TEN LOST CARTRIDGE CASES

After having successfully completed almost 52 weeks of training we the motley group of the Eightieth regular course at Dehradun were about to embark on the toughest challenge which was the culmination of all that our worthy instructors tried to  literally drill it into us, Camp Chindits. The camp is reported to be amongst the toughest in the world for trainee cadets. We were eagerly looking forward to this  challenge, after all we had to prove to ourselves as also the authorities that be that " we have it in us" and the academy had been successful in making men out of the young lads who had ventured on to this glorious path.

Dehradun is nestled amidst the Shivaliks, an idyllic abode for old fogies, the hills and the dry river beds together with the scorching​Sun  in peak summer months are quite a deadly combination . The camp actually is a misnomer as there is very little camping, as the common perception of camp is a leisurely​activity to getaway from the routine monotonous humdrum  of everyday life, instead we indulge in number of route marches and certain other tactical training activities. One of them is firing, during the training we are taught the finer nuances of firing from all kinds of personal weapons, rifles, pistols, machine guns, small mortars and even rocket launchers. One such exercise is called GolaBari literally meaning just " firing" but it is not just ordinary firing, it is the complete armoury at the disposal of an infantry battalion duly supported by artillery and even tanks which opens up, to give the gentlemen cadets a glimpse of the might of a full fledged attack. It is definitely not recommended for the faint hearted, we actually got goose bumps ourselves, when we went through with this experience.

So for this exercise, we were nominated to fire from the light machine gun, a 100 rounds each, while the others had to stay content with the rifles and mere 30 rounds each. We started of by first collecting the ammunition,filled our magazines and then went berserk just poofed up the ammunition. All the guns blazing simultaneously was thrilling, after all this was the first such occasion for all of us. All the scenes from those world war movies that we had seen and imagined ourselves as the heroes, the experience​ was  surreal. After the euphoria, it was the drudgery of collecting the empty  fired cases of ammunition, which had to be ensured and brought us back to the mother earth from Hollywood. Since I had fired a 100 rounds I had to account for 100 fired cases as well, well I could collect just 90 of them. I searched everywhere, the ground sheet which could have hidden  them in its folds, the bushes in the vicinity where they could have flown off, these cartridge cases are not needle sized and the shiny brass  should have given away their location; summoned all the course mates to join me in this mission, but alas there was absolutely no trace . Panic was setting in,  loss of a simple cartridge case invites sever disciplinary action,here I couldn't account for 10 of them, trouble was staring me in the face. I could imagine the look of disbelief on the faces of our Company commander and Directing staff when I would actually report the matter. With prayer on my lips mustering all my courage I reported the loss, suddenly there was a hush, even the birds seemed to have stopped chirping. I was asked to repeat what I had just said, then they took over, firing was ceased, we were asked to form groups and swarm the complete area and search on our haunches, closer to mother earth, less chances of missing them. Three or four DSs meanwhile went down to the ammunition point and carried out a physical count of all the rounds fired and empty cartridge cases deposited. To everyone's relief the figures tallied.

But sure enough I could not be let off so easily, so the DSs descended on me and there was no form of punishment barring corporal, which I was spared from ....... I was literally bleeding from every pore, but I had no cribs and was immensely grateful to the DS body for resolving the issue,or so I thought. There were some more twists in this tale awaiting me.

The next event was the Josh run back to the academy, being the CSM, I was expected to ensure the Company signed off in style. We ran back carrying some additional packs and rifles when some of our comarades were too fatigued. On reporting back I was again summoned, I presumed I would be expected to carry on from where I left off,next round of punishments, but what awaited me shook the earth beneath me. My Company commander, Maj (later Brig) RGK Divekar, a para sapper,asked me to have a seat, I knew then and there, I was in trouble, nobody sits in the Company office except during that perfunctory interview,which itself is a misnomer. That is hardly an interview,it is just a series of dressing downs that are handed down with some expletives thrown in for effect. But this had to be way above all that, he even offered me a glass of water, the suspense was killing me. He was probably trying to soften the blow, so he began by asking me about my family,RIMC,NDA and other issues in the academy, then suddenly he blurted out, "Sometimes it is better not to get what you desire and went on to elaborate that passing out later could be beneficial to me in the long run"  . I tried to ask him about the physical count of the ammunition which was carried out at the camp site, he was evasive. He said a Court of Inquiry had been   ordered    and wished me the best, reassuring me that the Company will stand by me in this ordeal, but could not promise anything at that juncture.

