Month: September 2020

From DPS AUJLA, F/C/55

I commiserate at the job of the watchman guarding Kapoor café in NDA at night; he has to be fully alert and on the guard to thwart any raid by marauding hungry cadets. But for once he also rubbed his eyes in disbelief at what lay before him. Fire was bellowing out of first floor tea room flank of Fox squadron.

He immediately rushed to the ground floor and found the senior cadets residing below already awake and looking for the origins of smoke. He guided them to the affected cabin where smoke was coming out like the chimney of a Mandi Gobind Garh foundry. Few but persistent knocks at the door yielded no response as it was bolted.CSM Jasbir Singh a tough senior cadet then did a quick pull up holding the wire mesh that was called seventh heaven to have a peep inside. He was terrified seeing the study table burning and a cadet sprawled half on the bed with legs dangling down. All the banging brought me to life and I opened the bolt just before it gave way. The fire party rushed in and put off the fire in no time.

I had been preparing for the very first camp for NDA cadets aptly named camp Greenhorn in the evening when ‘Lights out’ was announced. A towel was carefully wrapped around the table lamp and I continued packing my kit ensuring nothing was left behind. Once done and kept on the table, I needed to stretch my back for a few moments. ‘Just a few moments’, I muttered to myself but the sleep deprived body was soon lost in deep dreamless slumber.

The towel got overheated and started burning spreading it to the dungarees, FSMO pack and other items. The flames were thankfully observed by the alert watchman down below.

After my honest confession, everyone went back to bed but I was left virtually penniless as far as my kit/dress items were concerned, only a few hours before departure for the camp. Salute the never say die spirit of a Rimcollian that I arranged every single piece required in those few hours while the world slept blissfully. The old idiom ‘Beg, Borrow or Steal’ actually works best when all of them are combined together making it ‘Beg, Borrow and Steal’.

 

From DPS Aujla F/C/55

 

Fire in Fighter Squadron
I commiserate at the job of the watchman guarding Kapoor café in NDA at night; he has to be fully alert and on the guard to thwart any raid by marauding hungry cadets. But for once he also rubbed his eyes in disbelief at what lay before him. Fire was bellowing out of first floor tea room flank of Fox squadron.
He immediately rushed to the ground floor and found the senior cadets residing below already awake and looking for the origins of smoke. He guided them to the affected cabin where smoke was coming out like the chimney of a Mandi Gobind Garh foundry. Few but persistent knocks at the door yielded no response as it was bolted.CSM Jasbir Singh a tough senior cadet then did a quick pull up holding the wire mesh that was called seventh heaven to have a peep inside. He was terrified seeing the study table burning and a cadet sprawled half on the bed with legs dangling down. All the banging brought me to life and I opened the bolt just before it gave way. The fire party rushed in and put off the fire in no time.

I had been preparing for the very first camp for NDA cadets aptly named camp Greenhorn in the evening when ‘Lights out’ was announced. A towel was carefully wrapped around the table lamp and I continued packing my kit ensuring nothing was left behind. Once done and kept on the table, I needed to stretch my back for a few moments. ‘Just a few moments’, I muttered to myself but the sleep deprived body was soon lost in deep dreamless slumber.
The towel got overheated and started burning spreading it to the dungarees, FSMO pack and other items. The flames were thankfully observed by the alert watchman down below.
After my honest confession, everyone went back to bed but I was left virtually penniless as far as my kit/dress items were concerned, only a few hours before departure for the camp. Salute the never say die spirit of a Rimcollian that I arranged every single piece required in those few hours while the world slept blissfully. The old idiom ‘Beg, Borrow or Steal’ actually works best when all of them are combined together making it ‘Beg, Borrow and Steal’.

By Satyesh Bhaduri


WHAT’S IN A NAME….

Being brought up in a joint Bengali family in a middle class neighbourhood… the biggest casualty I felt was your personality when you are called by many obnoxious nick names. These nicknames do not have any resemblance with the actuals but a sheer imagination and fancy of few family members based on initial appearances after birth. NERU( baldy) may be having the most dense mane ever seen.BOCHA( bluntmay have the sharpest nose..FELU( person who fails) may be the most sharpest boy in his class….GOBLU ( bloaty) may be the most thinnest in his pack or BHODA ( moron) may be the brightest in the group or HABLA.(idiot)..could be the smartest of his kind…such nicknames are galore in Bengali dictanory…KABLA( imbecile moron) is one of my friend who is street smart….and POCHA( Rotten) being the other who is always fresh at any time of day fully energetic ….it is never ending as we Bengalis specialises and take pride in giving such nick names. Just imagine one being called as HADUDA (dope)OR KABLADA OR (HOTKADA ( fatso) or POCHADA IN PUBLIC. I dread to even imagine.

