Brotherhood

 “Let their flesh be renewed like a child’s; let them be restored as in the days of their youth”—JOB 33:25. Thus spake the Bible; closer home Jagjit Singh’s immortalised Gazal 

“देने वाले मुझे मौजों की रवानी दे दे,फिर से एक बार मुझे मेरी जवानी दे दे

अब्र हो, जाम हो, साक़ी हो मेरे पहलू में,कोई तो शाम मुझे ऐसी सुहानी दे दे”

Shadab Lahori’s verses describe our feelings and emotions, having just returned after a reunion of 60 plus NDA course-mates, band of brothers, rogues, each one an emperor! 

Every reunion we are reborn, emerge fresh as a lark, as though it was just yesterday when we entered the haloed Pashan Gate, as if in a daze. The cradle where we entered as young boys and graduated as men of honour, National Defence Academy.Having grown up and forced to lead a rather mature adult life, we long for those carefree days and these Reunions fulfil that desire.

If I were to say that Covid has taken a massive toll on the social life, it would be an understatement. We hanker for company, long to meet our dear friends, buddies since last almost four decades. We have shared good and bad times, been through some nightmares and exhilarating spirited moments. Unfortunately one of the major effects of the lockdown during this pandemic was the extended time spent staring at the screens of mobile, pad or Laptops. Like in all other groups, our Course too has had its share of fracas amongst the Right and Left, Hindu-Muslim etc. In fact sometimes the attacks became very personal and vicious. The level of toxicity was multiplying exponentially. The liberals believed themselves to be the true inheritors of our secular legacy, while the Right believed that it was high time the wrongs of centuries needed to be corrected. Deja vu….I am sure almost all the groups have caught this bug.

Time for Bob Bakshi, the course logistician, josh box to get into the act, he announces a course get-together, the venue and date are fixed, we were expected to confirm  our acceptance by return mail/message. Lo and behold there were sixty one of us who confirmed. Friends from Bangalore, Hyderabad and Mhow travelled all the way to Delhi some flew in, some drove down, just to be friends, to relive those good old days, that backslap, the warm hugs, handshakes to reinforce the bonds which even the pandemics can not shake! Just guffaw over nonsensical jokes to an onlooker. Started on a sombre note by condoling the unfortunate demise of some friends during this pandemic. But as the drinks flowed the toxicity vanished… we went back to being just the bunch of 16 year olds once again, pulling each other’s legs over the receding hairlines and growing waistlines, genuinely happy and pleased with the career progress of some, enquiring about spouses, kids, their careers, matrimony, grandparenthood and also concerns about the looming retirement ahead for some of us. We discussed about our chosen retirement abodes and how we could just live it up in the days ahead…All in all , bon homie, camaraderie and joie de vivre………Long live the brotherhood!!!

Main Aur Mera Phone (Me and My Phone)

 “Main aur mera phone aksar yeh baatein karte hain…”.I often talk to my mobile, in other words indulge in soliloquy; if it weren’t for you I would be sitting and having a drink with friends, guffawing away to glory reliving old times with them and not merely texting them. If it weren’t for you, I would be out on an adventure trip driving out just for the pleasure of having the wind come rushing at me, sitting by a roadside dhaba for a well earned tea break. If it weren’t for you, I would be out playing a round of golf, hitting the dimpled balls into the OB area and cursing but occasionally enjoy the pleasure of the ball soaring on and landing in the centre of the fairway inviting envious glances from the four ball or just sinking a birdie with a 50 foot putt in a fluke. If it weren’t for you we would be out by the riverside/on the beach, on a jungle trail..just soaking the nature and relishing every moment of joie-de-vivre! If it weren’t for you I would be …… 

But alas all that has changed, now I know you are here with me and my only friends are on Facebook and Insta sharing their intimate and not so intimate, real and imagined details with the world, no personal secrets between the best friends any longer. Then there is the ubiquitous Whats App, what the hell(!!), I think this app should be rechristened as What the f***, really….with membership of myriad groups, each one belching out gyaan of all kinds of spiritual discourses on every possible religion, to performance of Indian athletes in Olympics, to Geo-strategic  significance of Joe Biden’s decision and of course the highly polarising real and fake videos. Not to forget the number of highly addictive games which you have got me hooked onto, as if that is not enough, your streaming of web series,TV channels and what have you..