Shell shocked still dazed I walked into the office of Capt (now Lt Gen and Central Army Commander) BS Negi, seeing my state, he asked me to sit, those of us who have had the privilege of being under his tutelage will understand, what I am about to narrate. We all were mortally scared of him, he carried such a reputation of being extremely tough with the Gentlemen cadets, we had been at the receiving end on a number of occasions. But at that moment, he gave  a patient hearing to  all my pleas of innocence and finally assured me that not just the Company even the Battalion commander had decided to take up cudgels on my behalf, should push come to shove. But the situation was grim, that was a  fact. That could not be belied.

The court of Inquiry commenced and my statement was recorded with line of cross questions laying the blame on me for not having been careful in handling ammunition, how could I not notice that there were only 90 rounds issued in place of 100 as authorised. All the evidence pointed that I  had collected 100 and fired them but lost the 10 cartridge cases as alleged. I did not have anything to substantiate my statement. The ammunition NCO too was summoned for his statement, he simply reiterated that I had deposited 10 less cartridge cases. I did not get an opportunity to cross question him, not aware of Army Rule 22, where the accused has the right to cross question the witnesses. The verdict did not appear to be favourable, I was to blame for carelessness, which could not be refuted.

The ordeal had just begun, the Passing out parade was approaching, parents were invited and had got their tickets booked. With situation looking hopeless, I had no option but to write to them, trying to explain the entire episode, with worst case scenario, where I may end up losing a term.....so no POP...There were no telephones, probably a blessing in disguise else it would have simply added to the stress. My parents, though civilians could understand the gravity of the situation, my father had been in the NCC, that helped. I received a very reassuring response, where he asked me not to lose hope and keep my faith in the Almighty. Their plans for the trip to Dehradun were not being altered and naturally they would pray for me. A  valuable lesson for today's parents, of being the support to your kids without adding to the stresses that the youngsters face as it is.

The wait was killing but I had no option, I was told the Court of Inquiry had been put up to the Deputy Commandant, so was dreading the summons for a march up any moment. As the POP day was nearing, hoping against hope that I might just be let off, after all the authorities could not be so heartless, so near yet so far.... Then there were naysayers who would recount stories of last day relegations in previous terms for lesser offences. Keeping my fingers crossed, I put on a brave face but within I was terribly scared, the mere thought of spending six more months training at IMA was anathema. I was a Signals optee and was assured of getting my choice of arm, by virtue of being in the first block and generally perceived to be at the head of the pack amongst the future Jimmies. But in those moments of despair I just hoped to pass out even if I was last in the merit and landed up in any arm or service as long as I passed out on 13 Jun 87.

Well the parents arrived with my siblings in tow, since no summons were received, I presumed that I was forgiven this lapse and all was well, afraid of rekindling the issue, I did not query even the Directing staff of the outcome. Suddenly on 12th Jun, I received a message that the Deputy Commandant was looking for me, I immediately did the disappearing act, reappearing straight for the POP next morning and finally the " antim pag", (which Preeti, my better half rightly says, should be the "Pratham pag",after all that is the beginning of our professional career), was taken and we moved onto the battalion offices to receive our respective posting orders, my Battalion commander Col Padmanabhan, an Air OP pilot, summoned me inside and asked me if I had met the Deputy yesterday, when I replied in the negative. He just added that for all practical purposes i had been awarded 15 days Gatings (punishment!) and a  Battalion Routine Order to that effect had been published, which I may not have been aware of. The sincere prayers of my parents were answered!

I have often wondered as to how did I manage to come out literally unscathed from this imbroglio? Was it due to the fact that I had an exemplary record in discipline or was it because of my performance in the last about an year, which tilted things in my favour, or the Directing staff of the battalion  rose to defend my case, when it mattered, or was it just the ambiguity associated with the role played by the Ammunition NCO or may be all these factors together and some luck ....frankly there is no way to know what actually transpired there. But it drove home the most valuable lifelong lesson for me,  the Almighty will surely come to bail you out if you have been honest in your efforts all through, a bits and pieces work of excellence doesn't help. 

