THE DAILY OBSERVRR-72

 😎😜THE DAILY OBSERVER-72😜😎

Thurs 20 May 2021

          EXODUS

          Yesterday will go down in the history of this group as a Black Day. A day when EGO held sway over everything else. WHO is the culprit - that is a statement, not a question. The Group is the Victim. 

Investigations will reveal in due course of time whether it is a suicide or a murder.

              In an eerie resemblance to recent real-life events in the reel world, there is an alleged drugs angle too. Then again, there are indications of a sham investigation 

with a kangaroo court pronouncing a judgement in unseemly haste. A

trial by media has also commenced

simultaneously.The eagerness  to name and shame the defenceless is all too obvious.

            The damage is done. The loss is irrepairable. The poisonous

cocktail of religion and politics has

succeeded in contaminating the 

thought processes of those who describe  themselves as

- One for all and all for one. 

It has sadly been brought down to- 

TO EACH HIS OWN. Apne aap ko bacha lo, again eerily similar to the real-life situation vis-a-vis the pandemic. The stress has proved to be too much for those who describe themselves as one of the

 toughest . A scapegoat had to be found and sacrificed at the altar of righteousness in the name of so-called nationalism. As with any such exercise in history, a martyr has been created and has found sympathisers to the cause of the underdog.Self-proclaimed experts in International relations and diplomacy have failed miserably to take care of their own internal affairs.

         The order of the day is - Take  two danged  doses of whatever it is that may save life, mask up and hide the head in the sand. Never dare to question those in power . Traits exhibited for selection in the Army during SSB seem to have taken a back seat with  the passage of 39 years and that is indeed a very sorry state of 

affairs.

Aaj Guruvar ka din !

Enjoy your introspection, bhaiyo, behnen to yahan hain nahi ! 

( ATMA)-NIRBHAR BANO

THE DAILY OBSERVER-71

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-71😎

18 May 2021

 THE IRON DROME SYNDROME

             Yesterday saw yet another mid-night departure from the group after a day full of slanging matches. It has now become an established fact that once a certain ECH (ex- corporate honcho) of ours takes a stand on anything, an Israeli- Palestine peace accord stands more chances of being arrived at than the unlikely event of this Pundit backing down. As in the case of the Iron Dome of Israel, no amount of missiles in the form of logic or facts can penetrate his formidable defence system. He remains unmoved in the face of a barrage of counter-arguments and keeps asserting his own righteousness. When all else fails, he is quick to point out to his adversaries that post 8 p.m. is not the ideal time for them to be indulging in exchanges of a  "serious nature and having nation-wide implications " along logical lines. But something HAS to give, and that came in the form of Rajendra Madhukar Kadam excusing himself from all future proceedings  at around mid-night. It is yet to be ascertained whether this was yet another case of a brother-GC having had one too many after the (in)famous 8 pm red line and his finger taking independent action. Maybe so, but it is more likely that this was yet another instance of an elderly Tantya Tope looking forward to a peaceful post- retirement existence finding the fire-works too much to handle. Just like those poor inhabitants of Gaza these days. Given a chance, they too would love to leave their present location. The heavy artillery exchange between SBT and Jallo must have been the last straw for Ksdambhai. Efforts of the wise old sage in the form of a Pav-Paji ka Bhaav-Paji joke went in vain and unnoticed in the din Same was the case with an anal-gin joke from Nirbhye. An excellent post on birds sent by our gallantry award winner earlier in the day went got scant attention.. This brave soldier seems to be the first one of us to have finally graduated to the senior citizens club. The term  " bird-watching " has now acquired a new meaning for him. Why can the rest of us not follow this example ? ?

       The above  activities resulted in overshadowing the Victory Parade of Comrade Pratapda in the morning on the occassion of his family's success in the Covid Battle. Kudos to them. Kudos also to our Kisan bhais snapped during their celebrations of harvest, with Mandeep leading. They seem to be having no hassles.

           Ever since the start of the farmer agitation, there has been a marked increase in the display of hostilities on this forum. Both in quality and quantity. Before all that, the activities on the front lines used to resemble those at the Wagah border during festive days with an exchange of sweets and so forth. But post the Kisan Jam the same looks more like the fierce face-off at Wagah during the retreat ceremony. The heels have started flying higher and higher and the swaggering  and posturing is getting more aggressive.

