SOUNDS OF SNORING

 I snore, yes I do and most men of my age would acknowledge that they too tend to snore in their sleep, the decibel level of the sound generated varies of course. The act of snoring is supposed to indicate that one has had a sound sleep, although in the bargain, the spouse or others in near vicinity may end up as insomniacs is a different matter altogether. There is an old saying those who snore always fall asleep first. Snoring is caused by blocking of air through your mouth or nose so the breathing is laboured and noisy. Incidentally snoring has been the bone of contention for spouses and may end up in their choosing to sleep in separate bed rooms or in worst case may end up separating them altogether.A wise man once said, Laugh and the world laughs with you, snore and you sleep alone. After all sleep is dear to everyone and even love can’t make up for it over a considerably long period. 

I was not aware that I did indulge in creating this racket in my sleep until my kids recorded a video and played it for my benefit. Initially I was in denial that they had probably doctored the video, but then I realised that there was a strong possibility as the masculine gender is more prone to snoring so accepted the fact in all humility. Politics makes strange bed fellows and snoring makes even stranger ones, if both the spouses do it and are not disturbed by the other’s emanated sounds. To an unsuspecting guest the sounds seem to be in a sort of dulcet duet which is a sort of Indian classical jugalbandi of vocal and instrumental in tandem. Use of Headphones is the only way out for the one who is at the receiving end of this guttural music, in the middle of the night to get some respite for themselves. Sometimes the snorer himself wakes up from his deep slumber due to his own loud snores and sheepishly looks around before settling down to further louder pitch. Extreme cases of snoring may end up in sleep apnea, where the person stops breathing altogether which can be distressful in the milder version and may even prove to be fatal in extreme cases. 

We in the armed forces sleep light while on alert but sleep soundly at every available opportunity, a quality developed in the academies and then honed later on in service. Sleep like food must never be refused as one doesn’t know when would the next meal be available or whether we will be blessed to steal the forty winks again. In NDA, we could sleep standing and as the legend goes there were many who could even sleep through a run or a bathroom session, after all it was so mechanical an activity that one could doze off in between comfortably. So much so that we could hear some of us actually snore through it. A dog tired cadet falling asleep in classroom was a given and even instructors did not normally disturb his hard earned siesta but when he started to snore then he had to be nudged not to awaken him but just to get him to stop disturbing others by his loud and sonorous snores which could act as a lullaby inducing his neighbours too into joining the ranks. Many of us may not have slept in the classroom but did indulge in daydreaming as the subject matter was normally too complex and our attention span was highly limited when it came to anything to do with the brain, brawn of course was par for the course.

Recently I happened to travel by train after a long time and the different patterns of snoring which was audible was almost like a Royal Philharmonic Orchestra with someone at the drums, some at the trumpet and some simply whistled. Over the years one has got used to the spouse’s but here with such a splendid ensemble it was not possible for me to turn a deaf ear and stayed awake the whole night enjoying it to the fullest. May be the train coaches ought to be called two tier/ three tier snorers rather than sleepers.

What's in a Name?

 

I am reminded of Shakespeare's iconic quote from Romeo and Juliet "What's in a Name? That which we call a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet!" The storm in a tea cup this time around is not because this name business has anything to do with humans or flowers but with the animal kingdom and that too with the First Couple  of the Jungle, a pair of Lion and Lioness, although  technically as of now they are the First Couple of the  Siliguri Zoo. Mind you the name of the town being Siliguri has nothing to do with the silliness of the objection raised by some ultra zealous zealots, the Empress in question is ordained Sita and the Emperor is Akbar. That is sacrilege, and with such names it is an invite for the “Love Jihad” making its maiden foray in the animal kingdom as well.

