Moksha in the Toilets of NDA

Those were the days when, toilets were simply called  "Toilet" and not the polished, refined and politically correct term in vogue these days "Wash room", as though by merely calling it by any other name, the activities undertaken there would undergo a sea change !In today's day and age when the honourable Prime Minister himself has been at the forefront of the Cleanliness drive spearheaded by large scale construction of these very abominable(!) (where the abdomens get the much needed relief from the overstuffed tummies due to the excesses of the palates) places and dedicating them to nation with all the fanfare, I was reminded of our own escapades in the Academy; these places played such a vital part in our daily lives as also in shaping and moulding us, I dare say ! Moreover, it is now fashionable to indulge in "toilet talk" after the success of our own desi star Akhsay's "Toilet ek Prem Katha". 

While one was preparing to join the academy, the saga of toilets  was always mentioned by some of our seniors, that the cadets took their showers in a common bathroom, with no curtains or doors separating them. Ever since we became aware of our anatomies courtesy the proverbial biblical "Satan and the apple" story, we were religiously guarding and protecting our privacy ("shame", as the faithful would put it), so this event was awaited with a lot of apprehension by most. After all it had to be endured since it can't be wished away. The saving grace of course was, that "Hamam mein sab nangey hain!" ( Everyone is naked in the Turkish bath).

While mentally we were prepared for this showdown, we didn't know what hit us with our maiden venture. Let me describe the scene which unfolded, when one descended the stairs into the arena, there was one central wash space, where two people were washing their undergarments and socks, the waft of stink which emanated was quite overpowering. The two of them of course were in their birthday suits chatting away nonchalantly, two others were in Maharaja position (the half headstand with toes resting on the wash place itself), where clothes were being washed, again stark naked. There were six showers, ok not showers really as the showers were removed, these were just taps overhead there with continuous stream of water flowing down, under which there was one cadet practising his word of command, "Nishan Toli......dahini disha badal kar ghoom..".probably a sixth termer. We stood gaping suddenly realising we were rather overdressed for the place in our kurta pyjama, gowns and started to strip looking the other way, as though the others would simply disappear. Not that anybody cared really...the moment you let go off the last piece of cloth, you are suddenly liberated.... you just walk under the shower and go ahead, do the job. A sort of Nirvana is attained, after all each one of us was endowed with  similar tools, like all other body parts, which did not in any way make anyone feel awkward, this too was just another piece of anatomy way overrated and pampered.

But the bathing and the ablutions was the sedentary stuff, the dreaded part was to unfold rather early the next morning in the "bramha muhurt", which is the most auspicious hour to commence one's spiritual journey, so at 3 am in the morning there was a gentle knock on the cabin door, which just increased in intensity till we groggily opened the doors and before we could say Jack Robinson, we were dragged by our collars into the same "Toilet", where our other comrades were already in action....the third termers were in their most spirited avatars and our brethren were meek as lambs huddled together awaiting the slaughter which was about to commence. We didn't have to wait long, some smart alecs were missing but the party must go on... so the session began with some front rolls some maharajas, some crawlings, all under the flowing overhead taps, which were conveniently alternately hot and cold and so it went on for almost about two hours, just in time for our bathroom clearance,time after  which these hallowed portal were out of bounds for us, whatever be the emergency(!), it could wait...
 These bathroom sessions were a regular phenomena and their frequency was not governed by any rules of Physics, at the drop of a hat, these would be ordered....nobody actually used his head as these were put in a deep freeze literally.

That reminds me, in  the Navy on board the ships, the toilets are referred to as the "Heads", obviously they use their heads in actually naming it such...Apparently in the days of yore, when the ships were sailing, the only place where the sailors could relieve themselves was at the head of the ship, as the wind was flowing from the rear to the front, to protect their rather sensitive olfactory organs (!) 

Anyway getting back to our spiritual pursuits in those unearthly hours....we did have our nirvana moments in those very toilets, lost our inhibitions, having been initiated into it by our revered gurus...after all once you have grown above such materialistic pursuits...of even that piece of cloth...haven't you attained Moksha!

