffing my trunks with. it wasn’t the brown tape which we were packing our cartons with, that we would eventually tear open and throw away, it was the lesson of letting go of the “room” that once belonged to you, the “home” that you decorated with your own hands, the “school” where you had the best of memories in, and the “place” where you had the best or maybe the most important moments of your life.
No wonder, they have coined a word for us, dandelions. The flowers that symbolize the army brat. Why? Because it can put down roots almost anywhere, impossible to destroy. It’s an unpretentious plant. It’s a survivor in a broad range of climates. It is said, and I second that Fauji brats bloom everywhere the winds carry them. Their roots are strong, cultivated deeply in the culture of the military, planted swiftly and surely. They’re ready to fly in breezes that take them to new adventures, new lands and new friends. We are The Dauntless just like the ones in The Divergent.
We Army Brats are a testimony to the power of change. We don’t belong to one place, rather we belong to each place we have ever been a part of, just like the bold aura of Mumbai, the sassy culture of Nagaland, the rich traditions of Thiruvananthapuram. These places have shown me how changes are like threads of adventures that wove the tapestry of my memories, shaping me into the person I am today.
I look at myself as bits and pieces of experiences, these 16 years of my life that have shown me that while embracing your identity, is commendable, but embracing the change that shapes your life, identity and your existence, is what makes you stand apart from others. The lessons I have learned in my journey of finding where do I belong to in all these years, is what has sculpted me into a young leader, ready to see the world.
Here, I carry the responsibility of my dad’s respect and the honor of my big army family who have shaped me to who I am today, and mind you this army family is not just my parents, its the uncles and the aunties, the Batman bhaiyas, the regiments and the units from all those postings in the past sixteen years.
So, to all those who persistently inquire, “Hey Pari, where do you belong to?” I offer you this: I don’t fit into your neat little boxes, and I don’t need to. I am an Army Brat—a proud, resilient, and adventurous one.
So, while you seek a definitive answer, I stand here unapologetically, leaving you with the beauty of the unanswered strange question. My “hometown” is everywhere and nowhere, and that’s the remarkable essence of my existence. It’s a line that blur and transcends the conventional definition of home. It’s a line that I straddle daily, embracing the ambiguity of my identity.
As I stand here before you, a proud Army Brat with roots spread far and wide, I invite you to embrace the beauty of ambiguity in your own lives. Don’t be afraid to let go of rigid definitions and fixed identities. Instead, let the winds of change carry you to new adventures, new places, and new friendships.
Just like the dandelion, be unpretentious yet resilient, and bloom wherever life plants you. Embrace the power of change and let it shape you into a stronger, more adaptable version of yourself.
Remember, life is a strange journey not about finding the perfect answer to every question but reveling in the mysteries and uncertainties that make us unique. Have the courage to be the true version of yourselves, carry forward the lesson of embracing change just like the flying head of the dandelion, celebrating the richness of your diverse lives.
So, here it is from the Fauji brat who will soon be walking into a strange place, with strange people around – embrace life, embrace change, and embrace ambiguity, because sometimes, it’s all about saying I don’t know.
Jai Hind!