October 12, 1999
Dear Feroza and Shehnaaz,
I came home today from Pune. Had to stop there after Kargil and Delhi, before I could get the leave to come home. The kids seem younger since I left though Rohan is taller and Aditi actually manages to finish her sentences. They say on the mountains, you age decades in a few months.

Somehow I could not make eye contact with the watchman. He was so happy to see me, he asked me if I had met or been with the same battalion as the young soldier whose wife was on TV saluting his hearse, and the other one who had lost his leg. It was not that he considered them to be heroes. He says rather harshly that battle is for men who have nothing constructive to occupy themselves with. He does not venerate army men, but he likes me. I said to him, I just need a cup of tea right now, that’s all. He must have known something was wrong but he respects privacy. He’s not one to ramble on if you stay uncommunicative. I wonder if he ever dreams about any other job. He is a good watchman, but I imagine sometimes that he would have made a fine leader. I think it’s that caste business that we Hindus are so caught up in. You know, I married my wife from the same side of the river and the same caste and all that. I
happened to be much older than she was but that was not cause for concern–that I was twenty years her senior and away most of the time.