A surprise phone call started it all. It was from the Raksha Mantri, George Fernandes: “A friend of mine has expressed a desire to visit Jammu and Kashmir, can I send him to you?”Although Fernandes was a regular visitor to 28 Infantry (Vajr) Division, I could scarcely believe that the Raksha Mantri was seeking my ‘clearance’! Perhaps it was because he felt that sending a civilian in a virtual war zone was not only highly unusual, but there was also the concern about the safety of the visitor.What else could I say except, “Of course, Sir, he would be welcome.” The civilian visitor was Nana Patekar.Nana was anything but the average civilian. He had trained long and hard at the Maratha Light Infantry Centre for his film ‘Prahaar’. He rose to fame because of the role of Major Pratap Chauhan. That association not only gave him a reasonably good understanding of the Army, but also taught him to think like an Armyman. With that and his overall deportment, we hit it off from the very first day. It wasn’t long before we became close friends.In most organisations, more so in the Army, the boss’ perch is a lonely one. With the wavelengths of our attitudes matching, I saw an opportunity to have someone to talk to informally. So, I offered him the option to share my frugal ‘field’ accommodation, which he readily accepted.Nana urged us not to treat him as a celebrity. In fact, he wanted to remain incognito; he had given strict instructions to his manager and secretary not to divulge his whereabouts to anyone, except in an emergency. On the very first day, he borrowed a few sets of my combat dresses (fatigues) and thereafter I never saw him in any civilian clothing — even down to military boots.He used to insist that he was there to be with the troops, share their risks and hardships and not to entertain them. This he maintained throughout. He did not mind being photographed but only with troops and never as a ‘photo op’. Thankfully, there were no smartphones then, so no requests for selfies!Kupwara was then the hotbed in terms of military operations. Cross-border firing, including exchange of artillery fire, counter-infiltration and counter-terrorist operations kept us engaged 24×7.Nana and I used to talk late into the night as it was the only real personal time either of us got. He used to, with almost child-like excitement, narrate his experiences of the day: a visit to forward posts (many in eyeball-to-eyeball contact with the enemy) to rub shoulders with the officers and jawans who were manning them, the thrill of riding with the Quick Reaction Team (QRT), even firing an artillery gun once!He would ask me about ongoing operations and if he could participate in them.During such conversations, the actor in him would come to the fore. He would refer to the memorable roles he had played and the films he enjoyed working in. He had a phenomenal memory. As he recited some of his well-known dialogues, he would almost re-enter the character he had played.Nana was a multi-faceted personality. He was fiercely patriotic; his high sense of integrity and morality were non-negotiable. His empathy for the less privileged and those in crisis resulted in his altruistic initiatives like the NAAM Foundation. He took particular interest in taking care of families of military personnel who had died in action.His sense of humour, easy lifestyle and amusing anecdotes immediately turned complete strangers into his admirers.He was a fitness freak and also a foodie. My wife was in Kupwara during those days. He started addressing her as Bayo, a term used for sister in coastal Maharashtra. Since he was also a good cook, they shared menus for the next day and new recipes. In fact, on one occasion, he took charge of the kitchen and insisted on cooking an entire meal for us. The friendship between the three of us grew so thick that when he heard that an award was to be conferred on me by the President, he insisted on being present at the investiture ceremony at Rashtrapati Bhavan.We kept in touch after Kupwara. He was Major Chauhan, and Anna of ‘Parinda’ to his fans, a ‘palanhaar’ of the farmers, but was family for us and will always stay so.Farewell, Nana.