           There's no doubt that such events liven up the atmosphere and that they are a form of tourist attraction too. But sometimes the actors in this drama get too carried away while playing their respective roles and the mayhem that follows is not so pleasant.

           What a spirited lot we are, refusing to get mellowed or cowed down with age.

Did or did not a COP get bashed up by a couple of YO's in 1984 in Bangalore ?

Did or didn't two eminent personalities of Hindu_ stan die on the same day in 2017 ?

Is Modi actually selling off the country to Ambani- Adani ?

Did Rahul Gandhi have breakfast today ?

Did Trump actually win the 

election ? 

How did that fellow manage to get his ship stuck in the Suez canal ?

Is Hindooostan handling her foreign policy right ? 

Did Didi actually break her leg ?

What exactly is the protocol to be followed when an Indian lady belonging to a certain State and certain religion is killed in a certain country due to missile fire when the State Govt. is run by a certain political party ?

What will be the consequences of cluterring of Outer Space ?

What is the role played by cowdung in Climate change ?

Has anyone seen Amitbhai doing drill in khaki shorts ?

And so the list goes on. Keep debating, friends. Do get personal, that makes it even more interesting.

NOW is the correct moment, THIS is the right place and THESE are the right people for telling - I am always right, PERIOD.

After all, the TDO can be published on a regular basis only if the proper masala is provided !

PS - If anyone's personal or national or political or religious or any other sentiment has been hurt by the foregoing - VERY GOOD - that is exactly what they are meant to do.

Have a great Tuesday and do not forget to continue from where you all left off .

Cheers !

THE OBSERVER-(M-42)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-42)😎

Sun 16 May 2021

               MESS AT THE

            OFFICERS MESS

    Remember the days when the term "waves " used to signify either those things in the ocean or at the worst a heat or cold wave ? No worries of a second or third one ?

There used to be such leisurely times too, when Doordarshan was the only TV channel available for limited sessions. That too only on a B&W TV ( colour TV was yet to make its appearance ) and Vividh Bharati and Radio Ceylon were popular entertainment. Almost sounds like prehistoric times now. But those are the ones i'm talking of. So just for a moment, take time off from the news and enjoy a refreshing read this Sunday. It is guaranteed to bring those roses back to your cheeks !

                Where am i headed to ? What is life all about ? Is there any purpose to it or am i just drifting aimlessly, buffetted here and there by the powers that be, forces beyond my control ?

These were the kind of questions flitting constantly across the young subaltern's mind during the first few years of his career. But then, come to think of it, the very same questions do keep popping up even right now - both with regards to life in general and to  the penning down of this narrative in particular. Digging around a little deeper ( and wider) , one finds that this has been the case at every stage of life from the moment one got into this habit called thinking ! And then there is the Master Question, what exactly is the source from where  all these questions spring up ? The answers are still being sought.

          Time is of the essence and not something to be wasted was one of the strident notes of the music playing out in the head during those days brimming with youthful energy. Any time not spent in complete enjoyment of the moment was construed to be a total waste.I enjoyed every bit of the daily routine from the minute i sipped my bed-tea. This was had sitting propped up with a pillow behind my back, blowing thoughtful rings from the first smoke of the day .And so the day went till i dropped dead at the end after the last post-dinner puff. The end of the day was usually not very far from the beginning of the next. During weekdays, the schedule was jam-packed , leaving little room for

anything other than what was the official schedule. Even if most of it consisted just of making oneself present at the right place in the right dress at the right time. The advantage in being a junior in the hierarchy was that once presence was marked, the rest was deemed to be the responsibilty of the seniors.

            By this time, a second star had added considerable weight on the shoulders and some of that had gone to the head too.Many of the unit officers had completed their tenures and left while others including some youngsters had joined in. These kept pouring in regularly at six-monthly intervals. So at last there was someone else down the pecking order now, waiting with plate in hand and forlornly eyeing the left-over pieces of chicken during parties in the Mess. And speaking of parties - there were many. The boss was a staunch believer in building camaraderie in his team through close interaction amongst the officers and families on a regular basis and anything he believed in was put into action.

