THE OBSERVER-(M-18)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-18)😎

……….contd from M-17……….

Sun 23 Aug 2020

A bit of recapitulation to catch up with the thread(s). This narrative is an exercise by the Observer to relate his experiences as he proceeded on his life's journey. The attempt has been to do this in as objective a manner as possible. But all the same - thoughts and feelings do crop up every now and then as the locales, happenings and personalities come popping into the picture.The endeavour is to let the drive down memory lane  be as natural and true-to-life as possible, at the same time including the afterthoughts that inevitably come into play.How much of a role is played by fate/free will in our lives ?  What took place is now history and there is no changing it. It is what it is. Some of it happened by itself and some due to conscious self-choices .From school to college to OTA to BEG to CME. The YO's Course had a lot of Classroom activity and most of the time i found myself dozing away as i did not find things very interesting. The practice of hitting the bar sharp at 19.30 hrs without fail every evening was the one thing i really looked forward and adhered to religiously.This had become the most important part of my daily routine from the day i first reported for duty in B.E.G. after passing out from OTA. So had the Beer on Sat and Sun afternoons. I did try hard to pay close attention to all that was being taught in Class  and to do well in the tests that followed, but the results on both counts were dismal. Right in the beginning of the Course, we were introduced to the excellent facilities for Adventure sports like sailing and rowing freely available in C.M.E. but i was just not interested . Maybe the fact that i was a weak swimmer played a role in this. One evening, after the games-parade fall-in, all the offrs who had given their names for taking part in the rowing championship were asked to fall out. On taking a head-count, it was discovered by the Course Offr that two of those who had been listed had not fallen out. Repeated warnings produced no results. The original list was located with some difficulty and it turned out that Pratap Ghosh and i were the culprits. I had absolutely no idea when he had enrolled our names for this without informing me. On being confronted, Ghosh dada first claimed innocence and then gave one of his sheepish mischevious grins ( anyone who has spent  time with him would be familiar with that). He even tried to convince me that it was actually a great idea. My protestations were to no avail. We got a real dressing-down from the Course Offr and were marched off to the Rowing Club. Once there, we discovered that all the fancy modern Olympic-style fibre-glass rowing boats had been already taken. We would have to compete as a pair in the "Kamala Class " - a rickety old, wooden leaky two-seater rowing boat. Left with no other option, we started off on our first practice voyage across the dirty Mula river. It did not take long to realise that we had zero individual  rowing skills, leave aside the kind of co-ordination required for actually competing as a pair. With great difficulty, we somehow managed to steer the boat back to somewhere near the point from where we had started after an unsuccesful attempt to cross to the other shore.Over and above that, we got so delayed in getting back that i got late for my bar session that evening. i don't think i ever forgave Pratap Ghosh for that incident.Till then, i had been quite succesful in camouflaging myself in the crowd of YOs & being inconspicuous but this brought me sharply into the radar of the Course Offr, who was particularly loud and insulting towards SS offrs. Which brings me to another major issue- the kind of discrimination shown towards SS offrs during all courses.It started right there during the YO's Course. Disppointment at having joined the Corps of Engrs where i was junior to our techie batchmates turned to dismay when it was further disclosed that we would lose six months seniority on getting permanent commission. Meaning we would end up being junior to the YO's from IMA who had passed out about three months after us. There seemed to be no end to this piling up of wounds ! So the course seemed to drag on and on relentlessly. Luckily,in-between all this, i happened to come across Chandan, from IMA, who played the guitar and we enjoyed some good sessions of music together. While we were on a training camp at Marve ( Mumbai), one evening, the two of us were trying out some Hindi filmi numbers together on the beach after dinner, taking turns at swigging from a bottle of rum. Suddenly, during a gap in the proceedings, we heard a voice behind us singing the same number. We were surprised to find that it was our Srilankan Coursemate. It so turned out that this guy was very fond of old Hindi numbers though he had never sung in public.We coaxed him to sing some old favourites and played along with him.In no time, we were on to some Sri Lankan Byla numbers in front of a small audience suddenly sprung out of nowhere.