It was no exception for me. I was told by my mother that I was born a very chubby boy( which Iam still after almost six decade).So carrying on the tradition my maternal grandmother gave my name as BHOMBU( which still my relatives from my maternal side calls me)…later it got distorted to BHOMBOL…GADADHAR…MOTKA …..BHIMSEN…GHATOTKACH and many such connected sadistic distorted names. As chubby persons are linked with consuming sumptuous food…so initially during my visit to my maternal place at Malda ( famous for mangoes/litchis and sweets) I never minded being addressed by my distorted nick names pronounced in funny colloquial way,as I was pampered with many delicacies during such interactions.

Not to be undone like MohunBagan…East Bengal rivalry, my paternal side started calling me TABLA..BHODKA…which later got modified to TUBLA…TUBLU……TUBLALTUBU.TUBE…TUBLAC and even TUBEWELL..periodOn my complaint to my mother she started calling me TUBA, which was generally accepted by most. I was happy that at least I got an uncommon nickname with an Anglecised overtures. Little did I realise that TUBA IN OXFORD DICTIONARY means “” A LARGE BRASS WIND INSTRUMENT OF BASS PITCH WITH THREE TO SIX VALVES AND A BROAD BELL TYPICALLY FACING UPWARDS. Suffice to say that this nick name of mine was also somewhat related with my chubby appearances.Ultimately I resigned to my fate and let the matter rest where it was ( similarity to Newton’s law of motion). So I adjusted to the situation being called as BHOMBU in my maternal side and TUBA by my paternal side with few calling me TUBLA.

My despondent state was bit uneasy for me. As in a big joint family everybody was busy without doing nothing…no body had time to take me out of mu dilemma and predicament . Offcourse I had my Dadu…an INA veteran and my friend …guide and philosopher. After listening to my anguish he just nodded his head and told me that A TRULY MEMORABLE NICK MAME MUST HAVE THREE ATTRIBUTES….FIRSTLY IT SHOULD BE ORIGINAL….SECONDLY IT SHOULD BE SYNONYMOUS WITH THE INDIVIDUAL TO THE POINT THAT THE NAME SHOULD BE ICONIC…LASTLY IT SHOULD REFLECT THE PERSONALITIES….STYLES AND ABILITIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL . He further said that both my nicknames BHOMBU AND TUBA are Original..He further said that as Iam well built..good in sports and a voracious eater and have deep sonorous voice… hence the nicknames are ICONIC and befitting my style…personality and abilities.Yes I was convinced and gladly started responding to my nicknames proudly without any hesitation or anguish.

My aunty was pursuing her MA in English with emphasis on Shakespearen stories and writings. So anytime we siblings used to create disturbance we were referred and addressed by the characters of Shakespeare novels.We were seven of us cousins and each specialised in their own brand of mischief…so anytime my sister used to behave haughty especially after her school results…she used to be referred as LADY MACBETH..the ambitious one.One of my cousin brother was very shrewd and intelligent. He was aware of his belongings and things and unlike others never used to share his belongings…so he was referred as SHYLOCK. One of our elder sister just in college had a crush on our neighbours son who was pursuing his engineering from Jadavpur( they are presently married)…so they were referred as Happy Romeo and Juliet..and lastly our neighbours son who was a suspicious boy ,always snooping on my class notes and homework..so he was named as OTHELLO as he had dark complexion also. For normal mortal like us we were called GADHA(donkey)….SUKOR(pig)…KHACCHAR( mule)…KUKUR(dog)…. GORU(cow) or RAMCHAGOL( Billy goat) and such other adjectives much to our annoyance. ..
Complaining to anybody was similiar to speaking in full throttle to a complete dead person. Again my succour and comfort used to be my Dadu who quoting Shakespeare again told me… WHATS IN A NAME…ROSES CALLED BY ANY NAME WILL SMELL AS SWEET AS EVER…so irrespective what anyone calls you …you would always be what you are. So amongst our siblings there used to be unwritten signal of disregard and disdain whenever anybody used to call us names