Independence Day the NDA way

 Location : Ground floor Central lobby, Juliet Squadron NDA Khadakwasla, 1800 hours 14 August  1984. The Cadet Sergeant Major (CSM)was presiding over the routine evening dressing down. It was a Tuesday,  Cadets were in different attires based on their seniority profile,the second to fourth  termers  were in mufti, ready for the evening ante room session, fifth termers  were still in gowns, sixth termers were huddled in the CSM's cabin chatting away. "What is the day today?"  Innocuous question thrown by CSM was responded to by the second termers in the Murga position, they croaked in unison, "14th Aug sir!"almost in chorus, eager to please him and earn some respite. "What is the significance of this day?", this time one of  the third termers pipped the others to the post, despite his Maharaja posture ( The Maharaja was a regal Yogic posture which Baba Ramdev ought to include in his repertoire,  the forehead and the feet firmly on the mother earth with the torso in a perfect arch ....it brought us very close to divinity when practised  regularly for a couple of hours daily). "Sir today is the independence  day of Pakistan", wow, "Well informed...so tomorrow  is the Independence  day and naturally it is a day for celebrations.......a day of liberation for everyone.  So how do you guys want to celebrate?".... "Mid term mood sir". 

 Mid term mood in NDA parlance is a temporary respite, when the cadets are not put through the usual ordeal. A day when the juniors can let their hair down( they have none actually, the crew cut ensuring minimum follicles standing!) No punishments, no ragda ...visits to the Gole market....bun samosa from the MH wet canteen, Hamsa's bun samosas were divine...and so on, in other words for the duration of this mood ( which would be synchronized with the mood of the CSM) we were in heaven. 

"Oh yes why not Mid term mood it shall be....but " and a pregnant pause...keeping us all on our tenterhooks...."India had to struggle  hard to win this freedom....so shall you all. After all if you haven't  earned it, you won't value it, like most of our fellow citizens." We knew what was coming.....early morning cross country run, OK, not bad, at least after that, the rest of the day would be free. Cross country practice would be over in an hour and a half, which would include to and fro the Glider dome and warming up, cooling down...all inclusive. Alas it wasn't so simple.. "So in our Squadron  we have a tradition  of being  liberated at the 2475! I am sure you all would like to maintain these age old traditions,  which our forefathers  have laid down." "Yes sir" a loud chorus to reassure  the CSM that our morale was sky high, before he changes his mind and the mood goes awry. So tomorrow morning 0600h 2475 it shall be... 

2475 ft was one of the peaks of the small hills in Khadakwasla, why was it called 2475, no one knows, as the actual height was probably a couple of feet less. A run up to the peak and back was almost an hour and a half from our squadron. At 0600h, the second to fourth termers were asked to take off and wait at the base of the hillock. Once there, suddenly the Corporals emerged from nowhere, the CSM had apparently  excused the rest, so we thought. Corporal then explained the modus operandi of the day's climb, we had to front roll up the slope......??? Now this was turning out to be literally  a bolt from the blue...a royal kick in the derriere provided the much needed booster ...so began our very own freedom struggle, we the wretched second and third termers....the very lowly creatures in the food chain bore the brunt, all the while shouting "Bharat Mata ki jai" "Inquilab zindabad" " Angrezo Bharat Chhodo".... our heroic struggle carried on for more than two hours, by when the Sergeants made an appearance, not very satisfied with our efforts, they were unanimous that we did not deserve to be liberated as yet! So fire man lift was ordered, each of us was to lift another cadet on his shoulders and run up the hill. Nobody volunteered to be a casualty, as it was a greater punishment  for the person being carried, with his family jewels being crushed on the  shoulders of his worthy carrier. 

But one thing NDA teaches us is ingenuity and so we were to take turns, the carrier became the carried for half the distance and switched roles thereafter.  One of the Sergeants took pity and assembled us all and asked if we were tired of this fireman's business, we again yelled "Yes sir.."..morale had to be high, come what may. Ok,  he said, now we switch to "baby carry", so the casualty was now a baby, who had to be carried in your arms... so it carried on till we finally did conquer 2475. 

