Raj Singh Bhown, Author at 55NDA Blog

Academy Musings

ACADEMY MUSINGS….1….FROM THE ARCHIVES

By Satyesh Nath Bhaduri
C/55

1. It is often heard that records are being made and again bettered subsequently in all fields of activities. Well your truly was also an exceptional record holder in his Academy Days but albeit from the reverse side.The spectacular performance started from first semester or term and continued all six semesters till passing out…For records… Always on the magic figure of 41 not out..restrictions one less for relegation eligibility beside numerous small punishments.😔😔😔

2. Just fresh from civvies street one came to know the alternative name of Inspection of Squadron Residential rooms known as cabins was CABIN CUPBOARD and its modus operandi which was another MONKEY ON OUR BACK beside other tiring outdoor physical activities for us freshers..🙄🙄🙄Painstakingly we were tutored about the items to be displayed and its location in the cabin including doing up the bed..tieing of mosquito nets..shoes and even bathroom slippers location by the appointment holders.🤨🤨🤨

3. Sanjay the TANT from Pune..Ajay the BABUA from Laloo land and me from City of Joy were good friends and subsequently known as famous TRINITY..One thing that united us… seventeen year youngsters was unlike Burly well built hairy brethren ..sorry creatures in the course and squadron….we were fragile specimens with hardly any trace of hair on our lips or chin….😋😋😋

4. As Shaving kit was an important displaying item we were in a dilema.Tant came with a great idea of displaying ANNE FRENCH in lieu which he saw his sister using to effect. However he candidly confessed that he would get his father’s razor set and Babua was promised one from his fellow countrymen Thakur of our Barber shop. That leaves me and without any other alternative decided to take a cheeky single .Procuring new one from local shopping centre was also a NO GO. due to paucity of allotted pocket money.Sanjay being a true friend slipped during night surreptitiously and cycling 20 Kms to and fro got his sister’s bottle of Anne French ..swab of cotton and plastic spatula .😉😉😉

5. The inspection was a disaster which started with a bad omen.A stray mongrel who took asylum under the window of my cabin started crying and wailing as soon as Inspecting Officer along with appointment holders entered my cabin.😈😈😈

6. The Divisional Officer was dumbfounded and perplexed to see bottle of ANNE FRENCH with its accessories proudly displayed where the Shaving Kits were ought to be…He almost fainted on hearing me that the lotion is being used by me to maintain smoothness of my skin as I do not have stubble on my chin or hair on my. lips. Groggily he told the Cadet Sergent Major to check my sex and granted me 7 days Extra Drills as hard punishments were barred to be given to the freshers for first two months ..The sadistic Sergent Major went a step further and forced me to dry shave with blunt razor given by him without any cream. Result was scarred face like JOE the INJUN and fertile field of rich and healthy growth of hair every morning on the face.🤨🤨🤨

7. Being an optimistic man I started appreciating the positive side of this incident. Although I opened the innings for my course on punishment but became a folklore amongst my coursemates and squadron mates and was nicknamed as DADA … FAMOUS…or is it INFAMOUS for DADAGIRI….😊😊🤣🤣

Happy New Year

As we step into another year, let’s pause and gasp the timelessness of the cosmos, beyond the cycle of begining and the end.
Happy New Year to all!

Savour the beauty, Wordsworth had to spill:

“The Rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the Rose,
The Moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare,
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where’er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.”

22 DEC 2019

*22 Dec 2019*

The wintery cold morning, enveloped in a wetty fog, had made a strange, but conspicuous connect with the environs at the National War Memorial.
It shrouded our moods disquietly and,
the melancholy of death was simply evident in the air.
Yet, the sense of honour and pride, for having shared the same uniform with our fallen brethren, was overwhelming.

40th anniversary of our Commissioning day was the most satisfying, as emotions brimmed with greater maturity, camaraderie and responsibility.

MOTIVATION

We had Col SSS Raman, as our(18 JAT) CO. He once mentioned us in a conference, that the officers have lost an opportunity to earn a Rs 100 note. He bought a new book for our library and placed the note inside its pages. After a month the note was safe and as crispy. No one had bothered to see the new arrivals. May be no one had even stepped in.

After talking to Murali, it seems our Pachpan website and bloggers corner is in same boat. I have a surprise prize for the first visitor on this message. I will deliver it by courier.

Hopeful, am always.

BANDHAVGARH BEYOND TIGERS

‘We travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape us’

– Robyn Yong

Now, into seventh decade of life, I find myself yearning for more productive and soul filling, travels. Indulgence into run of the mill tourism, attracts me no more now. Travel is a nice getaway as it up-sticks us from the grooves of our daily mundane chores, and releases us free to make fresh connects within and without. It is a great feeling of being liberated, like switching over to ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode. We, four childhood friends homed on to Bandhavgarh National Park, for a sojourn with its luring deciduous forest.

