So what made you join the forces? I ask and then wince at the trite question. I can almost see her roll her eyes over the crackling of the terrible phone connection. “Well,” she says in a tone she would use to explain a simple concept to an obtuse two-year-old, “I am a fauji kid, it was kind of a given.” Yes, I persist, but why the Army? Your father was in the Navy. Don’t all children inclined towards a career in the defence forces usually want to join their father’s fauj ? She ponders for a bit and then replies slowly, “I suppose it’s because I wanted to travel — a lot. That’s something the Army gives you in spades. You get posted to and discover remote places people have not even heard of… you get what I’m saying?”
I do. Memories of my Army officer father’s tenures in places as remote as Champhai and Phailing in Mizoram rise up. Ashmi*, the young lieutenant I’m talking to, is less than five years into her service and, despite being a childhood friend, regretfully informs me that she cannot divulge exactly where she is and what she is doing. “Then I’d have to kill you,” she laughs. I don’t take her threat lightly; she has been a champion shooter since before we turned 10.
Coincidentally, Suhasini*, the Naval officer I speak to next, gives me exactly the same reason for not joining the Army though her father was an officer in that force. “I was selected for both the Army and Navy after clearing the SSB, but my mother reminded me of the Army’s remote postings. It would be better, she said, for you to join the Navy. At least you would have the company of other lady officers at the base.”
“Yes,” laments Ashmi, “The Army may have a larger number of lady officers but the female to male ratio is terrible. In fact, I’m the only lady officer in my unit right now.” The only lady officer? I am mildly concerned. How do you get the jawans to listen to and respect you? “You have to be pakka officer material,” she says. “Understand their psyche, and you will understand how to lead. Yes, most are from a background where women wear ghoonghats and sit at home, so they do resent you a bit. Nevertheless, they understand that they don’t have a choice but to follow your command. However, to truly earn their respect, you need to show them that you are every bit as competent as a gentleman officer or, at some point, there will be a rebellion in the ranks.”
Roshni*, an Air Force officer married to a fellow officer, agrees with Ashmi. “But, women are so ingrained in the Air Force now, that there really is no resentment on the men’s part. At least, not that I have seen or felt.”
“I have had rousing arguments with fellow officers,” says Suhasini. “Not that all men resent women in the forces, but those who do… their feelings usually stem from stereotyping, not personal experience.” I ask her to explain that. “They feel that if you are a woman, you are weak, that you’ll sham it or make excuses when it comes to work. Most of us are overworked and exhausted all the time because of the lack of manpower. We don’t even report sick when we really are!”
Is this attitude reflected among the sailors? “You have to be careful,” she says, measuring her words and unconsciously echoing Ashmi. “You have to treat them like you would a younger brother. Earn their respect. Don’t be a lady officer. Be an officer.”
What about the gentlemen officers in the Army? The casual sexism must exist there as well? “It does,” says Ashmi. “But lady officers have been around for a while in corps like Medical, Engineering, Education, Signals; not so much in the Infantry. So, it’s going to take a while for the officers to get used to us. They’ll have to learn — the quicker the better — that we’re here and not going anywhere; That, sooner or later, we’ll have to get into the trenches.”
How long are you commissioned for? “Ten years with an option to extend it to 14.” So you’d be able to go up to being a lieutenant colonel? “Yes, although to become a colonel and the commanding officer (C.O.) of a regiment seems like a pipe dream.” Why? I thought you said women were moving further up the ranks these days? “Yes, but to lead a regiment, you need to go to the Staff College in Wellington. Lady officers cannot.” I am aghast. I didn’t know that! “For a fauji kid, you’re woefully uninformed.” Her patronising tone is back.
The Navy scene is similar. “Lady officers stick to the base. We do receive a month of training aboard a ship, but we’re not allowed on. Government rules,” Suhasini says. So if a war via sea is declared, she would still be on base. Why? She is amused at my indignation. “Have you seen G.I. Jane ? It’s kind of like that. I don’t think India is ready to wilfully send a lady officer to her death.”
“I’m not sure that it has anything do with being a woman per se , but no, we don’t have lady officers in the fighter fleets. Women don’t fly twin engine aircrafts or combat helicopters either,” says Roshni. “A few years ago, two women were commissioned as observers (those who sit behind the fighter pilots). Did you know Pakistan actually has a few female fighter pilots? They fly wearing headscarves. Cool, eh?”
What about lady officers moving up the ranks? “We’ve had a lady rear admiral, Surgeon Rear Admiral Nirmala Kannan,” Suhasini informs me. “But she belongs to the Medical corps. We’re fighting. It’ll take time but I know we’re going to move further up.”
“Medical has been around the longest, you see,” Roshni explains. “So we have even had women Air Marshals.”
What’s it like at parties? The ladies sit; the officers stand. What do these women do? “We’re officers, aren’t we?” Ashmi is amused. “We stand. The approach to food is the same. Ladies first, followed by the C.O., and then the officers in descending order of rank.” So you go last? “Yeah. In fact, we’re at the mess, if there is one chair lacking, as the most junior, I remain standing. No gentleman officer is supposed to give me his seat. I’m an officer first.”
What do lady officers bring to the table that men do not? “Empathy. Sensitivity,” is the answer. “We are in a better position to understand the home environment and how that affects the psyche of the personnel,” says Suhasini. “Women, I think, are more sincere and dedicated than they are given credit for because they feel a subtle, yet constant, need to prove themselves.”
I ask about their best experience ever. “Every day is a blessing,” Suhasini says emphatically. “I cannot imagine myself doing anything else but serving the nation. I was placed in a good IT firm after engineering, but I thank God I decided to take the SSB instead. Yes, women have a long way to go in the forces, and we face sexism every day but just the knowledge that I am not the average girl next door is quite enough. Plus,” she adds, chuckling, “You know us fauji kids; we were born with the patriotism ka keeda .”
“When I joined, I had no idea what life would be like. I had seen my neighbours going to the National Defence Academy (NDA), Indian Military Academy (IMA) and the Air Force, so that fascination with the blue uniform was my inspiration. These five plus years of numerous postings, meeting so many faujis and civilians, travelling through the length and breadth of the country are the definite highlights of being in the Air Force,” Roshni pauses for a breath. “I bunked a lot of classes in college. Now I have to juggle long working hours, maintain excellent physical standards, exams, training, not to mention a home and family … it’s all very challenging. Looks like Karma’s having a ball at my expense,” she laughs.
“The Army’s given me a lot,” Ashmi says. More than physical endurance, it helped me build my mental strength. You know, during our training, we’re supposed to run 35 km with a 20kg kit plus a rifle. You use your physicality only for two-three km of that stretch. The rest of the 32-odd km, you push yourself mentally. It’s amazing and insane at the same time.”
Hold on, I exclaim, you were part of the Republic Day parade too! “Oh yes! It was brilliant! How many people can claim to have saluted the President at such close quarters? Heck, how many Indians can say they’ve marched past Obama just 30 metres away?”
*Names changed to protect privacy.