BALKAR THE WATER -MAN

Balkar, the Water-man, was at his usual spot at this time of the day, I always wondered how did he synchronise his arrival with such precision; which always got him here immediately after we finished our lunch on the portico in the mess overlooking the very picturesque Shamshabari Ranges.  A neat yellow turban tied more like the Kashmiri headgear, trimmed beard, a disarming playful smile, upright posture and short quick steps were his characteristic attributes. He carried his spanner as though it was his personal weapon, a rifle, the most prized possession of a soldier.  Yes a soldier he had been in another era perhaps, but he will always a remain a soldier come what may, his retirement cannot take away his right.  It was evident from the deferential treatment he gave to his spanner.  He oiled it and cleaned it on Saturdays, the maintenance day, opening all the nuts and bolts, ensuring it was  serviceable in a manner which would have made any soldier proud of his weapon. 

He had become a part and parcel of this place, the saplings he had planted and guarded had become gigantic trees.  The water point which he looked after, was the same, the water tank was the same and so was the source, the stream he had come to love as though his own mother.  He did not remember when did he come here, nor could he remember his exact age but that did not bother him.  He remembered that in another era, he had been to the Middle East and also to Europe, a soldier, one amongst the many unsung ones.  He considered himself very fortunate as he had participated in the world war as we called it; for him it was just another war, but also that he was one of the first soldiers to have landed in Kashmir to thwart the Pakistani raiders. An injured right shoulder saw him get invalided out of the army but the only bitterness he felt was that he missed the chance to be part of action ever again.

Balkar was born in Jammu district and could hardly recall his childhood, for him the life began when he joined the Army as a raw recruit.  He did not have a home he could call his own, he was the sole survivors of the floods that ravaged his village.  Not knowing what exactly to do, he wandered into Jammu and joined a queue which he later realised was for recruitment.  He never regretted it, in fact he got involved in the Army life so much so that he managed to erase the memories of that flood and its aftermath.  His company commander a British officer once asked him why didn’t he ever go on leave, to which he replied by counter questioning ‘Saab! Where do you go on leave?’ Not used to such a response, he however managed to mutter ‘home obviously’.  ‘This unit is my home Saab’, where do I go Saab.  The officer was nonplussed.

After having seen and observed him for couple of months, I called him over,       ‘Sat Sri Akal Saab’, yellow turbaned, spanner in hand Balkar was in front of me.  I was curious, that he could see, he warmed up and got talking.  I asked him as to how did he come to this god forsaken place, obviously he did not belong here.  He confided in me with a twinkle in his cataracted eyes and the wrinkles almost disappeared as he blushed, crimson all over, he had fallen in love here. A lass had got him hooked, the only time he did get involved in his life.  Obviously he wasn’t lucky but nevertheless, on his discharge, he knew this is the place where he would spend the rest of his life.  Spanner in hand, he once again saluted me and off he went to the water point, with the refrain "Saabji Time Ho Gaya’ Pani Chhodne Ka”.                   

