I didn’t grow up dreaming of camouflage. But I did grow up watching my father, a proud officer in the Territorial Army, wear his uniform with a glint in his eye and a quiet sense of purpose. Sitting in the backseat of his Army Jeep, I saw men salute him and return to their duties. To a thirteen-year-old, it was magic. And somewhere between that magic and a vow made to the stars, I told myself, one day, I’d marry a man in uniform.
I did.
But life as an Army Wife turned out to be far more than the crisp salutes and Mess nights I had imagined. It’s a life lived between heartbeats, hurried hugs, and uncertain goodbyes. It’s about letting go of plans, packing up a home on ten days’ notice, and building a new life every few years- sometimes in hills, sometimes in deserts, and often in places without signal, electricity, or a corner store.
The Goodbye After “I Do”
Picture this: Three days before our wedding, in the middle of a romantic pre-wedding photo shoot where I’m supposed to gaze lovingly into his eyes… he says, “I’m being deployed to a remote location in J&K. I leave seven days after the wedding.”
Cue: Internal screaming. External smiling. And a dramatic Bollywood soundtrack in my head- specifically “Toh Chalun” from Border. Honestly, nothing prepares you for the shock of becoming a newlywed and a long-distance wife all in the same week.
The butterflies in my stomach disappeared instantly.
That was my initiation. A crash course in this life.
Love Paused for Duty
Not too long ago, I received a dream opportunity- a travel collaboration with one of India’s top agencies. A FAM trip to an exotic location, alongside some of the country’s leading bloggers. It could’ve been career-defining.
But I said no.
Because my husband, who had left for a “two-day inspection” on New Year’s day, hadn’t returned in over two weeks. He was posted in a high-risk, landslide-prone zone. There was no mobile network. In all that time, I heard from him only twice; once on the death anniversary of his comrade Lt. Col. Niranjan, and once by sheer luck.
How could I be sipping coffee and capturing sunsets while my heart was stranded somewhere in the mountains?
He still doesn’t know I turned the opportunity down. Because I didn’t want my worries to follow him where duty had taken him.
That One Call
I remember another call.
It was a Sunday morning. I had just moved to a new flat with some friends (in a different city because I was still working in the corporate world) and was on my way to watch Charlie, a Malayalam film that promised comfort. My husband’s voice on the phone was off, trembling, unlike him. He said he’d call back later.
That night, I saw the news: the Pathankot attack.
And when he finally called again, he said two words that broke me: Lt. Col. Niranjan.
A dear friend. A brother-in-arms. A young husband.
My heart clenched. I couldn’t find words. My husband spoke of their time together, and I listened, numb. A thought crossed my mind- what if?
But I pushed it away. Because in the Fauj, we all know the truth:
“Love your spouse with the opportunity you have. No one is guaranteed a tomorrow.”
Whether it’s a sudden cloudburst washing away a village, a crumbling bridge he just walked over, or a random inspection turning into a life-saving rescue mission, danger is never far. And courage? That’s just another day at work.
The Life I Chose
In the months that followed, I tried to go back to routine- writing, working, smiling. But the weight of that call lingered. Of every call that comes without warning.
As an Army Wife, I’ve worn many hats- plumber, electrician, cook, nurse, chauffeur, mom (and sometimes dad), blogger, and unofficial event planner for regimental dinners- all while staying calm enough to make Maggi and coffee for surprise midnight guests during a “Calling On.”
And still smile for the neighbor who asks, “How do you manage it all?”
The truth is, we don’t always manage. Sometimes we break. Quietly. Then we pick up the pieces and move on.
And we keep serving, in the quiet, unseen ways.
A Gentle Pause for the Fallen
Over the years, I’ve seen the country come together in moments of collective grief, through a shared DP, a trending hashtag, a “Salute” in the comments. I’ve also seen how quickly we scroll on.
And I understand, life moves fast. Grief isn’t easy to hold. And perhaps no tribute will ever feel enough.
But I do hope, as citizens, we can pause a little longer.
Not just on 26/11 or Kargil Vijay Diwas. But when we hear the name of a fallen soldier. When the nation whispers “RIP,” can we let that name linger a little longer in our hearts?
