Queen is dead Long live the King

"The queen is dead, long live the King", Queen Elizabeth II has finally got her date with her Maker, after having had the longest reign by any British Monarch. Monarchy is probably as old as human civilisation is or  may be as old as the recorded history is.  The immortal quote from George Orwell's Animal Farm "All men are equal, some are more equal than others", though describes the totalitarian societies such as communist regimes. But it is equally apt for any feudal society, although Britain is officially a democracy.  

A monarchy in any form, even a so called parliamentary one, like the British, is inherently a feudal society. But Britain is not alone, as even in this twenty first century there are  42 other monarchies,  spread all over the world cutting across continents, such as Japan, Thailand, Norway, Denmark, Spain, Belgium, Bhutan, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Jordan, Lesotho and many more. Though most of them are constitutional ones now with the King or Queen being only a titular head of the state, but still the people are so enamoured by the institution that they would rather continue with the system, despite the extravagant costs to the exchequer. Isn't this a little surprising? After all, Britain claims to be the originator of the current democratic systems in vogue in the post Westphalian nation states. Is this attraction purely for sentimental reasons or is it because a Head of the State is sort of mandatory even in parliamentary democracies, it is just that he or she is elected as against being born into royalty. While there may be merits in both the systems. Even an elected Head of the State leads a Royal life thereafter, with the exchequer bearing the costs. A born Royal against an elected one is hardly a choice, except that we get one from different regions and have new ones every five years. 

Queen Elizabeth II to her credit, maintained the decorum of her throne and despite major hiccups such as the failed marriage of King Charles III (then Prince of Wales) and  Lady Diana or Prince Harry-Megan severing their ties with the monarchy. The approval ratings of the Queen remained high, through these turbulent times. Guess what, if King Edward VII had not abdicated the throne, history would have taken a different turn altogether.(Incidentally, we have a connect with King Edward as he was the one who inaugurated my Alma Mater Prince of Wales Royal Indian Military College,RIMC as the then Prince of Wales in circa 1922 and to this day the emblem of our Old Boys Association has the badge of three Ostrich feathers with the motto of 'Ich Dien' meaning 'I Serve'.) Elizabeth being the daughter of King George VI, who ascended the throne, when King Edward chose love over the throne. By the same standards, King Charles III would have found himself in a similar position as his Queen consort was also a divorcee. Monarchy and conspiracies, scandals, palace intrigues are all inter-woven. Nepal suffered one of the worst such tragedies when in Jun 2001 the Prince himself killed (the subsequent investigations blamed it on Prince Birendra) nine members of Royal family of King Birendra Bikram Shah. 

Closer home, every  Royal succession was accompanied by a bloody power struggle, where sons turned against their fathers, Shahjahan and Aurangzeb who even killed his rival Dara Shikoh. There are many such incidents, to that extent these decked up Monarchies are relatively free from any blood bath at least. In ancient India the Royals were reported to be direct descendants of Gods themselves with some tracing their ancestry to Sun, Sooryvanshi while the others were Chandravanshi or Lunar ones.  The colourful lives of some of these Maharajahs have been documented in a book by the same name by Diwan Jarmani Dass, it makes interesting reading. Today we have political or business dynasties as Royalty has formally been given a burial after the abolition of privy purses. Dynasties incidentally have percolated in even other walks of life with fourth or fifth generation men/women in uniform or Legal Eagles, even Medicine as a profession. Then there are some of us who have decided to chart their own course....... and yes this piece has been written in the Queen's English! 

Shamming

"Life is a sham" should be adopted as the anthem of Rimcollians, of course the credit goes to Stephen Wrench for penning the lyrics and even composing it for us. Some of us have just shammed our way through our lives unabashedly. Shamming is not merely hoodwinking your nemesis, incidentally we Rimcollians have perfected it to an art form having copyright over the very concept, at least in the Armed Forces. It was only when we landed in the haloed precincts of National Defence Academy that the epithet of "Shammer" was bestowed on most our creed. Having spent five years doing the same set of physicals, we had the attitude of having been there, done that! We were practically the more evolved species of Cadets along with our brethren from Sainik Schools and Military Schools, we poured scorn over the 'Johnny come lately' who were struggling.  We were the proverbial Abhimanyus who had mastered the art in the wombs, yes you can describe the preparatory schools as the wombs where we were nurtured and then delivered to NDA in due course. There was no shame in shamming, if it did shame you then you ought not to have shammed. Yes there is code of conduct, as to where  one can and the red lines are quite clear, it's your conscience, which keeps you in check.