In laws Out laws

In laws out laws!!
I think it was Reader's Digest which used to have this feature where some interesting and amusing anecdotes were recounted bringing a smile on most of our faces. As bachelors, these features only strengthened our resolve to stay the course and not get tied down literally(!). Oh those days and of course nights of gay abandon when we were the lord and masters of our royal abodes. Anyway ... This is not the occasion to lament my loss of bachelorhood but to celebrate .... Yes it is time for Sir Cliff Richard ......"Congratulations and celebrations......." After all it is the Golden Jubilee celebrations of my in laws who actually should be Outlaws because they have not lived up to the stereotyped image of the wily scheming in laws, that we have seen in umpteen number of Bollywood movies. Hence the "sobriquet '' : in laws who have not lived up to the traditional image of in laws.
Actually it all started in a very unconventional manner, the parents decided that we should be a couple, no that was quite routine just that both the set of parents have been friends and colleagues for almost two decades. So uncle and aunt of yesterday transformed into father and mother in law, not the usual strangers assuming this mantle on the nupital night.
The only thing out of the ordinary was I was the odd one out, as the rest of them had been neighbours, friends, colleagues, class mates etc etc...... I was missing in action having been bundled out to Dehradun as a young lad all of eleven.
Getting back to the golden Jubilee couple..... Well we have been blessed and the almighty had been extremely kind to us that the set of parents who are my in laws have been no different from my own parents....... Whether it was affection or support the fountain was always over flowing in fact our misdemeanours were simply ignored for us to realise on our own. Ma in law has been pampering us no end by feeding us with delicacies and always showering her love and affection. A homemaker par excellence she has held the extended family together and has instilled the right values in her daughters who have gone on strive for this perfection in their own ways in their respective families.
There are a number of sterling qualities of Pa in law, an all rounder who has been a career educationist spent his life time teaching zoology not content he went ahead and wrote quite a few text books which were quite popular as there weren't many authors who wrote quality science text books in Hindi. He has been actively involved in working with a NGO EKLAVYA which has been rendering yeoman service in the tribal areas of the state by teaching science in a unique non formal manner utilising the tools and ancillaries which can easily be created by kids on their own. I can go on about his accomplishments in the field of education but he is endowed with a multi dimensional personality so apart from his chosen field he is an ornithologist "bird watcher" for the uninitiated and that explains his phenomenal patience. He is equally adept at outdoor activities having indulged in Tennis and Badminton in his younger days. In the later years he trekked a little attempting the Narmada parikrama too. A naturopathy enthusiast he even converted me getting me to try out the regimen for a week. As a parent, a sibling, a son he has donned each of these roles to perfection.
Always a professor at heart he is most comfortable explaining things in a myriad number of ways till the student has no choice left but to concede the game set and match.......
Together they are a formidable combination the old man is still young at heart and his youthful looks only add to the charm, his better half an ageless beauty..........as a couple they are the epitome of grace and role model for the youngsters.... May these golden years turn to diamond and onto platinum........ Amen!

Right to Education

The landscape in Rajasthan is beautiful only if you have an eye for the desert.  In the wilderness, virgin sand dunes a-la-Lawrence of Arabia are not found everywhere.

 There are specific hamlets where these are being preserved for tourist attraction.
The people are simple, rustic and living in the pre industrial age, small ‘Dhanis’ every km or so, some sort of agriculture where the main crop is millets.  Life  is not complicated, a son grows up looking after animals, may visit an occasional school, more as a ritual, than for any quest for knowledge or growth.

By 14-15, he is of a marriageable age, the bride is still 8-10, illiterate but adept at house hold requirements.  The fact that she has not attained maturity dose not concur anyone.
The Camel carts, dhanis and sand dunes have a rustic charms, which instantly appeals to us urban people.  Colourfully attired, bangled, veiled, ghaghra choli clad ladies are physically strong; but the desert does take its toll and they          age early.

All this is fine, but what sets me thinking is, the lack of growth, in real terms, this part of the country seems to be still caught up in medieval times.          A village, by the road side, but has no electricity, that too when power lines pass through the village simply ignoring them.  I wonder, if it would be appropriate to leave them, as they are, happy in their present state, or should we force them to adopt a life style alien to them, the urban way of life.  After all, the cities are not far or in distant lands, means of transport are available, but if they prefer to stay where they are and in the state they are they must be happy that way.

An argument, which may not find many takers, growth does not mean abandoning the villages, simply, the basic amenities must be available even in the villages.  But these have to be tailor made for villages, so that they do not upset their life,         for example, if a child has to take his livestock for grazing so be it, school timings need to be modified to suit his availability.  Obviously, you can’t expect his parents to undertake grazing, they may have other jobs and more importantly, in their way of life, it is natural for children to take live stock for grazing.  They find this ok and do not think that this practise needs to be changed.  So, timings need to be changed, with snacks/ meals as added attraction.

What about syllabi?  The syllabus which is prescribed for CBSE/ ICSE, will not only be boring and dull, but also completely at a variance from their needs.  The three Rs(Reading wRiting &; aRithmetic) are a must, but these also must merge with their day to day activities.  The language, ought to be their own dialect, it is their mother tongue, they are more comfortable with it, may be gradually they could move to Hindi or Hindustani.
Education cannot be structured, it has to be all encompassing, stories from their historical sagas can be included, geography should focus on their village and vegetation in the vicinity. Festivals, mythology will also interest most of the kids.
Animal husbandry and fundamentals of agriculture are an absolute must. Some basic trade training such as carpentry, masonry or smithy could be included during the high school. Sports and physical fitness are essential and must form part of the curriculum. Theory exams may be done away with at least in the initial years. Oral and practical exams however should be held to ascertain the levels of comprehension.  The aim should be to ignite the spark of learning, to enable them to pursue further.  Even primary level schools should cater for some children of middle and beyond, in case distance prevents them from pursuing further studies.  In short the system will need to be highly flexible to accommodate each and every child.
Education may not even be class room bound, may be better outdoors, but this requires dedication which an ordinary school master may not possess.  So NGOs have to come forward, because education is the key to growth and progress.  By simply making it a fundamental right and passing a bill in the parliament, things will not change.          

