Unlimited liability: The soldier’s ancient covenant

INDIA’s martial tradition was not forged by empire but shaped by enduring rulers and epic resisters alike — those who built states over decades, and those who stood, however briefly, as unyielding sentinels of courage and conscience. From Chandragupta, the strategic unifier; Shivaji, the guerrilla genius; Guru Gobind Singh, the saint-soldier; Tipu Sultan, the rocket pioneer; Lachit Borphukan, Assam’s sentinel; Rani Lakshmibai, the warrior queen; Hari Singh Nalwa, the frontier lion; Rana Sanga, the warrior-king; Maharaja Surajmal, the strategist; Veerapandiya Kattabomman, the defiant; Ashoka, the moral transformer; Akbar, the syncretic statesman; Baji Rao, the thunderbolt strategist; Krishnadevaraya, the southern sentinel; to Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose, the patriot in uniform.

This is only a sampling — drawn from all corners of our geography, across faiths, languages and centuries. These were not figures of fantasy. They were warriors of character — honour over plunder, justice over subjugation, legacy over loot.

India’s soldier has never been forged by coin or conquest. He is the product of a civilisational legacy — older than empire, deeper than doctrine, immune to mercenary logic. While many post-colonial states inherited imperial militaries, India brought something else to the battlefield: The covenant of unlimited liability in the service of Naam (honour), Namak (duty) and Nishan (flag). This is not a British gift. It is inheritance.

What the empire could not own

The British may have flown the flag. But they never owned the soul. Indian soldiers fought under foreign colours, yes — but not for empire. They fought for paltan, izzat and legacy. The East India Company conscripted skill. But it couldn’t extinguish honour. Even in foreign wars, the Indian soldier followed an inner code, not imperial command. Battle honours were not imperial trophies. They were moral testaments. The flag may have been foreign. But the fidelity was always Indian.

1971: When conscience took command

India didn’t enter East Pakistan for gain. It crossed over to end a genocide. In just 13 days, the Indian Army liberated a nation — and withdrew. No loot. No puppet. No annexation. This was Kurukshetra redux: A just war waged with restraint. It was the world’s most ethical military intervention of the 20th century — an operation led not by strategy alone, but by conscience.

Kargil: A covenant reaffirmed

Kargil (1999) showcased tactical brilliance under political and territorial restraint — fighting uphill against odds, yet never crossing the LoC. Young officers and men climbed icy cliffs knowing they might never return. They didn’t go for medals or media. They went for paltan, for colours, for creed. Where some armies ask, “What’s in it for me?” our valiant young officer was saying “Yeh Dil Maange More”.

Sindoor: Restraint is strength

Recently, when India’s red lines were crossed, the reply came — not in rage, but with calibrated precision. Operation Sindoor reaffirmed India’s posture: The soldier will not be provoked lightly — but neither will he be provoked in vain. The war was won before the war. This is not brute force. It is evolved force. Purpose over provocation.

When hardware misunderstands honour

Budgets, drones, AI — none of these can quantify the force multiplier called tradition. The soldier stakes his life not for bounty but to uphold a legacy. To ensure that the chain of honour is never broken. He seeks esteem. And for that, he is always ready. Unlimited liability is not a line item. It is a moral constant. It doesn’t ask, “What will I get?” It asks, “What must I give?”

Responsibility: The other half of the creed

But this is not a one-way covenant. The soldier, too, must honour the uniform. When he trades silence for safety, truth for favour, or duty for careerism — he does more than fail. He fractures the ethos. A soldier’s greatness lies not just in warfighting, but in resisting erosion — of courage, conscience and clarity. The battle doesn’t end at the border. It continues in decisions, files and truth-telling. That too is soldiering — a calling.

To the noise in the street

After every war, the noise begins: “The tank is dead. Manned aircraft are obsolete. Drones rule. Aircraft carriers are obsolescent. Artillery is passé. Cyber is everything.” But the truth endures: The soldier is alive. Platforms evolve. Machines fail. Algorithms misfire. But the soldier remains — the only weapon system that thinks, adapts, leads and dies for a cause greater than himself. Everything else is destructible. Only the soldier is irreplaceable.

The Kohima message

“When you go home, tell them of us and say: For your tomorrow, we gave our today.” This message is not of the dead. It is to the living. Carry it forward. And remember: The soul of a nation is not stored in files, but borne by those who walk into fire when others look away.

In a thriving democracy, the soldier’s true power lies in restraint. His silence is not submission — it is strength. To remain apolitical is not indifference; it is discipline. The Indian soldier does not salute ideology. He salutes the Constitution. And in doing so, he reminds the nation that democracies are defended best not by partisanship, but by principle. And in every conflict that India has been forced into, it has not merely prevailed in battle — democracy has worsted military rule, the Indian soldier’s humanism has trumped Pakistani barbarism. From 1971 to Kargil to Op Sindoor, the Indian soldier has demonstrated that power, when anchored in people’s support, is matchless.

And now, in Britain’s own words

It is only now, decades later, that the British themselves acknowledge that their finest military campaign in the Second World War was not in Europe or North Africa — but in Burma. In a 2013 public poll conducted by the UK’s National Army Museum, the battles of Imphal and Kohima were voted Britain’s greatest, ahead of D-Day and Waterloo. At Imphal and Kohima — amid mud, malaria and starvation — India’s soldiers held the line and turned the tide. Today, the very battles once omitted from empire’s triumphal ledger are being reread as epics of endurance, discipline and sacrifice — not by empire, but by those who gave empire its last moral stand.

The soldier’s legacy

Endured through millennia. Forged in fidelity. Sealed by unlimited liability. Strengthened by unity in diversity. Driven by Naam, Namak, Nishan. And when the moment comes —no fanfare. No echo. Just duty, done. To serve the flag he reveres, the service that shaped him, the unit that is his home, and the soldier beside him — with life, when it calls. His oath is to the Republic — always, and every time.

Lt Gen SS Mehta (Retd) is ex-Western Army Commander and Founder Trustee, Pune International Centre.

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