We Bengalis have also one more specific characteristics. Generally our Nickname do not have any bearing on our Good name. Unlike the nick name the Good name had a specific meaning. After lots of deliberation and debates and taking into consideration family traditions good name in consultation with Panditji is selected and given during NAMKARAN CEREMONY. Like the case in our family …our initial must start with S and ends with esh. Applicable only for boys which to my understanding was unfair. The tradition of name starting with S and finishing with esh I was told was in vogue for few generations…My grandfather was SAILESH…my father SAMARESH…my uncle SHYAMALESH …..me SATYESH..and my brothers SOUMYESH…SAURJYESH. …and our children SHIRSESH and cousins SHIKARESH AND SAMEERESH…it is a never ending. Iam afraid that perhaps I have to christen my grandson whenever he is born as SANDESH( delicacy Bengali sweet). On a serious note I was told that my name Satyesh means that I speak truth which to my understanding , I felt is a tall order.Anyways one cannot change one’s destiny hence the name stuck to me unlike my other friends having names as Shantanu..Anjan….Uday or Siddhartha. To be honest everybody was proud of me till class vi th as I had generally justified my good name.Mostly in any family gathering my Dadu and Thamma used to proclaim and advertise so in front of all.

However things took an ugly turn once I reached class 7th. As if I had developed wings. Being an Army Officer my father was posted to field area, so there was no fear in my mind and slowly I started treading the path of determination. I had started smoking…telling unnecessary lies and often stealing money from my uncle’s pocket or anytime I was told to go to the market.Those were the darkest days in my life but unlike having any repentance I started indulging deep and deep into my nefarious activities. Things went unnoticed for few months which made me more daring and complacent in not being detected. Needless to say my academic performance also took a nose dive and I just managed bare minimum marks to be promoted to class 8th.

There were three fairies/apostles in my life who had changed me..my Baromama( my eldest maternal uncle)..my private tutor and my mother. All three descended on my life and slowly painstakingly transformed me and brought me back to the path which I was expected to tread.I would narrate three incidents which I feel is relevant in context of this write up.

I was a good sportsman and during our time there used to be lot of six sided Rubber Ball football in every colony known as Paras in Bengal. I used to be hired to play for different team with an agreement of transport fare…one Mughlai Paratha…Fishfry….one Cigarette and bottle of Coca Cola. My booking used to be pretty heavy and sometimes cigarette was taken as advance for the booking. As it involved practically five days in a week in the evening…I had no other option than to weave different stories to my unsuspecting mother. As I was deteoriating in my studies a Private Tutor was hired to teach me in the evening after classes on returning home. Thus came Nirmal Babu in my life. He was a teacher in a Govt School and those days used to come to teach me availing public bus from quite far.Unfortunately he saw me playing in his Para competition. Worried that he would spill my beans I had started avoiding his tuition giving one flimsy reasons or other. But to my surprise of my feared apprehension ,he requested my mother to allow him to stay in our house on week days so that he can teach me for a longer duration without any apprehension of missing the last bus. Our house had many rooms and my mother gladly accepted his request much to my agony.He never bothered me with my commitment of playing games for different clubs but concentrated on me after dinner. Telling lies day after day to my mother and Dadu…I realised that slowly I was transforming into MITHESH( who speak lies) from my good name SATYESH.Slowly perhaps due to my gratitude towards Nirmal Babu for guarding my secret I started responding to his teachings. I even confided in him about my vices. I still recollect that magical words of his QUOTE “IF YOU TRANSLATE EVERY MISTAKE OF YOUR LIFE INTO A POSITIVE ONE YOU WILL NEVER BE A PRISIONER OF YOUR PAST BUT A DESIGNER OF YOUR FUTURE”..My first baby step from moving back to SATYESH FROM MITHESH. I did well in my class 8th and ensured I get Science Stream in class 9th with decent grade.

Second incident I recollect again in the same year. My uncle who used to be a big Contractor in his time used to come late and hang his trouser with wallet in his bedroom which I used to share with him. I used to steal money mostly 10 Rupees note twice a month . The money was enough to last me for a month spending on eatables and off course cigarettes. In one of those days when I wanted to take money I realised that he had a one Rupee note which was enough to meet my requirement. So without any hesitation and fear of being caught I stole. My uncle was not particular about the big notes but that day he wanted to give our servant one Rupees to buy jalebis. Low behold there was no one rupee note in his wallet which he was very sure he had. Automatically the suspicion was on me. He asked me decently but I was that time in prime of my role as MITHESH denied it vehemently. Anybody in his shoes would get angry and so was he. I was thrashed black and blue without any change in my stance. My mother was so shaken that she told everybody in the house not to believe me or trust me and call me MITHESH AND A CROOK. My isolation continued for a week as nobody spoke to me. Only solace was my Dadu who used to come to the confined small room in my terrace to comfort me. I did confide to him of my misdeed and on his suggestion I acknowledged my act in front of all. Everything was forgotten with friendly pulling of leg. It was a great setback for me for my trust to be shattered amongst my family members. My Baromama who was present during my confession took me aside and told me another golden word…Quote LIFE’S GREATEST SETBACKS ALWAYS REVEAL LIFE’S GREATEST BLESSINGS….
My second baby step of justifying my name SATYESH.

