RaGa

 

RaGa is miffed, or at least his coterie are; how dare Barack Obama call him names. After all it is ok for Indians to refer to him as Pappu, but a rank foreigner, he has no business to refer to him in such a derogatory manner. Indian classical music is pretty rich with its scales, notes, moods, parentage ……the aaroh, avaroh, taal, shudhh-komal-teevra…. a deeply spiritual experience actually. I have run out of musical vocabulary here(!) In simple words RaGa may be referred to as a musical theme, which should have an ascending and descending pattern and vary with moods, seasons or even with the time of the day. One can’t blame poor Obama at not having comprehended the nuances of our RaGa, after all he is yet to discover himself.  So far our Raga has been uniformly steady in his ‘descent only’ pattern nor has he made any ‘variation’ irrespective of the time of the day or season. But then “One man’s music may be noise for the other”, unfortunately for Mamma dear the fusion which a Rossini, Bellini or Verdi could have delivered with our own Ravi Shankar, Pandit Jasraj or Amjad Ali Khan has not fructified. In fact, not just noise but may be cacophony, which obviously is unbearable cruelty for the human auditory system.

We Indians are a sensitive lot, we can take umbrage over just about anything, so calling RaGa names is sacrilege to some but that itself may be music to the others, singing a different ‘Raga’ just confirming their own hypothesis. While Obama may not have sung any paeans to their star per se but that doesn’t matter, or for that matter Manmohan Singh has been praised is conveniently overlooked.

May be this abbreviated name business is to blame after all it has actually aided the enemy camp, with NaMo being associated with paying obeisance to the Almighty being the cryptic version of ‘Namaskaram O Lord’, the odds were obviously heavily against RaGa.

This obsession with abbreviating the names to ‘Brangelina’ “Saifina’ or ‘Virushka’ for celebrity couples took on a different angle when resorted to for the singletons…. so the advent of RaGa or NaMo…..they are self-sufficient, ‘apna haath jagannath’ types, nothing to tie them down literally. So we need to look for an alternative, oh no, not for Rahul Baba, heaven forbid, just for a different narrative….. How about GaRa……no that won’t do either as Gara in the vernacular means ‘mud’. But then mud is earthy and rural and can be moulded into pottery…. So any takers?? Or get him to tie the nupital knot which will automatically get rid of this RaGa business at least.....

The Trump Card

 The Trump(ets) of the world have heaved a sigh of relief after four years of having been blown non-stop, no wonder all that they produced these days was " Vivekamunandan..." When they were queried on their misery, they responded tongue in cheek that "They were 'biden' their time". The other instruments in the repertoire of the conductors were feeling left out, the violins, flutes, percussion, trombones and even the piano had been reduced to just accompaniments from their leadership days. In a secret conclave the instrument world had already decided  to disown the Trumpets for their misdemeanour. Trumpets in their defence said the charges were 'trumped up'.

 The inanimate world as also the one we inhabit has suddenly come alive....."No Trumps" seems to be the favourite winning call for the Bridge players. In fact playing cards have unanimously adopted a motion of banishing the 'trump' suit forever from all forms of card games. Alternately they have applied for a change in the nomenclature from its Latin origin "Triumph" to "Vijay", the Indian equivalent of victory in keeping with the flavour of the season. So no more trump cards, there will be "Vijay" or "No Vijay". Vijay after all was the nom de guerre of the Bollywood superstar Amitabh Bachhan in most of his early 'angry young man' films. It obviously will be victorious in any popularity contest with world's oldest and the largest democracies colluding.

The celluloid world of the Disney's have suddenly rediscovered their mojo, Donald the original Duck had gone into hiding since Nov 16 itself. Ever since his duckling days, he was ruling the roost, the last four years have been crazy, he confided. He has been welcomed with great quack..quackery and goofing around.  Uncle Scrooge's stock too seems to have gone up these days, as even he seems like a nice guy in comparison. Goofy has stopped goofing around; after all the goof ups in the last couple of years, he feels, the world needs a break. The mice fraternity too have finally admitted to have 'Moved their cheese!"

 The toon festive spirit seems to have rubbed off on the global climate too, having been in the ICU last couple of years, with all the hurricanes, wild fires, extreme heat, floods, glacial melting and to top it all the 'Pandemic'. Mother nature may again bestow its bounty on us and the world will hopefully be more alive now that climate change may again acquire centre stage. Lotus shall bloom again!  Kamla "pasand" has suddenly acquired a new meaning and the hard core gutka chewing UP wallah is now looked at with a deference, after all they were 'Bidding' on the winning horse all along.

Zen Brouhaha

It was such a deflating moment, 10000 Indians were being targeted by Chinese Data Mining Agency, it had the Who's who of India, the politicians, entertainers (Cricketers are no longer sportsmen, they are simply entertainers, after all they have mingled with the Hindi Films and Advertising agencies in such a seamless manner that they have outgrown their sporting links altogether), scientists, bankers, bureaucrats, businessmen, defence and security establishments, think- tanks, media personnel and almost everyone whom you can think about.  

This has caused an earthquake like tremor on the terra firma in India, the politician who always considered himself to be close to the power centres realised that they were living in a fool's paradise. They were just typical 'Aam Aadmi', no not the Aam Aadmi Party type just plain "Mango people". To rub salt into the wounds, the two bit opposition Pappu types finds a mention there but despite having been there and done that...oh no(!!) This moment was similar to the one related to the Swiss Bank account holders list, which also caused lot of heartburn, after all every Tom,Dick and Harry.....oh no every Sharma, Singh and Gupta figured in the list but we could not make the cut. We even got in touch with the Swiss bank authorities to include our names as an addendum, it was a matter of prestige and our reputation was at stake. They are a hard nut to crack...so the exercise was in vain.

It was quite a knock out blow but we survived, but this time we are not going to take it lying down. I am told the Chinese won't mind obliging, they may just add our names at a cost, what is a couple of thousand dollars when the family honour is at stake.... we can't be second to any pipsqueak Ambani come lately. So the parleys have already commenced, the Chinese have promised to help, negotiations are on, an addendum is expected soon.... "apna time ayega"......

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(!)