People often debate leadership in today’s volatile geopolitical climate in terms of power, position, or rank. But true leadership has always transcended titles. Sometimes, the most profound acts of courage and discipline come not from decorated officers but from those quietly serving in the margins of history.

This is one such story,  of a woman in a plain saree, seated behind a PBX board, her hands steady on the tangled maze of cables as the Indo-Pak war of 1971 raged on. She didn’t fight in a war zone, but worked in a Civil Defence office near Pune’s Southern Command. Her armour: duty. Her title: none.

She was a telephone operator.

She was also my mother.

During the Indo-Pak war of 1971, the Civil Defence office transformed overnight into a nerve centre. My mother worked late shifts, manually connecting emergency calls, coordinating responses, and keeping calm through siren-triggered chaos. Blackouts weren’t just routine, but they were nerve-wracking. And still, she would walk back late at night through an eerie patch of road, escorted by police for safety.

But what most don’t know is that she sounded the emergency sirens; the haunting wails that warned a city of looming danger. A woman operating sirens in a male-dominated, militarised zone in the 70s, this was almost unheard of. Yet she did it every day, without faltering.

And when the war ended, and the dust settled, those sirens didn’t stop. The Government declared that the drills must continue daily to ensure readiness. Every morning at 10:30 am, without fail, the sirens would blare. She ensured it. For years. Those who lived in Pune would remember this!

I asked her once, “Why do you work so hard when others don’t?”

She smiled and replied, “Because it is the right thing to do.”

That answer, simple as it may seem, spoke volumes.

In an era of LinkedIn and TED Talk discussions on leadership, my mother embodied its core values long before they became fashionable. Resilience, accountability, integrity, and service. Not for promotions or praise, but because it was the right thing to do.

She didn’t need stars on her shoulder.

She carried the weight of responsibility in silence.

To my mother and many like her across history, who remain unnamed, uncelebrated, and unseen, this is my salute.

You are the leaders we forget to mention.

You are the medal that was never pinned.

And you are the legacy we must never forget.