Juliet in her naivete innocently enquired thus when Romeo’s Montague antecedents, and the implications thereof explained to her. Any other name would be ok, but then if Romeo was not a Montague we would have been deprived of this epic by Shakespeare. I would go on to say that love would probably not be the same if we did not have Romeo-Juliet and their desi avatars Heer-Ranjha. After all the lovers would not have anyone to swear by and look upto as their ideals in this amorous venture.  Juliet in her soliloquy puts it across so succinctly, Romeo which is not hand or foot or arm or face or any other part belonging to a man. So Akbar the Lion is just a Lion and the name has no bearing on his being a Lion, it could have been anything. Incidentally until very recently wives took on the surname of the husband after the betrothal, the practice is on the wane amongst the elites, hoi-polloi though continue with the tradition. In many communities in India the first name of the bride is also changed by the in-laws, obviously they had either not read Shakespeare or chose to ignore it being a foreign idea. 

Indians have naming ceremony, the “Namkaran samskara” as one of the sixteen samskaras mandated in Hinduism and unlike the West where they have an acute shortage of names, as is evident by their choosing the names of their fathers/grandfathers/grandmothers by merely suffixing the Second or Third or simply Junior. So we have George HW Bush Senior and George W Bush Junior, Elizabeth I & II  and now of course King Charles I II & III. In India post independence the names were generally after the freedom fighters, then Bollywood took over gradually and Vijay after Amitabh Bachhan’s screen name and Rahul after Sharukh’s became very popular. Although of late Rahul is not sought after as the other Rahul has not yet come of age. These days the youngsters resort to finding the most difficult name as long as it is unique and different, so we have the latest one to join the bandwagon “Akaya” the second progeny of “Virushka”. 

But we have digressed, this imbroglio of Sita and Akbar can be resolved by resorting to “nom de guerre", an assumed name under which a person or Lion/lioness engage in combat or some other activity(!). I think Romeo-Juliet or Heer Ranjha is quite appropriate, any takers……

Much Ado About Kurta Pyjama

 "Sacrilege!", Kurta Pyjama(KP) in Officers Mess, no way.... that is the common refrain these days. We the true inheritors of the British legacy, dyed in the wool Angrez  can't digest this change in dress, which, as has been clarified is just another dress which may be permitted and not that the Shirts and Trousers have been jettisoned altogether. As though the Jodhpurs or the Bandh Gala were not enough, now this poor cousin has dared to step into the hallowed premises of the ultimate vestige of legacy of the Raj. For the hard core Lounge Suits/Combination attired suited booted sahibs, Kurta Pyjama was always just night wear, a sleeping suit nothing more than that. Dressed in Kurta Pyjamas, the officers would be slovenly, unkempt and obviously un-officer like, is how the narrative on social media has been flooded. By and large the majority view is that this decolonisation bit is being stretched too far, as long as it was restricted to the ‘matters military’ it was still ok, though even that was with a pinch of salt, but here this one seems to be an attack at the very core of our officer-hood. First the ranks cease to be "Petty", now we have to bear this ignominy on the core of our very being. As though it is the dress which makes us what we are, else we too would be just like the common Indians and we have to be different and superior only then can we be professionals. The example of our nemesis Pakistan is often cited as they switched to Pathan Suits and apparently that is the sole reason for their downfall. May be the real worry is when Kurta Pyjamas come in can Dhoti, Mundu-Veshti be far behind?

Kurta Pyjamas are offended naturally, despite their patriotic fervour they are out of favour of the supposedly most committed and dedicated nationalists, the Indian Armed Forces. After all they too are similar to shirts and pants except that the Kurta is not tucked inside and the pyjama is tied with a string, 'nada' and not a leather belt. The whole issue actually is that we are not supposed to be comfortable as the dresses in the mess are Blue Patrol with Pouch Belts and Wellington Shoes with spurs, Ceremonial Dresses where the neck tie keeps the throat asphyxiated and open collar the only dress which has a semblance of comfort is considered a casual and informal attire. Jodhpurs passed muster because the necks there are equally well covered and are almost like a country cousin of Blue Patrol jackets. So naturally how can we suddenly decide to choose such a piece of clothing to be added to the wardrobe, this has to be shunned and the supporters need to be shown their place. One needn't worry our military bureaucracy will find ways and means of converting this too into a ceremonial attire with the complete regalia of a jacket and the exact nature of the buttons, cuffs et al.  All white for the Navy, all black for the Armoured Corps and Combat coloured for the Pongos. While the serving have to be servile about it, so it is left to the veterans to be vocal in their views and they have every reason to be cross. Since they hung their uniforms and banished them in the closet permanently, they are permanently dressed in guess what, the kurta pyjamas and familiarity breeds contempt. They simply can't accept this retrograde step. We had graduated from the KP to western attire when the British came, which was supposed to be a sign of progress. KPs are deemed to be such a strong influence that the Armed Forces are supposed to be politicised by merely choosing this attire.