You are my best and only friend and at the same time my worst enemy,  to paraphrase Dickens “these are the best of times these are the worst of times”….literally. During these pandemic times, if it wasn’t for you my friend, there would be no economic activity, no work from home, no classes, no meetings, no tele-medicine, no banking. We are indebted to you for all that you have done. We have been enslaved both bodily and in mind. Sadly we have succumbed that too without a fight. But it is time for you to take a bow and retreat to that corner, where you began your journey. Hoping against hope… “Woh subah kabhi to aayegi..”(We shall see a new dawn some day..) when I will be released from the evil clutches of this monster will get my life back….Main our mera phone aksar yeh baatein karte  hain…..

Maggi and Culinary skills of Cadets

 Taking off from where I left off last time on Immersion rods, while primarily immersion rods were used for heating of water, but its miniature version was used for heating water in a small tumbler for shaving. NDA cadets by nature are expert in 'jugaad', actually as a nation we resort to jugaad in every possible field. The rods were put to its most optimal utilisation since  warm water for shaving was a luxury which was for the bourgeois(rich), the cadets typically belonged to the proletariat(masses) adhering to the socialist-communist milieu of the times.  These miniature rods were the lifeline of the cadets as they provided the warm water for cooking up the 2 minute  "Maggi". Incidentally Instant noodles were invented by Momofuku Ando of Nissin Foods in Japan. They were launched in 1958 under the brand name Chikin Ramen but introduced in India in 1983, by Nestle the year when we joined NDA, as though they were waiting for 70th Course all this while.  An NDA cadet is perpetually hungry and as they say "a hungry man is an  angry man" and the quickest way to satiate the pangs of hunger was the "Two minute wonder", which was actually gobbled up in less than the time it took to make it. The utensil could be an enameled mug                         or the mess tin, depending on availability and the number of cadets in the cabin at that moment. Maggi became synonymous with Instant Noodles, so much so that any other brand of Instant Noodles introduced in the market could not make much of a dent in their sales figures. It was and continues to be the lifeline for hostelers everywhere; of course tea coffee could also be brewed in quick time , but more often than not, there was never any dearth of tea, which was consumed in the very same enameled mugs. In fact even during Camps or Hikes, the Powdered milk which was issued was consumed straight without bothering to add water to it, it was instant energy(!). Tea which was served in the morning and evening was brewed in the squadron premises itself, to serve it real hot, quantity was more than adequate as every cadet got the mug full and some even managed a second one.

Culinary skills of cadets though were not restricted to Maggi or tea/coffee, Jats and desi ghee can never be parted, all of them carried carried cannisters full of ghee, which was consumed in any and every form, but quite often it was the traditional gourmet "halwa" whose aroma would fill the corridors leaving many of us salivating. Mind you possession of any heating appliances was forbidden in NDA, but forbidden Halwa is sweeter!! Some cadets would keep Heaters or Hot Plates with them, which would be put to good use on Sundays when some of us skipped lunch and savoured the halwa along with Maggi and some Bread from Gole Market.

We did not have the luxury of MRE(Meals Ready to Eat), the MTR type packaged foods, which today's youngsters rely on, whether in India or abroad. Notwithstanding, the taste of those Mess Tin full of Maggi is still fresh and unmatched.