   Having realised the futility of it all, in our stage of Nirvana, we could literally sleep walk through the usual ragda without even batting an eyelid. This attitude and the tricks of the trade naturally irked the seniors, who realised that their endeavours at making our lives miserable had little or no impact on our well being. One typical example was the front rolls, the execution of which had to be observed as we could measure the whole corridor measuring may be about 80 odd metres was covered in barely four or may be five front rolls, which the greenhorns would probably take about 20 of them to reach the other end. No , there were no special instructions but the technique, if we can call it that, which involved executing almost a dive roll, with the front leg being utilised to provide a spring and  after the roll, a casual two more steps before the next one was executed gave us that "edge". But alas this lasted for a very brief period, till we got caught and were subjected to even harsher forms of punishments. 

Old habits die hard, having tasted blood, most of us found ways and means of simplifying things and finding easier way of doing the mundane rather than wasting our sweat on it. The beauty of this concept was knowing when 'to sham' and 'when not to', so it was never a dilemma. It was crystal clear, the routine ragda was to be shammed out as barring satisfying the ego of the seniors, it did precious little to enhance our skill sets. Shamming in the Drill Square was also considered par for the course, taking your Drill Ustaads for a ride with priceless stratagems as "Falling off a log table" or "Suffering from photosynthesis of the leg" were utilised to dodge the ever-present Drill instructors lurking behind the bushes in every nook and corner. 

Malingering was another form of shamming, wherein the cadet would feign an injury or illness and convince the doctors into awarding him a category for rest and recoup. Some of the tricks which were employed and worked were drinking a hot cup of tea in the hospital canteen and immediately have the thermometer inserted in the mouth, invariably it resulted in the recording of a temperature above normal. Some others had perfected the cut onion in the arm pit trick for a similar end result. Stress fractures  real or imaginary also brought some reprieve, though not an "Att C" or "Sick in Quarter" variety but at least an exemption from Drill,PT and Games for a couple of days.

Be that as it may, having grasped the nuances of life so early in life, that life itself is a sham or is "mithya" in other words. The advaita philosophers would be proud of our sadhna and consequent realisation of the illusoriness of the world. We became converts to the "this too shall pass!" and are living our lives in our respective states of Nirvana.

TO SIR WITH LOVE

 On the occasion of Teacher’s day today, it was the Speaking Tree  (Times of India) which caught my attention, which laid more emphasis on ‘Intuitive knowledge’ vis-a-vis ‘Intellectual’ one. While in Vedic times it was the former which was sought, the Colonial era focussed on the latter. 

I often wonder ,as to why do we realise the contribution of our teachers in shaping our personality, our lives, so late in life. While in school, academy and our other institutions we generally either resent their penchant for perfection,  their strict demeanour or are simply overawed by their immense knowledge and their persona. These years are the formative years of our lives, our professional careers, but more importantly it is their hammers which helped carve out some shape from the rough jagged pieces of rocks that we were. Obviously none relishes these strokes of hammers, we rebel, resent and always look for short cuts to get over these tribulations. More often than not, we got caught in our own webs, invented excuses which only ended up worsening the mess we created, but our venerable masters came to our rescue, punish us they did, but ensured we learned valuable life lessons. 

Education is not restricted to the three ‘R’s alone, we all are aware, it is the quest for adventure, the curiosity of the seeker, the desire to explore, all these are also highly desirable attributes for a meaningful fulfilling life. Needless to say, our parents are the first and foremost teachers. As we grow older, the realisation dawns on us, as to how they guided us through our formative early years, when we took our first tentative steps knowing fully well that it was their hand which was there to support us when we fell and helped us rise again, to when we uttered the first unintelligible syllables which they deciphered and communicated with us. Later through adolescence, teens and when we embarked on our professional journey they knew exactly the kind of push, nudge or caution was required to get us started. 

The association with the teachers starts with the formal schooling, where some leave a mark for life, although each one contributed to the individual that you turned out to be.  Yes they are doing their job, but it is the passion, the positive attitude, the pleasure of seeing their students succeed in life which I believe drives them to go the extra mile. I am sure all of us have come across them. 