This lovely full-moon night on the beach was all of a sudden filled with cries of alarm and whistles blowing. The raft we had earlier constructed on the sea was in danger of getting washed away with the high tide & stormy winds. There was a duty-section detailed officialy for just such unforseen eventualities but everyone was asleep and we guys were the only ones readily available. We quickly changed into dungarees and rushed on board .We slogged through the night, hauling anchors here, tugging at the steel ropes there to save the raft from drifting into the ocean. Later, during the campfire, we played all the Hindi & Sri Lankan numbers which by now had become quite popular. This and another incident were probably the major turning points for me during the entire Course which till then was like a nightmare. As part of trg, each one of us was given a go at " surfboarding " behind a motorboat on the sea. When my turn came, i was tied with a 

rope around my waist to a rectangular fibre-glass board to which i held on with my hands. The motorboat speeded up with a sharp tug and i held on to the board for dear life , while people on the shore cheered . Suddenly i realised there was something wrong in the way i had been tied up and that i was suffocating. When i tried to scream, it dawned that there was no way of getting heard above the noise of the motor and cheering. My attempts at waving to the guys on shore for help only brought louder cheers. i simply gave up and left my fate to the powers-that-be. After what seemed to be ages, i was surprised to find myself on shore and still alive. i was all set to curse the daylights out of the on-shore crowd, particularly the ones who had tied me up that way. But before i could gather my breath to do any of that, i was overwhelmed with congratulatory cheers. People were asking me why i had never revealed my surfboarding skills earlier. I just kept quiet then and thanked my stars that this was the last part of our trg at sea and i would not have to carry out a repeat performance. The very same YO's Course seemed to be not so bad at all now. Same went for the Corps of Engrs.

…...to be contd………….

THE OBSERVER-(M-17)

 😎THE  OBSERVER-(M-17)😎

………..contd from M-16………..

Sun, 16 Aug, 2020

So B.E.G. & Centre, Kirkee was where i found myself after passing out of OTA, trying my level best to somehow find my moorings in this seemingly alien territory.Sharing a room at the Mess with Saxena while Bala was in the next room, alone.Bala, in Trg Bn-1 was kept on his toes perpetually by his Adjt. While in OTA, i had never even spoken to him as we had somehow not come across each other . And here too, i hardly spoke to him as i was carrying a kind of hangover from OTA days that he was something of a persona-non-grata . For one thing he had commited the crime of wearing two stars on passing out as opposed to my one . Over and above that, when we did meet in the evenings, he would stick to nimbu-pani . That, for me , was the ultimate sin a YO could commit and was simply unpardonable. But after a few days of icy silence, one evening Bala opened up when  i was able to convince him that rum was a much better option as an evening beverage.He  had a couple of tots & poured out his tale of woe : He had wrongfully been made a scapegoat for the travails our senior course in OTA had had to undergo in front of us. All that had happened was that his father ( a local from Chennai ) had got worried when there was no word from Bala for months after he had entered OTA. He happened to mention this to a retired Brig, who in turn happened to mention it to someone in OTA. The rest, you all might remember -- all of a sudden, SS-32 (our immdt snr Course)  was running around in big packs. Bala was often asked to fall out by the seniors at various fall-ins and called all kinds of names. As it is, Bala was quite senior in age to all of us because he had completed his Engineering from R.E.C. Trichy with a lay-off in-between due to a severe attack of jaundice.He had joined OTA after a stint in a private computer firm. He was finding it tough to cope up with the physical part of trg and this further attack by the Senior Course had made him decide to quit OTA. He was all set to leave with paper formalities completed. But when he was due to return his kit, he could not find his cupboard keys.At this juncture, he was spoken to & conviced by the Adjt that he should complete the trg as he had already gone through the worst part. He changed his mind about quitting. Now here he was, slowly gathering speed as my regular companion at the bar and billiards table.More about him later. Meanwhile, came the news that i had to proceed to C.M.E. where i would have to undergo a pre-YO's course along with Satish Pande, Vinod Duggal and Pratap Ghosh, my non-tech counterparts in the Madras and Bengal Sappers. 

