NDA buddies remember Sandeep Unnikrishnan

When the name Sandeep Unnikrishnan was mentioned among the NSG casualties on Friday, there was a sinking feeling in my gut. Was it our
Unni? But then, in the forces, you cannot even pray that it is "some other Unni". Within minutes, confirmation came. An old buddy called up to say, "Yaar, Sandeep is no more."
Unni had died a hero. And those of us who had seen him and trained alongside him at the National Defence Academy (NDA) had a rush of old memories - of a buddy who would stick with you no matter what, of a top-class sportsman, of nostalgic songs and imaginary girlfriends and of a soldier's soldier who was always aware that the uniform came with great responsibility.
In 1995, we were a bunch of gangly 18-year-olds, wondering what the hell we were doing climbing up Sinhgad fort on a miserable, rainy day, when I first met Unni. He was an ikki, a first termer, bone-weary, but always gung-ho. When we made it to the top, the first stop was for a fill of water. Soggy, bushed and thirsty, we ran to the natural spring that has been feeding soldiers since the days of Chhatrapati Shivaji. Unni was the first to reach and started drawing water from the well. We lined up with our canteens, but a tourist first held out her water bottle. Unni filled it. Then, another. Unni filled that too.

Within seconds, there was a long line of tourists waiting for water. Without a word - and with a smile to us - Unni dutifully doled out his generosity. He never got to us. He himself never got a sip. The order came to move on.
It was a small, selfless act. Who knew that 13 years on, he would make the ultimate sacrifice - lead from the front and die saving a fellow commando? He lived up to the "Olympian" spirit (as NDA Oscar Squadron cadets call themselves), striving to go "faster, higher, and stronger".
"He was not meant to be in the Mumbai operation. He was an instructor at the NSG training centre in Manesar. But because he was an old hand at this, and one of the best, he was sent as part of the first reaction team," said Major Sushil, one his coursemates. I couldn't imagine the rather skinny Unni in the NSG. But just as his happy-go-lucky face masked a ruthless and determined soldier, so did his thin physique hide a tough, never-give-up spirit.
"It showed itself during Camps Greenhorn and Rovers (said to be the toughest for the age group) at NDA. He never knew the word 'quit'. He just kept going," recalled one of his buddies now in the Special Forces. "During the 15-km cross-country races at NDA, there would be shouts of 'Unni, Unni' in the last 500 metres. Most of us were dead by then. But he would tuck his head into his chest, close his eyes and run for his life, for his squadron."

It was this ruggedness - and a great sense of humour - that helped him survive three tours of Kashmir, two stints in Siachen and the tough NSG training.
"The army was his life. In his room in Bangalore, he had a collage of photographs of each of his coursemates and from life in the NDA. He took it everywhere with him," said major S Kaul. "He was always very calm and composed. We ex-NDAs have a short fuse but I never saw Unni angry."
"He was a total movie maniac. In civvies, he didn't look a commando. Whenever anyone asked him what his profession was, he would say, 'non-productive human resources'. He could speak five languages and he just loved to give gaali in all five," recalled major Naren C.
"We always ribbed him about his nonexistent, rippling biceps. But he surprised us all by joining the NSG. He was always a fighter. I cannot believe that he is no more. Only a few weeks ago, he had joked, 'Finally, I am putting on some weight'."