THE DAILY OBSERVER-58

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-(58)😎

Tues 29 Dec 2020

ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN         FRONT

         One is beginning to get a small glimpse of the scenario that must have presented itself to Pitamah after the Mahabharata was done with. From his vantage OP position, lying on his  bed of arrows and surveying the carnage, he started expounding the Vishnu Sahasranama. Others joined in and shared their opinions, notable amongst them being the Naga sant and the sage with the Sword. For reasons best known to himself , Naga Sant equated the knowledge of the protagonists to a Bell and the other concurred. Probably, in the din of battle, they had missed out on learned discourses on the subject by Gyanis Prithvi and Rimcowallah. The SOC in C, true to form, contented himself by sending an " early morning " relevant quote of Swami Viveka late in the afternoon..Rishi Vish(wamitra) tut-tutted and laid the whole blame for the conflagration squarely on the shoulders of Lamboo Sant.Yet others were of the opinion that utterances of someone who can't even remember his own Wedding date are not to be taken so seriously.Lamboo Sant even tendered an apology for rattling out a Nursery Rhyme in the heat of the moment..The great Sacrificer & Big Thinker patted himself on the back for displaying supreme valour by taking off for a hot shower in the midst of it all and thereby preventing further bloodshed.The Fearless One played his own role along with some other members of the UN peacekeeping forces. Dodging heavy fire, they ran between the battle lines, singing songs of Shanti . The two 8 pm die-hards, Rajasekaran and Soma (shaker-an)  kept close watch over the entire proceedings, making vain attempts at halting it while reserving their comments for later. 

The Truthful Brave Lion kept roaring for peace on earth.The Usually Smiling Guru retreated after shooting from the hip at known and unkown targets. The Highland Sadhu conferred the highest meritorious certificates he could think of upon all participants in particular and SS 33/24 in general on this landmark event for the splendid display of vocabulary.

Unable to bear the sight of so much bloodshed, the saint from overseas proclaimed - Yes , i Kan(g)o and withdrew into the deep meditation from which he had emerged for a short while. The tantric Yogi from Didiland took turns at alternately fanning the flames of battle and dousing the fire.That he is able to perform both these roles simultaneously like a juggler is further proof of his dexterity. In the morning the very same Maharishi Chandanananda looked at the devastation  with great satisfaction and philosophically proclaimed that What will be will be. To confuse issues further, he added that the eye which sees has to bacome that which is seen, after which all will become clear. Befuddled ? That's what tantriks are meant to do, befuddle all.

          Running the grave risk of getting labelled as being ignorant of the sacred texts by our Parambhakt Pandit Tripathiji, the Observer now proceeds to the closing scenes of the original great epic. Yudhishtra and a Black Dog ( u can read tantric yogi and his Black-Dog batchmate) are the last ones left as they go up the Himalayas. The Black Dog is the first to go and then Yudhishtra also finds himself in Heaven.To his surprise, the entire cast of the Epic is there to welcome him.. They are all there because they all played their respective parts faithfully and sincerely to the hilt.

Well done Red, Blue is the winner.Now get ready for the next event.Shera-Shera Naushera; Hima-Hima Kohima. Go have the chay-pakodas and relax.There are many more trophies and awards left for those with competitive spirit.

   Not at all suggesting that this entire group is going to end up in heaven, it is most likely that we would find ourselves in the other place.Remember, wherever we may claim to have arrived today, there was a time when we readily and voluntarily deposited all our gray matter in the Kot at OTA. Having since lost the Diks, there is no way of claiming it back from the Jatram Kot NCO.So relax in this Pagal Gymkhana and enjoy the roller-coaster ride with no hard feelings.May we all rot in Hell together for all our wrong- doings. Nobody is going elsewhere.Maybe that is why the Evervictorious One has suggested that we should have more of "Mess-Commando " type videos here and leave the omnipresent Gyan from social and other media out. Point to ponder.

       Has anyone noticed that this write-up has successfully come to a conclusion without using the wotd -

"F……..er " even once ? I mean the one rhyming with charmer and not the one doing so with chucker. That is not accidental.

Enjoy the year-ending.

THE DAILY OBSERVER-57

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-(57)😎

Mon 28 Dec 2020

            OH KOLKATA

         Something simply had to happen on this site yesterday after all that build-up and it did. The volcano errupted and hot lava spilled over. Inevitable.And the "collateral" damage- also inevitable. A Board of Officers shall assemble soon for the purpose of assessing the Storm ( in a Kissan Squash- cup) damage and submit its report to all concerned (if any).

           In the meantime, for some strange reason, the spotlight seems to be shifting to the City of Joy. Last night, when the fireworks were at their best,flying fast and furious, my hand instinctively reached out for that comforting liquid nourishment. That brought me back to mother earth and stark reality. I still remember that fateful day in 2016 when i was discharged  from Apollo Hospital Kolkotta on Dec 25. I was still smiling when Dr. Roy informed me that my drinking and smoking routine had to come to a stop. " OK Doc , " i answered cheerfully,  " for how long would that be? "  There followed the  chilling proclamation that this was virtually a life sentence. Talk of an excellent fun-filled life being smashed to smithereens in a second. But what about all those poor cigarette and liquor manufacturers losing such a steady customer, Doc ? Not to talk of the loss of revenue to the State and the effects thereupon on the lives of the poor and needy multitudes?But he was firm and merciless in his insistence that i could consider that particular chapter of my life as closed for good ( pun not intended).Whatever little hope i had that my better half would lend a sympathetic ear and help me out in that hour of need was dashed the minute we reached home. All the liquor and tobbaco including various types of hookahs and pipes i had so painstakingly collected during my sbort but eventful stay in the city had vanished. Looked like there was nothing left to look forward to in life. It still pains even to talk of that fateful day. Turning towards better memories.

          Anyway, it was not long after i joined duty in the City of Joy that i learnt about the Black Hole of Kolkata too.More of that also later.

       One of the first things i did on arrival at this great city was to make a serious attempt at getting to know the Bhadralok there. A friend in Chennai had helpfully given me the phone number of a gentleman who was a direct descendant of the ertswhile royal family of a Northeastern State. On contacting him, i was invited to his place for dinner. After a long drive i reached his place with some difficulty in locating it. The road on which it was located would be the last one where one would expect a palace to be located. Anyway, i was given a warm welcome after i entered the hall through a corridor with ivory on both sides providing an arched walk-way. After loads of excellent whiskey, dinner was served . Now came the rub - firstly fish is not something i am overly fond of. Still, after being sufficiently warmed up, i do not mind staring at a fish-head on my dinner plate. But no amount of whiskey can make me enjoy the experience of a fish staring at me from the plate. Unsettling, definitely, to say the least. But it was served with so much love and affection that it would become rude not to accept. In fact, the rest of the night was spent between pretending to relish it on one side, while politely and firmly seeing to it that there was no chance of a second helping finding its way on to my plate.Needless, to say , i woke up the next day with the mother of all hangovers and was struggling hard to stop the world whirling around me. I was sitting in the balcony of the tbird floor of my office where i had my temporary residence in the guest-room, trying to smoke away the memories of the staring fish. Matters came to a head when i almost fell off the steel chair on which i was sitting. Time to hit the nearest bar and get outside of a couple of cold beers, i decided. On walking out of the office,i noticed a crowd collected outside the Airport Authority building on the other side of the road but paid scant attention.Oñ  reaching a roadside bar, i was surprised to find it totally empty and everyone standing outside. I shouted loudly for a beer.Guys slowly started trickling in and in answer to my puzzled looks, one of them pointed to the TV Screen. It was being announced that there had been a severe earthquake in Nepal, tremors of which had been felt in the City of Joy. The crowd collected outside the Airports Authority office  was being shown on screen.i had not almost fallen off my steel chair for nothing. Oh, Kolkata. This was only the beginning of a series of colourful bhalo-bhasha episodes at the fag end of my official life.

THE DAILY OBSERVER-(56)

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-56😎

Sun 26 Dec 2020

      KISSAN ( LOG)-JAM

          It's the season of festivities, normally a time of rejoicing when one can hear the milk of human kindness literally sloshing around all over with pleasantries being exchanged on a large scale.One would have expected to find a similar clime to be prevailing in this group too as 2020 draws to an end and we await 2021 with cheerful anticipation. The same way we have done for so many years, cheer and bonhomie very much being the flavours of the season.

