His son’s been gone four years. But there’s not a day when he doesn’t speak to him, turning to his picture and cracking jokes, filling him in with all that’s happening at home. But this morning, Prof S.K. Nayyar rose early. He was in a hurry: His son, Capt Anuj Nayyar, 17 Jat, MVC was waiting for him at the Kargil Heights to celebrate V-Day.
If you happened to be on the Kondli Road in Vasundhara Enclave on Delhi’s borders with Noida this morning, you couldn’t have missed the Professor outside the filling station called Kargil Heights.
There he was, saluting an island draped in marigold. It’s his memorial to a son who went down fighting at Pimple I in the Drass sector on July 7, 1999, days before his 24th birthday. No one came calling. It was father and son, reliving the euphoria of Kargil Day.
It pains him not to see a proper memorial for the Kargil braves. So he’s going to do it himself: ‘‘The Government hasn’t built one for Kargil. You see the wall running around this place? I am going to turn this into a martyrs’ wall. Each and every name from Kargil will find place here.’’
When you ask him how he feels that the Government’s backed off again from Kargil Divas celebrations he sounds a little irritated: ‘‘Why do people have to depend on the Government? Your sons won the war for you, so why hold back the celebrations?’’
You read his face as you mention Pakistan. But there’s no hatred. ‘‘Pakistani soldiers too died for their country. Like all soldiers, they were simply obeying orders.’’
The economist in Prof Nayyar takes over — he’s a visiting faculty at the Delhi School of Economics — as he discusses the peace process: ‘‘The two countries can know peace if they work towards economic inter-dependence. Let them freeze outstanding issues for 10 years. Have economic ties. Ten years later, the problems won’t matter.’’
Debatable solution this, but it’s from a man whose son was felled by the Pakistanis. ‘‘It will work,’’ he maintains as he turns to Anuj’s picture. ‘‘I was told to hang his picture at the entrance. I can’t do that. My son lives with me. How can I leave him out in the rain?’’