Demon - itisation

"Demonetisation" was the new word introduced in the lexicon of the masses since 8th Nov when PM made that "disruptive/ path-breaking"address to the nation, taking the citizens by surprise. The initial reactions by and large were positive with people admiring the guts and the intent of the PM, however with the passage of time, the enormity of it all with almost 85% of the currency in circulation being declared invalid, dawned on most of us. The long winding never ending queues reminded us of the sixties and seventies when these queues were normally outside ration shops, for the controlled issue of sugar, kerosene and other food grains were the prizes. For the oldies it was deja vu, but the youngsters, the eighties and beyond generation had not seen any such queues anywhere, for them it was naturally quite a shock.

The devil here was in the detail and in the root of the word itself, ie the etymology "demon - itisation", with a demon to start it all it had to be fraught with challenges galore. The origin of the word can be traced back to 1852, from French démonétisation, from démonetiser, and over the past century and a half this trick has been resorted to quite a few times within  India itself, this was the third occasion for such an exercise.Well all this was trivia and though some of you may find it interesting, the major issue with the sudden and acute shortage of currency was day to day subsistence for the common man. 
All of a sudden he was expected to migrate to a digital economy ie the other side of the digital divide, mind you this was herculean by even ordinary standards, expecting fellow citizens to follow rules, you must be joking (!); In India where road rage has always been the rage and rules were always meant to be broken, to expect them to suddenly turn a new "digital leaf" from 9th Nov morning, well.....Namo is helluva optimist(!)
Sure enough there were naysayers, the political parties with loads of cash in their treasure chests, the hawala operators and even the small time businessmen not used to declaring their income were all hit in the gut. Indian ingenuity in breaking the rules and finding a short cut can not be surpassed so sure enough, it was the bankers' turn this time around and they wanted to rake it in and boy they really killed it while we demonetised. 
The serpentine queues would keep on growing and media was having a field day reporting on all the disruption, inconvenience  and the unfortunate deaths which occurred in these two months. But surprise of surprise, there were no demonstrations, burning down of ATMs, banks, or destruction of public property which is the norm for all kinds of protests. So was the mango man actually supporting this revolutionary step or was it that he was too engrossed in trying to ensure the next meal for his family. 

Well actually the men and women on the street are rather smart because even after the D day they continued to trade in the demonetised currency as confirmed to me by an ola cab driver, the vegetable vendors, the maids, the washerman as they were aware that they could exchange these hard-earned notes from the banks whenever they wanted before 31 Dec. Moreover they are used to living on credit even otherwise. So who was really effected and who was crying the loudest .... Obviously it was not the poor. But that does not mean that the step was a huge success as it is evident the economy has been hit, as of now it may appear to be short term but we will get to know in the days to come......

By now the queues have disappeared, the e wallet companies have made their moolah and we are back to the normal cash economy 😁😁

Buddy the Lab

“ Oh you brute you have dug up the lawn once again”, the all too familiar admonishment that our Labrador Retriever was being subjected to. He was at his tricks as usual digging up for some space where he can find solace in the lap of mother earth, which we city dwellers have denied him. You can’t blame him after all, that is his very nature, he is a retriever and has to literally dig things out. Anyway he has been at loggerheads with my better half ever since he arrived at our place, with cleanliness and hygiene as her mantras, a pet was always an anathema for her. She successfully warded off any attempts by me earlier. Like a well trained spouse I did not venture anywhere near a pet lest I might commit sacrilege and invite her wrath. “Hell hath no fury like a woman .....”

