Category: Moments of resilience or courage

By Major Deependra Singh Sengar, SM (Retd)

When I was nominated for for Tales of the Brave, I hesitated. There are countless soldiers with stories of greater sacrifice and quieter courage, including many who paid a price I did not. But perhaps that’s why I decided to share mine—not because it’s extraordinary, but because it’s a reminder that ordinary people can survive extraordinary circumstances with a little help.

I was just another boy in a small town with a dream: to wear the uniform and serve. At school and then at NDA, I was one of the smallest, but I worked through and was fortunate to pass the tough probation and join the Parachute Regiment, serving with 21 PARA (Special Forces). While others seemed naturally built for the tough life, I had to work twice as hard. Those early struggles taught me my only philosophy: show up, give everything you have, and never forget that your strength comes from those standing with you.

I earned multiple awards—Commando Dagger, Best Student, medals, and recognitions—but they were never mine alone. Every achievement was a reflection of the team beside me and the seniors who taught us to put the mission and each other first.

In 1998, I was seriously injured in combat. Thanks to timely medical care and my unit’s support, I recovered enough to return to action. In September 1999, I was injured again. This time, doctors warned I would never walk again. The long months that followed—surgeries, rehab, learning to measure progress in millimeters—were humbling.

From leading the toughest soldiers to being bedridden for life—it felt like losing my compass. After a year in the hospital, it became clear I would have to hang up my boots. Accepting that was difficult, but I was surrounded by people who didn’t let me drift—family, especially my wife Jaya, friends, doctors, nurses, and brothers-in-arms who treated recovery like a shared mission.

I needed a constructive target, so I prepared for CAT, India’s toughest management entrance exam. Much of that study happened in the hospital, often flat on my back. I attended the exam on crutches and was fortunate to be admitted to IIM Ahmedabad. That admission didn’t erase pain, but it replaced uncertainty with a path.

The transition from battlefield to boardroom was not glamorous. In corporate life, there are no ranks to lean on; credibility must be earned from zero. I worked in multinationals, built a startup, and lived in five countries. Military habits helped—clarity under pressure, looking after your people, reviewing mistakes without defensiveness—but I needed others to translate those habits into business outcomes.

Over 12 years, I moved from a wheelchair to crutches to being able to run. During this time, my family and I agreed to share our story through ZEE5’s Jeet Ki Zid. While dramatized, it highlighted what mattered most: the “army behind the Army”—spouses, parents, buddies, doctors, and therapists whose quiet persistence rebuilds a soldier’s confidence piece by piece.

What Stayed With Me

1. Grit looks ordinary up close. Resilience isn’t heroic—it’s mundane: showing up for physiotherapy when it hurts, revising vocabulary when your mind wanders, taking the next small step when no one is watching.

2. The team saves you—every time. In uniform, survival depends on teammates. In recovery, the team looks different—family, medical staff, friends, colleagues—but the principle is the same.

3. Identity can be rebuilt without discarding the past. I miss soldiering deeply, but the core values—duty, honesty under pressure, service to the team—travel with me.

4. Leadership under stress transfers—but only if you listen. Military decision rhythm works in business, but only when paired with humility and listening.

5. Recognition belongs to many. Medals reflect the standards of my unit and the sacrifices of teammates far more than anything I did personally.

Reflection
I don’t claim my story is exceptional. Many comrades endured more and gave more. I share it because a few lessons might travel:

For veterans: Your experience has value beyond the battlefield.

For families: You steady the ship. Much of resilience is borrowed strength.

For everyone: Courage isn’t limited to combat. Choose a goal, gather allies, and work a simple plan consistently.

If this reaches even one soldier sitting in a hospital ward, wondering whether life as they knew it is over, I’d offer this: there is still a path. It may be slower, different, and frustrating—but it is real. Start where you are: one stretch, one paragraph, one call. Momentum returns quietly and then, one day, it’s yours again.