Afghanistan A Different Take

 Afghanistan is the elephant in the room, a topic for discussions on the idiot box, in the drawing rooms, in coffee houses, print media and of course our think tanks. Indians have a rather deep and historic as well as mythological connect with Afghanistan and Afghans. Kandahar in fact was a major princely state in Mahabharat, Gandhari the queen of Dhritrashtra was from Kandahar. Shakuni the evil uncle of Duryodhan whose scheming with the dice in a way led to the epic battle. We  are also nostalgic about that Afghanistan which predated partition when Indian empires stretched upto the Hindukush which unfortunately gave way to onslaught of Islam. Historically right from the time of Kanishk who ruled in the first century over large tract of North India, with his capital at Peshawar. In literature too we Indians have an  emotional connect;, the image of Afghan is linked to the Kabuliwallah story of Gurudev RavindraNath Tagore or the Hindi medium types would instantly recall Heengwalla by Subhadra Kumari Chauhan, poetess who is known more for her immortal "Khoob ladi mardani woh to Jhansi Wali Rani Thi". As readers would recall Kabuliwallah was very friendly with a small girl child who reminded her of her daughter back home. The mother of the child was not favourably inclined towards the Kabuliwallah but the father approved of this chit chat. Till one day when the Kabuliwallah was jailed for a murder. The story was also immortalised by Balraj Sahni playing the Kabuliwallah singing "Ae mere pyare watan " from the precincts of the jail suffering the pangs of separation from his beloved motherland.

In Khuda Gawah an Amitabh starrer Bollywood film, who is a Pathan who stays true to his word.

Traditionally Afghans in India came for trade,  their wares included exotic dry fruits almonds, pistachios, chilgoze or Heeng (asafoetida), they were also money lenders who would extract the repayment of the loans without any scruples. Heengwalla was a story of the deeply polarised partition time, when communal riots were a common phenomena. The protagonist would be roaming the streets of the town selling Heeng, the kids were intrigued by his turban bearded persona and were deeply suspicious, however the mother would patronise him and buy Heeng from him. On his part Khan considered the mother as a lucky customer,  as she always brought good luck, hence sought a bohni (the first sale of the Day) from her  When the kids go out for a fair with the servant and get separated in the stampede, it is the Heengwalla who brings them home safely. 

Alas that Afghanistan is long buried and blown to smithereens along with the Bamiyan Budhhas. The Taliban have made a remarkable comeback albeit with the tacit support of our nemesis Pak. The typical image of an Afghan today is that of the bearded turbaned Kalashnikov wielding brutes who belong to an era long gone by, professing their allegiance to the Sharia only with practically no rights for women. They are the antithesis of modern day liberal democratic value systems. While the beard and the turban have remained the jihadi mindset which has emerged as their raison d'être is a cause for global concern.

SPARE THE ROD

 

Millennials would possibly not be familiar with the once ubiquitous Immersion rods, which were found in all middle class households without exception. May be they should have called it an immersion “coil”, wonder why??A misnomer obviously, because while it was immersed alright but it was actually a coil with two identical symmetrical rods at either end to complete the electrical circuit.

Come winters and they would make their appearance in the ‘bathrooms’, as they were referred to then, as against the more sophisticated ‘wash rooms’ of today. Geysers were a luxury which few could afford and even if one was rich enough, there would be just one which would hardly suffice for a large family, especially in the early morning hours when there was a rush for schools and offices. So immersion rods filled in, they saved many a soul from the bouts of flu, providing the much needed succour in the form of warm water for the bath during winters. 

 The arrangements were unique with a bucket of water which was invariably of plastic material, so there had to be a non-conducting material such as a wooden stick which would be placed on top of the bucket, from which the immersion rod would be ‘sentenced to be hanged’ till the water in the bucket reached the boiling point. The point to be borne in mind was the level of water in the bucket, which had to be adequate for the rod to be dipped in, if it was too less the rod would get damaged, if brimmed over, then water may seep in to the plastic holder, and may end up short circuiting resulting in an electricity outage thus inviting curses from everyone. This elaborate arrangement resulted in the luxurious bath with some cold water mixed for the optimum temperature to be arrived at, for accomplishment of the task at hand. Obviously showers were a luxury which could be enjoyed only during summer months, when availability of water was suspect and any extra consumption invited not just angry glances but downright slaps for being selfish.

Of course there were the brave ones, who were indoctrinated into Buddhism in their previous births, who could courageously pour mugs of cold water over themselves, indifferent to pleasures and pain, “sceptics”. In RIMC although we had geysers, we never saw them functional, I don’t know if it was the doing of MES or our own Administrative Officer who wanted us toughened up. Dehradun winters are severe and after a gruelling 30 minutes of Physical Training, one had no choice but to bathe…there were exceptions here too, who would be generous with their consumption of talcum powder to suppress the sweaty stink. Most of us would make a bee line for the copper contraption (bamba) which guzzled wood and coal to give out a few miserly buckets of hot water.