Apparently this particular course had been recently introduced due to Ajit Rane of SS-32, who  was an Arts graduate. He had been alloted Engrs as a parental claim ( his father a very famous award-winning Bombay Sapper). Thanks to that, all future non-tech Engr YOs had to go for this 4 week course before their YOs. The nomenclature of this course was a misnomer, it was

more like a BSc refresher.So by the time our parallel course from IMA reported to the Centre and did a regular pre-YOs with our techie counterparts, we four were in CME doing a course in Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics. Nobody had any idea about the syllabus. On the very first day, we were told in HQ CME in no uncertain terms that if we failed to clear that course, we would be shunted to " infantry or somewhere else " . To me, these words sounded like a Godsent opportunity ! Our Physics and Chemistry professors  gave us projects and told us to submit reports in the last week, we all mutually agreed that having regular classes would be a waste of time.We would consult them whenever we had doubts ( we never had any ).Our Maths prof took classes on some days.We were on our own otherwise.What a time we had, exploring everything around, espescially all the variety available in the bar.A particular evening at the bar remains etched in my memory to this day. We decided to try out cigars. So there we were, seated on high stools behind a smoke-screen of our own creation, puffing away at cigars in gangster style and blowing rings. Duggal, in particular, looked so majestic in this role that even very senior officers entering the bar in their usual boisterous manner, would tone down their voices and order their drinks in a hushed tone

after spotting him.Finally, someone picked up the courage to ask us what Course we were on ! And then, we really had it from all directions ! Days went flying by merrily between our rooms and the Mess/ Offrs Institute. After that first meeting with the professors and borrowing books from the library, we had not shown our faces to anyone. One fine morning, we got a frantic message to report forthwith to the HQ. On reporting, we were given a blasting and questioned where the hell we had been all those days. We replied that we had dutifully drawn books from the library as per instructions and were busy with our respective projects. We were asked to show our work immediately. We rushed back to our rooms and first  had a heated discussion, blaming each other for the fiasco. Then, better sense prevailed and we procured the necessary stationary from the shopping centre.Working through the night, we managed to show up with some folders filled with written work at the HQ next morning. We were directed to submit our " projects " to the respective profs who further chided us for being so late because our results had to be submitted immediately to Army HQ. The Maths guy conducted a written exam while the others grilled us with a viva-voce on our projects. Cannot truly speak for the others, but i told them frankly that i had just copied down some words from the relevant books and knew next to nothing about the subject. They were shocked to hear that. But we all were declared passed at the end and subsequently joined the YOs Course. I retained Room No. 1 in the YO's block while Pande was joined by Bala in Room No. 2. Pratap Ghosh, after bearing with me through the Pre-YO's and about a week into the YO's Course shifted to another room. In the YO's Course, once again i felt that i had definitely landed up in the wrong Corps. i tried my level best to work up some interest in myself but was

unable to generate the required inspiration in myself. After some time, i duly informed the Course Officer that i wanted a change of arm. Everyone around was stunned and did all they could to motivate me. Finally, one day the Course offr called me to his office and informed me that as per existing regulations  i was in no position to ask for a change of arm.No choice-- i simply had to complete the course and pass.Meanwhile, i had made some friends in the Course and actually started enjoying their company.

…….to be contd……  .

THE OBSERVER-(M-16)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-16)😎

……..contd from M-15……….