ABCEL Perspective
Maj Deependra’s story reminds us that grit is not glamorous—it is persistence in the ordinary. His journey from Special Forces to corporate leadership shows that resilience is transferable, and that identity can be rebuilt without losing its core. Veterans like him carry the spirit of service into every new mission—whether on the battlefield or in life.

Disclaimer:
Edited for clarity and storytelling with contributor permission. ABCEL has not verified this story for accuracy.
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By Group Captain Harvinder Singh (Retd) 

On 14th December 2001, the desert was silent but tense. The previous evening, the Indian Parliament had been attacked, and readiness orders were racing through the system. I had barely reached my Bravo Missile Battery Headquarters when my Commanding Officer arrived and said, “Harvinder, our flight also has to move out. The time starts now. By tomorrow morning I need you fully operational.” 

There was no pause, no time to think. My men had caught only three hours of rest after supporting Alpha Battery through the night. Yet, when I gathered them, their faces—tired but spirited—reflected the ethos of a missile unit: cheerful, motivated, no matter how tough the order. 

We moved into the desert scrubland, thick with thorny bushes after the monsoon. The location was barren, remote, and unforgiving. Vehicles rumbled out in a long convoy—launchers, radar cabins, antenna trucks, power plants. By noon, we began the gruelling task of shifting from travel to combat position. 

The Hunger Test
As hours passed, no lunch arrived. My men worked silently, hungry but unwavering. Not a single complaint, not a single slowdown. Their grit was remarkable. At 7:30 p.m., three exhausted figures emerged—the rear party had lost their way in the desert. In those days, there were no mobiles, no GPS—just trust and memory. 

When food finally came, I ensured every jawan ate before I did. That is the unspoken bond of command. 

Miracle by Dawn
Work continued through the night. Tents were pitched, kitchens set up, administration organised. At 3 a.m., after nearly 40 hours of fatigue and hunger, we reported:
“Bravo Missile Battery fully operational.” 

The sense of accomplishment was like a warm fire in the cold desert night. My young deputy, who had doubted the plan earlier, saluted sharply and said, “Sir, this is a miracle.” I placed a hand on his shoulder and replied, “When you create an environment of trust and a strong bond with your team, anything is possible.” 

That night became his first true lesson in command and faith—a lesson that shaped his career. 

Reflection
Leadership is not about orders; it is about trust. It is about turning hesitation into belief and creating unity that withstands storms. 

ABCEL Perspective
Stories like Group Captain Harvinder’s remind us that resilience is born from collective will. Leadership thrives not in comfort but in adversity—when hunger, fatigue, and uncertainty test the spirit. Veterans carry this ethos beyond the battlefield, building trust and inspiring teams to achieve the impossible. 

Disclaimer:
Edited for clarity and storytelling with contributor permission. ABCEL has not verified this story for accuracy.
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By Commander Amit Arvind (Retd) 

As a schoolboy, I was always at the top of my class. But joining the National Defence Academy was a wakeup call. Surrounded by brilliant peers excelling in academics, sports, and leadership, I struggled. For five terms, I scraped through, just passing. In my fifth term, I chose sailing over studying for exams — and failed. 

Relegation was a shock. My parents were stunned, my friends disbelieving. I had to join a junior course, carrying the stigma of failure. Yet, an adjutant showed unexpected compassion, wiping my punishments clean and telling me to start afresh. My course mates rallied around me, offering support that remains unmatched even today. That failure became my turning point. I topped academics the next term, won a boxing medal, and passed out as the best naval cadet. 

In the Navy, I carried that hunger forward. As a young officer on INS Kripan, I was eager to prove myself during a boarding operation. My commanding officer, calm and deliberate, refused to send us aboard. Minutes later, the vessel blew itself up. His decision saved my life. That moment reshaped my view of leadership: wisdom often lies in restraint, not action. 