          But it looks like that is not to be, we are in for a time of strife and ill-will as the prevailing atmosphere around inevitably invades our homes. Suddenly, each one of us seems to be inescapably drawn into this boiling poison-filled cauldron full of intolerance, despite all our better sense,learning and training. We are becoming more and more inclined to forget the fact that the international boundary does not lie along the Bar Nala and the enemy forces continue to be Nark Desh and Chandal Desh. Neither is Akali dal the staple diet of sons of the soil in Punjab and Haryana.The IT warfare that has been unleashed by vested interests has made us all feel as if we are in a situation of eye-ball to eye-ball confrontation right at home. No wonder we find our Johny- come -lately in the group pleading for intervention of the " Admin ". So lost is he that he has not noticed that this is a grouop where " u have to bring the change u desire" as that by-now famous Gariahat bus- conductor quipped. We all are admin Sirji, each one of us, thanks to Alfie's wisdom !

           In such a CQB situation, GCs recalling their training have dashed into cover and many have started firing in the dark with all the arms and ammunition at their disposal at anything that moves i.e anything voicing a contrary viewpoint. As in all such situations , many shots find their targets at which there is immediate merciless retaliation. Pitamah made this observation yesterday and conveyed as much in a very sweet language which all of us seem to understand much better than the one supposed to be used in Parliament. Bur the battle rages on, seemingly endlessly. Any media house worth its salt would allow for a bloody genocide to take place without intervening and then enjoy reporting. Or even better still, fan the flames as our Tantrik friend from Didiland seems to so fond of  doing; and watch the fun. Reminds one of how we all once transformed into a real bloodthirsty crowd while watching boxing bouts between the Red and Blue corners.

         In these days of the Bhakti movement, the easiest way to draw fire is by dropping a A-bhakt bomb like Ultra-Sensitive-ji did, without naming anyone in particular. The guilty parties lost no time in identifying themselves by the speed and ferocity of their retaliation. Just when things looked to be summering down somewhat, the entire fiasco was kicked off anew ironically by an attempt at getting to the roots of the problem in a purely analytical non-partisan and logical fashion. 

      Having duly exhibited an overall ignorance of the ground realities of a situation much beyond their grasp,it is hoped that there will now be a lasting cease-fire and all forces will move back to their peace -time locations. Exercise Andhadhund has been called off Sirs .

    Notice how the Chief Signal 

Officer goes missing at the first sign of a communications breakdown ?

      On a lighter note - it is learnt that the UP Police has solved an old case of Love-Jihad which occured at Saharanpur in ' 85 and the culprit(s) is/are likely to be nabbed by this evening. There may be a re-enactment and re-construction  of the crime at the mauka-e-wardaat today .

THE DAILY OBSERVER-55

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-55😎

Mon 21 Dec 2020

Remembering those good old days when the first sounds in the early morning set the tone for the day. What fun to get up in the dark in total silence and slurp that first cup of tea in total peace ! One major difference was the absence of this gadget called the mobile. The maximum one could do along the lines of creating some artificial noise was to switch on the radio/transistor and fiddle/twiddle the knobs , hoping to hear something.

            These days, it is becoming almost impossible to keep away from checking out messages on Whatsapp first thing on waking up. And there lies the whole problem. There is no saying what kind of a message the eyes land upon first and the day kicks off on that note. Days lead on to weeks and months and before u can say " SAVDHAN " , a whole year has rolled by !

         Our daily Modern bread seems to have become unpalatable with  ESM butter and Kissan jam. While on the one side i feel sorry for the sons of the soil sleeping and roughing it out in the cold, i envy the jalebis and pakoras,foot- massages and SUVs on display. As if regular media coverage was lacking, our own fellow brethren came up with more than a hundred snapshots and videos to prove the point. It made one proud to see one favourite grizzly veteran of ours spouting slogans on-stage to the cheering of the crowd.

While yet others covered the event with videos from their cars.

           Not to be left behind, the opposing camp came out with its own narratives and videos and the sparks flew fast and furious. Also came the conciliatory messages begging for restraint. Videos of a Boxer mother playing around with and feeding her pups were thrown in for good measure in an attempt to spread the message of the milk of human kindness. The video of a bare-bodied sadhu ( some say it is actually Chandan Das in disguise) rolling around in the snow along with his dog ( rumoured to be yet another group member in disguise) was added by Naithani as compensation for his earlier strong remarks on the subject.

            Talking of all the remarks on the subject, the awards go to :-

RPS Kang for very diplomatically driving home the point that this is an issue close to the hearts of the Punjab farmers and so it should not be taken lightly.All should view the issue in an unbiased manner and then --- back the farmers.

Naithani for his comment that none of us are economists or agriculturists so we should refrain from commenting but…..  should support the government's efforts.

Rakesh Luthra for very cleverly touting the Govt line on the issue in sugar-coated words meaning nothing while objecting to the Andhbhakt remark. And adding that we should remain unbiased but……...support the Govt's efforts.

SBT for first letting off some atom bombs in the form of videos and then bringing in the humanitarian angle by posting the video of his Boxer with her pups.

Chandan Das and Vidur Nevrekar for the best on-field umpiring.

Sanjay Soi for OUT-STANDING performance as third umpire.

Amarjeet Singh for best expert commentary.

Prithvi Ranjan Das for threatening to quit.

Gurvinder for encouraging debate and free speech.

All the rest of the group for remaining by and large non- commital and ideal non-partisan spectators.

Special prize to UnServicable Gill for starting the Atishbaji with his remarks on Andh-Bhakts and one for Manjeet Singh Sidhu for stoking the fire with inflammatory videos.

NOTE : The above awards are mere suggestions. Readers are most welcome to come forward with their views and final proposals

for the awards to be presented on 26 Jan.

Remembering Ramu!

I would not have been commissioned if it was not for Ramu!

Everyone knows that in final term I had lots of difficulties in passing my 10 mile test. Many of my course mates still call me Langda Tyagi for this reason! At the fag-end of second term and before the POP, most of the time I was limping!

Only few know that during the WT competition I had a fall from the high beam and suffered shin bone fracture. This injury takes about 15 days complete bed rest to properly heal up. But if anything, time was the commodity which was at the highest premium! Everyone was preparing for passing out parade and instructors were hard pressed to see that every cadet passes all the tests. Our DS was also under tremendous pressure and got me discharged only after 3 days.

Soon 10 mile test started and I ran with heavy dose of painkillers and crepe bandages. When everyone was running I was barely able to crawl! Soon entire course was running ahead of me and I could see many of them taking rides. I also got tempted but kept on assuring myself that with will power I can do it. Slowly the effect of painkillers was reducing and my shin started paining like hell. It was such a surprise for me to see myself crossing the finishing line. But determination can take you only this far and when I opened my eyes, I saw myself on the same bed of MH which was vacated by me 3 days back.

Our DS appeared to me like the Messenger of devil when I saw him again in the MH to get me discharged. Two days later there was another test for 10 miles run. This time I was prepared with double the dose of painkillers and extra crepe bandages. Few of my advisors also suggested to take a 'Joint' before running which I declined.

Halfway through, Late PR Deshmukh, who was running alongside me took ride on cycle and cajoled me also to do likewise. I shouted back to get down and warned him that he will get relegated if caught. Deshmukh was with me in SSB and I had good bonding with him. At the turn when he was still on the career of the cycle and I was struggling behind him on foot once again I shouted for him to get down or else he will be relegated.

Hardly I took the turn that I saw our DS on horseback and Priya Ranjan was standing in front of him with his head down.

Oh my God! He got caught red handed!!

I was also asked to stand by his side but I refused telling our DS that I will fail in the test if I stop. he shouted back that in any case, "You are going to fail because you are running very late and cannot reach finishing line in time".

I don't know what did I say? Maybe I mumbled few words that I don't care failing... at least I will try my best...or something thing like that.

I was at the culvert of river Adyar wherefrom we used to enter OTA for reaching the finishing line. In the middle of the culvert I stumbled and fell down. The last ounce of the energy I had was drained out of my body. My legs were hurting and I was unable to focus.

From distance I could hear cheering-up sounds... "Last hundred metres, buckup... you ass hole, get up...you would complet 10 mile even if you just crawl!"

And I did crawl few meters...got up with what ever energy I had and fell unconscious at the finishing line.

Deja Vu!

Same bed again was waiting for me and I was waiting for our DS as I was sure he will get me discharged soon. Did he disappoint me?

Cut to my barrack...getting up in the middle of night 'cause of bad dream...some one was plucking my stars! Same dream I had in hospital also.

Early in the morning Ramu came to me. Before joining OTA, I did my LLB from Agra College. He was also from Agra (Bah Tahsil), though I do not remember name of his village...may be Bateshwar or some thing.

So both were from Agra and that was my spacial connect with him in the begining. I called him Daddu (Elder Brother) and till last he remained to me - Elder Brother!

His purpose of early morning visit was soon known to me. He told me that he will run with me tomorrow. I was shocked! Why would some one bother to run 10 miles when he has already passed his own test. He also could have enjoyed his free time. At that time, there was supposed to be only POP practice.

He insisted and explained that as pace-setter he will run alongside so that I pass the test. He encouraged that there was nothing wrong with me so far as stamina and will power is concerned and that only issue was the timing. His inimitable style of argument and comforting did motivate me.