By then, the mid term mood had turned rather grim, the Josh had disappeared, what remained were lanky sweaty  cadets with a look of total disgust, with no hope in hell. Finally we were asked to get up, a flag hoisting was carried out and National Anthem sung. Liberated we were.....

OH THOSE BATS

Bats! Not again…Bats are aghast at the notoriety which has been heaped on them. After all they are simply flying mammals and stick to old dilapidated monuments, derelicts, banyan trees, caves and stay out of harms length from the most dangerous animal, the “homo sapien”. But alas, all it took was a “Contagion”, the 2011 hollywood movie, with an ensemble star cast of Matt Damon, Jude Law, Kate Winslet, Gywneth Paltrow and Marion Cotillard to revile these hermits. Well actually Nipah, (which was deadlier with 75% fatality) was probably the first time that world took notice of ‘fruit bats’, having originated in Malaysia in 1998, the year of Pokharan2.0 . But Covid19 took the cake, a global pandemic leaving a trail of 3 lakh dead in its wake and still counting….

Apart from the social distancing, lockdowns and migrant labours, cricketers and baseball players are up in arms, they have asked for a change in the nomenclature of their “Bats”, they would not like to touch anything so vile in their wildest imagination. After all how would dear Anushka feel if Virat was to do an encore of the famous “bat kiss” after his next century. The mere mention of bats sends shivers through our collective spine. As a corollary, they have also taken umbrage at being referred to as batsmen…it just won’t do. They have sworn, they have nothing to do with any bat of any kind. In fact they have said it appears to be a conspiracy, after all Cricket is such a popular game, this bat business is ‘just not cricket’. The Chinese green with envy over not being a party in the IPL have hatched this purely out of vendetta. Some sources even mentioned that Chinese suspect India was using Cricket to avenge their 62 debacle. So bats simply have to go…..May be the conspiracy was more deep rooted after all it was the British who brought Cricket here, why couldn’t they have named this block of wood, a blade or a cane or just block or even stick like in hockey, why bat….obviously something is amiss.

Balls are having a whale of a time having been whipped in the cricket fields by the Yuvis and Dhonis and equated to the lower part of the human abdomen, deriving perverse pleasure from the fact that bats are seeking refuge in the dressing rooms, not venturing out. Digging deep into the etymology bats felt they could have been referred to as 'willows' after all they owed their origin to these trees from where they were chiselled out, or alternately like racquets, which does not share its name with any animal/bird, a new term could have been coined, it would have been so much safer. Racquet games have realised that they so much to be grateful for...at least no one dare call them any names...

The eyelids have refused to 'bat' since this terrible tragedy, they will blink but no batting come what may, romance has not been the same without the innocent batting of eyelids but do we have a choice, they would rather be shut than 'bat' ever again!

Batman has been hit the hardest, the superhero has not had the heart to step out of Gotham, despite friend Spiderman weaving a web specially to entice him.

 In all this mess, poor bats are left wondering…why Wuhan?