“To Sir with Love” is a classic, which most of us would have read or would have probably watched the movie.  Sydney Poitier the chief protagonist against all odds wins the students over, the song by Lulu still gives me goose pimples. The plot has been adopted umpteen number of times in movies in Hindi also. It was the selfless dedication which finally won the day. Our very own “Taare Zamin Par” is another masterpiece. Maybe I am more affected as I am a teacher’s son and hail from an academic family with only me being the black sheep who chose this profession of arms. As if that was not all my father in law too was a teacher, so is my wife. Well to be fair, all wives are life long teachers, unfortunately their wards, the husbands are renegades beyond repair  without an exception. May be I should change the title to “To Madam with Love”!

Partition

 Partition means different things to different people, an interior designer looks at it from the point of view of creating space, improving the aesthetics.  A carpenter will be looking at pieces of wood with carvings , a mason would be doing the same thing with bricks and mortar, create a wall, which would be more permanent in nature unlike the others' partitions which can be undone rather easily.The geek would imagine the partitioning being referred to as that of the hard disk of his computer.

A partition, by its very meaning signifies a temporary demarcation of space, at times to actually beautify or to create additional space. Indian Living rooms often have a Saharanpur crafted wooden partition, often decorative, separating the Living and Dining spaces in the premises. But alas, there is no "Undo" in real life.

This independence day I was mulling over the saga of partition and the riots  which accompanied it. Have you ever wondered, why is the division of the country referred to as partition? In Hindi it is referred to as "Vibhajan", in Urdu as "Batwara" which mean division, which it actually was, the mass of subcontinent was vivisected, yes it was a living thriving entity which was cut up and not merely the geographical mass. The powers that be decided to take this experiment to its culmination, like an inexperienced butcher, the country was hacked into pieces. Even if it was to be undertaken, there was no surgeon's scalpel, which would have done it with more precision and less pain.  This division obviously was not temporary, the Colonial Masters in their strategic vision wanted to ensure that the subcontinent should forever be in turmoil, in conflict with itself, providing the Powers that be the opportunity to intervene, interfere while their own interests continue to be served.

Well, we not only divided the subcontinent but also our hearts, minds and physical bodies as well. When I was young, I always hoped that like Germany and Vietnam some day we shall overcome this artificial partition and be united not in the Akhand Bharat manner probably, but at least in the minds, we could live as friends if not long lost brothers. I had more faith in the people and expected them to have more sense than continue this nonsense. Obviously I was naive, it has gotten worse. 

So why have Germany and Vietnam succeeded and Korea and India-Pakistan-Bangladesh failed? Is it merely homogeneity of population, obviously not, as Koreans are of the same stock and religion, but they are plagued by the systems of governance and of course there is China, the Gorilla in the room, who would rather have status quo. In our case this division was thrust upon us because  a small section of the population could be influenced without any consideration for the ramifications. Britain was not alone and Asia was not the only continent, even Africa suffered a similar fate at the hands of their colonial masters, be they Germans, Dutch, French, Portuguese or Belgique. They were all alike, the degree of brutality varied, but the aftermath was a continent or subcontinent as in our case,  left licking their wounds.  Arbitrarily  drawn boundaries dividing clans and ethnic communities made the situation worse.

It is the money which makes the mare go, if India continues to grow even at its present rate and become a 10 trillion dollar economy in the coming decade,  will Pakistan realise the futility of the policy of pursuing this undeclared war any further. What if Pakis one day suddenly express their desire to join the Indian confederation sometime in future, what would our reaction be? Will we welcome them back, or just ask them to stay where they are; but try and be friends first? It is difficult to imagine Pak doing this today, but you never know....... there are no "Undo" features in real life! Or May be there are.....

What a Bum!!

Dumb and Dumber was a 1994 Hollywood comedy starring Jim Carrey which many of us would recall, the Bum episode reminded me of the movie. The Bum and the Bummer or should I say Bumper, as, to my surprise I discovered that Bummer is a brand of couple inner-wear, which may again be offensive to some. Bumper on the contrary can be used as a noun, adjective or even a verb; we are familiar with the metal or plastic guard which protects the engine of our automobiles commonly known as the bumper; bumper harvest is another common usage as an adjective. Be that as it may, this isn't about English grammar. It relates to the Bum of the Bum, an exposed one at that, in the buff which stirred a hornet's nest. Yes now you get it, the Gully Boy had done the unthinkable gone ahead and exposed himself, well what did you expect from the urchin, after all in the slum lanes, such exposures are not frowned upon, in fact the derriere is often the target of many a kicks thrown around. The rump is the subject of discussion here, which is an object of admiration and desire for the hedonists. Without getting much into anatomical details and the personal preferences, suffice to say that nudity is somehow not palatable to Victorian prudence which we as a nation have adopted as our own. 

