Smile behind Uniform

Maybe I have a tiny obsession with uniforms. 

I’m from Kanyakumari, the very tip of India and I moved to Chennai when I was 16. We lived in Tambaram, where the Air Force was practically my neighbour.

Every morning while waiting for my school bus, I would see another bus passing by. Except… it didn’t look like myschool bus. 😭

Everyone inside looked like they had stepped straight out of a military movie.

Same serious faces.
Perfect posture.
Short hair.
That perfectly ironed uniform.
And absolutely zero interest in smiling at random school children like me. 😂

I used to look at them and think, “Why does everyone here look like they were sent from the dinosaur period to protect the country?” 🫠

And then there were the cars.

One day, while waiting for my bus, I saw a car being escorted by several other cars. I remember standing there thinking, “Okay… somebody VERY important is travelling.” 😂

To make things even more interesting, my school correspondent was a former Air Force officer. So, without realising it, I was constantly surrounded by people connected to the military.

I didn’t understand any of it back then.

I just thought they were… different.

Then one random day, I watched a programme on Discovery Channel about BSF training.

For the first time, I saw what happens behind those uniforms.

The training.
The discipline.
The exhaustion.
The weapons.
The borders.
The responsibility.
And most importantly - the oath they take for a country full of people who may never even know their names.

And something inside me changed.

I suddenly thought:

These people don’t know me.
I don’t know them.
Yet they are standing somewhere at the border so I can sleep peacefully in my bed.

So I can complain about my Monday.

So I can walk wherever I want.

So I can sit on my couch, watch television, scroll through my phone, laugh with my family, go to school, go to work and never stop to wonder whether a missile is coming.

And then I became a little… obsessed.

Not with the uniform.

With the people inside it.

Because how do you stand at a border knowing that you may not come home?

How do you keep walking when your legs hurt?

How do you carry something heavy when your body is screaming for rest?

How do you hold the faces of your loved ones in your heart while holding a weapon in your hands?

And how do you choose to protect millions of strangers who may never know that you existed?

Maybe that is why I still notice them.

The uniform.
The short hair.
The straight walk.
The serious face.
The ridiculously perfect posture. 😂

But now, whenever I see someone in uniform, I don't just see the uniform.

I see someone who has a family waiting for them.

Someone who has a mother who worries.

A father who silently prays.

A brother or sister who misses them.

Someone who has their own dreams, favourite food, silly jokes, tired feet and a life they could have chosen to live differently.

Yet they stand there.

So I can sit here.

And perhaps the greatest privilege I have is that I get to complain about small things because someone else is standing guard against the big things.

So, to every soldier, sailor, airman, and every person who chooses to stand between ordinary people and danger:

Thank you.

Thank you to the people I have never met, whose names I may never know.

And thank you to my own family too 

my father and mother figures,
my brothers,
my big sister,
my little sister,
and every person who has stood beside me

for standing there in your own way,

so I could sit here without having to be afraid of death.

Maybe I started by wondering,

“Why don't these people ever smile?” 😂

But now I understand.

Maybe they are standing serious…

so the rest of us can smile.

And honestly

that's a uniform I will always don't have a soft corner because they never smiled at me. But I obessed, yes, you not smiling, yet you making me smile.jnjkmnnm