Be that as it may, it is my firm conviction that the Armed Forces have rightly steered clear of any traces of politicisation over the last 75 years and I am sure the present hierarchy too has been groomed with the same ethos, so this concern of Armed Forces shunning their apolitical character is misplaced. Let us accept this change in the right spirit, wearing Kurta Pyjama  is no cardinal sin which will shunt us out of the Garden of Eden. 

AT YOUR OWN RISK

 Air travel is supposed to make our travails into joyous pleasurable and fun rides and generally that is what it is. After all we have travelled distant far flung lands  in comfort  and in good time. We in the Army can’t forget our long winded convoys moving like a giant caterpillar and spending days together in cramped buses and trucks. We were really desperate pulling out all stops to secure a seat in the Air Courier, while preferred choice was Air India/Jet Airways but even the IAF IL-76 was considered a boon. The air courier journeys themselves are worth another blog, as we had goats, sheep, chickens, dogs also as our co passengers. Once in a while we had to make do with AN-32s as well, not as sturdy as the Ilyushins but still a lot better than the  ATRs, the smaller aircrafts utilised for those circuits where the passenger traffic is not adequate for a Boeing or Air Bus. ATRs also ply on those routes where the runways are too small or the approaches too difficult for bigger aircrafts to negotiate. By now, I have you wondering as to why am I, a hard core pongo (Army guy) talking about aircrafts. 

Well well.. on 14th Feb, the Valentine’s day,  we had a little escapade with the ATRs,  just a routine flight from Indore to Jabalpur for the Corps Reunion, taking off on time in true Indigo punctual airlines fashion.But midway the Pilot was on the microphone informing about visibility at the destination being poor and that the flight was likely to be delayed by about half an hour. Total flying time was just about 50 minutes and here we were in air for almost more than two and a half hours and still with no clue about our descent. Those of us travelling without our respective Valentines felt this was the punishment reserved for us.  This was getting scary and reminded me of another day, another flight which gave the passengers the idea of what a 1000 feet free fall was like. Air Deccan, the low cost budget airline had just been launched and they offered to fly people for just Rs 1 taxes extra, this was sometime in 2006-07 sometime, we booked ourselves on a flight from Delhi to Indore. We were a large brood with nine of us, siblings and kids in tow with my granny being the oldest who was touching nineties. It seemed like a jam packed flight and the aircraft was good old ATR, thankfully there weren’t any passengers without a seat, as with such ridiculous fares you could expect people prepared to travel standing. Halfway home, there was a sudden gust of cyclone which hit Central India and before the pilots could warn us the aircraft plunged into a sudden drop of altitude by almost a 1000 feet, masks dropped and our hearts were in our mouth, some people were heard shrieking and praying but my granny was cool as cucumber totally unfazed, as though it was one of those routine affairs for her. We were concerned naturally but in dire straits, numbers also help instil some courage. Thankfully,  the pilot also managed to stabilise the aircarft and we landed at Bhopal till the pocket of turbulence in Indore improved. But mind you the aircraft on the tarmac was of no comfort as the AC was not functional and it was quite a torture spending the better part of an hour there stranded.

The Captain of this Indigo flight, a Sikh gentleman aided by his first officer a lady pilot seemed to be in total control of the situation and decided to keep circling in and around Jabalpur, till he ran short of fuel waiting for the fog to clear. He then diverted to Nagpur and landed there for refuelling and sure enough by then even weather Gods had decided to permit us to go ahead for the Reunion at Jabalpur, else a 300 km road drive would not have been very welcome and may have ended up throwing a spanner in the works. May be for flights in  ATR (At your own Risk), the Air Lines should give out the statutory warning Flying in ATRs is at your own risk’ ! 