Next day morning very few cadets, may be not more than six were to run for the test. Ramu was there, away from start line but in battle order minus his rifle.

Soon we were halfway through and Ramu was in his abusive best! I was at receiving end. He kept on showering his choicest best and were those stinging...nay, those were blistering!

Few pushes and shoves for good measures....and I was also giving him back as good as I was getting. I was in pain, I was angry and I was delirious. But did I finish the test?

I was laying at finishing line of 10 miles test and I got I kick...Ramu, who else...shouting to get up and do fireman race. I managed to do that and do not know whom I was carrying? I threw him at finishing line and passed out!

If it wasn't for Ramu, I don't know if I could pass my ten miles test. Who knows, I would have been a civilian and not a veteran today?

I owe so much to Ramu, specially my commissioning!

Rest in peace Daddu!

THE DAILY OBSERVER-54

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-(54)😎

🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉

 

            RAMU

Thursday 03 Dec 2020

           Why is it that the news about yet another brother-in-arms passing away into eternity comes as such a shock ? Though we are all aware of the stark truth that what passed out of the OTA Drill Square on 13 Mar'82 must pass out once more, the event  comes like a bolt from the blue when it occurs.

         Rajendra Tripathi was the first to inform all of us about the serious condition of Col. RK Mishra in Base Hospital, Delhi Cantt. yesterday afternoon. But before all the get-well-soon messages could trickle in came SB Tyagi with the news of his passing away. The flurry of heartfelt condolence messages that kept flowing on this site till this morning bear testimony to the great love and respect this noble soul inspired in all of us,his batchmates.Some of us knew him from College and SSB days while others got to know him during service in the Army and later after hanging up the uniform.Both in and out of uniform, Ramu did us proud  in whatever he took up. It is the personal touch and endearing qualities he brought to this group despite post-operative health conditions for which he will be remembered most by all of us.The tributes that still continue to flood this site speak for themselves.

        Our heartfelt condolences to the bereaved family along with prayers for their well-being.May they find the strength to bear this loss.

    What a swash-buckling innings !  Well-played Ramu, and Long Live ! A big salute to Col RK Mishra .Long Live Ramu !

Jai Hind !

🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉🙏🕉

THE OBSERVER-(M-32)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-32)😎

Sat 28 Nov 2020

        GANGA GHAT KA PANI

          In continuation from where we left off. This tale is all about an LRP in the Sugar Sector which took me to the common catchment area of the Sutlej and Ganga above Kalpa in Himachal  and then down the Ganga to Harsil in Uttarakhand. In the last episode the patrol had reached the top of the mountain pass between Himachal and Uttarakhand.

        Going downslope was a comparitively easy affair and was carried out at a much faster pace.After days in isolation, the sight of a crow came as a big relief. lThe scenery was similar to the one during ascent and we soon crossed the " Valley of Flowers ", a breathtaking spectacle created by nature, a wild garden full of all kinds of colourful flowers.It was not long before we neared Gangotri and encountered a tributary of the Ganga close to its origin.This was my first ever physical confrontation with this revered river, about which i had only read or heard stories so far. Though we had stumbled upon what was only one of the humble origins of this great river , i was quite surprised to see the reverence and enthusiasm it invoked in the Bihari troops.So far, they had been trudging along with their loads with almost expressionless faces as we walked through all those beautiful places. But at the sight of the Ganga, their faces lit up and their whole demeanour changed. This euphoric feeling was infectious and i found myself joining them in paying my respects at the small shrine before taking a dip in the crystal-clear, ice-cold water. What a rejuvenating feeling it was, even without being involved in the religious connotations associated with a dip in this holiest of rivers. Just the feel of one's body being immersed in the freshly melted snow was enough to give a sense of total purification. The guys looked as if they had actually reached heaven.

           Finally we reached Harsil, a tiny hamlet with a Gurkha Bn which was our destination point.The welcome was warm and the unit very hospitable. Staying with the Gurkhas in a field location was a new experience altogether. The troops all looked the same and it was quite amusing to see the way they were referred to by their Army numbers because even their names were mostly sounded the same. The Commanding Officer was a distinguished veteran of the '72 war and the highlight of the Officers Mess was a painting depicting him accepting the surrender of enemy troops at pistol-point.Besides that, the Mess was full of portraits and trophies depicting his achievements in war and peace.At all meals, his voice dominated the proceedings while others confined themselves to nodding their heads in agreement. If there was ever any dissenting note, i never heard it.  After a couple of days, it became kind if monotonous and the feet started itching to move out. We were waiting there for vehicles to pick us up for the onward journey to Dehradoon, but seasonal landslides had blocked the road at many points. Lt Yadav ( the patrol Cdr) and his troops were quite content to wait for as long as it took. They were certainly in no hurry to get back to their unit. But as far as the 2/Lt in love was concerned, every second that kept him away from Pune was priceless.  All the natural beauty around was meaningless when he was unable to share it with the one person closest to his heart. He informed everyone around about his impending Commando Course but they laughed it off. They could not believe that someone was actually keen to leave that heavenly situation and go for such a Course. I finally had my way and we left Harsil for Dehradoon on foot, hitching a ride wherever available. 

The route now passed through Chamoli, Uttarkashi, Tehri and Garhwal - all scenic spots with very friendly and hospitable hills-people. At one place, the local school head- master hosted a dinner for Lt. Yadav and me at his residence. He was astonished on learning that i was a Madrasi and could speak Hindi with ease.We crossed the still under-construction Tehri dam and reached Rishikesh.The troops were ecstasic and did not want to miss out anything, they went on a sightseeing spree.

           Here, i took leave of the Patrol Party and caught a bus to Dehradoon and onwards to Chandigarh.On reaching Chandigarh, i was told to rejoin thè Patrol in Sugar Sector for debriefing. Once again, i found myself driving a 1xton up to Kalpa, this time at speed and with minimum halts. Immediately after completing the debriefing ( just a formality), i was on my way back. Driving throughout the night in heavy fog by just following the tail-lamps of a civilian truck, i reached an ASC unit at Kufri very early in the morning, out of fuel. I was informed that the OC was in the Mandir and fuel would be available only when he came out. As to when he would come out, it seemed to be unpredictable. What all kinds of obstacles people madly in love have to face ! I had no choice but to relax and enjoy the welcome cup of steaming hot tea while i waited. I could not help musing over how lucky this OC was, to be situated in a kingdom of his own - far way from disturbances in the form of higher HQs. And what a way to start each day ! He turned out to be a very affable gentleman when he finally emerged from the unit Mandir and passed on instructions for filling fuel in the 1x ton. After a short formal reporting at the HQ in Shimla i was back in the unit at Chandigarh, all set to proceed for the Commando Course at Belgaum via Pune.

          Though the LRP was nothing much to speak of as far as official records go, personally it was definitely one of the hallmarks of my life in terms of the learning it had to offer. Apart from the visual delights of the trek, there  was kindled a spark of curiosity to learn about the deeper meaning of life as a whole. Though it was not so obvious at that time - i was starting to learn that there were other facets of life beyond the unit, CO, rum, cigarettes, rations and girlfriends.

Maybe the attempt to convey everything in a nutshell is what converted this narration of a simple routine trek in the Himalayas into such a Herculean task.Have a great weekend, folks.

THE OBSERVER-(M-31)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-31)😎

   THE HIMALAYAN WONDER 

Sat 21 Nov 2020

        There are times when one is rendered speechless in the presence of something that beats description. That is the only excuse i am able to offer at the moment for the way this narrative stuttered right from the start and then ground to a long halt after completion of the preparatory stage of the Long Range Patrol. What has been started, has to be completed. So, here goes: 

          The patrolling began with a  half-day ride on vehicles from the Bn HQ at Pooh ( near Kalpa,Sugar Sector) to a point where the metalled road tapered off into a kutcha track and then to a footpath. We trekked down to the Baspa valley with rucksacks ( Baspa is a tributary of the Sutlej ). Supplies and stores were carried by mules and porters.The head porter, an old- timer,  knew the route like the back of his hand. Nevertheless, Lt.Yadav and i periodically made a pretence of deciding on the correct route after taking bearings with a magnetic compass and studiously poring over  our maps. In the process, our maps were liberally splashed with all colours available. I also made it a point to jot down a few lines in my pocket notebook at every halt.This was done with a knowledgeable and important look plastered on my face which i made sure was noticed. After all,being the "Engineer expert ", i had to live up to that term! But very soon, it was obvious that these jottings were becoming rather repetitive and so it became a matter of just noting the time and place. It did not take me long to discover that on his part, our learned Patrol Cdr was working along similar lines. His more experienced JCOs aided by their assistants took care of all the nitty-gritty regarding rations and other administrative and logistic details. Or, maybe they were also putting on a show and just following precedence ! Frankly speaking, i had a sneaky feeling that in most of these matters,we were at the mercy of the head porter from the moment we moved out of our vehicles onto our feet.