Kids of course are not dithered by any such pretensions. My daughter, the apple of our eye had been pestering us for quite a while. Eventually we had to give in when our son moved out to pursue his dreams after his high school and we relocated to the salubrious environs of Wellington. There was adequate peer pressure to put any other thoughts to rest, as every household boasted of pets, with some as many as three to four of them. So to keep up with the Jones I homed on to a Lab as it was supposed to be the friendliest of breeds and having consulted some friends of ours who were experts in canine matters. “Let sleeping dogs lie” goes the age old adage; throwing caution to the winds I am about to reignite the whole debate on Buddy our very own lab, christened so by who else but our dear Anu, my daughter . Well, he was all of 45 odd days but  a real bundle of energy, very playful and always up to some mischief. 

  The lady of the house ordained that he be kept in the garage, despite all our protestations and pleading that is exactly where he stayed all through our Wellington days with his entry within the precincts strictly prohibited. The poor thing had no choice but to get used to it. The advantage from his part was that he had the garden to himself which he ruined to his heart’s content, did not spare the lawn either with littering the place up with his sh*t all over, which even the safaiwalas refused to clean up. Finally we had to sacrifice one Sunday morning, forego my round of golf and instead wield the shovel to clean up the mess. It was of course quite a task to keep him from repeating it, by ensuring that he was taken out almost every two hours to prevent him from getting tempted at easing himself.

Dogs grow up real fast within six months he was almost the size of an adult, he had a delicate stomach, something which made him belong to us even more as even I have a very sensitive digestive system. He did not take to pedigree, well, actually that was quite a relief as pedigree costs quite a packet. So he had to be fed our normal diet, which is vegetarian, here the maternal instincts came to the fore, she was not going to deprive this child his chicken just because we were vegetarians at home. So a special Rice cooker was purchased and kept in the garage itself, where chicken was cooked for him by our sahayak and boy, he relished every bit of it. Buddy was blessed to have feasted on another exotic fruit which most people in India may not have even heard of leave alone eating it, Avocado!

We had a tree laden with avocado in the premises and there is only a finite quantity that we could consume including the delicious desserts which Preeti prepared with these avocados. I had relished them as salads only during my stint at Cote d’Ivoire during UN peacekeeping. So he got to play with them and have them when he got tired of playing.

Once we were raided by a group of simians, boy it was a sight Buddy getting terrified as these monkeys really had fun chasing him around, he turned tail and sought refuge in the garage. Wellington had plenty of wild life to offer, on yet another occasion, it was the turn of bisons who simply came and sat right at our gates, once again he got so scared that he simply refused to step out of his abode till the bisons decided to move on. There were snakes too and one such specimen was often around, we had to resort to planting some saplings of “Marwa mogra” in the four corners of the house, which act as repellents for these reptiles and thank God they seem to have worked as the visits then stopped.

His favourite pastime was to sneak out and land up at the Commandants house which was in the neighbourhood, which naturally had me worried lest the General take it amiss, especially as he owned the female species of lab. I wonder, if the offence then would have been “your dog stealing brother officers’ female dog’s affection”!! It was a quite a challenge getting him back from there with both me and my daughter as also my sahayak, all three of us trying to coax him and even resorting to bribing him by offering a generous dose of dog biscuits and bones. Once he decided to follow me to the college premises chasing me as I was in the car, I was oblivious of this my hapless better half along with the sahayak had to literally run after him lest he gets overrun in his playful enthusiasm and it took all their skills and stamina as also of the guards there to get hold of his collar and tie him up.

 Soon it was time to say adieu to Wellington and the huge mansion of a house that we made most of and we were circumspect about our luck as Secunderabad, where we were headed, we were not going to get any official accommodation, which naturally meant, moving into flats, as that is what the admissible HRA could provide us with. But this dog was lucky and we have to grant it to him, as we came across an elderly banker couple who were also dog lovers who rented their independent dwelling with adequate space around, to us once they got to know about Buddy. The beat part was that they were due to retire in Dec and were scheduled to shift into the premises themselves. But very generously they permitted us to stay there till Apr, when we were due out.

It was in Secunderabad that this guy had a freak out time, as he was still not permitted entry within, he stayed in the verandah near the staircase, from  where he would sneak out at night through the fence and chase the stray dogs and pigs, which we discovered when my son (when he was home for a holiday) heard him yelping in the middle of the night outside our gate. On one such occasion he even lost his bachelorhood subsequently. It was soon time for us to move on to Delhi, so we could not keep track of his progeny there....

