Colonel Rajveer Singh stood tall in his uniform; his chest filled with pride as he looked over the valley. He had spent his life serving the Indian Army, earning respect for his sharp mind and brave heart. But today, anger burned in his eyes.
A small mission had failed earlier in the week. A handful of soldiers had been sent to gather intelligence about some rebels hiding in the mountains. The plan had been simple, but the team returned empty-handed, tired and frustrated. Rajveer’s anger flared at their failure.
“How could you all come back with nothing?!” he shouted in the meeting room. His officers, standing at attention, exchanged nervous glances but remained silent.
Rajveer’s anger was not just about the mission. There had been growing tension with the rebels, and the pressure from his superiors was mounting. He could feel his reputation slipping. To him, this failure was a personal insult, a crack in the image of the strong leader he had built of himself over the years.
“Enough is enough, if you guys fail, let me do it myself,” Rajveer barked. “We are launching a full-scale attack on the rebels tomorrow.”
Captain Raghav, a younger officer, stepped forward hesitantly. “Sir, the mountains are dangerous. We need more intel. A rushed attack might—”
“I don’t need lectures!” Rajveer snapped. “We attack at dawn. That’s an order.”
The officers had no choice but to follow. That night, as the soldiers prepared, whispers spread through the camp. Many were nervous. They knew the terrain was tricky, and the rebels were familiar with every rock and crevice. But Rajveer’s orders were clear.
At dawn, the soldiers marched into the mountains. As they made their way through narrow paths, the silence was unsettling. Suddenly, gunfire echoed from above. The rebels had anticipated the attack and positioned themselves strategically. Rajveer’s men were caught off guard, trapped in the crossfire.
The battle was fierce, but it didn’t last long. It was a complete rout. By the time the sun was high, many soldiers lost their lives, and scores lay wounded. The rest retreated, carrying their injured comrades. Rajveer, watching from his command post, felt his heart sink as the survivors returned. His face, once hardened with anger, now showed signs of disbelief.
He had underestimated the enemy, driven by his rage instead of reason.
Later that evening, as the injured were treated and the dead were honoured, Rajveer sat alone in his tent. His mind replayed the events of the day. The faces of the soldiers who had trusted him, who had followed his orders without question, haunted him one after another.
Captain Raghav approached quietly. “Sir,” he said softly, “we lost too many of our men today.”
Rajveer didn’t talk. His eyes were distant, filled with regret. It took him a while before he spoke without looking back. “I let my anger decide, Raghav. I just wanted to prove myself. I failed myself. I failed you all too and …” His voice choked as tears tried to force their way out.
Raghav nodded, understanding the weight of Rajveer’s words.
That night, Rajveer realized something crucial: anger clouds judgment, and in the heat of rage, one can lose the very thing that makes someone a leader; being a human. Qualities of compassion, wisdom, and the ability to protect those who depend on you emanate from this alone.
At that point, Rajveer vowed never to let his emotions
dictate his decisions again. The cost of losing the “Human Advantage” had been
too big for him to endure.