We were following a mule-track used by nomadic  shepherds (gaddis) and traders since ages. 

The porters and mules were familiar with the route and trudged in the rear, once the guide had put us on the right track in the morning.

         The first evening, we reached the riverside and set camp at a spot

known to the porters. They were a hardy, cheerful and self- sufficient lot as they carried their own meagre needs cheerfully along with the loads.Then followed a walk through what i can only describe as paradise. For one thing, the lush green meadows were a welcome change compared to the barren heights from where we had started. Then the presence of the gurgling Baspa with ice-cold, crystal-clear water and the complete absence of any signs of humanity had the effect of inducing a trance-like state. 

          The idyllic  panorama kept getting better and better whenl we reached Raksham."Switzerland " was the  thought that automatically sprang to the mind. At a loss for words to do full justice to the scene in its full glory, i can only fall back on the words of the song - " Ye kaun chitrakar hai ?" to come somewhere near to describing the - " Is this a dream or for real?" picture.  Even the mules looked tranquil, the sound of the bells on their necks only adding to the magic of the situation.

          The night halt at Sangla, a small picturesque village, was spent in the PWD resthouse as guests of the Engineer and his assistant. Two local ladies who stayed with them as helpers gave us company in the songs and dancing that accompanied dinner.

We left reluctantly the next morning and reached Chitkul - the last point on the track. A platoon of the ITBP were the sole residents of this isolated outpost. They welcomed us with open arms and there was another night of merriment.

           Leaving Chitkul the next morning, we crossed over to the other bank of the Baspa and headed towards the high pass that would take us across into Uttarakhand. The mules were sent back along with their handlers and heavier stores. Now we were on manpack basis with a handful of porters. Only the head porter had any idea of the " route " which was for the most part, cross-country. Now and then, a pile of stones would reassure us that we were moving in the correct direction.

         The plan was to get over the snow-clad pass and down to firm ground on the other side in one go. But once we started the climb, the progress became slower and slower and we were spread out in a long single line. The reflection of the sunshine on the snow created a blinding glare hurting the eyes despite out military-issue sunglasses. After every two or three steps, we had to halt to catch our breath.The steep slope was very slippery with the melting snow that was freezing into ice. The strong winds made breathing difficult and lack of oxygen became more and more obvious as ascended.

            When we came to a small outcrop of rocks about half-way up, i realised that there was a huge gap in the line. Some ten of us were up there, while Lt. Yadav was  way behind with the remainder and was signalling to us to stop. As it was getting dark, we decided to halt for the night at our respective spots. It so happened that we had the lighter loads with us while the heavier supplies including rations were in the rear. Early next morning, the rear party caught up with us and we climbed to the top at a laborious pace.

       Finally, there we were, on top of the world in the middle of the clouds with nothing around but gleaming white snow ! The descent to Harsil alongside the Ganga through equally stunning scenery onwards to Rishikesh and Haridwar on our way back  follows.

………….to be contd………….

( subject to demand      😁😜   )

THE OBSERVER-(M-30)

😎THE OBSERVER-(M-30)😎

Sat 07 Nov 2020

               DEJA  VU

      Deja Vu is the only term that can aptly describe some of the unique and remarkable events we experience as we go about our lives. " Strange co-incidences " somehow falls far short of doing justice in such instances.A fitting example is the previous episode in which Prem Kahani wormed its way into the proceedings out of turn and made its appearance exactly on Prem's birthday - unplanned. Like

the last few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle falling into their respective slots,seemingly of their own accord. Life is full of such happenings  which at times appear to be defying logic.

         Imagine this :- You are deeply engrossed and totally immersed in the action playing out on a large 3-D screen ( as in a movie ) and suddenly, you find yourself transformed from a mere on-looker  into one of the performers. Sheer magic !

          Nestled in the lap of the Himalayas on the Hindustan-Tibet road, Shimla offers simultaneously a glimpse of both the snow-clad peaks to the North and the vast expanse of the fertile plains to the South. Both are equally spectacular sights and they formed the perpetual 3-D screen around me in my formative years.

         103 tunnels adorn  the scenic narrow-guage rail-track between Shimla and Kalka.103 Engr Regt was where i found myself on my first posting after YO's Course! 

         Beyond Kalka,going towards thr plains,the national highway and rail-tracks run parallel to each other for the most part. As they get closer to Chandigarh, Army units can be spotted, neatly laid out  alongside. Chandimandir Rly Stn,consisting of a solitary platform, comes just short of Chandigarh. The small white temple visible on a nearby hillock is  presumably the Mandir from which the place gets its name.

        From school times,there were two landmarks which stood out prominently in my memory. One was the spick and span Quarter- Guard of an Army unit located on the highway, close to the Chandimandir Rly Stn. A huge, shining brass bell hung on a tripod could be seen from the road.The Shimla- Delhi bus crossed this spot ('X') just before the Tri- junction leading to Chandigarh. Every time i passed that  way, i would look at the Quarter- Guard with awe and fantasise what it would be like to be a member of the unit with the shining  big brass bell  at spot ('X'). This was fantasy number one.

       The second landmark was a particular milestone at Shimla on the same highway pointing towards the last point on the Indo-Tibetan border which said - - "Sumdoh ". Actually standing at Sumdoh some day, astride those snow-capped peaks was fantasy number two.

           The first dream came true  when 103 Engr Regt was relocated to that very spot ('X') on the highway, about six months after i joined the unit. Now i was actually a member of the unit with the neat Quarter-Guard and shining big brass bell on the highway.

            The second dream became visible on the horizon when soon after the move i was detailed to be a member of a Long Range Patrol in Sugar Sector. 

            This is what i call Deja Vu !

Everything happening without any conscious effort on my part. As if it was simply destined to be so.

       On an otherwise routine summer morning, while in the midst of the conduct of a Map-Reading exam,came the information that i had to proceed immediately to Shimla and onwards for an LRP. By  afternoon, i was on my way to Shimla in a 1xton with the driver, Hav Hassan Khan and sahayak, Sapper Devikar. Needless to say, i took full advantage of this opportunity and was in the driver's seat from the moment we were out of visual range of the unit.

        By that time i had spent about six months in the unit, blindly and unquestioningly following the orders of my seniors. It seemed to be ages since i had tasted such complete freedom, without the feeling of being 24x7 under  the microscopic scrutiny of critical eyes. A top of the world feeling.I was actually on my way to physically reaching a spot on top of the world.Or as near as i would ever get to that.It was as if a caged bird had been set free to soar in the sky.

       As we reached the foothills at Parwanoo, there came a bridge that looked too narrow for  even a two-wheeler, leave aside a 1xton and i wanted to change seats.But Hav Hassan insisted that i should continue on the wheel, saying that if i stopped driving at that point  i would never be able to drive in the hills. I was skeptical but followed his advice and then drove on not only up to Shimla but all the way through all kinds of hairpin bends

and narrow constricted passages.

         Reaching Shimla late in the evening, i spent the night in the M.E.S. Inspection Bungalow. Early next morning, i visited some of my childhood friends before reporting at HQ. There, i was told to proceed to an infantry unit ( a Bihar Bn ) in Sugar Sector. Driving up that road was heavenly, a dream come true . The scenery was breath-taking and the hill-people so beautiful,simple and soft-spoken in their sing-song dialects. Even in those days, the pine- scented air was noticeably much cleaner and fresher than in the dusty plains. After all, i was travelling through Dev Bhumi - the abode of the Gods, heading towards the skies.

          From Shimla, the road first climbed steadily upwards to Theog and then dropped sharply into the scenic valley at Rampur-Bushahr, fabulous places i had only heard of in folklore till then.Every now and then, i halted just to soak in the greenery and scenery.  Climbing once more from there towards Kalpa,we came to a point where the road further was blocked due to a major landslide. After waiting for about half a day watching the futile attempts to clear the road, there was no option but to walk across with Devikar and send Hassan Khan back to the unit with the 1xton. Once across the slide, i managed to get a lift in another Army vehicle and reached an Arty sub-unit late in the night. The O.I.C.and only officer, a senior Sikh Major,was very happy to see me and it was all " O balle -balle" thence. We chit-chatted over drinks and a grand dinner. The next day saw me in the office of the Adjt of the Bihar unit from where the patrolling was to commence.He introduced me to the Patrol Party Commander, Lt. Yadav from that Bn. A day or two later, we went to a Company outpost at a higher altitude for acclimatisation. The Coy Cdr., Maj Jhakar was a jolly good fellow and kept us entertained constantly with his tales.