Nudity is natural, we were all born that way, that we clothed ourselves was courtesy the Original sin, which is the Biblical theory. Indians did not have any such qualms, we celebrated nudity admired it as an art form and even sculpted it in our temples. We are not ashamed of our bodies, they are as they are, natural without any silicones or tattoos, just the way we are. I wonder whether I was born in this state of Nirvana, which we all were, or whether it was NDA, the original National Defence Academy which was instrumental in driving it home. In the Armed Forces an alumni of NDA is known as "Nanga" or the "unclothed one", the reason for this epithet is that while in Academy, we bathe stark naked in the bathrooms, the uninitiated would say so does everyone in the privacy of their personal ones at home. There is a slight difference here, ours were the common bathrooms, with no shower curtains or partitions of any kind. We disrobed and stepped into the shower without much ado and did our job and carried on. I am sure the bums would have been looked at, may be even ogled at, but by and large as all were supposedly straight males, nobody gave a damn. It may surprise those who are not from the Services background that while in the shower, we would sing, practise our words of command for the Drill square or simply chat up with the neighbour in the shower. Some others would  be indulging in their weekly laundry, while some would just wait their turn. Shedding our clothes ceased to be an issue thereafter. People on the Railway Stations were scandalised, when Cadets would indulge in fun and frolic on the Platforms just opening the Hose pipe meant for the Railways and taking a royal shower, obviously sans a stitch of cloth on them during the NDA Special Train rides back home on vacations. During Summers a second class coach can be rather stuffy and a bath is looked forward to and  welcomed. Actually the Armed Forces personnel invariably get over such issues as they put their very lives at stake, clothed or naked, it is obviously more important to be alive.

But the question which begs an answer obviously is friend Ranveer is not a Nanga, then why has he decided to be bold and unabashed. He is a bankable star, his movies, his relationship with Dipika, his outrageous anchoring of Award shows and the ads, as it is keep him in limelight. He appears to be normal, then why does he have to do a Protima Bedi? Some of you may recall she ran naked on Juhu beach in the early seventies and scandalised the nation in an era without any social media. Her escapade had gone viral with every tabloid covering the juicy gossip. We have had Amir Khan do a PK and Milind Soman-Madhu Sapre covering themselves with a python in an advertisement for some brand of shoes. 

Was this sin  in pursuit of art? May be, he is mighty pleased with his bod and just wanted to show off. He is obviously bumming along, or bumbling along….What a bum….!!!!

Black is Beautiful

It's 13th Jun again today, 35 years done and dusted. The OG that we got wedded to 35 years ago, has acquired a skin like affinity to our bodies and soul. Sans uniform, we feel naked somehow. We are aware that soon it shall be time for us to grow out of this acquired skin, a couple of days, months or for some fortunate ones a few years more, but finally we shall have to bid adieu, howsoever painful it may be. Having turned 35 in this metamorphosed life, yes we were actually metamorphosed from what we were back then, lanky awkward youth hailing from disparate regions, speaking all possible languages enshrined in the constitution and some dialects well …we might as well let the sleeping dogs lie.. 

Actually for some of us who decided to adorn the uniform even earlier, the RIMC Sainik School, Military School types it's been more than four decades, 44 to be precise.  The glamour of uniform is universal and cuts across geographical barriers. Obviously we stand out in a crowd, the brass on the shoulders adds to the persona and the medal ribands add distinct colour, the gait and upright stance does the rest. It's a package gifted to us by our venerable Drill Ustaads, all the digging in the drill squares ensured that we can't be seen slouching anywhere under any circumstances. 

Why this sudden affinity for uniform today, well I was in a Civil hospital this morning prior to going to the office and was obviously attired in the dress of the day,  not only was I greeted by most of the people but the respect which was visible in their eyes filled me with a justifiable pride in the rich and glorious traditions of our Armed Forces. Despite all the efforts by vested interests, this pillar of the country stands firm in its commitment to the national cause. That is the reason why we can stand tall in any society, paraphrasing with due apologies to Cliff Richard 

"When I was just a little baby, I didn't have many toys

But my mama used to say, "Son,You got more than other boys

Now you may not be good looking, And you may not be too rich

But you'll never, ever be alone 'Cause you've got uniform"