The seniority counted and we had to await our turn, at times getting just the psychological warmth in the water which poured over our shivering bodies. But obviously felt a lot fresher and hungry. Water was precious, hot water more so....

We realised the value of water rather early in life. No wonder, in later years with strict rationing of water during our exercises and operational alerts, the hard scale of five litres per man could be endured with a couple of drops conserved for the dehydrated friends.

The Mango People

 “Chewing the honey’d cud”, that is how rumination was described by Keats, if I am not wrong, what a beautiful metaphor! I was wondering, how was I reminded of this, actually I was relishing some Jamun, which has now acquired a distinct exotic aura and aroma ever since it graduated to the neatly packed plastic boxes from the venerable “Dona”, a small bowl made out of leaves of the trees. 

In the pandemic era, disposable plates and bowls have suddenly become a prized commodity. Usually it is the thermocol variety which is in use, however, the traditional Pattal Dona are the more environment friendly poor cousins.More about that some other time; eating Jamun is a pleasure, its taste is neither sweet nor sour, just different, since the fruit itself is small and the seed unusually big for the size of the fruit, I always wondered why couldn’t God design the seed in the right proportion to the size of the fruit. May be He wanted us to savour the taste to the last part since it is so heavenly. Anyway I can go on and on about Jamun but this blog is not about the health benefits of this humble native Indian fruit, but about chewing or rather extracting the delectable part and in the process make your tongue explore the seed from end to end extracting the edible portion. That our face assumes funny contortions in the process does not bother anyone. While we are at Jamuns, can Mangoes be far behind, as both are typically summer Tropical fruits and relished, although mangoes are head and shoulder ahead in the popularity race, having literally conquered the world with its status as even the fruit of diplomacy as well. 

Like all kids of our age, we were extremely fond of the King of Fruits, “falon ka raja” and enjoyed them thoroughly in every possible form, from raw to ripe, its juice or simply cut and popped in without the messy seed,’guthli’ in the vernacular. Those days local varieties of mangoes, which were much smaller in size but more juicy were available in abundance, the sophisticated Alfonso or even the lower in the rung Langda Dashahri etc were beyond the reach of the common man. But the pleasure of eating or rather drinking the mango  straight can’t be described in words. It has to to experienced. Summer vacations was always looked forward to eagerly back from school, Sujay my younger sibling and me would be off for a game of Tennis early in the morning to the local Uday Ranjan Club. After some good fun with the racket, we would cycle down to the market, where there was an exclusive mango bazaar, which was by the roadside and had scores of shops selling their produce calling out the customers and offering them a taste of their produce, something which the youngsters of today and even people of our age who did not have the privilege of a small town upbringing can’t visualise. They would pick up a mango and squeeze it gently so that juice would flow out and then simply pour it in the cup of your palm, so that you could taste it and then choose the sweetest and best ones. Since we were regulars we would often spot uncles who would be moving from shop to shop tasting the mangoes, which I think was adequate for a full fledged breakfast. The tasting in the cup of the palm was a messy business, which our sensibilities did not permit so we acquired the skill of distinguishing them with just their aroma, smelling them we could make out whether it was sweet or sour, in fact smelling any fruit one can easily ascertain its general taste. 

Raw mangoes were the objective of our raids in RIMC and even earlier, oh the sheer pleasure of stealing those mangoes from the orchards or even our Master's bungalows! Like a a troop of monkeys  we would storm these unsuspecting trees, generally in the wee hours of mornings, when the occupants and guards were fast asleep and pluck every possible fruit, raw or ripe did not concern us, just the pleasure of this loot and then the ecstatic taste which lingers on till today. Of course the spoils were distributed when we were safe in our dormitories. We would even distribute these to some others quite generously, as they say in Urdu "Maal-e-muft, die beraham" ( when it is free the kindness overflows).