          Next morning, i woke up early to the sound of a shrill long whistle. I was stunned to discover that it was the signal for the fall-in of mules along with their handlers belonging to the adjacent Animal Transport  Company. Even more startling was the sight of some of the mules reporting sick, seemed some of them were regulars at this! Then followed a detailed grooming session  and inspection, after which they were detailed on duties. The mules followed a strict daily routine and were authorised lavish rations including rum. They were a sturdy, healthy and smart-looking lot.I learnt that they were authorised to carry only upto 40 Kg. at a time. Load them with one gram more and they would stall. In contrast,the local civilian mules looked half- starved, flea-ridden and mangy with hardly anything to eat and zero rum authorisation  but carried much more weight with no complaints or sick report. For the patrolling, we were to be accompanied by civilian mules with their handlers and some porters to carry supplies and stores. The contractor who provided them was an important personality in the area with status equal to that of a village headman. We were invited for dinner at his modest residence.

Major Jhakar, Lt. Yadav and i walked down to the place in the evening. The local home-made drink called  "Ghanti" was offered in porcelain cups. When i started sipping gingerly, i was told that it was to be taken in a gulp  together with all the others as they said "cheers " in the local lingo-i forget the term. With the very first gulp, it became clear to me why it was called Ghanti. The blood rushed to my cheeks and ears which felt started feeling warm with a rush of blood  and i could hear bells clanging inside my ears.

Two young girls gave us company along with the contractor and his wife, drink for drink. Around the third or fourth round, i had to excuse myself and go outside to gasp in the ice-cold fresh air and come back to my senses. There was a lot to learn from these hardy people who inhabited the desolate, barren mountain villages, located precariously on the slopes at the border.A lovely evening well spent. 

         Next day, we trekked to the highest post where a platoon was 

deployed in bunkers. The officer in charge was overjoyed to see us and proudly showed us around his " kindom " including a lovely " valley of flowers ". The atmosphere was noticeably rarer and the high winds that prevailed through most of the day made it impossible to even stand outdoors.From a vantage point, we could see across the border but no one was visible.

  

………….to be continued……….

THE OBSERVER-(M-29)

 THE OBSERVER-(M-29)

Sat 31 Oct 2020

          PREM  KAHANI 

                   YA

          PREM ROGUE

           The narrative had to come to this topic some day or the other, so what better time than right now ? After the episodes of the Raising Day and The Shimla Accord, was to come the one regarding the Long Range Patrol.This tour on duty took me almost up to the source of the Sutlej in Himachal ; then  across a high mountain pass and  down the Ganga in Uttarakhand. A truly remarkable and memorable adventure. But, unlike the other episodes thus far which flowed freely from the word go,this particular one kept getting hiccups and hitting roadblocks. The otherwise smooth ride repeatedly got caught in a flood of emotions. Something had gone missing.It looked as if a very important and fundamental element had been left out from the sequence of life - events thus far. No human story can be said to be complete without the Cupid angle having been given its due place.

       So, in keeping with the natural flow and shelving the LRP saga for a later date, i now turn to matters of the heart - Prem Kahani and go down Prem Gali. Looking back, it is clear that the opening lines of this dominant chapter of my life were penned down early, when i was in Kindergarten. Our Class Teacher, Sister Jones,an Irish nun , unwittingly became the sole object of my devout admiration and adulation, the Queen astride the throne in my heart. Why ? For one thing, she was pink, pinker than anyone else i had ever laid eyes upon.Then she had sparkling blue eyes with a heavenly, angelic smile that lit up the hiils with sunshine and cheer. There i go again - but then,that is the background which necessarily needs to be put down before proceeding further.

       After Sister Jones, there followed a trail of recepients of my (mostly secret and sacred) devotion through school and college times till OTA days. Most of these Goddesses in human form had no inkling of my feelings towards them as i could never find the gumption to actually speak to them on the subject . Not a small amount of my time and energy was spent in numerous detailed dry runs of the moment of the all-important declaration of love that nevertheless lay unspoken inside me most times. The object of my adulation may have been changing on a regular basis but at any given moment,there was always only one name in the heart for whose sake one was ready to take on the whole world.The kind for whom one could happily lay down one's life.Towards the end of our YO's Course, it looked as if i had finally found the perfect  companion for life, my soulmate, in Pune.

          After joining the unit, i was looking forward eagerly for the day i would be passing through Pune en-route Belgaum for the Commando Course. Dreams of a joyful re-union in Pune kept me going through many a dreary day. But barely a month or two before that, i was detailed on this LRP at short notice. It took longer than originally scheduled  owing to seasonal landslides in that region . In order to avoid getting late for the Course, i left the patrol party when we reached Rishikesh after completion of patrolling.I did not wait to go for the debriefing at the start point in Sugar Sector and instead reported at the unit.

       Col  Sam Superman, a no-nonsense, Staff College Camberley type, had taken over as CO while i was away on LRP. Destiny willed it that my first official meeting with him took place in his office at that point of time. I requested to be allowed to proceed immediately for the Commando Course.At first he was very happy with my action.But after speaking to the Brigade Commander he told me to first rejoin the patrol party and attend the debriefing in Sugar Sector for completetion of formalities. I complied and reported back in double-quick time, requesting to be allowed to proceed forthwith for the Course but was asked to wait. No opportunity was there for me to extend the dialogue and explain why i was in such a hurry and that i wanted some leave on completion of the Course

            That evening,i sat all alone in the Mess, sipping glass after glass of rum and musing how unjust the entire system was, preventing a lonely pining heart from proceeding to Pune en-route Belgaum on bona-fide military duty!

Also unexpressed, remained my hopes for spending some leave - time in Pune after the Course.Enter Parthasarathy Premkumar Pattukottaiwale (known to the cops as P-cube); friend, philosopher and guide of the downtrodden,  from left centre of the stage, very soliticitiously enquiring about my well-being. Two or three drinks later, having gotten a firm grasp of the situation, fully aided and abetted by five or six cigarettes, P-cube came up with a simple solution. He always did. And in those days, we did not believe in "wasting" any time between thinking up a solution and putting it into action.

         Within moments, we were ringing the doorbell at the CO's residence. He was obviously taken aback at seeing the two specimens in high spirits at his doorstep at that late hour. But being the epitome of an officer and a gentleman that he was ( not to forget the Camberley part ), we were politely invited in. Aaah ! Obviously,we had dropped into a cosy little get-together he was having with his N.D.A. batchmate visiting him from outstation along with his lady wife. Being perfect gentlemen ourselves, after the customary introductions were over, we accepted the drinks offered and settled down. Soon, P-cube turned out to be the life and soul of this little gathering, having found a lot in common with the first lady. I kept sipping my drink, waiting for an opportunity to diplomatically present my case to Superman, with no success. But when P-cube is in his element in the evening, there is little chance of anyone else getting a word in edgewise, as everyone present there soon discovered.

       Keeping in mind the time- honoured tradition of not insulting the gracious ( though involuntary) host by having only one drink, we had three or even four, just to be on the safe side. We finally left the place on a high and cheerful note after P-cube quietly informed me to relax as he had taken care of everything. I went to sleep that night with the great satisfaction of having succeeded on a difficult mission.

       Early the next morning, i was surprised to get a phone-call from the Adjutant. For some strange reason ,he was very keen to know in detail what had taken place the previous day. When i told him how i had " called on " the CO along with P-cube, he asked if anything untoward had taken place in the process. I replied that i was certain that the evening had been a big hit. After some further cross- examination, the Adjt said that i should make it convenient to come to the office in No. 1 rig as the CO had desired that i should be marched up first thing in the morning.

          One thing about hanging around with P-cube is that when he is around, a very optimistic and positive air prevails even under the worst of circumstances. In the eyes of the pining lover-boy 2/Lt, nothing could have gone wrong when he was genuinely attempting to follow the calls of his heart. He  marched into the CO's office with his chin up , expecting nothing but good tidings,despite all the fears expressed by the Adjt.            

       What followed is unforgettable. Probably the CO thought that this was a befitting occassion to stamp his seal of authority on the unit once and for all.In hindsight, I am quite sure he spent the whole night preparing and polishing the impeccable speech he delivered. Because as far as admonishing speeches go, it was outstanding both in content and delivery.

He missed out nothing. The special relationship between a CO and any officer of the unit, that too a piddly 2/Lt was emphasised while also shedding some light on the protocol of calling-on on senior officers at their residence. And as if that was not enough, the very idea of utilising the services of a batch-mate for sifarish regarding leave on compassionate grounds was an unpardonable crime, in his opinion." Now F Off for your Commando Course ", said the CO. I saluted and dutifully did just that - 'F'-ed off from his presence and ho for the Course a day or two later after getting the official Movement Order. As for P-cube,after dropping me in the Mess that night  he was not to be seen for some months, in keeping with his standard operating procedure  of vanishing at the conclusion of his merciful "good-deed " missions without waiting for thanks.

