😎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……….
