Sri Vijaya Puram – June 16: Each morning, 21-year-old Vivek Ram reports to duty at the Wimbely retail counter inside the Veer Savarkar International Airport. To most travelers, he’s just another courteous face behind the desk. But behind that quiet routine is a young man holding onto a dream that remains just out of reach, to wear the Indian Army uniform.
“I applied the moment Agniveer opened up,” Vivek recalls, referring to the short-term recruitment scheme introduced in 2022. “We were told this was a chance for people like us. But nothing ever came of it.”
Originally from Billiground in Rangat, Vivek now lives in a modest room in Bhatubasti. He earns ₹17,000 a month — enough to send money home to support his mother and elder brother, while managing rent and food in the city. “₹6,000 is what I keep. The rest goes to my family,” he says.
The Agniveer scheme, part of the Agnipath recruitment model launched by the Ministry of Defence, aims to induct young men and women into the Indian Armed Forces on a four-year contract. At the end of the tenure, 25% of the recruits may be absorbed into regular service, while others receive a tax-free ‘Seva Nidhi’ exit package. The initiative was designed to make the forces younger, leaner, and more dynamic — and to offer aspirants across India, including those from rural and underrepresented regions, a structured path into military service.
Vivek says that he was among the first in his village to apply for Agniveer. But after submitting the form, he says there was no update. “We waited. Then we heard there would be a second round, but the forms never came to us. No announcements, nothing. Later, we were told the slots were already gone.”
Learning Compassion
Working at the airport has brought Vivek stability, but not satisfaction. “It’s honest work. But this was not what I dreamed of,” he says.
Over time, he’s seen how helpless both staff and passengers can be sometimes, which has taught him compassion – a necessary quality to serve the nation selflessly. “There was a woman once who couldn’t board her flight in time. Her mother was in the ICU in Chennai. She cried at the terminal. We couldn’t do anything.”
Vivek says that his frustration stems not from rejection, but exclusion. “If I’d taken the test and failed, I would have understood. But we were never even considered. No call. No exam. No rejection.”
He says several others from his region faced the same silence. “Not one of us heard back. And when we asked, we were told the process was over. How, if we were never even informed?”
Still, he hasn’t let go. “We’re not asking for favours,” he says. “Just a fair shot. Let us compete.”
For now, Vivek returns each day to his post at the airport, patient, persistent, and still hoping that the next round, whenever it comes, will finally give him that chance.