I have always wondered what must a dog be thinking that is if they do that, when we move from one place to other, when we are separated for a few days, whether he will get to see us again, how long will we be gone and so on..... the answers were obvious at the joy expressed by his expressions, his wildly wagging tail and his hug whenever we get back after a short sojourn or vacation anywhere. It took a while in Delhi for his luck to brighten up again, as initially for about a month and a half, we had to stay in a two room temporary guest house and that too in a multi-storeyed building. He was definitely not comfortable there but the silver lining was that he had finally got an entry into the house as he could not be kept anywhere outside. He made the most of it by moving right under our bed and that is where he stayed ever since.  But soon we were allotted a two bed room hostel accommodation which thankfully was on ground floor. So he again had a full courtyard to himself to play around and laze around in the Sun.  

He is all of eight now, having accompanied me to Ranchi and back to Delhi, currently holed up in a flat again, quite frustrated as he often sneaks out keeping us on our toes.  There have been those occasional fracas with the strays here, on one occasion he even got the better of a German Shepherd in a “dog fight”, made me very proud, as it was the German Shepherd who pounced on him but he deftly manoeuvred and caught him, it took me , my daughter and a stranger to disentangle them. He was rewarded by a generous dose of dog biscuits for his quick reaction and reflexes. As I am keying this in, he is right here waiting for me to finish so that we can take post dinner stroll...........so I sign off!

THE ANNUAL BUDGET EXERCISE

India is glued to the TV when there are Cricket matches, election results and for the budget speech by the Finance Minister. While each one of us is an expert when it comes to Cricket with special comments and loads of advice for Indian Captains concerning all the departments of the game, elections come naturally to the "argumentative Indian", the long winding acrimonious debates are the spice of pre and post election analysis, but when it comes to the budget, despite our focused attention most of us are clueless about the ramifications of this yearly ritual. But that by no means acts as a dampener and we religiously hear every word uttered by the "Kubera", the mythological God of Wealth, our very own Finance Minister.

The Current and Fiscal account deficits, the FDI and FIIs GST are all terms which we keep hearing all the time but don't understand and yet we are all ears. The only major thing which interests a salaried middle class person is the Income Tax slabs, as that pinches directly, even after exhausting all possible tax saving options one ends up coughing out minimum three months equivalent of the annual gross pay package... that hurts and hurts bad. The indirect taxes also effect us but the impact is not felt immediately and is thus more subdued. There are expectations each year that this time the salaried middle class will get its due attention, the only class of people which are brutally honest tax compliant (they have no choice!), in an otherwise non tax compliant nation, as admitted by the man who controls the purse strings himself.

In the past there have been honest Finance ministers, Yashwant Sinha for example who did admit that "middle class does not vote and hence they don't count for much", even though they contribute a lot by being the largest consumers thus driving the growth in the economy and of course filling up the empty coffers by the TDS ( Tax deducted at Source). In India we have been blessed with Finance Minsters who were as clueless as the general pubic is about finances, Charan Singh for example decided to put even bathing soaps in the luxury goods (!). But since Dr Manmohan Singh assumed the mantle as the Finance Minster in 1991 Narsimha Rao govt and bailed us out of the looming debt crisis, by and large the portfolio has been handled by more professional parliamentarians.

The other thing which interests most of us is the cost of daily use items, such as smartphones, refrigerators, TVs, cars and two wheelers, rail fare and so on. 

Finance minsters or their babus have a knack of camouflaging taxes as surcharges and levies which somehow become a permanent fixture, at least I haven't  heard of any of them being repealed once introduced. Despite all this jugglery the assets and liabilities are balanced rather precariously with the threat of Damocles sword of Fed rate hike or oil price hike omnipresent to leave things in a mess.

Our domestic finances on the contrary are pretty well managed with the purse strings strictly controlled by the ladies, with no profligacy and with adequate caution, we have been managing to sail through year after year for the three decades in my case and I am sure same is the case with most of us. I wonder why nobody has ever thought of this brilliant idea as yet, is the PM listening ;). He did listen probably and appointed Niramala ji, but things haven't improved much, I wonder!!! May be the RBI Governor or the Finance Secretary or both may be entrusted to them...then .......