“Colonel Saab, I have seen your reports, and have examined you. I have two things to tell you: one good, and one not so good. The good thing is that except your right leg, your whole body is clear of chondrosarcoma. And, the not so good thing is that you’ll have to lose your right leg as it needs to be amputated.”
These were the words of Dr. Rajat Gupta, Orthopaedic Surgeon of Fortis Hospital, Mohali on October 03, 2017. I am surprised till today that his words did not affect me at all, rather I had coolly asked the doctor at that time if there was any way left to save my leg. My elder brother – Sqn Ldr SPS Mann (Retired) – and my daughter – Ratna Mann – were with me at that time. They also kept their cool, but both were watching me from the periphery of their vision, while making a show of looking intently at the doctor. We left the doctor after informing him that we’d get back after getting a second opinion. As the door closed to the doctor’s chamber, I recollect him smiling wryly.
The three of us started back for Patiala. My brother rang up our only sister – Mrs Navdeep – to be with my wife – Harveen (Meena) – when we all would reach Patiala. The initial thought process was that Navdeep would be able to provide solace and support to Meena when the news was broken to her eventually when we reached Patiala. However, and not surprisingly to be honest, this situation never arose as Meena received the news sportingly, while acknowledging the courage of her husband.
Throughout the journey from Mohali, I was lost in my thoughts. I remembered the good old days when I was counted in the ranks of sportspersons and my fitness levels were very high. I recalled the days when I used to play pivotal roles for my team in sports such as field hockey, cricket, and athletics. Then it hit me with a jarring force: All this would go away for sure, but what would go away even more painfully would be my day-to-day mobility. I would become handicapped and would have to rely on other people to help me even in my daily chores. This is when I recalled a Gurbani:
“Tera kia meetha laagey, Har naam Nanak padarath mangey”
(All that you (Almighty) bestow upon me by your will is sweet to me)
My name is Colonel Gurinder Singh Mann (Retired). I am 76 years old, and 3+ years have passed from the day of the amputation of my right leg.
I am a fighter. I am a survivor. And, I’m an optimist.
This is my story.
I was always a sportsman, and prided myself on the strength and speed that my legs accorded me. I had an adventurous soul, and my legs gave my soul and my body the opportunities to explore, to learn, and to enjoy. When my classmates would grumble about walking to and fro between Karol Bagh and Connaught Place in New Delhi for school, I would actually relish the opportunity God had given me to walk, run and cycle every day. In school and college, I played field hockey as a left-in, and in this position, I made the best of my God-gifted ability of being a lefty. At first glance, this may not seem so significant a gift, but remember, David Beckham as a lefty made his career on top of his unique ability to take curling free kicks by his left foot! Not, to forget, he also married the fair Victoria, the famous “Posh Spice” from the 1990s’ all-girl band – Spice Girls!
During these formative years of my life, I laid the future foundation of my life, my attitude, and my behaviour underpinned by the values of love, kindness, gratitude, friendship, spirituality, altruism, honesty, adaptability, and resilience. I wasn’t too keen to join the Indian Army, but as my friends and acquaintances started joining up, I too followed suit; I believe, these days, this is called, “peer pressure”! Post commissioning as an Artillery officer, I started my Army career. In the Army, I can say that I found my calling: I enjoyed the work, and I thrived in the life that came along with it. In the early stages of my Army career, I was a keen gunner officer, and even won accolades up to the Division-level.
With three years of service, as a Captain, I participated in the 1971 India-Pakistan War on the western front as an OP Officer attached to an Infantry battalion. I was one of the first officers to enter the hard-fought Pakistani town of Sehjra. The only memento I have from this momentous occasion is a Chinese etched-glass that I used to have my tea in during my time in Sehjra. Interestingly, Sehjra was captured by Sikh, Gurkha and Mahar troops of the Indian Army. During the severe winter of 1971, the troops then foraged and collected items that would make their occupation more comfortable. As the Gurkha and Mahar troops collected quilts, blankets, utensils, et al, the Sikh troops rounded up all of the poultry in the town, which they then proceeded to eat and serve others throughout our time in Sehjra. I still sometimes partake my morning tea, in the same glass, which brings back memories of those tough but glorious days. It is to the mercifulness of the Almighty that I could fulfil my
duty to my country, and also survive the war without any significant physical injury. Others, unfortunately, were not so lucky and I salute their sacrifice. During the war, an incident happened, that for the first time, made me think about “destiny”: On a fine morning, I received a call from the CO of the Infantry battalion I was attached to those days. As I’d just taken a bath, and my hair was still so wet that I could not tie my turban, the CO allowed me to send Captain Manjeet in my place. Later in the day I got the shocking news that the jeep carrying Captain Manjeet, the CO, and other personnel was blown apart as it had driven over an anti-tank mine. God bless the souls of all these people; For some time, I wallowed in “survivor’s guilt”, till the role of destiny became a bit clearer to me, and I was able to fathom a bigger picture, a higher calling, and understand the healing power of true gratitude and genuine forgiveness. In 1975, I was selected to become a part of the Intelligence Corps of the Indian Army, leaving behind my beloved Artillery days.
