Thirty-three years. Eighteen postings. From frontiers in J&K, Punjab and the North-East, to the United Nations in Kosovo as a Peacekeeper, and back home.
That is the part a career can list. It says nothing about the singer, the artist, the man his batchmates still call first, or the father, husband, son and brother his family leans on.
Cheers to the incredible years, and to the second innings.
Family, friends, batchmates, seniors and juniors. Thirty-three years produces a lot of people with something to say.
Read in reverse: the most recent posting first, all the way back to where it started. What no list of places can show is what each one took, and who he was in it.
Nothing that came later was new. The CRPF just gave these traits somewhere to go.
Through the hardest drills and obstacle courses he became the one who pulled others through, and kept the squad's morale up by singing.
Three years that set the tone for the next thirty. Langar with the whole company. A young officer who ate with his men and looked after every person under his command. They noticed. Thirty years later, they still bring it up.
Mid-tenure, he got married. From that day every transfer order was addressed to two people, and the family became as mobile, and as adaptable, as the officer.
His first child arrives. He is not there; he is at work. It took his son a good few years to understand that, and then it became the clearest lesson he ever got about what duty actually costs.
Same battalion, opposite corner of India, and the first of several tours the Northeast would ask of him. Company command in counter-insurgency across Assam, Tripura and Nagaland.
New battalion, new city, barely time to unpack. His companies guarded the American and Russian Consulates, and at Unit HQ he ran the tactical training, weapon handling and conditioning for the battalion.
Six months in the hills. Hard country, harder duty.
A short tenure with 029 Battalion, and then orders again.
His command here covered the security of the Krishna Janmabhoomi and Shahi Idgah complex, one of the most sensitive sites in the country. In Braj came his first promotion, Deputy Commandant. And in 2000, in Radha's own land, a daughter was born. There was only ever one name in consideration: Radhika. The family was complete.
Selected for the UN peacekeeping mission: a year keeping the peace half a world from home, under the blue flag. He served as Quarter Master in the Border Police and Chief Logistics Officer for the Kosovo Police, setting up police station infrastructure and recruiting international staff. India's reputation abroad travels in people, not statements.
From Europe straight to Bawana. A short tenure on paper. The family stayed on considerably longer.
Fourteen months with 145 Battalion, at the geographic centre of a country he had already crossed twice.
Three settled years of school runs and family time, and another star: promoted Second-in-Command. The longest the suitcases had stayed in the loft so far.
Pune was also where the disaster work started, and it meant the settled years were only settled at home. The 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, with relief in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. The Mahad landslides in the 2005 Maharashtra floods. This was before the National Disaster Response Force existed as its own force: it was raised in 2006 under the Disaster Management Act, staffed at first by battalions deputed from the CRPF, which is how the same men were already doing the work a year earlier. He went on to help raise the 5th NDRF Battalion at Pune, training its specialist CBRN troops and leading their passing out parade.
A year on the north bank of the Brahmaputra, back in hard-field country with 037 Battalion.
New culture, new language, new schools, new friends, genuinely hard at first for two kids. This is where the family learned its real skill: adaptability. Nothing after this felt foreign.
Promoted Commandant, and sent into the forests of his own home state against Naxalism. An operations officer in his element: hardest terrain, highest stakes, leading 011 Battalion from the front.
Deputation to the country's elite counter-terror force. Meanwhile Delhi finally became home: DPS Vasant Kunj and Sanskriti; then DTU and an M.Tech at IIT Delhi for Nayan, NIFT Fashion Communication for Radhika. The kids got their run-up because he had held the line for twenty years.
Promoted DIG and given one of the most volatile left-wing-extremism zones in the country. He also taught what he was living, lecturing on counter-insurgency doctrine at the Internal Security Academy, Mt Abu. Three years of operations in Bastar. At home, two grown children tracked every alert out of that district, frightened for him daily, and completely certain he was the right man there.
Three years at the Directorate General, steering from headquarters the force he had served in the field for a quarter of a century, and representing the CRPF at the Ministry of Home Affairs on force modernisation.
He ran the Group Centre as a township: quarters, healthcare, a Montessori school, and a plantation of over 50,000 saplings raised with the forest department. The last posting brought him back to Jharkhand, a short drive from where a boy once woke at 4 a.m. with big plans. The journey ends on the same soil it started on, in the campus where we are all standing tonight.
31 July 2026 at Group Centre Ranchi, and every posting before it.
He sings, and his batch will tell you he is the Mukesh of the course. He grows roses, and has the show prizes to prove it. He paints wildlife. He played badminton for two forces. Before any of it, he was a chemistry postgraduate from Ranchi, which is where this whole story starts and, thirty-three years later, where it ends.
You served with him, trained with him, sang with him, or grew up around him. Write a line, send a photo, record a video. He will read every one.
The uniform might be going into the cupboard, not the past. The same person who woke at 4 a.m. to pursue his dreams, who kept the peace as a United Nations' Peacekeeper in Kosovo and held the line in J&K, Latehar, Dantewada and Bastar, that person is not going anywhere. He is simply free now to spend it on whatever gives meaning to his life more... I believe it is family, plans, and the people around him.
Alongside the postings there was always the other work, the kind that never appears in a service record. Over 50,000 saplings planted with the forest department. Civic Action Programmes in the districts he served, taking medical camps, sport and school support to villages around the units. Blood donation drives and free eye and cataract camps with the Rotary Club, and heart surgeries sponsored for children in Jharkhand who could not have afforded them. Flags carried out to villages every Independence Day. Talks to school and college students on human rights, conservation and the ordinary business of being decent.
Same discipline. Same integrity. New innings.