          

THE DAILY OBSERVER-53

 😎THE DAILY OBSERVER-53😎

Sat 24 Oct 2020

CAMRADERIE & COMRADEGIRI

        Kat opened a can of worms and a whole lot of fish swallowed the bait.Vish laid out a red herring to spice-up the action.Birth pangs are not easily forgotten, espescially the ones all comrades of SS-33 / 24 went through with full camraderie during a particularly difficult Operation Theatre procedure without anesthesia in 1982. Evidently, the resultant scars have still not healed.On the contrary the wounds are raw and they start bleeding at the very mention of the alleged event and alleged culprit who was the alleged cause of it all.

Public enemy number one or the "prime accused " in this case happens to be Dandpal Singh Chodri .But all these years there has been a collective suspiscion that one of our very own comrades- in-arms  was the main reason for invoking the ire of the powers- that-be in those days.And the offense he commited was supposed be something along the lines of  "outraging the modesty of a young lady who happened to be the daughter of a VIP ". 38 years later, despite various probes by multiple agencies , there has been no progress in the case. And naturally, the stage has now come to the point where  : THE NATION WANTS TO KNOW.

         Seeing the worldwide outcry on the subject a high-level SIT was immediately set up to investigate the matter on priority.

Preliminary Findings are as under :- 

a)No FIR was registered

b)No medical exam was carried out.

c)No eye-witnesses are available

d)There was no CCTV or mobile phone those days, so no CDRs.

There are no official records of the purported crime committed by the purported accused.All that exists is the memory of the nightmare undergone by SS 33/24, which is so real that the receipients of that largesse still spend sleepless nights.

Meanwhile, owing to a new drugs angle to the case that has emerged after a late-night confession, it is reported that the NCB is going to be called for assistance. Some preventive arrests are on the cards.The ED is already looking into the possible money-laundering aspects and the NIA will be checking links to the underworld.

Group members having direct or indirect knowledge of the case are requested to place their statements on this site immediately for perusal and action. It is very heartening to note the overall keen interest shown by one and all, including hibernating members. Picture abhi definitely baki hai !

Happy Posting.

THE OBSERVER-(M-28)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-28)😎

Wed 21 Oct 2020

THE SHIMLA  ACCORD

       There was a collective sigh of relief in the unit after the Raising Day events were over and activities returned to normal. The CO proceeded on leave prior to his posting out and the atmosphere was markedly relaxed. One hot Saturday afternoon in my office, my eyes were fixed on the clock, looking forward to the chilled beer that i was sure would be awaiting my arrival at the Mess. Into this sylvan,serene and calm scene dropped in Satish Madhav Pandey with Alok (YO-mate and very close friend)  as also Patrick from yet another Engineer unit. They had been given a break from the 

Bridging Training Camp near Patiala that they were attending and had decided to surprise me with a visit.

       Within moments, we moved from the office to the Mess and the beer started flowing along with stories and snacks. Much before lunch was served, we had polished off all the chilled beer available and switched over to gin. The spirits were sky-high and the conversation veered around to the hills visible on the horizon and the charms they held. It felt like the great Himalayas themselves were welcoming us with open arms.

There arose a desire to leave the restricted area of the Mess and explore the wide open spaces around.  Keen to show off my new- found powers as Company Commander (Offg), i called for a 1xton for a visit to the city.By the time the 1xton arrived, we had packed up three bottles of Rum and decided to go to Shimla . A quick drive saw us reach the bus stand just as a bus to Shimla was exiting ( ostensibly the last one for the day).We waved and stopped it.

Out of the 1xton, into the bus, we were soon Shimla-bound. Three bottles of Rum carefully wrapped in newspapers and Patrick's small- size hand-towel  packed into his equally small air-bag formed our luggage.

       Our state of euphoria initially kept increasing, inhaling the pine-scented air as the bus made its way up the hills and peaked when it reached Solan, that Mecca of us spirit(ual) souls.As we passed Solan Brewery, we bowed our heads in reverence and uttered silent prayers in praise of that life-saving establishment and its illustrious founders.Those were the days when beer meant Golden Eagle and whiskey meant Solan No.1.But as we ascended higher, the effect of spirits and each-others company started wearing off, to be replaced by leathery tongues in parched throats and the typical hammering sensations in the head that signal a hangover. The conversation slowly simmered down and we were half-asleep when the bus reached Shimla.

 Getting off the bus,came the realisation that we would perforce have to spend the night in Shimla. 

This simple consequence of our earlier bold and swift decision- making had somehow failed to strike our brilliant minds earlier.We headed on foot straight to the M.E.S. Inspection Bungalow, where i knew our ( i.e. unit's ) resourceful and all-powerful Mess Head-Waiter was attached, only to be informed that there was no room.We trudged up to the Mall and i was sure that i would come across old friends (some even owned hotels) who could help in this matter. But it was peak Season time in Shimla and all available space was booked for the weekend. It also became clear to me ( rather belatedly) that much had changed since the time i had last been a Shimla resident years ago and the number of my close friends there was not at all as high as i had presumed. By now, it was nearing sunset and getting chilly. As a last shot, we tried the Railway Rest House but no luck there either, despite trying to lure the attendant with Rum.The waiting rooms at the Railway Station also yielded no result.

         Darkness had descended by then and our limbs were aching with all the walking around.Seeing that there was no other option,and being the only one familiar with the local topography and ground conditions, i lead the gang to the  Railway Yard where the next morning's train was parked. Desperate times called for desperate measures.We managed to pry open the door to a second-class compartment with hard wooden benches and promptly dropped our tired bodies, the legs screaming in agony .The rum bottles lay untouched, in fact even the thought of a small tot sent a fresh set of sharp needles poking inside our delicate heads.

         Into this dismal scenario, Patrick introduced his hitherto hidden pocket transistor and we began listening to the live running commentary of the cricket World Cup. Partly for the purpose of avoiding detection and being charged with trespassing on Railway property and partly to conserve the battery till the end of the match, the volume was kept very low. The transistor periodically changed hands and whoever had it kept relaying the highlights to the rest.

The newspapers used for wrapping the Rum bottles turned out to be very handy as good insulators with the night growing colder with time. The small hand-towel also kept changing hands as a convenient wrapper in lieu of a blanket.We shivered and squirmed on the hard wooden benches, nodding off now and then into a fitful sleep.With the battery almost dead, came news of the Indian victory.The transistor went silent at that point. But  whatever doubts we had on the actual result of the math were settled by the night watchman in high spirits shouting at the top of his voice as he did his rounds, tapping loudly with his stick --- 

"KAPIL DEV -( BOOM) , 

JEET GAYA (BOOM), 

WORLD CUP (BOOM), iNDIAAAAAAAAA ! (BOOM-BOOM)

At first light, actually a bit before there was any sunlight to expose our moves, we washed our faces and made our way to the bus stand. Any further attempt to hide our plight from the world at large was set aside when we reached the bus stand. Lo and behold - the same bus on which we had travelled to Shimla was making its way out.

As we waved the bus to a halt and got our tickets, Sardarji the conductor could not help commenting -  

" Badi jaldi vaapis chal pade ! "

" Jis kaam se aaye the voh ho

 gaya "  was the terse reply.

The journey back to Chandigarh was a silent and introspective one, with thoughts of laying off the spirits for ever and ever strong in the mind as is wont on such occassions following particularly heavy binges.All members of this expedition weresworn not to divulge any details of the same as they made their way back to the Mess.

THE DAILY OBSERVER-(M-27)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-27)😎

Sat 17 Oct 2020

              RAISING DAY

      While virtually driving down memory lane, more often than not, the very floodgates of the heavens open up. The world around gets drowned out in the downpour of memories from the hidden depths of the mind.The vision gets hazy even as the wipers work hard at keeping the windscreen clear. The roller-coaster ride becomes bumpy and  milestones float by like driftwood, each one screaming for attention.It then becomes essential to pick a vantage point in order to be able to step aside and describe the happenings in a coherent fashion. Raising Day June 1983 was one such landmark event.

          Raising Day of the unit in Chandigarh, for me my first.For the then CO his last as an insider . Due for  posting soon after that, he was set upon making the event a memorable one. And so it was- for everyone ! Months of preparation and rehearsals in which not a single soul was spared. Each and every man jack had many a role  to play in this Mega-event. For individual officers, it was supervision of at least one of these: PT display, Bhangra, Lezium, Jhanjh,Bara Khana and Mess Social in addition to routine affairs. 

             The ladies started their own preparations for an entertainment programme full of song and dance to be featured in the Mess Social, with all big-wigs in station in attendance. Every evening, It fell upon me to fetch the lady and daughter duo who helped with the music and dance  from the city to the Mess for practice and drop them back when it was over.Other than that, i had to play my signature "Aŕabian Theme" on the harmonica and plày accompaniment to another vocal Hindi number. The ladies took their act seriously and their rehearsals went on in earnest from day one.