          Guess this would be just about the right moment to introduce  the cast that took part in the daily drama. My immediate senior was Capt P, fondly called Sher by all the juniors.Those were the days when entitlement of free rations to officers had just started.This meant that when one settled down as usual for dinner after suitably arousing one's appetite with sufficient amounts of the preferred poison, looking forward to a royal feast, the waiter would more often than not turn up with spinach or tinda/lauki or pumpkin with yellow dal. On such occassions, this Sher would haughtily thrust away his plate with the remark - " Sher ghaas nahi khata. " Hence the monicker. This was particularly funny because his build was more along the lines of a sleek gazelle than that of a lion or tiger and the same could be said about his voice. Still, he managed to carry on himself the demeanour of a ferocious tiger.This Sher had a room to himself  at the top of the staircase leading away from the dining hall. He insisted on sleeping with his door latched from inside. Nothing much wrong with that, only thing is he also had the unique gift of getting into such a deep sleep that even an earthquake was unlikely to wake him up. And that is exactly what it sounded like every morning, with his sahayak and the Mess staff taking turns at banging on his wooden door. To top this, once awake he would launch into a tirade demanding why he had not been woken up earlier ! He also had this peculiar habit of addressing all seniors as Sir and others as Sher.

           My immediate junior and room-mate for some time was S. He had a penchant for astrology and palmistry.He was obsessed with this strong fear that his hair was constantly falling and that he would go bald soon. So Sher promptly christened him - Ganja. The one after him was G. Till his arrival, things were moving quite smoothly in the Mess. Every evening was a celebration of sorts with drinks, snacks and music in equal amounts being the order of the day.Though individual tastes in music varied, all enjoyed blaring it and talking of this and that till dinner time. The odd senior officer finding himself caught in this muddle would politely excuse himself and break off for dinner at the earliest opportunity . The rest of us did not recognise any time or other limits. This was clearly not an evening routine suitable for those beyond a certain age.

        Then arrived the inevitable haddi in the kebab. It took some time for us to realise why this chappy's arrival had suddenly made life seem very suffocating, as if there had been a sudden depletion in the atmospheric oxygen.For one thing, he was a goody-two-shoes very unlike us and did not believe that drinking every evening till the cock started crowing was a mandatory and essential part of unit life.He would slip out of his room just in time to join the early diners and just as quickly slink back into it.But what made life totally  miserable was his habit of constantly asking questions. That in itself was not so out of the ordinary for a newcomer. What was unusual about this one was that he asked questions to which he already knew the correct answers. Moreover, he made it a point to indulge in this habit of his in full hearing range of the public at large. Nothing could make a senior officer more uncomfortable than the spectacle of a junior broadcasting over All India Radio, as it were, that he did not have the correct answers.

 Sher was unfortunate to have this guy in his Company as his immediate junior, which meant that they were thrown together for the better part of the day. But he soon found his own method of tackling this latest menace. He told the Question Master that he was allowed to ask only five questions in a day. Following this,the daily early morning conversation between these two went along  these lines.

( QM would already be setting into his bread and eggs as Sher walked majestically down the staircase from his room ).

QM to Sher : Good morning Sir. 

                      How are you ?

Sher : Fine. One.

QM : Will u be coming for this

          evening's lecture, Sir ?

Sher : Maybe.Two.

QM : Have you seen the 

         newspaper today, Sir?

Sher : Yes. Three.

QM : What's the topic for the 

          lecture, Sir ?

Sher : Finance. Four.

QM :  No Sir, that has been

          changed to Arboriculture.Will 

          you be attending, Sir?

          ( Here it may be worthwhile

             to note that our man also 

             had this nasty tendency of 

             repeating the most   

             uncomfortable question )

Sher : I told you, maybe . Five. Your 

           quota for the day is now

           over Remember, no more

            questions.

All the above before Sher could make his way down the stairs for breakfast. 

One day, QM was tasked to accompany me during an exercise in the desert to "learn the ropes ".

 While travelling with me in the dark as we crossed yet another cluster of huts, i was desperately poring over the map to try and identify where exactly we were.Outwardly,

i was trying not to appear as lost as i actually was. True to form, QM asked - "Which village is this, Sir ? "  Sukhchainpura, i answered with a confidence i actually did not truly feel. " No Sir, it is Harisighpura, "  came QM's reply on the trot. 