Thurs, 13 Aug 2020

Monday was probably the day of minimum activity on this site since a long time.Umesh Oberoi started the day by remembering the late Gautam Dutta Roy on his date of birth - a light-hearted message saying he hoped Gautam was enjoying with apsaras in heaven. A few messages later, Ian came up with a sentimental msg listing out ten of us who no longer grace this planet with their presence. Although most of us must have been aware of this info all the time, this bit of news does startle . A stark reminder of the undeniable fact that we too are nearing the finishing line. Always did wonder why this simple fact, known very well to us from childhood days and confirmed by the events around us all our lives, has that kind of an effect each time ! There follows an inevitable silence accompanied by an eerie  undescribable feeling. Is that some kind of fear, which must not be spoken of ? Or should we dare to confront it and come to terms with it? How is a birthday  different from a rememberance day ? Are these are two sides of the same coin ? Is the end of one thing i same as the beginning of another? Endless questions !! Can be discussed later if someone is interested.Meanwhile, i proceed with my narrative with your kind permission.

My experiences in B.E.G.& Centre, Kirkee as a Y.O immediately after passing out from OTA : 

PAY DISTRIBUTION AND DUTY OFFICER 

The Regimental Centre consisted of the Permanent Staff posted for three-odd years and those on various courses ranging from raw recruits to JCOs and NCOs on promotion courses. Pay had to be distributed physically at least twice a month to all personnel other than officers, battalion-wise.Coming to the duty officer part, the first time I confronted it was when one Monday, all of a sudden, I was asked by the Adjutant to submit the Duty Officer's form for the preceding week. What, me? Yes, you. I had no prior information about it, Sir ! You have it now and for your info you are the duty officer for the current week also. Complete both forms and submit next Monday. Right Sir ! Having got hold of two copies of the form running into three or four pages each, I tried to do it all. One for the running week and interpolating figures for the previous week in the other form. I just could not complete it. Many of the places I had to check were far off and a vehicle was hardly ever available. There was also a limit to the amount I could cycle around. All I could do was - make sure I did not come face-to- face with the Adjutant during the ensuing week and hope that he forgot all about it . That he did quite often,he was kept so busy by the CO.Lemme see if I remember all the duties involved.The form went something like this :

   DUTY OFFICER OF THE WEEK

Taken over by  ………….

   From              …… .     ..

   At                ………     .

    On              …………….

1. Checked unit Quarter Guard on    ……..at…….hrs   and found ......... .

   ( Once by day and once by night )

2. Checked prisoner guard at …… 

3. Checked patients in the Military Hospital on...   at …..        Remarks…….

4. Checked explosive guard on…..

5. Checked ration collection on…….

6. Checked food on…..

7 Checked firing range on…...

8 Checked CSD canteen on…..

9 Checked unit lines on…...

10 Checked family lines on…..

11 Checked identity cards of the following ……...    

12 Dairy Farm on……...

13 Barber shop on……….

14 Tailor shop on……...

15 Quarter Master Stores on…..

Add a " and found……….." to each of the above

........ and so forth and so on till kingdom come ! Not to forget the all-important signature at the end.

Each of these locations had a register to be signed too.There seemed to be no end to spaces requiring signatures .Come to think of it .. good signing practice for me , for free .Actually being paid for it.