16th Reunion Corps of Signals

 Reunions are special and for it to be successful, there must be a union first and foremost. That we all are forged into a union by one common thread or lanyard is a fact, although some of us have bid adieu to that precious string in order to merge into one big union of Indian Army. The Signallers or Jimmies as people in uniformed fraternity refer to them are celebrating their 16th Reunion at 1 Signal Training Centre Jabalpur from 14th to 16th Feb, coinciding with their 114th Raising Day. Having joined this fraternity on 13 Jun 1987 and having spent the better part of our lives amongst them, they naturally are our kith and kin even more than those by blood. 

I haven’t been fortunate enough to have been able to attend any of the previous reunions owing to service exigencies and other commitments, so this time around when the invite was extended I was not going to give it a miss despite the fact that I had to undertake this pilgrimage alone without my better half. She had to stay at home, due to some pressing family commitments. It was a difficult decision as she has been part of this journey too for the last three decades and is a die hard Jimmy herself. 

The journey was eventful to say the least as the air travel which was to be for just about an hour plus went on for almost four hours plus due to the foggy conditions prevailing in Jabalpur on 14th morning. We all had heard of Delhi fog upsetting the flight and train schedules but Jabalpur playing truant was unheard of. So the pilot circled around waiting for things to clear before diverting to Nagpur and then finally after refuelling we finally made our rendezvous with this laid back town by mid day.

While checking in at the Hotel, we immediately huddled up with  familiar faces, some friends and colleagues and the bug called nostalgia struck almost instantaneously, reliving old times, the trials and tribulations, familiar cribs against difficult bosses of those times and plenty more. Evening some of us were headed for GwariGhat and Narmada Aarti before dinner but as I am still recovering from my ruptured Achilles Tendon, I decided to give it a miss. Dinner time, we just couldn’t sit as we kept bumping into more and more friends in this swarm where everyone wanted to be catching up with everyone else present. By the time we came to the one event where I was required to be on the stage for the release of my third book, “Two Hoots and Three Cheers” by the Senior Colonel Commandant Lt Gen MU Nair, I was desperate to find a seat to rest my aching tendon. Lt Gen K Vinod Kumar, the SO-in-C was kind enough to write the Foreword for the book and also permitting the release of the book at this occasion. The drinks and snacks kept the energy levels and spirits high and some of the oldies did get on the stage later to shake a leg or two. With so much more to share with our friends and the night not getting any younger reluctantly most of us bid our hosts good night.

15th Feb  is the Corps Raising Day,  in 1911 four Signal Companies were raised in the British Indian Army, so traditionally the day commenced on a sombre note with WreathLaying Ceremony at the War Memorial. I was visiting this memorial after more than three decades and it had undergone a huge makeover, this one is unique in its concept and design. War Memorials are generally plaques of stones etched with the names of the brave hearts who have made the supreme sacrifice in the line of duty. But this one is much more than that, it encompasses a complete story of the soldier and his tryst with destiny and death. The murals almost lifelike and the murals of soldiers in ‘shok shastra’ (reversed arms) seem to be immersed in the poignant moment. Every petal of flower which is laid at their feet must be considering itself the chosen one and fortunate to have been bestowed the honour for this tribute. 

With a heavy heart, we moved to the Military Tattoo ground where the hosts ensured that our moods would get into the festive spirit, with some breathtaking stunts by our Daredevils the Motorcycle Riders who have made hair-raising stunts a routine affair going on breaking World Records as though they are old gramophone ones. They maintained their impeccable record by  establishing yet another one by smashing, hold your breath 691 tube lights in a single dash through them. Lt Gen Anand an old Daredevil himself, took it upon himself to execute a fire jump even though he is in his sixties. Kudos to him and the spirit of the Daredevils, living up to their reputation. Taek-won-do, though a martial art is also a sport and our Signallers are earning laurels in national and international fora, here their expertise was on display for all of us, as they executed many a gravity defying stunts. The microlights flypast and paratroopers free fall into the stadium ensured that Jimmies were trailblazing even in the third dimension.   Bhangra and Lezim dances provided the rhythm while the Pipes and Drums Bands enthralled us with their lilting tunes.