ODE TO NDA MASTERS

Armed forces are obsessed with Sanskritised names and mottos, "Seva Paramo Dharmah" meaning "Service is the supreme duty" is the NDA motto "Sham No Varunah", a hymn from the Rigveda meaning that "May the lord of oceans be auspicious onto us", for the Indian Navy and "Nabhah Sparsham Deeptam" (Touch the sky with glory) for Indian Air Force. Similarly for Dronacharya the ultimate  teacher as per Hindu mythology, whom we all have grown up hearing about; and have seen the name figure prominently in every second sand model room. He would have been very proud of our teachers at NDA Khadakwasla. Guru Dron had a humongous task of tutoring and mentoring the princes, in NDA the masters had the unenviable task of drilling the subject matter into the sleepy heads that the cadets in the academy were. For a majority of us the academics block provided a much needed refuge after the grueling training schedule. Imagine after full 40 minutes of obstacle training followed by another 40 minutes of drill in the parade ground, which too was spent measuring the quadrangle, attending a Maths class where the venerable Dr Venkatraman was trying to cover Tensor Analysis, which even in our most active state of attention sounded Greek to most of us, it even had characters which traced their origin to Greek, Sigma, Delta and so on..so imagine the plight of the sincere teachers that they were, in trying to literally spoon feed us. Some of us were perpetually hungry and the understudies to Cadet Quarter Master Seargents were duty bound to carry biscuits and buns in their satchels to feed the pack of hungry wolves. This activity had to be undertaken in the classroom itself stealthily without any noise, a skill which came in very handy later in life during patrols and ambushes. 
Despite such   handicaps, the teachers not only managed to empower us academically, but also imparted a number of  life lessons, which people pay through their nose and attend workshops to learn and imbibe. 
A sixteen/seventeen year old youngster who joins the academy has no idea that he would be required to study...Armed forces were all about brawn, so they assumed. Little did they realise, how foolish their assumption was, as we in the army keep training ourselves even in our 50s, which involves serious academic pursuits, at least we would like to believe these are serious(!)

Right from the time we entered Ghorpuri, our duels with the teachers had begun. My first encounter was with the Hindi teachers, Ms Maya Katara and Mr Emmanuel. Some wise guy told me that in the classification test for Hindi, meant to segregate the Elementary Hindi types mostly South Indians, if you managed to get away with committing some intentional mistakes, you could also land up in the Elementary Hindi types and have a khushi time. I was summoned by Mr Emmanuel and told that I was to be withdrawn from the academy as my CBSE result appeared to be fake. Shocked out of my wits, I told him that wasn't true and why was he accusing me of this. He showed me my answer sheet for the classification exam, where in a single sentence I had committed as many as 12 spelling mistakes. Obviously I had gone overboard. I was asked to apologise and was sent to the highest classification (Middle Hindi, as none of us were fit enough for Higher Hindi) to be tutored by Ms Katara. Ms Uma Surya Narain was among the favourites for obvious reasons, she was the prettiest damsel and for adolescents at that age with hormones just starting to make their presence felt, that was reason enough.Dr Haldhar and his 'Nishan toli' (three daughters) are also firmly etched in the memory. Sudeep Bakshi as Yasser Arafat and many of our other course mates appeared as other global leaders in the activity directed by Dr Haldhar was one of the highlights of our scholarly attempts. 

Khadakwasla was a different ball game, with all the ragda of second term, academics is the last thing on anyone's mind. If it was not for the likes of Dr AB Rao very many of us would have bitten dust in our second term itself. He was not just a patient teacher but  also had a soft corner for us, he diagnosed "horse sickness" in some of us, wrote down answers in the blank spaces to help some and pardoned our sleeping through.......Then there was Dr Jatwa of "You are Jat I am Jatwa", "Sergeant Eating toast or taking post" fame. Most of our generation of cadets would distinctly recall his quips. 

"Giving meaningful looks!", was how the charge read,fwd by Dr (Mrs) SK Singh; the cadet was summoned to the squadron office and questioned. He was punished to be sent on liberty to Pune next Sunday to leave the instructor in question alone..... Foreign language department was amongst the favourites of the cadets, obviously not for any genuine interests in the languages but in the ladies who were our teachers. While French boasted of Ms Indira Gupta and Anu Graham, Russian had Ms Hingne. Even our drill instructors who were otherwise quite disciplined succumbed to their charms, with one of them, Sep Rohtash Singh, a tall and lanky Jat, having the temerity to ask Ms Gupta, "Madam ji hum se naraz ho kya aajkal, good morning bhi nahi karte!!" Sure enough he spent the next 14 days in the cell awarded by the Adjt.  The cadets who were assigned their classes were the envy of the rest. I was among the lucky ones having escaped the clutches of "Khin bya na mi ba le" Burmese to petite madmeoiselle Ms Indira Gupta's French. The only subject where there was a mad rush for front seats. In the bargain we did pick up some French  and acquired the coveted Diploma Part 1 also. 