      As if all this was not enough, this fellow was a golf player of some repute and spent a lot of time on the greens with the CO and other senior officers. There was a strong feeling that he leaked out the dark secrets of the rest of us during these golfing sessions.

         The picture would be incomplete without mention of the two Mess cooks, Vasu and Anand Rao. Vasu was the senior amongst the two and much in demand during parties at other Messes and homes.His leave could not be sanctioned without prior approval of higher-ups and was generally timed to coincide with that of the CO's. He was a real specialist in Continental and Chinese dishes. Anand Rao on the other hand was more down to earth and could do wonders with brinjal, karela and even tinda/ pumpkin when he felt like it.His only drawback was his fondness of decorating his desserts with a peculiar shade of green. Both of them were highly temperamental and had to be kept in good "spirits" to get the best out of them. One had to be very careful in commenting about their cooking. The slightest remark about even the amount of salt could send them

into a sulk for days. Of the waiters, Dondappa, the senior-most was much in demand and invariably away on attachment to some higher

establishment or the other. Vijayan and Mohanan took turns in serving the food and drinks. Gangarde, the masalchi, was a wrestler and looked like one too. 

          The Mess was housed in a three-bedroom bungalow with a huge lounge, dining room, a small lawn in front and a little kitchen-

garden at the back. The Mess Staff entered and exited through the small gate at the side and lived in tents pitched at the back. An empty plot to the side was used for additional tents for the staff. It was located in Sector-6, Panchkula which at that time was developing slowly, with many vacant plots and hardly any movement through the day.

          It so happened that i came to be one of the first few occupants of this place, when the unit returned after manouvres in the desert. I still recall that fateful hot summer day when i was cooling off in my room. No one other than the Mess staff was around on that Sunday, the others being away on leave or duty.After an early breakfast, i was lying in my room, not knowing what to do. There was a light knock on the door and Dondappa shimmered in and announced, " Sir, i have kept some beer in the fridge." Though at a loss to understand why this fact had to be particularly announced to me, i just thanked him and continued with what i was doing- i.e. nothing. It was really hot that day and after some more time, Dondappa came and announced that the beer was now  chilled. Once more, i thanked him, but by this time i am quite sure he noticed that my mouth had started drooling. I had by now started weighing the pros and cons of inaugurating my activity in this Mess with a cold bottle of beer. After all, it WAS  really hot and then i was also duty bound in a way, to see that the unit Mess functionined properly in all respects.

Dondappa eased this situation by shimmering in yet again and asking, " Shall i open up a beer, 

Sir ?"

Put across that way, i thought it would be impolite to refuse such an

offer and nodded assent. With the beer came the question, " What about some snacks to accompany, Sir ?" 

          You see, this Dondappa was no ordinary mortal, he was an institution by himself. While on duty

( and that is the only form of him that was visible to the naked eye ), he had the air of the ADC to the President of India ceremoniously escorting him for taking the salute at the Republic Day Parade. He did not walk, he floated. And when he brought beer to the thirsty youngster, it came in a silver mug, along with the freshly opened bottle neatly enconsced in a sparkling white damask crisp starched white napkin.

           I called this day fateful because it laid the trend for the days to follow. Weekends began with Saturday afternoon beer and ended early on Monday morning

with a severe hangover after the Sunday revelry that followed Saturday. On weekdays, the drinking was "restricted" to the evenings.

          Fate had ensured that my path crossed that of Dondappa rather than that of some conscientious senior officer of the unit that first Sunday. Who knows, instead of striking a close life-long relationship with beer and such- like, i might have ended up deeply studying Military History and subjects along those lines.Destiny. No regrets.To each his own.

THE DAILY OBSERVER-70

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-(70)😎

Fri 14 May 2021

   S MURALI AND THE COPS

      Today's interaction in this forum of ours on the above subject reminded me of an incident that took place while we were on one of the last major Exercises in OTA. After lunch, we were just lounging around in open space, practising the exchange of  messages over the ANPRC. As usual there was a lot of static and it was difficult to hear what was being said. While twirling the frequency knobs at random, we suddenly hit the local Police frequency and there was a lot of radio traffic in Tamil. Murali, who as usual in those GC days, was napping at close quarters, jumped up excitedly on hearing this and asked for the handset. After listening in for a little, he abruptly barked over the radio :

 CALLING ALL STATIONS. THIS IS IGIS. SHUT UP, REPEAT ALL STATIONS SHUT UP IMMEDIATELY. OVER.