Over the course of my career in the Army, I was also awarded three Chief of the Army Staff (COAS) Commendation Cards, and the background story for one of them, which I am personally the most proud of, is as follows: Post the assassination of the Indian Prime Minister – Mrs Indira Gandhi – in 1984, anti-Sikh riots had broken out all over the country, and the epicenter was in the nation’s capital – New Delhi. At that time, I was posted in Army HQ (Foreign Division), New Delhi, and was residing with my family in Narang Colony. The colony had about 95% Sikh families. As the flames of rioting moved menacingly towards the colony, from one of the worst affected nearby areas – Janakpuri – I was provided an option by the Military Assistant (MA) to the COAS to evacuate with my family from the colony. But, I did not. The reason was simple: If that day, I had left with my family, Sikhs and the Indian Army would have lost all respect in the eyes of the innocent civilians living in Narang Colony. Yes, my family was exposed to elevated levels of danger during this time, but I ask, was it any different from the danger faced by the other families?
To mitigate the ever-present danger of the time, I arranged youth patrols for the colony, I established a command & control center in the living room of my house, and even opened a refugee shelter in a school’s building that lay inside the colony’s premises. After 4+ days of constant vigil, we were able to navigate the course of the riots without any significant untoward incident. In recognition of my efforts, the Mayor of New Delhi at that time – Shri Mohinder Singh Sathi – wrote to the then COAS – Gen AS Vaidya – specifically commending me for my contributions. In recognition from the Army, I was awarded a COAS Commendation Card.
I had an interesting posting in J&K. I used all the ideas in the book, and some outside the book, to collect the fruits of intelligence and sow the seeds of counter-intelligence. I remember an incident, where I had a narrow brush with death while trying to reach a so-called “high value” Pakistani contact who had in his possession so-called “very sensitive” information. As a background: In the area I was posted in at that time, non-veg food was avoided by the locals on Thursdays; However, I did not subscribe to this tradition. So, after having non-veg food on Thursday night, I started off early morning on Friday. The jeep I was travelling in slid off a cliff, but luckily the fall was cushioned by paddy fields about 20 feet down, and the mud stopped the jeep from actually rolling off into the ravine. And, what did this “very sensitive” information turn out to be, you ask me? It was actually a Filmfare magazine packaged in brown paper and plastic that the Pakistani contact was using to con us to get some easy money! Destiny, again? At another time, the opposite end of the Mil Int spectrum manifested itself: I obtained high quality and high impact information from a Pakistani contact, but in turn I only had to part with some CDs of Amitabh Bachchan movies! Every soldier is tough and fit, but I took special pride in my prowess of being the first to run up mountain slopes, and also being the first one to slide down icy inclines, all thanks to my “strong” legs.
My last posting, as Colonel Intelligence, was to the Eastern Sector in 1996. At this time, Intelligence personnel were being targeted specifically by the militants, because as they say to explain such situations, “they were feeling the heat”! The ugly reality of non-conventional warfare came to hit me in the face when my immediate subordinate officer, of the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, was ambushed and killed by militants. During my tenure, I indulged in my long-lost hobby of painting, and dabbled in golf; In fact, I won the 4 Corps Golf Tournament in 1996. Around this time, I also started toying with the idea of leaving the Army and embarking on a second, civilian career. I had some ideas and convictions that I wanted to try in the open market. In mid-1997, I narrowly escaped death as I was not in the jeep that was to ferry me to an official party, on the intuition of my wife. The said jeep was ambushed by militants, and when they did not find me, they mercifully let my driver return home as well; After all, what is more chilling in psychological operations than hearing about “it” from a survivor. This was the third time, I was confronted with the hand and intention of destiny. This incident was not a reason, but was a definitely a catalyst to my thinking process of quitting the Army; After all, we all get one life, I’d done my duty, and therefore, it was perhaps the best time to hand over the mantle and step willingly into the “unknown”. In October 1997, I left the Army with the wholesome and positive attitude of “bash on regardless”!
My wife – Meena – and I had never believed in pampering our kids – Payal and Ratna – or, even letting ourselves lose touch with reality. This “grounding” helped the whole family find their feet firmly and quickly in civilian life. In March 1998, I started a security agency, and within a decade or so I could boast of a clientele distributed widely over a number of states, and a healthy annual revenue. I employed a number of ex-Army personnel in my outfit; This was my small way of honouring the organization and men I had served before becoming a “pukka bloody civilian”! After a couple of years, just as were settling down for my second innings, in a tragic turn of events, I lost my elder daughter, Payal, to anaphylactic shock; She was only 26 years old at that time, and a successful banker in Canada. It took us a number of years and a lot of soul-searching to finally obtain a modicum of closure. My younger daughter, Ratna, these days, is settled in New Zealand, and not a day goes by when my wife and I don’t think about her fondly. She is all that will remain of us when we’re gone, and I can tell you my friend, that if she is to be our only legacy, then we’re so damn proud of it!
