I retired from Indian Air Force. I was a pilot. In 1971 I was stationed in Calcutta to fly during Bangladesh war. It was December and quite cold. One day while sitting in army canteen I listened to many people speaking in Marathi. Oh I forgot to tell. I am a Maharashtrian hailing from Bombay. Listening Marathi I inquired where are they from. More than happy to converse in their mother tongue they said they were from Maratha regiment, stationed in Calcutta, fighting the war. I asked them if they wanted anything because I was going to Bombay on a leave. Almost all of them required good thermos flask so that they could sip hot tea or coffee at night in their tents. I realized they needed the warmth to discuss their stories at the end of the day. I said no problem.
I returned to Bombay. With great interest I bought thermos flasks and with greater care I packed them. As I reached Calcutta I looked for them. The answer which came froze me. I could not even cry; I was so shocked. The whole Maratha regiment has been wiped out I was told. What would I do with the consignment of thermos flasks now? What warmth they would provide and to whom?
