A Cabin Affair

 Back in the NDA, jointness was evident in every small little detail, for example if the Commandant was from Army, the Deputy Commandant was from the Air Force, similarly for a Naval Commandant, his Deputy  would be from the Army. Similarly the Squadron Commanders, Battalion Commanders and Division Commanders were shared pro rata, for every two Army officers as Squadron Commanders, there would be one each of Air Force and Navy in the Battalion. The hierarchy too was similar, a battalion (Army) was divided into four squadrons (Air Force) and our rooms were designated as cabins (Navy). These cabins were our homes away from homes for those three years, they were our refuge from all the ordeal that we were put through in those formative years.

The image which your gullible mind conjures is of a cabin that is a romantic log cabin deep in the woods, the NDA cabin is a total contrast. Let me first describe the cabin for those unlucky souls who did not get an opportunity to pass out under the Quarter Deck. The cabin was furnished frugally with a bed and mattress, a study table, a drawer for clothes, a window with blinds, a shelf on the wall where our Field Service Marching Order was packed and kept ready, underneath the shelf was a kit bag with a cardboard in it to give it a shape, duly covered by a clean white handkerchief. The gap between the door and the ceiling was covered by a wired mesh. Now that I have described the cabin in some detail, permit me to paint a typical scenario of any day back in 1983 in our case, I bet it was similar in 1953 and also in 2023. So at three in the morning there is a knock on the door, when we were just about catching our forty winks having been knocked out cold well past the lights out at around midnight. The third termer from the flank where my cabin was located, was at the door, groggily I wake up and put on my dressing gown, lest I be given a dressing down for not following the protocol for the dress, I was hauled straight into the common wash room on the floor, where my other buddies were already huddled up, we knew exactly what was in the offing, so we got about our task in a business like fashion, rolling from one end to the other with the overhead taps in full flow, ensuring that our skins were kept hydrated. After this round of bathroom session, as it was known during our times, we were back just in time for the bathroom clearance and get dressed for the morning muster. 

When we return, the cabin lock stares at us with sympathy, and quietly without even creaking just gives way so that we could find some solace in our abode. The bed welcomes us with open arms, but unfortunately we had to spurn this offer, the smokers of the course, light their cigarette quickly to give their lungs their daily/hourly fix of nicotine. We quickly rush to the Tea room flanks with ours and a couple of additional mugs of the seniors to fetch the “hot and ready” tea. Tea was never relished in small cups but in tumblers, as it barely contained any content of tea, it was just sweet ‘tea coloured’ hot water, which was guzzled in litres by the cadets ensuring their tryst with the throne was effective and eventful. 

Back to the cabin, which is aware that we are in tearing hurry to get dressed, where the KD (Khaki Drill) Shorts and Shirts are ready to quickly to adorn you, the shoes, with their 32 nails and the horse-shoe in tact along with stockings and garter flashes are the accompaniments with go with attire. The belt too is eager to get onto your waist, lest it be wasted and lo and behold, we are ready in a jiffy. The FSMO perched atop the shelf is mournful, the dungarees are envious, so are the riding hat, britches and boots, as their turn comes just once in a week. Somewhere the swimming trunk is hiding underneath the heap of inner wear, socks white and black generally find refuge in the kitbag, as it is only weekends when one can hope to treat them to some detergent.

Now the satchel beckons, it is already overflowing with the PT rig thrown in, the notebook lying underneath cursing the sweaty T shirt and smelly socks. It is time to make our appearance for the Pre-Muster where the Corporal just peeps outside and barks ‘get lost’. In the parade ground with our cycles by our side, who almost snuggle close, they are aware that, their intimacy is short lived, as the senior whose bike on the neighbouring stand is flat, is going to ride away leaving the poor sod with his flat bike to lug around. “O God help us to keep ourselves physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight…” Time for the NDA Cadets’ prayer and off we go, the cabin windows bid us adieu tearfully, the blinds in half mast, waiting longingly for the post lunch brief interlude, when we would be reunited.