In the aftermath of any unfortunate security incident, a predictable wave rises on social media, news channels, and casual conversations. Suddenly, every second person becomes a defense analyst, a counter-terrorism expert, or a military strategist. They sit comfortably in their homes — chai in hand, AC running — passing judgments on the very forces who stand between us and chaos.
“The soldiers should have done this!”
“The intelligence should have been better!”
“India must strike like this!”
“We should change our entire strategy!”
All these statements pour out so easily when the biggest personal risk faced is a slow internet connection.
But let’s pause for a moment and think — really think.
Our armed forces and security agencies operate in conditions most of us cannot even imagine:
- Sleep-deprived, yet alert.
- Under constant threat, yet composed.
- Dealing with real bullets, real explosions, and real consequences — not theories and comments.
They don’t have the luxury of “undo” buttons. They don’t debate decisions on Twitter spaces. Every action they take involves life and death — not headlines and likes.
It is effortless to suggest strategies when you’re not the one standing in the line of fire. It’s even easier to blame when you’re not the one who will have to carry the burden of a single miscalculation.
And notice this:
When the risk spills over to civilians — when an attack hits closer to home — suddenly everyone wakes up and starts talking.
But what about the rest of the time?
Every month, our soldiers lay down their lives in encounters, operations, and border skirmishes. We get the news in a small corner of the newspaper or a passing tweet.
And then we move on.
No outrage. No discussions. No strategies suggested then.
Can we start respecting them even when the danger isn’t knocking directly on our doors?
Consider the recent sacrifice of Havaldar Jhantu Ali Sheikh, a brave paratrooper from the 6th Battalion of the Para Special Forces.
He was killed in an ambush with terrorists in the Basantgarh area of Udhampur district, Jammu and Kashmir.
His mortal remains returned to his village in West Bengal — a village that grieved deeply, even as the rest of the country barely paused.
Are we talking about him?
No.
Are our stories and statuses filled with tributes to him?
No.
Why?
Because we go where the wave of social media posts takes us.
The bigger problem is not just ignorance — it’s that we are slowly losing our very humanity.
The basics of life — gratitude, respect, empathy — are eroding.
We have become too comfortable walking away, thinking,
“Oh, they’re just doing their job… what’s the big deal?”
IT IS A BIG DEAL!
It’s the biggest deal of all — because their job costs them everything:
their today, their family, their dreams, their life.
Our soldiers train relentlessly so we can sleep peacefully.
Our security forces intercept countless threats that we will never even hear about because they succeeded quietly.
They sacrifice their youth, their families, their comforts — for us.
Constructive discussion about national security is important.
But real change doesn’t happen through outrage tweets or dinner-table lectures.
It happens through policy, leadership, rigorous training, hard choices — and above all, respect for those on the ground.
Next time an incident shakes us, feel the outrage, yes. Feel the sorrow, yes. Demand better systems, yes.
But don’t disrespect the ones who stand guard at the cost of everything they have.
They deserve better than our quick judgments.
They deserve our trust, our patience, and above all, our gratitude.
And most importantly — they deserve our respect, not only when we feel the fear, but every single day.
The next time you scroll past a soldier’s sacrifice without a second thought, remember — he gave up everything you take for granted.