The evening dinner was preceded by a Symphony where the Band continued from where it had left off in the morning, the fusion of Indian and British tunes played so beautifully that we transcended into a different realm altogether. So much so that even our nonstop chattering had to cease as the ears refused to entertain anything other than the melodious tunes in the air. It was midnight by the time we hit the sack, dog tired but sleep still eluded us as we were still in that zone itself.

16th morning we again commenced in true military manner with Commemoration ceremony honouring our brave hearts who have made us and the nation proud by their gallantry in various operations including the recent OP Snow Leopard and some as old as in the seventies in the North-East against the hostiles.  Some were posthumous some others although in their eighties but still spirited enough to make it to this event  and honour us with their presence. After the Commemoration I took the opportunity to visit our Corps Museum, which I daresay is amongst the better managed and curated in our Army than most other Regimental Museums are. Professionally done, it provided us with a glimpse of our rich historical legacy and a proud one at that. It covered the operations, the evolution of communications, the equipments and the glorious achievements of our corps in the field of sports and adventure as well. I took a moment and had a photograph taken in front of ‘DRONA’, the legendary lorried communication vehicle of second world war vintage which had seen operations in Middle East with 43 Lorried Brigade Signals, my unit, the “Airway Signals” in Kashmir, Hyderbad, Goa and Pakistan before finally being retired.

The Equipment Display which followed was a testimony to the innovative spirit and ingenuity of our signallers who have been at the forefront of technological revolution unfolding in the Indian Army. We were reassured that the Corps will only march ahead in the days to come under the able helmsmanship.

Adieu, sayonara are always the most distressing moments after such occasions and here I am embarking on my return journey, expressing my gratitude to the hosts for having provided us veterans with this opportunity to relive our days and rekindle our associations. Au Revoir…until we meet again!! 

Khela Hobe

"Khela Hobe" let the game begin, and the game set and match was won hands down by Didi last time around. But the game is far from over, may be it has just begun. Political games, strategic games, war games are played more on the mind and in the mind than in the battlefield. Come election time and the games of political parties of all hues begin, right from the time of seat distribution, where they have to checkmate the rival aspirants, to evolving strategies to keep his core voter base and poach on the challenger's is the key to winning this round. This game remains the same, the canvas grows bigger from panchayat to national level and then onto even international level.

Eric Berne in his classic, "Games People Play" has covered the psychological aspects of our behavioural traits. These games translate into bigger games when nations are at it but principle remains the same, the objective too remains the same our minds. 

During the Raj, Afghanistan was where the ‘big game’ was being played between the British and Russians, the times changed, but even after a century the arena remained the same, just the empires changed. What exactly is this game that people keep referring to? Obviously it is not a sport but it is more than that, a blood sport without actually drawing any blood except when it inevitably ends up causing bloodshed as a consequence. All the wars were a result of these games.  Incidentally during the Raj even hunting of wild animals was “big game”, this murderous penchant called shikar ended up rendering many a species extinct thus endangering the environment as well.  

Here we are concentrating on mind games, on a gigantic chess board, where every move invites a counter move and the maverick knight who can move two and a half steps is the one to watch out for. I wonder how many of you can recall Mr RajNarain, a former minister in the Janta Party who humbled the mighty sitting PM Mrs Indira Gandhi at the hustings in 1977. A man devoted to  former PM Chaudhry Charan Singh, who has recently  been awarded Bharat Ratna posthumously. Raj Narain was the one who can even be blamed for the imposition of Emergency indirectly, as it was his petition against Mrs Gandhi which resulted in her disqualification by Allahabad High Court and prompted her to impose Emergency. There was no public bugle call for the sport to begin then, but the game was deadly as it changed the course of history of our country.