The NSG Commando Maj. Sandeep Unnikrishnan?
Lt. Saurabh Kalia, who never made it back home?
Lt. Col. Niranjan, whose uniform was his second skin?
The men and women of Operation Sindoor, who walked into fire so we could sleep in peace?
Or think about the countless others who have sacrificed their forever for us?
That, more than anything, is what their families hope for.
That their loved one’s story won’t be forgotten in the noise of daily life.
And Still, We Choose This Life
I’ve had to give up a promising corporate career. Let go of a two-year international project. Contemplate teaching in local schools near our postings. Not because I didn’t want to work, but because there were simply no options.
I’ve made peace with the 70-odd trunks, the shifting, the insects, the absence.
Because every time I see my husband polishing his stars, I remember why I chose this life.
And I still would.
Not Just His Strength, But My Own
I’ve been asked- does it get easier? Do you ever stop worrying?
The answer is no.
But you learn to find strength in the small things.
A cup of chai at sunset.
A letter that smells like camphor and camp.
The joy of your child saluting the mirror, mimicking Daddy.
A text that simply says, “I’m okay.”
We Army Wives aren’t just part of a system. We are the system’s soul. While he guards the borders, I hold the fort. I might not wear a uniform, but I bleed olive green.
For Their Today, and Our Tomorrow
Our soldiers don’t seek fame. And we, their families, don’t seek pity.
But we hope the country sees them. Truly sees them. Not just in moments of tragedy, but in everyday peace. Not just as uniformed protectors, but as people with lives, families, dreams, and a whole lot of courage.
And for those of us who walk beside them, adjusting our dreams, trading our comforts, and anchoring their world, all we ask is a little space in the nation’s heart.
Not for applause.
Just remembrance.
Jai Hind.
This post is a part of ‘Tricolour Tales Blog Hop’ hosted by Manali Desai and Sukaina Majeed
under #EveryConversationMatters.
This blog post is part of ‘Blogaberry Dazzle’
hosted by Cindy D’Silva and Noor Anand Chawla
Reading your personal encounters reminded me of a book character, “Mo” from Two Inches Taller by Nandita Warrier. From the time i have read that book, my perspective of the lives of army wives has changed, I respect them more. Thank you for sharing these snippets from your life, up and close.
Very moving personal reflection. And you’re so right: life can be particularly anxiety-ridden if you are the spouse of an army personnel. You’ve given voice to all those anxieties and deep emotions very effectively.
Tomichan Matheikal recently posted…Missing Women of Dharmasthala
Salute to your for holding the fort. I cannot imagine or be in your shoes no one can but thank you for your service to the country it is the most bravest decision and to live everyday with the unsettling emotion.. more and more respect and forever grateful to soldiers and their families. Thank you for sharing your story.
I’ve never experienced army life but could connect with transfers, changing of places- read as schools, as my dad was in the government but your post gave such a real and raw glimpse into what it’s like behind the scenes of the defence life. Thanks for sharing such an unfiltered glimpse into a world many admire but few hardly understand.
Your personal account is deeply moving and heartfelt, Shalini. I’ve often wondered what life is like for an army family and how they manage the constant anxiety and worry. Through your words, you’ve offered a powerful glimpse into that world. It’s clear the journey isn’t easy and we truly salute the men in uniform and the silent strength of their families who stand by them, upholding the peace of our nation.
Jai Hind!
I always wondered how the lives of Army wives really were. There was so much of insecurity and fear in my friends when their hubbies would go on work… When they finally retired, there was relief… Hats off to you for handling it through it all… God bless!
I have studied in Kendriya Vidyalayas and many of them were near Navy or air force bases , so a lot of my fellow classmates came from army or navy background and I got to see the perks as well as the tears that this life offered.My in-laws come from armed forces and a few of my friends are married to officers of the armed forces and I can feel the pains and rigors they undergo to keep that brave and smiling front and never say die spirit.Salute to the soldier and bravo to their brave families.
First of all, remember that the whole country salutes and remembers the men in green. Your personal account is heartwarming, Shalini. It must be a tough life, I’m sure. You are fortunate that you have the whole country with you. But civilians like me also lose dear ones, and they don’t get a mention I lost my husband and my young son!