There was a pin-drop shocked silence on the radio waves.

This was the first time any of us had seen this side of Murali and we came to know he could talk like this too when he felt like doing so. Till that moment, we had hardly heard his voice. Only someone with an intimate knowledge of Police procedures and practices could have done so !  Never take S Murali lightly is the moral of the story. Since those days, he has been going places and hob-nobbing with top brass of all kinds. There is no subject under the Sun ( or even beyond it ) that is beyond his expertise. At the drop of a hat, he can produce documentary proof in seven different languages to drive home his point. So please do not mess around with him.

THE OBSERVER-(M-41)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-41)😎

Tue 11 May 2021

        AND SO THE SHOW 

               GOES ON

      History is probably replete with instances of love affairs leading to broken hearts and such hearts going on to produce monumental works of one kind or the other. But natural, one presumes, all that pent-up energy has to find some outlet after the original channel has been blocked. Failing that there is bound to be an explosion in some form or the other 

           Talking of explosions, within weeks of his return to the unit after the fiasco at Pune, Santa found himself bound for yet another Course. This one was the Bomb Disposal Course at Pune. Santa had opted for this too in happier days when Pune used to be synonymous with Paradise for him. Now it appeared to be just the opposite, but nothing could be done about that. There was no choice for him but to go through the exercise of running that gauntlet too. As things turned out much later, this was a blessing in disguise - something good emerging from the fiasco. Everything happens for the best. That is exactly what Santa's well-wishers kept telling him but it was a long time before he could bring himself to agree .

        This is what happens once the ball has been set rolling or the curtains have been raised, or, in other words, the train has been flagged off. When passengers at Delhi have boarded what they believe to be the GT Express to Chennai, the train cannot be abruptly stopped at Jhumri Talayya and emptied out. Regardless of the fact that there are many who have  by now had more than their fair share of looking out of the window and find their attention wavering, the GT Express simply has no choice but to finally limp its way into Chennai Central. Only then can it let those who are in it for the long haul to get off.

          So coming back to the Santa imbroglio . Actually it comes as quite a surprise to Santa that even after the passage of so many years, some portion of the old wounds still fester to an extent that it hurts to even think of it. Putting it down in black and white is akin to twisting the knife inside the wound. Should he therefore call it off and switch over to something more pleasant ? No, Santa is made of sterner stuff and has never been one to drop out of a race before the finish point .This being the age of the T-20, the fight has to carry on till the last ball of the last over. The option of declaring the innings and playing for a draw is non-existent. So even at the cost of reopening some raw areas and pouring salt, he continues to dig into memory and display what he finds. And then, there is also the saying - it is a queer kind of joy that comes out of sorrow ! So, like the IPL , the narrative was suspended temporarily. I must confess that there was a great temptation of calling the entire exercise of writng memoirs altogether.But then again, what the heck ! The show must go on.

       To recapitulate. A confused Santa had made himself scarce at a wedding venue in Pune after finding himself uneasy with the state of affairs . His mind was in turmoil. His dream vision of more than a year had turned out to be just that - HIS dream, wishful and one-sided. That was the hard truth facing him at that moment which could not be denied, however much he detested it. At the same time, having acted upon his gut feeling, he found it very difficult to come to terms with the altered state of affairs. Gradually, he was assailed by doubts about whether his actions had been too impulsive. What if it turned out that his instincts had been all wrong and he had acted unwisely, causing hurt ? This line of thought was fuelled further by a large number of  common friends who were just not ready to accept that things had turned out to be the way they had. Actually, the best thing for him would have been to leave Pune immediately but he was unable to do so due to reasons, some of which were beyond his control. It is amazing how the mind clutches at the thinnest of straws to prevent the drowning of its pet project.