I have often wondered as to what was the true aim of putting us all through myriad of subjects, from English, Hindi and a Foreign language to Economics, Political science, History, Geography, Military History, Military Geography comprising the humanities disciplines which even we the techies ( science stream) types had to endure apart from the regular dose of Maths, Physics, Chemistry, Engineering Drawing, Workshop besides the service subjects (Military subjects). Similarly the humanities stream students also were exposed to Maths and Sciences. May be the curriculum was designed to give us an all round exposure, or treat academic pursuit holistically, but it ended up with number of holes and voids....we ended up as jacks of all and masters of none(!) 

QUARANTINED

"Quarantined", that was how the sentence was delivered without much ado. I did not know if this was better than the M&D (Medicine & Duty) or at least some other medical category. After all "returning without a worthwhile medical category to the squadron premises was dangerous for your personal well being", was the statutory warning read out in all seriousness by the Cadet Sergeant Major(CSM). Obviously I was not foolish to ask the doctor, what it meant, you don't get on the wrong side of messiahs in NDA. Some angels among them doled out the Att C (sick in quarter) quite liberally and were revered by the whole generation of cadets. A quick glance through the dictionary revealed that I had hit the jackpot, I was to be confined in the premises for a period of hold your breath...14 days! I owed this largess to a second termer who was diagnosed with Chicken Pox and his cabin happened to be opposite mine. He was immediately rewarded with the status of a "pal", I was not alone, the flank cabin mates too joined in and we were all accomodated in the Squadron Ante Room. All meals delivered right there, TV at our disposal, also the TT table, "gar firdause zamin hami ast hami ast.."( If there is heaven on earth, here it is, so said Emperor Jahangir mesmerised by the breathtakingly beautiful Kashmir valley). For the NDA cadet, this hiatus was better than any "firdaus" anywhere(!)

Although my first experience of a contagious disease was when Conjunctivitis came calling in 1980. We were in RIMC those days and cadets were being despatched home if they contracted the "red eye". Many of my classmates  scooted home merely by applying some balm on the eyelids. The doctor didn’t want to come near and would  just take a glance from a safe distance and send them away. I too tried but failed miserably, don't know if the balm was of poor quality or my eyes immune to it.  

The NDA experience with quarantine was thus very pleasant and brought back happy memories. Little did we know that someday, the whole world is going to be quarantined. This time too one has been lucky; in Udhampur we have practically been in quarantine since last eighteen months, after all apart from office and back, we hardly venture out. So these additional 21 days was not one of those bolts from the blue. In fact, the lockdown commenced with a scare, I had gone on an official tour to Srinagar on 16th Mar by a commercial flight and returned on the 19th. The airport staff were all masked and armed with the temperature screening device, I was a little apprehensive, but went ahead nevertheless. All was well, till the 23rd, when I received a call confirming whether I had taken the Indigo flight to Srinagar on the 16th, on my affirmative response, I was asked to immediately proceed for the swab test. The test done I was asked to remain in home quarantine till the results were available which would take almost 14 to 16 hours. I was totally asymptomatic and thus was quite confident, though the office staff and my better half were scared out of their wits, as they all would be in soup, if my tests were positive. Anyway, thankfully by mid day I had been declared Covid19 negative. Everyone was relieved, though home quarantine was to continue for the balance of 14 days. 




Getting back to NDA quarantine, there are some photographs going viral (not Covid viral! just viral, I wonder if this "going viral" will be the worst form of abuse in days to come......) of NDA cadets in quarantine, while most of the residential institutions have shut shop and despatched their students home, military institutions always take the bull by the horns. Effectively managing the quarantine, the training carries on, movies being screened in the squadron parade grounds, cadets maintaining adequate social distance, only folding the seats has given way to other means of yogic asanas while watching the movies. Maharaja asan,which essentially is executed with the forehead replacing  the hands on the floor and the legs remaining stretched to the extreme.