PT , DRILL AND GAMES PARADE

We guys in distant training battalion -2 would spend more time going up and down in the one-ton than in actual physical exercise or play. When the vehicle reached the PT ground at around 0615 in the morning, the entire battalion would already be lined up there. The junior officers (hardly any) would first trot up to their respective Companies and take the report. Then each of us reported to the Adjutant. He had to call the entire lot to attention and report to the second-in-command. The CO hardly ever came except on special occasions. In fact, even the others came rarely and it was left to one of us rookies to march off the PT Parade most days . Same went for games parade from four to five in the evening. We also slowly got into the habit of lounging around after the reporting part was over. The guys would be sent for a short run followed by some excercises . Five minutes before time-up, the air of expectation was palpable - Everyone's attention would be on the BHM (Battalion Havildar Major) to blow a long whistle. All stood at attention while he asked for permission to disperse - which was always & immediately granted! One short whistle and everyone went  running to catch up with life . We sat in the one-ton and slowly made our way back to the Mess. A quick bath, change into uniform, breakfast and once again sitting in the Dighi Queen to get to office after PT.Almost the same during games in the evening.By the way, this was the routine for the staff that were in charge of training and administration. The recruits and the guys on promotion courses had a tough time, practicing so that they could pass their tests. On the day of the tests, we had to supervise and act as judges and examiners. A Major would  be the Presiding Officer. For some of the major tests, even the CO and Comdt  would come.One of the first things that I noticed was that hardly anyone seemed to be actually fond of these parades, but they had to be gone through. More time was spent in the sacred rituals of assembling and dispersing than in the activity (drill, PT or games) itself. Same went for training - theoretical or practical - emphasis was more on maintaining proper records ( Parade State) of the number of trainees present etc. - the paperwork had to be correct. Though trg  was the basic official purpose of having a Regimental Centre, it also doubled as a sort of rehabilitation Centre for all ranks. A place where guys could focus on their individual medical, family or career problems .That's why the overall profile of the permanent staff was very senior - in age and service.In OTA - it was so different,  full of role-models for the rookies to follow .In the kind of overall atmosphere prevailing in the Centre, even the few Keen-Kumar officers had to curb their enthusiasm. Keen-Kumar: That's what the Adjutant called me when I informed him that I would like to stay with the athletics team full-time till the Inter- Battalion was over. He thought I was trying to impress the CO. Still, I got my way and stayed with the guys for about two weeks - with them throughout the day and night.That was a real revelation. All this time I had been around the unit during day and night and thought I knew what life was like for the recruits. Even sleeping in the Duty Officer's room within the Battalion had not prepared me for what I saw.The team had a JCO -IC with an NCO to assist him. The JCO slept in the JCO'S Mess while the NCO slept in a room adjoining the dormitory where the trainees slept. When I decided to sleep there, they gave me this room and the NCO had to move in with the guys. The JCO kept insisting that it was not proper for me to stay there at such close quarters. But I stuck my ground, just to get a feel of what really went on. Most of the recruits were from a rural background and hardly knew anything about sports or athletics. But many were very talented and some of them were spotted during training and separated out. Some more joined in just to escape the gruelling routine of normal training. Then they were tested out in various events and short listed. Those who did not figure in any event (many) were retained for administration. A month or so before the event, they were excused of all routine training and duties and focussed solely on trg for the Championship. They were attached to the nearest langar for food. Attached - this meant they had to contribute in terms of manpower to help in collection of ration, cooking and cleaning up etc. The guys who did not make it to the "A team" had to do all that. Guys who had serious personal differences with those in charge were added to this lot , irrespective of their athletic capabilities . Some were even deliberately suppressed. No way of getting their voice heard by the higher -ups.I tried to correct the situation to the best of my ability.

THE OBSERVER-(M-15)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-15)😎

……..contd from M-14…….

Sun 09 Aug 2020

Had this been a movie or video form of narrative - here is where one would have gone into flashback or b/w mode.Just to recapitulate….i had completed my BSc Degree after a big struggle and literally made a bonfire of all my Science & Maths books prior to joining OTA. i was doing reasonably well all-round in OTA and was expecting to get my first choice of Arm(Inf) without difficulty.In the second term in OTA, i found myself being appointed PUO of our Platoon(N-8) .That was quite a task and a half but i rather enjoyed it, reporting to Capt Gill.The whole platoon simply adored him. On being ordered by him, i used to faithfully make all the two-mile failures run after dinner and report their timings the next day.Nothing could make me give him a false report and  i enjoyed his trust. All seemed to going pretty smoothly till the start of the infamous Ragda. One after the other, guys kept getting blisters and similar injuries and finding it difficult to attend parades, esp the first one.

