I come from a Kumaon village. Every able-bodied young man there joins Armed Forces. At least it was the case till the RMP was introduced. My father was a second World War veteran with painful experiences of a POW at Singapore and yet he insisted me to join the Army and if possible his own paltan, 4/19 Hyderabad (now 4 Kumaon). But it did not happen so and I landed in Signals.

As a young officer, even during leave I used to indulge mentally in my unit affairs. Either it was the duties I was performing or the courses or exercises I was due to go on after the leave. As was the practice in my village, on the day of return to the unit, a large number of people came to see me off. And they all had their predetermined 'turning’ points depending upon the closeness with the 'returning’ soldier. So were the rules applicable to me also. Invariably, my father, in spite of old age, used to be the last one to bless me. Though unable to hold back his tears, he always sounded firm in his advice to be a good soldier. Since I was young, energetic and enthusiastic about my duty, I told him not to worry about me.

I loved my father most in my life. In fact, he was my role model; a demi-god. He was a brave soldier, I thought. And no tears were expected! But I never realised how he took this parting as a father.

Back in the unit, my letters to him reduced in content and frequency as time passed. And unfortunately in those days we didn’t have access to STD or e-mail. I started believing more in practical relationship between an ex-soldier father and his soldier son. The emotional equation was somehow getting one-sided. Although, to me, my father was my life and yet I could not express these sentiments in a manner it really mattered.

Now I have a grown-up son. I am not yet that old as my father was when I was my son’s age. He communicates with me even lesser than I did with my father. Or so I feel. May be my appreciation of the same situation is different today for I am a father now. I am on the receiving side. My son also loves me; I know for sure. He does not show it. I even tell him to express his feelings. He is not at ease. He has been away from me after his schooling, four years at the engineering college followed by two years at the IIM. He is now away on job. I know he has to remain away from me. It is a necessity. It is the rule of nature. But I want him nearer at least communication-wise. He sparingly obliges. When we meet we don’t converse more than the must. Isn’t there anything common we need to talk?

In my younger days the generation gap existed between a father and his son. It had a measure of say 20 to 25 years. But the things are changing so fast today that the proverbial generation gap occurs every 5-6 years. Thus, there is a generation gap even between two siblings; between elder and his younger brother. And worse times are still ahead. Gaps and more gaps! How can we fill these voids? If we can, we must. And it would be best thing that should happen.

Recently, during my posing at Baroda, I met a young Flight Lieutenant. He was my friend’s son. I had seen him as a young kid at Jalandhar when we were posted together. My wife had taught him at the Army School there. Naturally, I had a special equation with him. We dined in the mess together. This young officer had recently been engaged and his fiancee was in the same town as his father. I asked him how often he spoke to his father. Unmindful of what was in my mind, he told me that he spoke to his fiancee everyday, who in turn conveyed his well-being to his father. I could feel the link in the father-son relationship. One day, he was celebrating his highest scores in one of the semester examinations. He offered me a glass of beer. I advised him to talk to his father that night and tell him about this feat and then ring up later to his `love’. He obliged. Next morning, he came to me and profusely thanked for the advice. The father had heard his son’s success story straight from the 'horse’s mouth'. And then on, this boy listended to me obediently. But then we could have this relationship and understanding only because we were not the father-son duo. Perhaps my son would have also listened to a certain 'uncle’.

It was here that I realised the strangeness of this relationship. The process seems to be irreversible— a one-way affair. By the time you realise you could have been a better son, you are already a father. Now if you try telling or lecturing your son, he would does not listen. He understands it only when he has his own son. The story goes on. The remedy perhaps lies with the son. Father is always there ‘my son’ all the time. It is so pronounced, demonstrative and all pervasive.

It is a wake-up call for the father-and-son avatar, a 'young’ man of say around 'thirty plus’ whose father is awaiting his communication while he himself is engrossed in communication with his son. He has to act and act fast. The times would make bridges only if we make them happen. We can not let these generation gaps go gaping.