 The other photograph depicted the cadets standing by the window with the candles lit in solidarity with the rest of the nation in our collective fight against Covid. Covid 19 after all is a teen, adolescent,neither an adult nor a kid, quite confused, not taken seriously by the Americans nor by the Chinese. He is out to prove a point ...... how I wish the Chinks had waited for two more months before letting it lose, then it would have been christened Covid 20 and would probably would have been more reasonable. After all we have had the other versions of Corona, who were more manageable; naturally so....not in their teens. This virus has simply gone rogue, deriving perverse pleasure by quarantining the whole world and with no signs of it abating in the foreseeable future....
Now that the kid(Covid) will officially turn 20 in a few months, here is hoping that he would be tamed soon and the world would get on with life....bidding good riddance to Quarantine .... 

TABLE NO THIRTEEN

"Lucky for some one and three thirteen", or "Baker's Dozen" is how the tambola announcers call out this number. The regulars at Officers Institutes are familiar with it, even though they may actually be at the bar busy elbow bending, while the ladies are all ears. Thirteen is considered as an unlucky number and the myth of "Friday the Thirteenth" has only reaffirmed the conviction. Hollywood has also played its part by coming out with the iconic horror flick by the same name and making a killing (pun intended). "Paraskavedekatriaphobia" and "friggatriskaidekaphobia" also describe fear of this supposedly unlucky day. Merely trying to pronounce these tongue twisting words is adequate to bring bad luck. This Western superstition probably is rooted in the biblical "Last Supper", where thirteen people, Jesus and his twelve disciples, were dining.Personally though the saga of thirteen is filled with happy memories, I was married on the 13th.....then our daughter was born on the 13th which also happened to be a Friday.    

So "Table No 13", had to be evil, ex NDAs would recall that whenever the Physical Training Officer (PTO) got up from the wrong side of the bed or was probably denied his morning cuppa, the cadets were subjected to this inhumanly torture. NDA has a pretty scientific curriculum for physical training with different tables being assigned to the set of exercises. But Table No 13 was just simply "ragda", a euphemism for the toughening up which spurred the normally docile PT Ustaads (as compared to their Drill counterparts) into action. A pack of hungry wolves salivating at their hapless prey, some 300 odd cadets at their mercy. At the end of 40 minutes of intense physical training, we were left with bruised egos and limbs as well. 

The PT instructors were a different breed, unlike their drill counterparts who were ubiquitous, literally breathing down our necks. Each generation has had its share of Roshan Lall, Chain Singh Chib or Menon (the Kala Naag "jo apne baap ko bhi nahi chhodta(!)"), hiding behind the bushes, lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce on the cadets on any false move. PT ustaads were actually keen to put us through the paces for the specified physical and swimming standards. So the dive rolls and straight legged back rolls in the initial terms gave way to handsprings in the senior terms, or the chin ups to upper circles and so on for the vaulting horse as well. They were proud of their wards who were gymnasts like, but they made the others, lesser mortals like most of us sweat too to make the grade. 

Swimming test involved a 7 metre jump also, as a mandatory test, where some developed cold feet, while someone got so excited that he forgot to wear the swimming trunk itself and ran to join the squad sky clad, till the PT Ustaad had to remind him to look downwards. On one such occasion one of us had developed such a phobia that he was facing relegation but he refused to take this leap of faith. The PT Ustaad, Naik Ranbir Singh, a Himachali convinced him into just climbing up the seven metre board and wait... not to jump, which appeared to be innocuous enough and so he did, all the time keeping him engaged trying to motivate him. In the meanwhile Sep Thapa, the junior PT Ustaad in  almost  feline-like stealth climbed up right behind the cadet  and pushed him down..... with it went his fear  and he successfully cleared the test subsequently. 

Anyway, how did I think of the dreaded Table No 13 today, actually, we were in the midst of a briefing when the pen fell from the hand of the Chief of Staff (COS). The reflex action to dive and catch it mid air had to be suppressed till one of the back benchers came to the fore and did the needful. Why did this reflex action almost kick in, well the COS was our Academy Cadet Adjutant (ACA) in our second term. So one suddenly felt as though we were back in academy and the refill fell from the hands of the Cadet Sergeant Major (CSM) and the melee which ensued with second termers diving to retrieve it. God forbid if the refill landed on the floor, the second and third termers would be literally trembling imagining the worst. The refills I am referring to were ball point pen refills which we were expected to carry all the time along with nominal rolls and identity slips. I am sure the cadets today would have graduated to better and more efficient ways for getting the parade states. But reflex actions I am sure would have improved too……else 13 beckons!!!