After a decade of running my security agency, in 2008, I finally decided to hang up my boots, and enjoy my retired life with abundant doses of fun, laughter, socializing, golf, travel, and painting. Little did I know, that this was to be a hiatus, merely a comma, and not a full stop as I was imagining. In 2017, I was diagnosed with a rare form of bone cancer (chondrosarcoma), and one of the ways to delay its spread, was to amputate the leg in which it had started off in the first instance. I was bluntly asked by my consulting doctor to “fix a date” for the amputation.
This is where a certain dichotomy was realized by me: People go to the hospital to get well, but here I was being asked to fix a date on which I would transfer into the status of handicapped / physically challenged / disabled. As a person who’d relied on the “power” of his legs to “power” through life, this was indeed a difficult realization, and an even more difficult decision. In an effort for a more equitable solution, I visited a number of super specialists across the country, but their verdict was the same: Amputation. Amputation. Amputation. This word used to keep me awake at night, and troubled through the day. But destiny is what it is, and we have no control over it, so I finally set the date for the amputation as Jan 12, 2018. Dr Rajat Gupta from Fortis Hospital, Mohali, took care of my surgery and to put it in a nut shell, I would say that he’s a true gentleman and more of a magician than a doctor! I would like to give a special shout out to the doctor’s belief and practice in “humanism” and his eye for detail at such a relatively young age. I genuinely wish him the best of luck for his life, and hope to continue the relationship of trust and care that we have built up between us. Meena and I vividly remember the outpouring of love and support from our friends and relatives at this time. The OT was ringed by my well-wishers: Meena, my siblings, my daughter, my extended family, and my dear friends. On the wings of such prayers, I confidently underwent the surgical procedure.
Post the surgery, I recovered well and came back home soon enough for rehabilitation, and then basically to restart my life with as much semblance of normalcy as possible. At this time my elder brother – SPS Mann – was by my side 24×7 for almost three months. He took care of me completely, including facilitating my doctor visits in Mohali, managing my medicine doses, and obtaining my prosthetic leg. He became a steady source of support and solace to me in these days immediately after my surgery. Having him around me was like having my entire family around me. In the spirit of being candid, let me share with you that the prosthetic leg I obtained – purportedly a marvel of advanced German engineering – was a total failure. To be fair, I don’t blame the prosthetic leg, I blame the magnitude of my amputation, which was conducted right from the hip, therefore providing no base for holding the leg in place and invoking movement. I finally settled for another German technological marvel – an automatic, powered wheelchair.
But, the hurt at that time was no longer physical, as it was mental, as it was attitudinal, as it was psychological. I was bitter that I had now become handicapped, and therefore a burden on other people. Actions that seemed part of life earlier would now be carried out with the help of others, and there were no two ways about it. Can you imagine losing 100% of your privacy? Yes, my friend, I lost 100% of my privacy, and till today, a large amount of it remains lost, and will forever remain lost. I had always prided myself on my sense of style and dressing, but after the surgery, I had to downsize my wardrobe to just a number of “kurta pyajamas” and gifted all my favourite clothes such as suits, shirts, trousers, and shoes. I started to take a bittersweet view of life, and to be honest, it was more bitter than sweet. I would lie on my bed and watch people walking, running, cycling on my CCTV; I used to envy them, I used to question my fate, and basically, I remained largely unhappy in my search for answers to my questions. My mind would wander and pose strange questions – Would I be able to travel by air ever again, and if not, how would I visit my daughter in New Zealand? Would I be able to pursue my passion – golf – ever again? Weren’t legs like wings for humans, and if yes, could I consider my wings to have been clipped? When I used to hear about the tragedies that had befallen other people, I secretly and guiltily used to relish the fact that my tragedy was seemingly smaller in magnitude and impact than their misfortune; Yes, it was not fair, but to me at that time, everything seemed “fair game”! I had been the “good guy” all along, so why did this have to happen to me? Why was life not being fair to me, and what had I done to deserve this? Was this destiny? What else did destiny have in store for me? I had read somewhere about the duality of happiness and sadness, and to me it was all coming true unfortunately.