i found my own way of covering up for guys by showing them as Sick In Lines ( as opposed to the official SIQ awarded by the Doc ) in the report to the Drill/PT instructors and they swallowed it. As we neared P.O.P; rehearsals for the Social Events started in earnest. One day, our Bn Cdr  ordered that we should practice our music items after dinner. There was the usual fall-in of the whole Course in FSMO at the Drill Square.So here we were, some ten-odd GCs practicing our music numbers in the ante-room facing the Drill Square while the entire Course was getting the attention of the Adjt. When he heard the noise of the band emanating from the ante-room, he dispersed the Course and ordered us guys to fall-in in FSMO. Ustads, carry on, in sab ka subah tak khoon nikal do were the loud instrcns. Andrews was my partner in this ex. While wheelbarrowing, he would keep dropping me out of fatigue. Ramu,   the Para ustad would shout at him loudly - Gerta hai, GC gerta hai ! Quietly, he would then tell me to exchange positions.At the end of it all, when we were broken off some time early in the morning, Andrews simply dropped into an armchair in his packs, was motionless and staring at the sky. i somehow managed to make him take off the packs and convince him to lie down and take some rest before the morning parade. That day, we (maybe some twenty) were given the treatment by the Adjt personally, assisted by ten drill ustads and the SM. On one of the i mornings following this, my room-mate Kang announced that he would not be able to make it to the morning parade and to show him as Sick In Lines ( never happened earlier). i also did not feel like attending( for the first time). Before i could decide whom to inform, Venki came down to our room and announced that he also wanted to be Sick In Lines that day. i tried telling him that the PUO, CSM and Seargent all being Sick In Lines at the same time would be asking for trouble, but he just would not listen and rushed off to his room. Kang and i decided to call his bluff. All three of us were caught and detabbed as a result, just a week or two before P.O.P. i took the detabbing in my stride but being alloted Engrs,seemed to be rather  too much.While others were bragging about their respective dining-in parties with cocktails and showing off their regimental regalia, we Sappers had a samosa-jalebi party in the M.E.S. office where we were handed over a thin blue lanyard and simple-looking cane, period.Till then, i hardly had any idea of what the Corps was all about. i had been quite impressed by the then Maj Nobel Thamburaj, when he gave a demo, but his successor, Maj Hannover did not inspire much confidence. So this was the frame of mind in which i reported to B.E.G. & Centre, Kirkee for duty, full of misgivings.From the word go, i just could not get myself interested enough in bridging, minelaying, demolitions, electric and water supply and so forth.It all seemed so dull to me compared to my expectations of Army life when i had taken the decision of joining.

Meanwhile, the old-worldly, colonial charm of Kirkee and Pune were beaconing with open arms.

I actually started enjoying affixing my signatures to any document put up to me duly rubber-stamped. I discovered that for the Sappers, the time between 0930 and 1000 hrs is sacred - Chai time. In all training programs - this time is religiously noted down and catered for. Maybe that is why they call the accompanying snacks - program. Chai would come to me from all directions and soon I became fond of asking - What's today's program? There was a severe shortage of junior officers at that time and the older ones were all holding many portfolios. Most of the senior lot was busy doing their MBAs or catching up with their pending domestic commitments. Amongst other things, I was made in-charge of the athletics team. I stayed and trained with them for some time. As it is, I had to spend most of my nights in Dighi Camp in the Duty Officer's Room. Whenever an officer was required to spend the night in Dighi Camp, the lot seemed to fall on me. Great feeling that, like being a King - receiving salutes all the time for a change, no senior around for miles.

Food tasting in the langar  became another favorite pastime especially on Rum issue days.We were actually supposed to sit through the rum-distribution followed by dinner , listening to all the prattle . Of course, the first thing these guys did when they saw a Duty Officer coming was offer him a stiff one, followed by meat curry and pappad, salad and so forth. End up by signing in the register maintained for the purpose - Write under the remarks column “Excellent " and watch the langar Commander's face light up. Throughout my career, I rarely found any langar below that standard. Stock-taking - never ending chore with elaborate inventories in triplicate. The items on ground never tallied with the ledgers. In fact, none of the written records ever tallied with the ground reality - and there was always a ready genuine & practical explanation for the lacuna. I learnt very soon to enjoy the proferred samosas, burfi and chai rather than press a point too far.When I checked the stock of the unit canteen and tried to put some existing facts on paper, I was called over to the office of the Canteen Officer and given a lecture on the "practicalities of life". Accompanied by a high tea, it did not take very long for me to see sense.

