``When I grow up, I'm going to the border to help Papa fight,'' says four-year-old Pavneet Sahi, son of a Sikh officer, who moved with his regiment on Saturday. ``When he was younger, my husband, who was in J&K, would leave when Pavneet was sleeping. Now, I had to wake him up to tell him that Papa was leaving. Otherwise, I would have had to answer his daily query of where Papa had gone,'' says Ritu Sahi, the officer's young wife.

It is the same story everywhere. Soldiers who had been on a six-hour alert for over a fortnight have gone, picking up bed-rolls one mattress, two sheets, one pillow. Newly-married men have left wives within days ofweddings, fathers-to-be have left without seeing about-to-be-born babies, young lieutenants have gone days before being pipped captains.

For women used to seeing husbands off on long war exercises, this time there is tension. But there are subtler ways of romance. Birthday cards have been secretly packed between uniforms; framed pictures of sweethearts and wives have been rolled in jungle caps. Favourite sun-screen lotions and shampoos have willingly changed hands. From home-made pickles to prickly heat powder, affection finds many manifestations.

Phones are kept close to beds because army lines become operational at 6 a.m. and that is when most officers call. Dogs are walked and children taken for cycling only after 8 p.m., because the communication link closes then. Husbands are being missed. Not just as a reassuring male presence but also when mothers have to get children admitted, water coolers filled, and cheese cans opened with troublesome tin cutters. ``You don't realise how dependent you havebecome. I have been dropping my son to school, bringing him back. There is no energy left to play those rough games he misses so desperately,'' says Jyotsna Bhatnagar, wife of an Armoured Corps officer.The onus of taking care of families is firmly on the wives of COs. ``We have to face these times together. The men are doing their duty, they have to be reassured about the home front. My duty is to see that their families are being taken care of while they are defending our borders,'' says Jyoti Jetley, wife of the GOC.

``While officers' wives are able to speak to their husbands once in a while, jawans' families don't have that facility,'' Jetley says, adding that they are trying to have a telephone placed centrally between about 30 families. ``My husband left a day before our first wedding anniversary. It doesn't matter. Duty comes first. He said we would celebrate after he comes back,'' says 21-year-old Neela Cholaya, whose husband is a driver.

And Jayanti Rajiv, hugging her three-year-old daughter,says, ``I'm not alone. I have her.'' Wife of a young soldier who left about a week back, she says she sleeps at her neighbour's house because it sometimes gets scary and depressing. ``I have 90 families of other ranks and eight of officers here with me. Some of the ladies are upset; this situation has arisen after 28 years, they are not used to it,'' says Sunitha Babu, wife of one of the COs.