         The dance presentation by all officers was another story altogether.Many days had gone by with a lot of tall talk about it but there had been no tangible progress. During a lull in proceedings in one of the CO's conferences, an officer had casually remarked about having seen such a thing in some other unit's function . This "bright"  idea  immediately caught the CO's attention and he was all for it. Seeing the CO's keenness, the senior lot nodded their heads in agreement.The juniors cursed under their breath and silently condemned the chatak originator of this idea to a horrible and painful future. Those showing support and adding ideas to this suggestion (and there were many) were initially under the delusion that they themselves would not be a part of it. I also remained an amused spectator to these developments, fondly imagining that i would surely be spared the ordeal due to my other commitments.The CO soon set all these notions right when he  announced that this was an item in which all except he himself would have to take part. 

         Finally came the day when the 2IC , prodded by the CO managed to get all officers to assemble in the Mess one evening, in an attempt to get things moving. There was a free flow of drinks and ideas which resulted in a broad game- plan for the item.Still, there was nothing concrete to show. It came to a point when everything else was at an advanced stage of preparedness  except this event. It was as if everyone was inwardly wishing it would just be magically cancelled at the last minute, though none dared to say this openly.The day for the CO's rehearsal came and when he saw the confusion , he spoke out on the issue with all his might .He declared that the officers dance was going to be the Star item of the evening and it was not going to get cancelled at any cost, so better to get cracking rather than to cut a sorry figure on D-Day.

       At last, some actual movement on this score was seen. One of the Coy Cdrs  said he would organise recorded music for the evènt. The theme would be African. The dance costume would consist of painted bare upper-bodies with short  grass skirts beneath  and feather head-dresses on top. A senior Major volunteered to be tied to a stake as a female captive around whom everyone else would do the dancing..Most of these freaky Bollywoodish and outlandish ideas emanated from another luminary who was comfortable with the knowledge that he would be away on a Course when time came to go on-stage. By the time, the others realized this, it was just too late to do anything about it.

         Before the Mess Social, came the Bara Khana, complete with an entertainment programme of its own. On the evening of this event, i discovered my immediate senior, Lt.P, pacing up and down his room in a nervous manner, trying hard to remember the lines he had to rattle out as the Emcee of the day. Taking quick stock of the situation, i opined to him that the best remedy under these circumstances was a couple of quick tots to steady the nerves,  boost the spirit and toggle the memory . He was much relieved after the treatment and took to the stage in a confident gung-ho manner. But sadly, neither of us had catered for the additional liberal doses of tonic very kindly provided by the organisers and eagerly gulped down by the MC in-between announcements on stage. Following a couple of rather bombastic announcements, there was some commotion and confusion. As a consequence, the ready and waiting eager-beaver education JCO took over the task of Emceeing. Come to think of it, i would not be surprised if he had deliberately engineered this sequence of events. After all, he was the one who had so painstakingly prepared the script for the Emcee.My friend,despite all his protestations was shipped off to the MH in the ambulance on a stretcher by the unit doctor. Nothing was  seriously wrong with him but in the eyes of our newly-posted, fresh from AFMC,chubby, pink-cheeked  Regimental Medical Officer, no chances were to be taken. He made full use of what he saw as a Godsent opportunity to assert his expertise and importance .

          On the Mess Social day, all the officers of the unit, after welcoming and offering the customary drink to invitees, kept disappearing back-stage one by one as the evening went by.The lights dimmed for the grand finale, announced with full fanfare - The Officers Dance.

Whooping and jumping wildly to the tune of African drum-beats, bare-bodied with short ( actually very short) grass skirts and feather head-dresses, the officers trooped on-stage, dragging a "lady" tied to a stake.The stake was placed in the middle and all danced around it, changing the dance - steps  every now and then by following the leader. At this point, it would be pertinent to mention that with little or no proper rehearsals, this show had perforce become more or less an impromptu one, with the initiative very much left to the highly "spirited" souls.The idea was to keep prancing around the stage for the duration, and hoping for the best.When the time came for pants to come off  and the grass skirts to come on, it was natural for all to fortify themselves with large doses of their chosen poison.Not to mention the expert advice on the subject that was readily available on the spot for any rookies in such matters.

      The lady at the stake screamed as the dancers went around, taking a poke at her every now and then with the spears in their hands. After all known (and unknown ) dance- steps had been exhausted, a circle was formed around the stake, all facing inwards.In synch with the music, everyone bent forward from the waist, arms stretched forwards till the heads were between the knees.The music slowly faded till there was silence.So far so good. All was going on as per the broad script. 

        The twist in the tale came when the music did not come back into action as planned. Heads bent, we all turned our heads left and right,looking at each other, the bent position getting more and more painful with time. Spectators burst into applause, thinking the show had ended, albeit rather abruptly. Desperate loud whispers could be heard from backstage.The NCO in charge of the music system was explaining that  the tape had got stuck.After what looked like ages,he managed to get the music playing once more. The lights onstage came alive and we all straightened  up gratefully  from the uncomfortable bent position and danced and whooped our way off-stage, carrying the screaming lady on the stake with us.Over the excellent dinner that followed, there was much praise for the extra- ordinary "co-ordination" shown in the dance, espescially in the last moments ! Unanimous opinion was that " The Officers Dance " was by far the item of the day.

          After dinner, with all guests gone, there was wild celebration with Scotch till the early hours of the morning.An event to remember, indeed. 

        What started off as the tale of the Raising Day ended up of its own volition as the story of " The Officers Dance ". Are the two really any different ? When the CO conducts the proceedings and all officers are in attendance, the whole unit dances !

THE OBSERVER-(M-26)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-26)😎

Sat 10 Oct 2020

LIFE IN THE UNIT

    

      With the unit back in its regular location, it was time to get a feel of routine activities. The newly dined- in 2/Lt got his chance of playing Coy  Cdr. when all the regular Coy Cdrs started going on leave in ones and twos What a heady feeling ! Here was a golden opportunity to show the world what stuff he was made of.Nothing was going to be allowed to take that away from him.

         All this time, he had been reeling under the dictates of seniors,bound  to quietly follow instructions when his head was brimming with  far better ideas.But no one seemed to take him seriously when he went so far as to dare to open his mouth about anything. Maybe now was the time to set matters right on that count. The Coy Sub,particularly, appeared to show a lack of enthusiasm to put the bright revolutionary ideas of the 2/Lt into action.With the Coy Cdr away on leave, it was a now or never situation.

 A routine weekday went something like this  : -  PT and breakfast over, the Coy Sub gave his report in the Coy office. This report was a summary of the previous day's activities, present day's forthcoming events and the OK report meaning that all was fine.After a short question-and-answer session, there was nothing much to do except pretending to be very busy and hoping the phone did not ring. The Clerk saw to it that the In-tray was kept filled with a steady stream of routine documents for signatures and the office runner kept checking every now and then for files to be removed from the Out-tray. The "Pending" tray was always there for anything requiring more than an ordinary  effort i.e. some application of mind.The runner took great pride in the specialised task of handling the traffic in the file-trays and was very happy to point out a signature or date missing every now and then.He also took upon himself the onerous task of informing about any important file that had been lying longer than was regarded safe in the Pending tray.The onus of seeing that there was no trouble on that count was on his shoulders. He, along with the Clerk would face the flak if a long-pending issue drew adverse comments from above..This system seemed quite convenient to me,in which i could be seen to do no wrong and indulge in procrastrination at will.

        After the customary tea and light snack, some more files were dealt with,keeping  half an eye on the clock. As lunch time neared, dal soup from the langar would make an appearance. In-between, there would be some glasses of cold nimbu-pani,the quantity depending on the nature and severity of the hangover from the previous evening's activities. There always lurked a deep suspiscion that there existed a conspiracy between the Coy Sub, the Clerk and runner.. 

Very cleverly and unobtrusively, these worthies saw to it that the 2/Lt sahib remained buried in files most of the time and did not go around poking his nose where it was unwelcome.  Lunch at the Mess was followed by a siesta and games parade in the evening. 