           The next few days saw hectic action. A parley between the principal actors was arranged, discussions were held and accusations were traded . Much to his surprise, Santa discovered that with the sudden turn of events, all aspects that had previously been seen as positive had now become just the opposite. The tide had changed and there was no way of reverting to the old status. After failing to make any headway in his attempts to put Humpty Dumpty together again, a totally dejected Santa left for his unit. He felt as if the whole world was looking at him with questioning eyes and he had to explain the circumstances to each and every one he came across.

          Then followed a long period of self-doubt, guilt, hurt, and " what if ? "  moments. The entire saga had shaken all of Santa's beliefs at the very foundations. The dictum that nothing could go wrong when the intentions were pure seemed to no longer hold good. This, Santa conveniently took  as a " license to kill " and went about on a rampage. 

For quite some time, he became a party animal and waa to be spotted at many a binge with bottles of rum, the contents of which he freely dispensed to the thirsty and needy. There were times when he made it back to the Mess just in time to freshen up, slip into shorts and be counted amongst those present for the P.T  parade.But that routine also did not suit him for long and he would frequently stop and make yet another attempt to set things right. In this process, he met all kinds of people who gave their own well- meaning advice. He went through many interesting experiences until one fine day, he came across the one destined to be his partner for life.

        That took place much later but the intervening period seems like a black-out . Near and dear ones were very helpful and did all they could to raise Santa's spirits. One even pointed out that there was now no further chance of falling deeper into the mire and the only way left was back upwards. Slowly, it sunk in that maybe all had happened was actually for the best. Testing times !

          Life in the unit played its own role to show that whatever else takes place in individual minds, the show goes on. Col Superman had his own ideas of how the unit should be run and set about implementing them. Earlier, the morning tea-break used to be a more or less individual affair, with officers grabbing a cuppa alone or in small groups. It now became a more formal * informal " affair, with compulsory attendance for everyone at a fixed time in a central tea-room. 

        It is amazing how a small change in routine like this can affect life. The C.O. was earlier a figure rarely to be come across by the average subaltern. Now it became a daily affair for all to be face-to-face with their nemesis. There was an immediate marked improvement in the turnout of all officers. The tearoom got a facelift and so did the waiters and crockery. It also became the time for the CO to dish out small individual tasks for officers and keep them on their toes. Minor differences or internal problems between various wings of the unit also got sorted out without the usual long-winded and often superfluous exchange of correspondence.

     This also turned out to be a period of much more involvement and interaction with the Bombay Sapper troops, leading to a deeper understanding of their special characteristics. Hats off to the Britishers who recognised the common dietary habits of this special blend of Maratha and Sikh troops. Both fond of eating well and both believing that a life without strongly spiced food was not one worth living. But even more than this was their common strong tendency to take into their possession anything that caught their fancy that was not nailed down, in the belief that it would come handy some day. During the course of rounds of the unit lines prior to the CO's inspections, i had noticed that there was one room labelled " Salvage Stores " which was always locked contrary to all orders. On questioning, the guys would invariably manage to divert the attention somehow. One fine day, the CO gave strict instructions for all such " Salvage Stores " ( each Company had one ) to be examined and contents noted down. One could never have imagined the contents ! The Companies, which had existed as independent entities since British times before being clubbed into Regiments, were carrying these " Salvage Stores " from the World War era from places like Congo.All in the belief that " Kade kaam 

auga " -( never know when it might come handy) . Weighing balances, weights, assorted lamps, broken furniture, tool-kits, vehicle spare parts, mirrors,road signs, pipes, pumps, fans, penstands, fuse- boxes,meters of various types, sports equipment, helmets, goggles…..the works. That is when i first came to learn that these innocent looking brothers-in-arms of mine could also be the most notorious thieves when they got it into their heads that the occassion demanded it. In fact, there was a strong rumour going around that they had once managed to actualky purloin a whole bulldozer and tried to hide it  after digging the sand !

         So there i was, on the one hand asking, " Death, where is thy sting ?" while at the same time echoing, " Hang on, man, the game is not over yet." Talking of games, that reminds me of the occassion when i scored my first ever and also last goal in hockey. Hockey was a game i had tried out and decided to leave alone when i was in Class-4.One of the reasons being that i never was able to score a goal, even while practising from right in front of the goalpost with no defenders. 

