Packed, Panicking & Laughing: A Life Between Postings
Field posting ya peace posting? - That one question could turn an entire army household upside down.
In the 90s, before WhatsApp groups and Google Maps, postings were an old school adventure. No emails, no location tags, no instant updates. Just the mess grapevine buzzing louder than a summer beehive. Whispers travelled faster than couriers. “Sunaa hai posting aa gayi hai!” And before a single letter arrived, speculation took over. Field posting or peace posting?
It wasn’t just small talk. A field posting meant the officer would go alone and the family stayed behind. Long separations, scratchy landline calls, letters that carried more emotion than news. A peace posting meant shifting — new homes, new cities, new routines, new hopes. That one question set hearts racing and homes stirring. Schools were shortlisted in three cities at once. Grocery lists doubled. Farewell invitations were discussed before a single truck was even booked.
The husbands stayed calm. “Dekhenge jab aayega,” they’d say over tea, utterly unbothered. Meanwhile, we wives had already started packing in our heads. Which trunks to unlock. Which curtains would fit. Which uniforms the kids had outgrown. Would the next place have a good bakery or a half decent tailor? Was it going to snow or scorch? We prepared for everything.
The shopping was almost ceremonial. Woollens for the mountains, mosquito nets for the plains, tarpaulin sheets just in case. Pickle jars sealed tight, suitcases stacked early and labels written in our neatest most permanent handwriting. From the outside it looked like we were headed to the ends of the earth. And in our minds, we often were.
Then came the farewells. A blur of coffee mornings, shared photos and wide smiles trying to hide nervous hearts. People swapped stories, not speculations. We didn’t know where we were going yet and no one pretended to. What we did know was that it would be new. And we would make it work, just like always.
And finally, the letter would arrive. Quiet, official, folded like it had no idea of the emotional hurricane it was about to unleash. A place no one had guessed. A town we’d maybe never heard of. And just like that, the new life would begin.
Because that’s what army life teaches you. You don’t just move from house to house, you carry your world with you. You build routines in unfamiliar kitchens, find community in shared chaos and gather memories like mementos wrapped in old newspapers. You learn to belong anywhere. And you always do.
Posting orders? Bring them on. We were always ready - packed, panicking and laughing all the way.
In every posting we packed a little chaos, a little grace; and always found a way to call it home
- An Army Wife's Tale