During Kargil, I served on INS Veer, deployed off Pakistan amidst rough seas and devastation. Dead bodies of fishermen floated around us — a reminder that nature’s fury can be more relentless than war itself. 

Parallel to service, I pursued sailing as a sport. From national championships to Asian Games medals, I discovered that the real joy lay not in winning but in the process — the training, the discipline, the flow. Even today, at 51, I run marathons and stay fit, driven by the same lesson: success is fleeting, but the process sustains. 

Reflection 

Failure at NDA taught me resilience. It showed me that setbacks can ignite hunger and discipline if met with support and reflection. Leadership at sea taught me that calm judgment saves lives, and that not every opportunity for glory should be seized. 

Sports reinforced the value of process over results. Medals fade, but the state of flow, the joy of training, and the discipline of preparation remain lifelong companions. 

Together, these experiences taught me that success is not about avoiding failure, but about learning from it, trusting the process, and staying balanced. 

ABCEL Perspective 

Commander Amit’s journey highlights the power of failure as a teacher, restraint as leadership, and process as the true path to excellence. Veterans bring these lessons into civilian life: they know how to recover from setbacks, lead with calm judgment, and sustain effort over the long term. 

In a world obsessed with instant success, veterans remind us that resilience, patience, and balance are the real foundations of achievement. ABCEL celebrates these lived experiences, showing how military ethos enriches civilian careers and communities. 

Disclaimer:
Edited for clarity and storytelling with contributor permission. ABCEL has not verified this story for accuracy.
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By Commander Nandakumar Das (Retd) 

In June 2015, a Coast Guard Dornier aircraft went missing off the coast of Chennai. Despite extensive search operations by the Navy, Air Force, and Coast Guard, no trace was found. Pressure mounted as rumours swirled and families waited for closure. 

At the time, I was commanding INS Sindhu, a Kilo-class submarine fitted with an indigenous sonar system capable of detecting the locator beacon frequency. No submarine had ever been tasked to search for a sunken aircraft, but I believed physics was on our side. With my Commodore’s approval, we diverted course to join the mission. 

The odds were stacked against us. The beacon’s battery life was only 30 days, and we were already 14 days late. The sea was rough, rations were running out, and machinery began breaking down. My crew urged me to turn back. But I knew this mission mattered — not just for the Navy, but for the families waiting for answers. 

On the 26th day, with only two days of beacon life left, our sonar picked up a faint signal. We triangulated the position and passed it to a deep-sea vessel. Hours later, the wreckage was found within 60 meters of our coordinates. Though lives were lost, closure was finally possible. 

Innovation kept us afloat. When our hydrogen burner failed, the crew improvised with spare parts to prevent disaster. That ingenuity allowed us to sustain the mission. For this effort, the Navy awarded us the Innovation Trophy, and I had the honour of narrating the story to Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Defence Minister Manohar Parrikar.  

Reflection 

This mission taught me that leadership is about running towards problems, not away from them. It is about persisting when fatigue sets in, innovating when systems fail, and putting the mission above comfort. I could have stayed on course, enjoyed seafood with my crew, and avoided risk. Instead, we chose to step into uncertainty — and made history. 

True command is not about rank or recognition; it is about responsibility, resilience, and the courage to solve problems no one else dares to attempt. 

ABCEL Perspective 

Commander Das’s story reminds us that veterans embody a mindset of problem-solving under pressure. Their instinct is to run towards challenges, innovate under constraints, and deliver closure when others see impossibility. 

In civilian life, this translates into leadership that thrives in ambiguity, builds trust through persistence, and inspires teams to go beyond comfort zones. Veterans carry this ethos into every new frontier, proving that courage is not just about battlefields — it is about facing the unknown with conviction. 

Disclaimer:
Edited for clarity and storytelling with contributor permission. ABCEL has not verified this story for accuracy.
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By Lt Col Ankita Srivastava (Retd) 

When people look at my journey, they often see the medals, the titles, or the transitions — from olive greens to beauty queens — but behind it all is a simple truth: I was just a girl who refused to stop trying.