My third incident of my dark past I remember was a day I want to forget because the foolishness of my act still haunts me. Again during my dark days during one of the birthday celebration my grandmother told me to get a litre of cooking oil from our Grocer who knew us all very well for so many years. I was desperate for some money to buy cigarettes for me and my friend. So like a foolish imbecile I told the Grocer uncle to give me 950 ml of oil. The surprised shopkeeper obliged by giving me the balance fraction of money but made it a point to tell my youngest uncle about the incident. Incidentally me and my youngest uncle were not in good terms..in fact arch rivals. Although he is more than 12 years elder to me but due to his perpetual illness he had become suspicious..cranky and to be honest till date not to my liking.He came home shouting from the road that SATYESH BHADURI is a thief..liar and a disgrace to the family. Naturally after hearing the whole incident my mother was furious. The thrashing in the bathroom resulted in my black eyes and deadly head scar which required hospitalization. I remember my mother’s sobbing and her words BE A PERSON SO THAT YOU NEED NOT PROVE YOURSELF TO OTHERS…YOUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS FAILURE DETERMINES YOUR ALTITUDE AFTER FAILURE….I could not understand her words but all I could promise that I would not do anything which ever let her down….My third step of being back to original SATYESH.

Before I finish the write up I would fail if I do not mention one incident which happened in NDA. Generally the first termer is unofficially selected by sixth termer to write their Project Studies. I was also selected for my clear handwriting. My job used to be present in his cabin during lunch and dinner break and write his Project. The senior in question was a smoker and I knew his secret place of hiding his cigarettes which often used to tempt me to flick one. Somehow some invisible power restrained me from doing so. One night after dinner the Devil of Temptation took better of me and I did smuggle one cigarette for my late night consumption. Three to four days had passed in between and there was no reaction from the senior… in normal circumstances it would have made me comfortable…but it was not to be so. Every night when I used to go to sleep conscience used to prick me constantly..perhaps the fact of betraying my mother’s trust was playing in my mind. So on fourth day I bought a cigarette of same brand through my orderly Bhore and kept it back in his packet.Bit relieved with my action it was very short lived when I was summoned by the senior and asked directly about my action. With a straight face and not batting an eyelid I did confess..hoping for some severe punishment. I was surprised when he handed me back my cigarette telling me that he knew on the first day only the fact of the Missing Cigarette. I was spellbound.He told me golden words…Quote HARD TIMES ARE OFTEN BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE.LET GO AND LET LIFE STRENGTHEN YOU. NO MATTER HOW MUCH IT HURTS…HOLD YOUR HEAD AND KEEP GOING. TRUTH BE TOLD..SOMETIMESTHE HARDEST LESSONS TO LEARN ARE THE ONES YOUR SPIRIT NEEDS MOST. YOUR PAST WAS NEVER A MISTAKE IF YOU LEARNED FROM IT…SO TAKE ALL CRAZY EXPERIENCES AND LESSONS AND PLACE THEM IN BOX CALLED…THANK YOU””….He complimented for my honesty and said he waited for this moment as he had belief in his trust of TRUSTING ME….My last and final step on justifying my name SATYESH.



Now in the twilight of my life journey I can proudly say that inspite of various opportunities I stuck to my promise made to my mother of BEING A MAN MORE THAN I CANNOT BE..IF IAM LESS MY OWN NATURE WILL NOT FORGIVE ME….If I say that I never lied then I will be a liar but as far as I remember with all humility I can proudly say that IAM SATYESH..JUSTIFYING THE CHRISTENED NAME GIVEN…AND ON ALL HUMILITY SHALL TRY TO BE SO TILL MY JOURNEY TO VALHALLA.

So now in my hindsight I feel that there is something in Name…and your destiny pushes you to justify the same…So Mr Shakespeare I beg to differ your analogy of WHAT’S IN A NAME….😋🙄😋