THE OBSERVER-(M-14)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-14)😎

…….contd from M-13…...

Till now, i had been talking of the Offrs Mess and brethren there.Now we come to the office part of things.

On hindsight, i guess most of you would have had similar experiences. But back then, it looked to me as if it was all due to my landing up in the Corps of Engrs. Come Monday morning, after breakfast, Saxena and I boarded the Dighi Queen (a modified one-tonner with cushioned seats) outside the Mess to proceed to Dighi Camp, where training battalions two and three were located. In the Dighi Queen, we found a motley lot of senior officers who were jovial and full of questions. It took around a half-hour to forty-five minutes to reach the place. During the conversation, it dawned that training battalion three was a new raising with only one officer - the CO. For all practical purposes, it was located along with & the same as training battalion two. Saxena and I followed the Adjutant into his office. After we were introduced to the CO, we were sent to our respective Company Commanders – Majors.  Maj Punj, to whose lot I fell, was nice and easy-going. After tea in his office, he ordered me to take a look around the unit along with the Company Subedar . I dutifully did the rounds and came back to the office in double-quick time. So fast? Yes , Sir . Well then, you can sign these Railway Warrants till the Dighi Queen arrives. Yes sir !

The Company clerk came with the warrant-book. I desperately hunted for the dotted line to be signed upon. After letting me search for a while, the Clerk told me that the place where signatures are to be appended is already rubber- stamped. Oh Yes! There it was:

Company Commander, A Coy

Training Battalion- 3

B.E.G. & Centre

Kirkee

It took me seconds to prefix a " for" and sign this document with date and initial on the round stamp.

Till my last day in service, I kept up the practice of affixing my signature on the rubber stamped space without a worry.

I must have signed around a hundred warrants that first day. At around one, we made our way to the Adjutants office and headed back to the Centre in the Dighi Queen. A quick lunch. Change into games rig and back to Dighi from four to five for games. Back in the room by six and in the bar at seven-thirty sharp.Bed-tea at around five-thirty in the morning , followed by PT or Drill .

A regimented life like a robot.

 At last came the big day for the BIG  event. We were actually going to see the big boss at close quarters and have tea with him . The three of us prepared appropriately for the occasion - from haircut to an extra shine to the leather & metal.Seated in a big hall with a rostrum in front at our stiffest attention, we jumped to our feet on hearing a long bell, followed by the words - “Gentlemen, The Commandant”. In walked Brig Gosain , wearing his maroon paratrooper cap , baton in hand - impressive! He went to the rostrum and bellowed out a warm welcome. We were gently reminded that we were extremely lucky to be considered fit to join the great Bombay Sappers. But to get confirmed as one of the Bombay Sappers, we had a long way to go yet. With that came the bombshell (for me). The boss revealed the first line on the blackboard .As always – AIM - Aim of the Corps of Engineers is to further the Commander's aim with the help our technical knowledge and skills.  Had to be something along those lines, otherwise of what use is such a Corps? I'd always kind of suspected that. I knew I could not further any Commander's aim (whatever it be) with the help of my “technical knowledge and skills “.  I seemed to have come to the wrong place and had to find a way to decently wriggle out without loss of face to anyone. I hardly paid attention to the rest of the lecture.

Back in my room, I took out an inland letter and wrote a long sentimental outburst to my erstwhile Adjutant at OTA. I explained the circs, also adding that I would be happier in the Infantry. The guy immediately wrote back and told me to hang on and not take any decision in a hurry. At the moment, there was simply no other option available for me but to continue where I was.There was the consoling thought that one could always opt out of the Army itself after five years, if the going got too bad. But then, one did not want to get kicked out ignomiously either.

So carry on Ustad! Nothing to worry so far . Will see when the time comes.