Star Gazing

It must have been ages since I spotted the Great Bear constellation and the Pole star, I am sure most of us in the metros may not even be able to recall as to when was the last time we star gazed! It took me down the memory lane, every summer evening from the roof top that was a favourite pastime, lessons in astronomy, story telling all rolled in one. No coolers air-conditioners just gentle night breeze which itself got a little nippy past midnight and a blanket was a must even in peak summers of Hindi heartland in the months of May June.

Pole star or Dhruv Tara as we call it in Hindi was spotted and the mythology behind the star was recounted practically every evening, I wonder how many of us can recall ....a king by the name of Uttanpad quite henpecked, as most of these mythological kings tended to be. Two queens and Dhruva was born to the lesser favoured of the queens. Once while he was playing in the king's lap the step mother gets him off forcefully. Heartbroken he rushes to his mother who asks him to pray to the almighty who will bless him such that no one could then displace him. Fearless he walks into the jungle and prays... The Lord is pleased and gives him this celestial status. So it went.

The Great Bear is called Saptarshi after the seven stars named after seven sages and also Ursa Major. Some of you may recall there is an Ursa Minor as well, which was visible only on an extremely dark moonless night. The "Belt of Orion" is another popular constellation, which became part of our repertoire in the academy after lessons in map reading and night navigation, where the knowledge of one's North was an essential prerequisite. Although to be honest, most of us were quite clueless even with the compass, map sheet and the night navigation charts.

Orion takes after the Greek mythological hunter, of course almost every civilisation had a name for the constellations and myths associated with them.

Anyway it was neither astronomy nor mythology which was on my mind when I was on my post dinner stroll. Here in Udhampur we are truly blessed, fresh unpolluted air, chirping birds, seasonal flowers galore and a beautiful landscape in the backdrop with snow capped peaks. What more can one ask for!

Summer vacations was the most blissful period of our childhood, with the confidence of princes as we were treated by our doting grand parents, stars in our eyes and with no distractions ...not even TV, forget about the ubiquitous mobiles that have ruined the genuine pleasures of the unfortunate kids of today. No drudgery of homework, company of cousins of all ages from toddlers to the adolescents and all the time in the world, parents either busy or subdued by their parents...so it was the most chilled out time, as today's youngsters will put it.

A typical day would begin on the rooftops where we all slept under quilts (!) yes in summers, the nights were chilly, woken up by the first rays of sunshine. The fun commenced with the morning rituals as there was invariably only one wash room for the whole family (!) unimaginable today. At least a score of people to use it. The ladies of course were through with these rituals long before the princes and princesses descended onto 'Terra Firma'. One of the aunts usually the youngest one who would be a favourite with the kids would be entrusted with the onerous responsibility of bathing the younger ones amongst us, the second aunt would be in charge of dressing us all up, almost like an assembly line. There were days when the aunts would be busy and then we would have a field day  draw water from the well and pour buckets of water all by ourselves.. oh that shower was the best ever better than any of the waterfalls that we encountered later in life.

On one such occasion I was so thrilled at my ability to draw the water and pour over self that I danced around the whole area and stood right next to my eldest cousin who inadvertently lowered the bucket right onto my nose and in the bargain I got nicked and started to bleed profusely, my grandmother picked me up and held the wound with her hands in her vice like grip, my mother dared not lay her hands on me.The wound left an indelible mark on the nose, and it was so prominent that it has been my identification mark ever since then. Nobody was blamed, ostracised....the fun and frolic continued unabated. 

 Alas the world has become increasingly fragmented with nuclear families, live in relationships, joint families can only be reminisced about fondly.Post Covid-19, may be we shall see a return to the joint families, as people are returning to their families in hordes, We are all concerned about the well beings of our kith and kin spread globally, isolated, quarantined....