Raw mangoes could be put to tastier uses, my mother would get hold of the raw mangoes which were plucked for ripening in the orchards and keep them wrapped in paper and husk, providing ideal environment for ripening gradually, thus ensuring a perennial supply throughout the summers. Raw mangoes are an essential ingredient for a number of mouth watering delicacies, with different types of Chutneys, Pickles, Mango Panna ( a drink made out of raw mangoes and jaggery, ideal for cooling down after a hot summer day. The palate was always overflowing …….for us the Mango people!

XXXIV

 That is me, many moons ago, actually 34 years to be precise, with a healthy growth on the head. Over these years while most of us have greyed, some like me have gone bald but that is not the sum total of these decades. It's 34 years today since we took the proverbial "Last step" "Antim Pag" through the hallowed portals of Chetwode, at our alma mater the Indian Military Academy after a gruelling but highly enriching year in Dehradun.  My better half always chides me that we have stopped growing since that day because, we got stuck by the 'Antim Pag'......how I wish, somebody takes a call and introduces the next step there itself as the "Pratham Pag", after all it is the first firm step that we took that very day on this glorious journey. To paraphrase Neil Armstrong, the first man on the Moon, "A small step for the Young Officer  but a giant leap for the guardian of the sentinels of this great nation." For some it was an year and a half, while for some of us more fortunate ones it was after 9/10 years, having been through RIMC, Sainik Schools or Military Schools. Three decades plus is a life time, in our profession it not just the number of years spent pursuing our passion, our career, it has actually shaped who we are and no wonder our brotherhood and camaraderie is unmatched.

Our course was baptised in the icy heights of Sia Chen and the jungles of Sri Lanka. Immediately on commissioning, many of our friends were inducted into OP MEGHDOOT and OP PAWAN. We realised the pain and anguish of losing our buddies rather early, with Ramesh Rawat and Kang making the supreme sacrifice in OP PAWAN. Two Ashoks, Ashok Chaudhary and Ashok Sharma were awarded VrC in OP MEGHDOOT. Quite a beginning...Later we made it a habit with everyone of us doing our duty in Kashmir, Punjab, North East, UN and of course Kargil where again Deepak Rampal did us proud by his gallantry being awarded VrC. 

Out of sheer habit, I congratulated my neighbour, squadron type and dear friend Manjeet Singh Mokha on this momentous occasion. His response that it was I who had completed 34, he had since retired, got me thinking.....can we actually retire. I am amongst the fortunate ones to be still donning the uniform, albeit the colour now is black as against the Olive Greens that we chose, but those who have superannuated or have chosen to pursue a second career early on in life, they may have shed their uniforms but their heart still beats for the fauj. I am sure each of the veterans will swear by that, in fact, the bickering which we come across on various Whats App course groups is a testimony to the fact that we all continue to remain so involved with our Army, Navy, Airforce, Units, Paltan, Reunions and so on. Had we not been concerned, we would have gladly ignored the travails today, but at the drop of a hat we are prepared to trudge hundreds of kilometres just to break bread with our very own. Yes, they are the actual kith and kin, our brothers who were there to cover for you then and they are here today, should the need arise. The pandemic is one such period when this brotherhood has been at display in ample measure.

Life goes on, future remains as uncertain as it always is, "Kal ho na ho..." some of us God willing will serve a couple of years more, may rise in the hierarchy further .....it will be cause celebre for all of us, as though we have achieved the very same milestones, actually each one of us can take some credit for their success. It is also time to be grateful to the Almighty for having taken good care of us, some of our brethren haven't been that lucky, they laid down their lives in the service of their motherland, some others have crossed over to Valhalla by His design.The ones in the civil street today are also by and large acquitting themselves well, some have rapidly climbed the ladder of success....we have entrepreneurs, Cricket League COOs, AirLine owners, politicians, Financial wizards, Tech whiz, Management Gurus ; some chose to keep on running have become ultra marathoners, some have entered the academic arena, criss crossing the continents but just a call away when in need. So here is to the brotherhood of arms.....cheers!