THE OBSERVER-(M-12)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-12)😎

 On 13 March,1982, a proud 2/Lt Sharath Chandar Srinivas strutted out of OTA in peak cap and Cross-belt donning his brand new uniform. Feeling on top of the world despite being quite disappointed in joining the Corps Of Engrs rather than the opted-for Infantry. Little did he know how less he knew of either Corps at that time. All that seemed to matter then was - a more colorful and impressive uniform and a down-to-earth foot-slogging soldier's life. The Infantry guys were to go straight to their units, whereas we  ( TECH ARMS ) guys had to go to our Regimental Centers first for being trained .

I had to go to BEG & Centre, Kirkee (Pune). I reached Kirkee station early in the morning , and got off the train , dressed in my number one uniform , baton in hand , all prepared for the worst - a "reception committee" . From the tales I had heard in OTA , the brand new subaltern was generally received by a senior officer disguised as a jawan and so forth.

But to my surprise, Kirkee station looked and was barren. Not a soul was there. I rang up the Centre and was informed that a one-tonner was on its way to pick me up. The one-tonner arrived in due course and took me straight to the Officers Mess. I was shown a room to park my baggage, freshen up and go for breakfast. Meanwhile two other batch mates turned up and we all went together to the Adjutant's office to submit our arrival report. We were made to wait in a waiting room while the Adjutant was informed and prepared himself for the ordeal. A bunch of three young officers from OTA landing up suddenly was apparently no big deal. Don't know about the other two, but I had dutifully informed the Adjutant my ETA at Kirkee well in advance through a DO (Demi-Official) letter.

Having heard all kinds of things - one did expect something more personal and better by way of reception. Not that there was any problem administratively - we were very comfy that way with nice rooms and batmen (nowadays known as sahayaks/buddies ) to take care of us. Eventually we were marched into the Adjutant's office, saluted him and were seated.

Adjutant - Who is the senior-most amongst you?

We kept looking at each other for a reply. These two guys (being technical ie., Engg graduate entries, were Lts (two stars), and therefore - one of them was senior-most. Me, eleventh in the Course (non-technical), consisting of about one-fifty  including the "techies" had always considered myself to be far senior to them. During all the rough & tough days on training in OTA , there seemed to be only one consoling thought - though these guys with their Engineering degrees would pass out as Lts while the rest of us mere graduates ( and some post-graduates ) would pass out as 2/ Lts  - we would be poles apart while in service. Here were three of us together , me , the junior-most . Humiliating! That was my line of thinking.

We were allotted our battalllions -

Balasubramaniam - Trg Bn -1

Ajay Saxena - Trg Bn - 2

Sharath Chandar Srinivas - Newly raised Trg Bn -3

So that was it. Trg Bn - 3 for me. Interview with the  Centre Adjutant over, we moved to the Mess.

THE OBSERVER-(M-11)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-11)😎

06 Aug 2020

BACK TO SQUARE ONE

The above words uttered by the Adjt after the morning fall-in in the Drill Square still echo in the ears accompanied by the same feeling of dread as they did years ago. That day, just before our POP, there were rumours that the ordeal our Course had been going through would  finally be over after inspcn by the Adjt. On receiving the report, the Adjt asked one cadet to fall out and pointed to a trivial flaw in his turnout as he  thundered- Back to Square One. And the immediate unspoken response in everyone's mind was - curse the idiot who has brought this upon us.

Years later, our response remains the same - find a scapegoat and put all the blame on him. Will we never grow up out of this?

Intolerance is the reason behind the current state of affairs. The atmosphere prevailing around has made inroads into our group like a pandemic. Let us recognise the ailment properly first before trying to set things right. Why are we so fixated on our opinions that we cannot even look at another's perspective without getting worked up ? And till when will we keep thinking that exiting the grp is the ultimate solution ? Why do we have to disconnect ourselves from a whole group of persons just to express our annoyance at the actions of one or two ( which are not wrong in the first place) ? What is so annoying about a fwded cartoon or an odd comment ? Have we appointed ourselves as the sole guardians of our religious and political beliefs and are these more important than everything else? The answers have already been provided by many of our members here itself. So wake up, guys , and get back to normal times. There are better things to focus upon . Opinions will always differ in a large group of mature veterans, so bloody what ?