         But then, there were other days when the atmosphere would be enlivened with bursts of activity, some self-created out of boredom while others were decided by sub- ordinates or seniors or just plain circumstances..One such typical occasion arose when i was ordered to immediately rush to the city and get back with some urgently required information. While traversing the length and breadth of the desert in a 1×ton, i had slowly learnt to drive it and was quite proud of my skills behind the wheels of that powerful machine. But till then, i had not dared to drive in city traffic. As officiating Company Commander, i felt it was high time i shed all inhibitions and fears. Here was the chance i had been so eagerly waiting for, an important and urgent mission. Reaching the Company office after receiving orders from the Adjutant, i directed the Company Subedar to have the 1x ton ready. When the 1x ton reached and parked at the designated spot, i rushed to board it. The driver held the door on the left side for me to climb aboard but i brushed him aside and got on to the driver's seat, signalling him to hurry up and get seated in the co-driver's seat. Ignoring the muffled protesting noises emerging from him, i switched on the engine and the 1xton shot off the blocks like a racing car.I had pressed the accelerator to the floor, the way i had got accustomed to,while driving in the sand. The 1 x ton literally flew into the air and landed sideways with both the left-side wheels in a ditch that ran alongside the road.The spot where this occurred was clearly visible from the offices of tbe CO and Adjutant and my first thought was whether the big guys had spotted this acrobatic feat.

Stunned and shaky, i climbed out of the door like a cavalryman emerging from the cupola of a tank and the driver got out after me from the same door, also in a daze. i hastily looked around to see if anyone was watching. i was glad to see the Coy Sub rushing with the CHM and a couple of men. Before i could say anything, they manually lifted the vehicle out of the ditch and placed it on the road on all four wheels.I proceeded to the city, with the driver in his proper seat, all the time praying that no one else had noticed the fiasco.As no mention was made, i presume that it went unnoticed.

     Next came the day of the CO's conference. Notebook in hand and a brand new ballpen in the pocket, puffed up with self-importance, i settled myself in a chair in front of the C.O. Lt.Pat ( ex-N.D.A.) , a brother officiating Coy Cdr sat next to me likewise, notebook in hand and pen on the ready. The other two regular Coy Cdrs were visibly more at ease.The C.O. began by enquiring about the condition of the troops in general, in answer to which we all were ready with an "all is ok" report. 

      Then came the first bombshell, in the form of a question- " What are the timings of water supply ? Are the troops getting enough water ? " This googly, delivered out of the blue when all seemed hunky-dory, took me unawares. i was clean bowled. It was news to me that the water supply in the unit lines was a timed and restricted affair, unlike in the Mess. But where i was clean bowled, Lt. Pat did not even flinch. He confidently rattled off the timings of water supply (his own creation) without batting an eye-lid. Unfortunately for him, though, the CO had come fully prepared for this. Lt Pat was asked in an acid tone to check up the actual timings by kindly paying a visit to the lines someday when he found time to do so.

       Frantic scribbling on the notebooks followed for the remainder of the conference. Lt. Pat seemed to be finding much more to jot down than me as his pen was in action non-stop. Surprised at this, and not wanting to miss out any important points, i surreptitiously peeked into that notebook of his .What  Pat had been religiously and repeatedly writing was his own rank and name again and again !

Raising Day of the unit was coming up and the CO was desirous that the same should be celebrated on a grand scale. So all leave was to be curtailed and preparations begun in right earnest forthwith.

Getting back to the Company, i conveyed all directions of the CO to the Coy Sub. I also made it a point to ask him rather sharply about the timings of water supply and why i had not been informed about the problems on that count, as also other inconveniences being faced by the troops. He countered by informing how the Junior Adjutant was overtasking the Company and the Quarter-Master was deliberately issuing powdery coal ( choora ), taking advantage of the absence of the regular Coy Cdr.

That did it. Along with an NCO,ii went to the QM stores coal dump where coal distribution was in progress. Though i could not make out much, i made a big show of asking questions and jotting down some facts and figures in my notebook. With a very satisfied smirk, i came back to the Coy office and over a cup of tea, started preparing a stinging report on the state of affairs in the unit re coal distribution.I had not even gotten beyond the introduction stage, when the phone rang.

          Capt V, the unit Quarter Master, shouted at the top of his voice over the phone - " What sort of an officer are you ? How dare you go around inspecting my area without having the basic courtesy of informing me ? You come here forthwith ! " I am quite sure that i heard the Coy Sub chuckling away as i made my way to the QM office. Once there,i had to listen to Capt V,who minced no words about the kind of officers joining the unit of late,not aware of their position in the scheme of things and going around poking their noses all over the place.It was a thoughtful and sombre Officiating Coy Cdr who returned to the office .

        Hmmmm. There was a lot more to learn about working in an Engineer Regiment in peace location yet for the 2/Lt. !

THE OBSERVER-(M-25)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-25)😎

Fri 02 Oct 2020

THE CITY BEAUTIFUL

       Beautiful place with beautiful sites,structures, flora and fauna, Chandigarh has always been the city beautiful by  any standards. What a relief and pleasure it was to reach this haven after a long arduous drive in a convoy from the desert ! The unit was located at a spot which is presently adorned by the Command Hospital and the Mess was in a private bungalow across the main road in Panchkula.  

        Soon after arrival, a Husbands Night which also doubled-up as my dining-in party was organised in the Mess. Fancy Dress was the order of the day.Under the able guidance of the First Lady of the unit, the ladies had put together some entertainment  to welcome all officers back from Rajasthan  with a lot of pampering as if they were returning from a real battlefield.All this happened so fast after our return that the only fancy dress i was able to rustle up for the occasion was the costume used by the Jhanj troupe of the unit --- dhoti tied in Maharashtrian style held up by a belt with a pagri to match.

       The evening started off on a gala note, with the ladies arriving first in full strength; welcoming the returning warriors one by one with a garland, aarti and tika. Making a quiet, nervous  backdoor entrance,i kept watching the goings-on  almost unnoticed.None of the families had seen me before.Capt S, the unit Quarter Master, came dressed as a doodhwala complete with cans on a cycle with a hooter and shouting doodh- doodh. Others were there in different attires and soon the drinks flowed like water. The senior subalterns saw to it that  no time was wasted i and had my glass refilled each time before it could be emptied. i was quite content to oblige and said as much.As long as there was no mixing, i could carry on at it till kingdom come,or so i thought.But as the evening went by,i had to imbibe some heavy concoctions, prepared under the supervision of experts in that field.The first of these special ones felt as if a gigantic explosion had been set off inside of me . But soon, i found myself guzzling them down as fast as they came.Finally, there came a stage when i had to rush off to my room. I vomitted out most of the contents of my stomach in the bathroom. My bed looked so inviting after that, i just dropped into it like a wet sock. But i was almost immediately shaken awake and brought back to centre- stage. There i promptly sank into a sofa and my eyes closed despite my best efforts to keep them open. When i did finally succeed in opening my eyes a little later, i found everyone gathered in front and staring at me.Peering carefully through the mist that for some unknown reason seemed to have enveloped the rooom, i  made out the silhouette  of the CO standing right next to me. He was actually in the middle of his speech welcoming me to the unit. Unaware of that, i kept trying to stand up respectfully while people kept pushing me down till i eventually gave up the struggle.The thought that i would have to speak next sobered me to no small extent.It felt as if someone had poured a bucketful of ice cold water over me. When the CO had completed his address, i forced myself up from the deep recesses of the sofa with great difficulty and tried to stand upright without leaning onto something or other for support. Having somehow achieved this seemingly impossible task, i  searched for my tongue, which seemed to have got stuck to the roof of the mouth . The throat had gone absolutely dry and the lips opened and shut without any sound emanating.The ground seemed shaky and my legs felt as if they were made of rubber. Desperately trying to control my thoughts, which were wandering all over and trying hard to remember where i was and who were the "strangers" all around me, i managed to blurt out some words.

It was only much later that i came to know from someone how i had left no stone unturned in my speech to explain in great detail the way i had found myself in the Corps of Engrs by default despite having opted for infantry. Luckily for me, i had added that having seen the unit in action, i was proud to be part of it and would do my best to make up for defects in my learning.

        Speech formalities over, the Quarter Master ( himself also an ex-Otanian) took me under his personal charge and ordered me to tank up with him, drink for drink. To readily oblige was my automatic response.There was also some dancing to recorded music in which i whole-heartedly took part, holding on gingerly to my dhoti and praying silently that it would not fall off. 

          Soup was served, but my new-found caretaker would not have it, his basic thirst was not yet quenched. i, of course, was fully under his command and control.All the ladies were waiting patiently for quite some time while the two of us kept drinking.The drinks were sloshing up to my back teeth but the end seemed nowhere near. Finally, when the poor ladies were almost in tears, the CO had to sternly intervene and soup and dinner were had by all.After dinner, we saw off all the married officers one by one. My Coy Commander got on to his scooter,said goodnight to all and left, before his wife could hop on. We waited till he reached home, realised something was missing and came back for his better half.

           Next morning, all officers were marched up into the CO's office.Visibly struggling to control his emotions and maintain parliamentary language with great difficulty, he remarked on the events of the previous night,saying he had never seen such behaviour in his entire career. He felt the playacting of carrying on with the drinks had been carried on a bit too far and set a bad example for youngsters like me.Standing at the extreme end of the line and nursing the mother of all hangovers, i now realised that the 2/Lt in me had truly and finally attained man's estate !