He Tired Of Saying Yes, Sir In Army

The 1965 war was just over and though India had won it, the dashing and brave image of the Indian Army officer had taken a beating. There were still tales of gallant soldiers, like that of India's first Commander-in-Chief, General K M Cariappa. Cariappa's son, a fighter pilot, was shot down in Pakistan during a sortie in 1965 and taken prisoner of war. Pakistan's General Ayub Khan sent a message to Cariappa that he would like to release the young Nanda Cariappa in recognition of the special relationship between Ayub and General Cariappa in the British Indian Army. General Cariappa's message to Ayub Khan went thus: "I have thousands of my sons fighting in this war. Every Indian prisoner of war is my son. There is no need for any special gesture regarding my son. No exceptions need be made."

This story passed into the lore of the Indian Army, but at least one young Cavalry Major, who had seen the 1962 action as well as 1965, had seen enough battle. Major Jaswant Singh of the Central India Horse left the Army soon after the 1965 war. Years later, one of his friends asked him what prompted him to take that decision. "I just couldn't keep saying "Yes, Sir" when I really meant "No, Sir"," Singh replied.

This was not a revelation though his decision was puzzling. As a cadet, Singh had been quite high in the order of merit at the military academy at Khadakvasla as well as in Dehradun. His outspoken nature was interpreted as arrogance. As a cub, he once told his company commander he deserved to be a senior under-officer not a junior one because he was better than the man they had chosen.

Singh tended to incite and lead rebels. The classical Armoured Corps officer, he had style and swagger, unlike poorer Infantry cousins, whom all Cavalry officers viewed with disdain. But there were touches that weren't regulation -- the hair worn a little long, the tie slightly off-centre. Even today, he wears shirts that look like modified safari suits, but are actually an adaptation of the Army Walking Out dress -- bush shirt, with epaulettes but without lower pockets, worn with the sleeves rolled up.

Singh used to be a polo player (a bad back now keeps him away from the game) and was known for his affection for horses, his love of music (Mozart and Bach, as well as the Alha and Sorath of his native Rajasthan) and for his beautiful handwriting.

Singh's home -- for years he has lived in the same house on Teenmurti Lane -- gives interesting insights into his personality. There was a time when animals of all sorts would come up and nuzzle unsuspecting visitors. There was a pet mynah, a miniature dachshund ("who was so wonderfully feminine that she would just look at you with those eyes and you'd melt," he once said), peacocks, a Great Dane, parrots... His home is full of period furniture and fresh flowers. A fire is lit on cold winter evenings, and because the chimney is faulty, visitors mostly have to talk to him with eyes streaming. With his home a kind of refuge with his beloved books and pictures, Singh tends to be abrupt with those who drop in unannounced.

He is India's only politician to have been defence, external affairs and finance minister.