I started as an average student — uncertain, unfocused, even failing once in school. But life has a way of waking you up when you stop believing in yourself. For me, that wake-up call came with the dream of wearing the uniform. It wasn’t about proving a point; it was about finding purpose.

Joining the Indian Army changed everything. Suddenly, discipline wasn’t just about routines — it was about resilience. I became the first lady cadet to hold the post of Cadet Editor at the Officers Training Academy. Then came the proud moment of my commissioning as a Second Lieutenant. Later, I became the first lady officer to serve in Counter-Insurgency Operations. The path wasn’t easy — it rarely is when you’re breaking barriers — but each step reaffirmed that courage has many forms.

When the Army announced that women officers wouldn’t be allowed beyond 14 years of service, I felt the ground shift. What now? For a while, I felt caged — until I decided to rewrite the story. From battle drills to beauty ramps, I stepped onto a stage that demanded a different kind of strength. I became the first Army officer to win the “Tanishq Big Memsaheb” title, followed by Gladrags Mrs. India, where I won the “Most Vivacious Woman” award. It wasn’t vanity — it was victory over self-doubt.

Since then, I’ve worn many hats — author, poet, speaker, and banker. From publishing bestsellers like Olive Green to Beauty Queen to serving as the first lady Assistant General Manager of Security at SBI, I’ve realized that identity is not something you inherit; it’s something you build, layer by layer, with courage.

Reflection
When I look back, I see not a linear journey but a spiral — every twist and turn led me closer to authenticity. Whether in uniform or on stage, the mission remains the same: to inspire, to empower, and to serve with heart.

ABCEL Perspective
Ankita’s story celebrates transformation in its truest form. Her journey from soldier to storyteller reminds us that resilience is not rigidity — it is fluidity, the ability to evolve while holding onto one’s essence. Veterans like her show that service doesn’t end with retirement; it simply changes its uniform.

Disclaimer:
Edited for clarity and storytelling with contributor permission. ABCEL has not verified this story for accuracy.
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By Lt Col Rajesh Sharma (Retd)

The battlefield teaches lessons no classroom ever can. My years in the Indian Army were a journey through resilience, responsibility, and relentless change. I learned that leadership is not about control — it’s about trust, and courage is not the absence of fear but the decision to act despite it.

I still remember my early days as a young officer. The terrain was harsh, the situations unpredictable. There were moments of exhaustion, fear, and loss — but also camaraderie, laughter, and shared pride in serving something larger than oneself. Each soldier stood not as an individual, but as part of a greater fabric of purpose.

During one particularly difficult operation, I witnessed how small acts of humanity sustain us. A soldier offering his last sip of water to another, a word of humour in the middle of uncertainty — these gestures became lifelines. Over time, I learned that true leadership is built not in moments of glory but in quiet, unseen choices: staying calm under fire, listening more than commanding, and holding faith when the situation turns dark.

As I transitioned to civilian life, I realized those same principles guided me again. Whether it was leading teams in a corporate environment or managing complex projects, I found that the discipline, adaptability, and empathy cultivated in uniform had prepared me to navigate ambiguity and change with steadiness.

Reflection
The Army taught me to see people not through their ranks or roles, but through their resilience. Every challenge, every setback, carries within it a lesson on grace under pressure. My service shaped me to keep learning — and to lead not by power, but by presence.

ABCEL Perspective
Every veteran carries with them an inner compass shaped by service — one that guides them through uncertainty with quiet assurance. Through stories like Rajesh’s, we are reminded that the essence of leadership lies not in hierarchy, but in humanity. Veterans bring that depth and steadiness into every workspace they step into.

Disclaimer:
Edited for clarity and storytelling with contributor permission. ABCEL has not verified this story for accuracy.
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