      It happened like this. One day, i just about managed to make it to the unit in time for PT after a late night binge, nursing a heavy hangover. Knowing that the inter-company hockey matches were on, i was rather looking forward to this god-sent opportunity of tucking into lots of nimbu-pani and pakoras as one of the applauding spectators. Imagine my shock, when just before the game started, our Comapany Subedar walked up to me holding out a brand new hockey stick with a mischievous glunt in his eyes. In answer to my protestations, he simply said that Capt saab is playing for the opponents and you have to play for us. Put like that, in front of all the other officers and JCOs there was nothing i could do but run onto the field with the stick in my hands. It did not matter in the least that the other officer was actually a pretty adept hockey player. I took my place somewhere towards the back, hoping the ball would somehow never come towards me. But as l7ck would have it, the ball headed my way and i had to poke my stick at it. Well, one thing lead to another and before i knew what had happened, i found myself running right near the opposing team's goal. Somehow, the ball once again headed towards me and i jabbed at it to prevent it from hitting my legs. Lo and behold, there was this sound of leather striking wood and all-round applause. I had, for the first and last time in life, managed to score a goal in hockey. The Capt saab in the opposing team kept shouting something about " off-side" but no one paid any attention. The game was won. Mostly because these matches were more of an exercise in preventing the opposing team from scoring rather than scoring any goals of your own. It mattered least that one of the teams even had a Services level player. Inter-company matches demanded some different set of skills altogether !

THE DAILY OBSERVER-68S

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-68S😎

         ( SUPPLEMENT )

02 May 2021

   A  SPIRITUAL SEEKER'S

             MESSAGE

     The speaker in the audio clip attached is Shri Nochur Venkatraman, a reknowned disciple of Shri Ramana Maharishi. I had the good fortune of interacting with him years ago. His message on the present situation ( Pandemic) seems to make a lot of sense, so sharing the original with all of you with my own poor attempt at translation. The original is in very simple Tamil and it is worth listening to the calm voice of truth. It is not at all difficult to understand for anyone who has spent ten months in OTA. This is what he says : -

      In the present prevailing situation, what we have to do is to keep our minds calm and peaceful without worrying, do japam (naam-jaap) and do readings of the true scriptures. Talking about only such subjects, it is better for us to stay put wherever we are. That is all.

That is the only way we can contribute to the welfare of all. We give power to negativity or to those things which are harmful to ourselves by talking about them, debating and propogating them. That is why everyone should avoid repeatedly watching such related news on TV, always talking about this disease and becoming panic-stricken . The more we pander to this fear, the more we attract negativty . The only way to avoid attracting such doshas to ourselves is by remaining without worrying about them and talking to others about them.We should empower Shri Vishnu. Shri Vishnu's power lies in the devotees only.The devotees worship, meditate on and talk about Him only.That is when the Bhagawat Shakti manifests itself in this world. In a similar fashion, the Asuric shakti will manifest itself if we keep talking about it. I am not saying that the virus is an Asuric shakti. It is also a Devic shakti, the power of Ambal.

In the olden days, whenever deadly disease became prevalent, it used to be said that Amma has come and there would be Vandanam .If we respect it and worship it in that form, it will perform whatever its task is and go away.

        But if we keep worrying about it as something that is unwelcome,  spoil our own minds,disturb the peace of mind of others who are calm by talking to them about it, - that is a much bigger affliction. Without doing all this, it is better to do as the Government says and not go out.There is nothing outside that cannot be left alone for some time. Bhagawan has given all of us a month's time to stay inside and meditate, study the scriptures and do naam-jaap. Left to ourselves, we would never have done this.This gift has come to us at such a convenient and auspicious time. In this hot weather, it is better to remain inside in the shade, meditate, read good books and have Satsanghs. Please do not go around being afraid and spreading fear in gatherings. At its worst, the virus spells death. The main aim of having Satsanghs is to overcome the fear of death.It is not possible to overcome physical death, but it is very much possible to overcome the fear of death. That is what is called Gyana. Without fearing death, without discussing about death, remaing calm and content and peaceful is the need of the hour. Please do not spread fear.That is the best seva one can do. Other than that, this is a great opportunity to remain in solitude and peace.

THE DAILY OBSERVER-68

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER- 68😎

Sun 02 May 2021

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