India is supposed to be where Chess originated, known as Chaturang in ancient times, although we as a nation took leave of our strategic sense for more than a millennium, thus ending up under foreign domination. It is only now when Vishwanathan Anand brought back glory as the World Champion in Chess that there are host of other young grandmasters, with Praggnanandhaa being the latest and probably the brightest, who have dominated the world of Chess again. May be it is renaissance for our strategic sense as well. China is supposed to have a strong strategic culture and Indians were supposed to be lacking in this department at least until about a decade or so back, some of us would like to believe that. Americans are the ones who were reported to have made this observation, and typically their strategic sense is quite obvious as has been seen in Afghanistan or Vietnam. Their games unfortunately may appear strategic but in the long run turn out to be highly short sighted and end up being disastrous. Indians are synonymous with Elephants, for their slow progress but mind you our sense of Strategy is not for a decade or two but it is for a millennia or more, after all each of our Yug, Sat, Treta, Dwapar and now Kalyug have millions of years between them. The cosmic game is on I wonder if the trinity of Brahma, Vishnu and Mahesh too indulge in this game, where we are just puppets dancing to their tunes.

Turncoats

 We are still in a state of euphoria with the Pran Pratishthan (consecration) ceremony of Ram ji and guess who has stolen the thunder, our very own Sushasan Babu. His record breaking feat of switching alliances has no parallels in the annals of history. Ram jane how many times more we have to endure this or may be even Ram ji may not know, one wonders. 

There are a number of social media memes doing the rounds, one of the best is, India has moved from SIM portability to  CM portability, the CM stays the same, the service providers change. In the 60s with the frequent floor crossings by legislators, the idiom "Aya Ram Gaya Ram" was coined, as the member himself was not sure whether he was joining or leaving the political party. Such party hopping is quite common amongst the youngsters especially on weekends when they have a number of parties going on simultaneously and their absence from these dos would get noticed, so they resort to this trick. The aim being that their friends should know that the person concerned was present so just make your presence felt and then you can conveniently disappear to appear somewhere else. The politicians of course have no such compulsions, their explanations are always utopian in concept but dystopian in nature,  it ultimately boils down to their political survival. 

The old idiom of why did the chicken cross the road now can be re-framed to "Why did Nitish Kumar change his political affiliation?" The obvious answer to that would be "To Stay in power" but the variations could be "To save democracy", "For the sake of secularism", "To serve the poor", To root out corruption", "To bring an end to goonda raj" and so on...., depending on which side was he headed. His secretary could pick and choose any of the options without even bothering to refer back. 

Turncoats obviously originated in the country where they wore coats.For example, in the British Civil War during the 17th century, Cromwell's soldiers turned their coats inside out to match the colors of the Royal army. Incidentally these rolling stones are in august company as even Churchill switched sides but he is obviously not a patch on our very own, as he could do that just once and here we can boast of a record five times. May be coats are not the coutre of choice and dhotis can be worn any which way, it's identical, hence frequent changes doesn't cause any concern to anyone.  We have had late Ramvilas Paswan or currently Ramdas Athavale, both managed to be in the ruling combo be it NDA or UPA, with no qualms of ideology bothering their conscience or their electorate either.Politics is the art of the possible does not require any further proof. 

Indian democracy follows first past the post which has its own pitfalls and on top of that our caste conundrum makes our brand of democracy very different and unique. So principles and ideology are not the prime movers for allegiances to political parties, power is, and naturally politicians gravitate towards power centres. Defections surprisingly are not considered defective but is exploited rather as an effective means to the end. The Anti Defection Law which was enacted in the 80s left so many loopholes that there are only holes in it now, the loops have simply disappeared. The speaker wields enormous powers as was evident recently in Maharashtra, discard the incumbent, elect the pliant one and you have successfully trumped the system. 

I think the only way to ensure foolproof system would be to make it mandatory for the member to resign from his seat as he was elected for a different mandate and he should not be permitted to switch sides irrespective of the numbers game i.e. even if all the members belonging to the party wish to defect, they must be simply disqualified.. But mind you here we have had members resigning as they wanted to switch sides like what transpired in Karnataka some years ago, obviously not out of respect for the democratic traditions but for reasons best known to all of us. The solution obviously lies with us, the voters we must punish the turncoats, it can't be business as usual... neither forgetting nor forgiving.