The Early Years: A Young Couple’s Struggle

We married in 1989. Marina, my wife, was in her third year of Pharmacy at Gulbarga, Karnataka. I, a young Indian Army Captain, was undergoing the year-long Long Gunnery Staff Course (LGSC) at Devlali, near Nashik, Maharashtra.

She travelled whenever she could manage a few days away from her studies, often in trains without reservations – a monthly affair. The entire course knew when she arrived, as I invariably found reasons to skip classes on those days.

Those were times before cell phones, before even STD (Subscriber Trunk Dialing) facilities at Devlali. Long-distance calls were expensive, so one waited until 9 PM when rates dropped to a quarter. Whenever I missed her, I sat outside the Telephone office near the railway station, book a call to the ladies’ hostel at Gulbarga, and wait. An hour, at least. The wait often stretched longer, especially with mosquitoes buzzing in my ears. Their bites I could tolerate – after all, even mosquitoes have a right to exist – but their music was unbearable. Occasionally, I found company: a young officer trying to reach his girlfriend or fiancée, another missing his wife who had gone home for a family wedding or to visit her parents.

The Army Wife’s Life

Marina graduated as university topper, and we settled into family life. She enjoyed being an army wife – for a while. But as the years passed, the initial novelty faded. She grew increasingly frustrated, finding many senior officers’ wives uninterested in anything beyond advancing their husbands’ careers.

One day, after eight years of marriage, she declared, “What use is my B Pharm degree, for which I slogged four years?” She had made a decision: she would leave me, move to Delhi, and try her hand at business.

The business, a joint venture with another army lady, did not unfold as Marina had hoped. She then applied for immigration to Canada.

While waiting, she left the business to her partner and joined a Pharmacy College in Delhi as a teacher – her primary aim being to reconnect with a subject she had not touched for eight years. I was posted to Delhi around this time.

The Battle Begins

Marina obtained licensing exam books for Canadian pharmacists from her sister in the United States. Thus began her renewed battle with academics – a battle she fought with extraordinary determination.

In February 2002, she received her Canadian Permanent Resident visa. Coincidentally, I received overnight orders to assume command of a Surveillance and Target Acquisition Regiment during Operation Parakram – the intense military standoff between India and Pakistan following the terrorist attack on the Indian Parliament. Mass mobilisation along the border and the Line of Control demanded every officer’s presence.

A Family Splintered

A difficult decision was made – the only possible one. Our son Nikhil, then an LKG student, went to my parents in Kerala. Our daughter Nidhi, in Grade 5, stayed in Delhi with Brigadier GM Sankar, our family friend, until her final examinations in March, then joined Nikhil in Kerala. I departed for Rajasthan. Marina flew to Canada – in February, when Canadian winter is at its harshest.

No other option existed. We simply had to cope.

Reunion and Readjustment

After operational deployment ended, our Regiment returned to Devlali in November 2002. The children moved in with me, and I became a single-parent Commanding Officer. By then, I had established myself well in the Regiment. Our officers and soldiers were outstanding – confident, competent individuals who understood their tasks and executed them with finesse. The Regiment ran like a well-oiled machine. Late Colonel Suresh Babu, our Second-in-Command, along with other officers, managed exceptionally well. Our Regiment was clearly the best outfit in town.

Then came a shock. Nikhil, after six months in Kerala, returned speaking only Malayalam. He had completely forgotten the Hindi and English he once spoke fluently – his brain reformatted in Malayalam. It took a month of concentrated effort from me and the Regimental staff to reteach him both languages.

Marina’s Canadian Triumph

Meanwhile, Marina worked eight hours daily and studied ten hours daily in Canada. Within a year, she cleared all licensing examinations in a single attempt – a herculean feat. Two written exams and a practical examination stand between international pharmacy graduates and licensure; only about five percent clear them on first attempt.

Two years after landing, she obtained her pharmacist license, completing four months of studentship and six months of internship.

In March 2004, the children joined her in Canada. I bid farewell to arms six months later and arrived in July 2004. The splintered family reunited.

What began as a stray thought in Marina’s mind had developed into a passionate endeavour, catalysing cataclysmic change for every family member.

Reflections

Are we happy today as a family? Mostly, an emphatic YES. But sometimes we miss our people, Kerala, and above all, the Indian Army environs.

I once asked Marina how she managed to pass all licensing exams within a year when most take three years, many up to six. Her answer was simple: hard work. She wanted children and me in Canada as quickly as possible. Being alone facilitated those extra hours of study. Moreover, she said, being an army wife had made her tough – ready to take on any challenge. She considered herself lucky never to have worked as a pharmacist in India, thus avoiding the need to unlearn wrong practices before adopting Canadian standards.

The journey from army wife to Canadian pharmacist was arduous, but Marina’s determination transformed a splintered family into a reunited one. Her story stands as testament to what passion, perseverance, and an army wife’s resilience can achieve.