I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine that pain. I’ve lost my mother recently, and I understand how grief lingers. My post was not to compare losses, but to shed light on the unique sacrifices made in service to the nation. Personal grief is deeply valid, but when someone dies serving the country, it becomes a collective remembrance. Both deserve respect, just in different ways.
As ungrateful civilians, we often wonder how life must be for the partners and families of the brave men who guard us. Your heartfelt post answered all my questions. Kudos to you and all the spouses and families. This was so emotional to read. God bless you and keep you all safe.
I might not wear a uniform, but I bleed olive green.
How beautifully you have encapsulated the life of an Army wife! Yor words bring a sense of deja vu to my mind. The smiles and the fears are married to each other, and yet, if I had to choose my life all over again, I would choose being an Army wife. Thank you for this sensitive and evocative post. I love it.
I have been following you on social media for more than a year now and I have seen you sharing stories about your feelings. After reading this blog, it shows how much you handle alone which many won’t know.
A big salute to you and your husband, along with the thousands of soldiers and their supportive families. It was heartwarming to read about the glimpses of your life and the multiple hats you wear as a soldier’s wife.
It might not be the life of dreams, but you cherish every moment. That’s the resilience and strength, we as humans need to learn from Army families. To nourish and treasure all that is life. Salut to all the people who make the country safe and proud.
I’ve learned so much about the emotional strength behind every army wife through your post. Your description of long-distance support and navigating unexpected postings really moved me. You’ve captured both pride and vulnerability in a powerful way. Hats off to you!
Swati Sarangi recently posted…#589 The man whom I admire the most
“Not for applause.
Just remembrance.”
You have my heart for this Shalini. Loved the honest, heartfelt tone of the post. How beautifully you’ve put across that being an army wife is not just about resilience but fierce pride and love.
Manali Desai recently posted…Vine Whispers
Shalini, this made me so emotional. Life as an Army wife is so tough, and yet you handle it with so much strength. Can’t even imagine how strong you have to be to live this life. Hats off to you for holding it all together with so much love. Reading this makes me respect our Army people even more. They sacrifice so much for the country, quietly and selflessly. We are truly safe because of their courage and dedication. Jai Hind.
Shalini, reading this gave me goosebumps. Truly, hats off to you and every defence wife out there. The strength it takes to live this life quietly and gracefully is something else. My sister is also defence officer’s wife, so I’ve seen glimpses of this life up close, the sudden postings, the long silences, the strength behind every smile. Reading your words felt like listening to her heart. So raw and real. Hats off to you 🫶
That was beautiful and real. From wedding week deployment shocks to turning down career-launching trips while your heart was stranded in the hills: it captures the strength that lives behind the uniform. We often salute the soldier but it’s their families who hold the fort. Thank you for sharing your courage
A huge shout-out to all army wives and everyone in their families. The sacrifice is collective, not just of one. And yes, we must pause a little longer for the fallen soldier, not because it will matter to him, but in gratitude for the sacrifice from him and his family. Jai Hind.
One of the best reads. No words that I choose can describe the lump in my throat as I completed this. Salute and keep those home fires burning and as you say you are the souls. I wish politicians kept the services away from their politics.
Most of the times, we read or hear accounts of these incidents and episodes from the point of views of people who put their boots on the ground. It’s really important to voice the feelings and experiences of their counterparts who are back on the bases, or in cities away from the frontline. Thanks for writing this one.
I don’t have enough words to express what I feel about the challenging lives of army wives. The fear of loss, the acceptance of uncertainty and the courage despite it all is something I can never conjure up myself. Hats off to you for being the solid support that the shining stars on his uniform have much to say thanks to!
Your piece illuminated the quiet strength and resilience of army wives—how love, sacrifice, and unwavering support form the unseen backbone of our soldiers. A poignant tribute to their journey.
You are a brave heart Shalini! It’s because of brave wives like you, we civilians can breathe in peace. Such a selfless job you are doing.
you are the system’s soul and this makes us aware of the soldiers on various borders who fight or sacrifi e their lives so that we can sleep peacefully.
I salute you Shalini – the role of our protectors is well-acknowledged, but the role played by their courageous wives isn’t. My heart goes out to you.