Today it is Black, which of course is Beautiful, more glamorous and attractive than the rather serious Olive Greens, be it the Combats or the disruptive pattern of uniform which we adopted from the good old Olive Green dungarees essentially to improve operational combat efficiency in Counter Insurgency and Counter Terror operations or its various other avatars, the love affair just keeps growing. In the Armed Forces we have taken our fetish for the uniforms to a different level altogether, so we have the summer and winter uniforms and we have ceremonial uniforms for both in addition, and then we have the Mess dresses, which though attractive may make even peacocks envious of the colours that we bestow on ourselves. We inherited these from the British Army and have stuck to them in the name of traditions… with Wellington Spurs to boot literally! When Mess dresses are written about can Dinner Nights be far behind! Dinner Nights are yet again another one of those traditions which have probably outlived their utility. I know some of us old fogies would get emotional and may even shed copious amount of tears even at the mention of deteriorating Dinner Night standards. But in the digital century, these archaic traditions ought to given a deserving ceremonial burial.

Even at the cost of being cliched, Army is not just a career or another profession it’s a way of life, it’s actually Life energy for most of us, our raison d’etre!! Cheers!!

Major Victory in a Minor Game

Thomas Cup Champions! Indian shuttlers have created history, whitewashing the fourteen times Champion Indonesia 3-0 in a thrilling final. Is this the 1983 Cricket World Cup moment for Badminton? Badminton has unfortunately been the poor cousin of Tennis, a sport, which has a much larger following and with that comes the moolah. In India, we are a Cricket obsessed nation with all the other sports being 'also rans'. It may come as surprise to most of us that a short statured Nandu Natekar is amongst the "Greats of Thomas Cup", he was the first Indian to reach Quarter Finals in All England Badminton Championship and also the first to win International Tournament in 1956. Badminton caught our imagination when Prakash Padukone brought home the All England Champions Cup for the first time in India and went on to be World Number One. Today's generation would probably recognise him as actor Deepika Padukone's father. Syed Modi was close on his heels and won the Commonwealth Gold Medal in 1982, however he was murdered under mysterious circumstances in 1988.  But it was Pulella Gopichand who transformed the face of Indian Badminton with a single minded devotion to the sport. His principled stand in refusing to endorse a soft drink brand post his All England win won him many admirers, this author being one of them. His Badminton Academy has been like a factory regularly producing champions as though in an assembly line, be it Saina Nehwal, PV Sindhu, Kidambi Srikanth, Sai Praneeth, P Kashyap and so on. In fact, a major part of the credit for today's Thomas Cup success is also due to Gopichand, as he is the Chief Coach.

So that in nutshell is the story of Indian Badminton, but point to ponder is why is Badminton given a step motherly treatment in comparison to Cricket ? One may say it's a case of comparing apples and oranges, as one is a "Team" sport, the other is an individual one, but even amongst the "Individual" sports like Tennis, it is not considered glamorous enough. While Cricket was considered a gentleman's game, yes "considered", as it hardly is gentlemanly any longer. The concept of gentlemanly game was clearly a hangover from the colonial days of the Raj, when the Sahibs would amble onto the Cricket field by around 10 am in the morning and amuse themselves for an hour before taking a 15 minutes drinks break which will be followed by similar pretensions, where two or three of the 15 on field personnel are active at any one time. A sumptuous lunch break beckons, followed by similar fooling around when the Chhota Hazari would be presented for the Tea break and then after the last about an hour of the same, call it a day. The same activity was to be repeated over leisurely five days. In contrast a game of Hockey would be finished in just one session of Cricket, precisely 70 minutes of hectic activity. Be that as it may, my hunch is that sports where the West continued its dominance, received support from the media houses thus increasing its reach and popularity, Tennis, Soccer, Rugby and Basket Ball for example; the ones where the Orientals dominated had to rest content with the left over spoils, Badminton, Hockey, Table Tennis etc. Cricket was an exception as it was the Indian lucre which drives the popularity and status as a rich sport. 

 The Army has its own hierarchy of sports, it was obsessed with gender branding of sports, Badminton, Table Tennis were the preserve of the ladies, while troop games such as Hockey, Football, Volleyball, Basket Ball where troops participated in the sport with the officers were obviously preferred. Intermingling with the men on the sports field was a time tested formula for winning their trust and earning their respect. Tennis, Squash were considered officer like sports, but Badminton, TT were not so lucky. I am hopeful that this stupendous achievement is the harbinger for better days for the minor games and sports as they are referred to in the Army parlance. If it is some consolation to the enthusiasts, even Cricket is a Minor one with Soccer, Hockey, Boxing, Athletics being the major ones.