Slowly but steadily, my investment in time, effort and emotions, over the years into my relationships with family members, friends, social circle acquaintances, et al began to bear fruit. Despite my failings during this time, my wife and daughter remained rock-solid by my side. My friends rallied around me and supported me steadfastly. My social acquaintances pitched in to buoy me up. And, I appreciate the love and affection of each and every one of them. Believe me, there are no exceptions, I love them all! To quote a few examples, and please pardon me if I don’t call out everyone because that would then become a Herculean task: I humbly acknowledge my
eldest brother – Colonel HS Mann (Retired), aged 85 years – great efforts to be with me quite regularly during the post-surgery period. I lovingly call out the love showered on me by Meena and Ratna; A man could not have asked for a better wife and daughter. A ton of thanks to Sabina for helping us out and supporting us in Mohali and beyond. I was touched by her gesture of specially and unfailingly bringing food for me daily in the hospital. I thank my first cousin – Major General Davinder Singh (Retired) – for putting his entire house in Mohali at my family’s disposal. My brother, SPS Mann, and my sister, Navdeep, stayed in the house for a number of days from where they could sally forth to support me, while being confident that their own admin requirements would be taken care of in the background. A special shout to my Patiala “wolf pack” buddies – Jassi & Baby Malhotra, Brigadier Jagpal Thind (Retired), and Colonel Alamjit Singh (Retired). I repeat again friends, please don’t mind if I have not mentioned your name in this write-up; Just please know that your love is greatly appreciated, and I am honoured to have you in my life. If you’re still feeling bad, chalk off the omission to the foibles of an “old man”, and come join me for a drink!
For the last two years, I had been undertaking medical tests every three months or so to make sure that the infection was not coming back or other complications were not rearing their ugly head. To a third party observer, it seems a simple medical follow through, but for me it was very stressful as I had to go through these regular tests with dread – “would I be fine, or was my nemesis going to reappear?” A silver lining to this cloud was when due to the COVID-19 pandemic, my doctor advised me to discontinue these regular medical tests. How will I come to know what’s my status then, you ask? It’s simple – I am feeling good, I am feeling strong, I am feeling positive, so what test is needed? Finally, during this time, I had to leave my old house and move to my new house, which I had to specifically construct, as it was no longer possible to navigate the different levels of the old house. In addition, in the new house, I made all areas accessible by wheelchair and installed infrastructure to make life easier for me such as an elevator within the house, and supporting guard rails in the washroom.
Today, I can say confidently that my “inner peace” is back and I am not at war with life any more. I understand that the hand of destiny cannot be swatted away, but then on the other hand, the hand of God, manifested
through self, family and friends can always be used to lessen the hurt and apply the balm of forgiveness and healing. I consider myself a man re-born, and am looking forward eagerly to my “third innings”.
In my third innings, my present life, my joy-de-vivre has returned, and I have started to enjoy the small, and large, things in life. I enjoy hosting and participating in parties. You’ll agree with me when I say that “Bhangra” is more of a dance from the heart, rather than by the body. But even beyond this, you’ll be happy to see me sashay happily with my hands to some mean beats, as the situation demands. I have restarted cooking, for which I have obtained a “special” chair. The only prayer now is that the dishes I prepare also turn out to be equally “special”. I have restarted painting; It calms my mind and allows me to channelize my time and energy. Recently, I decided to use my paintings for an altruistic cause: I sold my paintings in a fundraiser, and donated 100% of the proceeds to a charitable organization. To be honest, it felt damn good to see that my work could contribute towards someone’s noble charitable efforts. Meena and I take care of the educational needs of the children of our staff, and again it feels nice that we’re able to contribute to the making of future citizens of our country; This too is a duty, and we’re happy to follow through with it. I am now exploring ways of how I can start playing golf again; Please share any ideas that you may have with me. I have taken up reading, but not voraciously, as they say; I’m a selective reader, and I enjoy spiritual books that allow me to absorb and reflect. For the New Year’s Party of 2020, I partied with my friends in Himachal Pradesh, and for coming New Year parties, I am going to do the same in even more bold, exotic and adventurous places. Life, seems to be a big empty canvas to me now, which I can colour to my heart’s liking, and which I have started to do, regardless of what destiny has further in store for me. I aim to enjoy life with my family and friends.
I share a gist of what my learnings have been; I understand that this may not be different from what we hear or read these days, but what sets my gist apart is that it is built on the shoulders of personal experience: Don’t let the world make you bitter. There will be moments when you will fail, so nurture the resilience to spring back. Don’t follow the approach for an eye for an eye. Never wrong someone just on the pretext that you were wronged. Making mistakes is just fine, but learn from them and move on. Forget, and more importantly forgive.
Practice mindfulness. Trust in love, trust, friendship, family and maintain steadfast faith in your God. Be an optimist, always. After all, my friend, the best is yet to come!
“Life is under no obligation to give us what we expect. We take what we get, and are thankful it is no worse than it is” (Margaret Mitchell)
Patiala, Punjab, INDIA | March 2021