THE OBSERVER-(M-41)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-41)😎

Tue 11 May 2021

        AND SO THE SHOW 

               GOES ON

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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