All of us Boarded Dayodaya Express at Jaipur, to take us to Katani junction, the railhead for Bandhavgarh. Dayodaya (दयोदय) was a strange word to me, and it took me a while to understand its meaning. I learnt, it is concept, and a movement by one Jain muni, Vidyasagar about the human compassion towards animals. May be the Indian Railway thought well to name this train so, taking travellers to wildlife sanctuaries and parks of Madhya Pradesh.

To know the actual India, and with no pretense, a long rail journey does real good. The real India, is on the railway platforms and the public conduct is despicable and disgusting. The coach we traveled in was, unmistakably on a rather long extended service, with no Supreme Court to intervene, as in case of Qamar Javed Bajwa, the Pakistani Army Chief. Despite the visible series of repairs and patch work, it had still worsened into a bone rattler. Though, the coach was well kept otherwise and well served but the blankets they issued for the night, stank. All these irritants miserably failed to dampen our spirits, and the enthusiasm to travel to Bandhavgarh was uncork-able. Soon, we four were chatting, recollecting schooldays, old friends, and talking non stop with sporadic crackles, unmindful of the strange looks from co passengers. Our Absolute (spirit) with freshly cut lime & crushed green chillies, went well camouflaged. The pot lunch was sumptuously filling, and our titters faded as we dosed of late, well passed midnight.

Soon, we were on the road loaded in Innova driving to Bandhavgarh, Tala to be precise. The deciduous forests along side, made the single road look like a tunnel. The whole environment was so invigorating, we rolled the panes of car windows down to gasp as much fresh air. Our hosts: The Tiger Den, run by Mr Gyanendra Tripathi, gave us opened arms reception. The resort is tastefully laid out, landscaped with exotic plantation. The bamboo groves, Champa, Molsari, Kadam, Palash etc, standing tall and were enough to make us fall in love with the place. Here we will be spending nextt threed and the very thought was kindling excitement inside us. The cottages were neat, clean and well furnished.

It was Safari Time at 2.30 PM.

We all dressed up like cowboys, donning shades, mounted the Maruti Gypsy, and our सारथी was Sh.Raju Singh, a veteran driver of Bandhavgarh Park, for 25 years. He knew the sanctuary like back of his palm and Tigers by their first names including lineage. Our rattled backs, after Dayodaya Express, found no respite with Raju Singh Ji’s Gypsy. Himmat Singh, one of the foursome had tough time in the rear most seat. I had comfortable time sitting in front, courtesy the rest. They knew my handicap.

Bandhavgarh, is mainly a Sal forest, a tree that provided timber for railway sleepers, till the concrete ones replaced these recently. The locals say nothing goes wrong with the wood for 300 years, and in their dialect “ सौ साल खड़ी, सौ साल पड़ी और सौ साल ना सड़ी। It is a tough wood. We soon started seeing wild life, and the very first were elephants housed in their camps. It was wonderful sight of a baby elephant and mother cuddling with her trunk. Soon, we crossed a herd of spotted deer grazing, then

appeared wild boars, crossing our track. Jungle babblers, and many birds we don’t know names of,were cooing and chirping filling the air with such delight.

And then our guide drew our attention to the callings by different animals. It was monkey and Chital repeating the call with enough desperation. I was experiencing it for the first time. Padam Singh, a veteran of Forest services, explained us the calling by animals and how one can track the movement of the predators. Our guide, soon changed his guess from Tiger in proximity, to Leopard because the Chital’s bleating was not crying enough. It was getting dark, and there was no sighting of Tiger as yet. We returned to our camp empty and disappointed. Fortunately, Padam Singh’s friend and a colleague from Forest Dept, Mr Narendra Singh Parihar came down to meet him. He promised us

Tiger sighting next morning.

We were up at five, made second attempt and this time through a different zone called Magadhi. Early morning chill, and drive in open Gypsy was bothering us when, we were pleasantly surprised by our hosts who handed over us soft blankets to cover ourselves. It was like God sent. As we drove into forest through the misty morning, we were greeted by a herd of Bisons grazing not any far from us. What a massive beast it is! Each shouldn’t be weighing less than 6 to 700 Kgs. Our guide, indicated two alpha males, who would be around 1000 kgs. They both had locked their horns, and may be claiming mating rights in the herd. We took some snaps.

As we moved deeper into the jungle, Kamlesh our guide spotted the pug marks of Tiger. He further asserted, these are of a Tigress and other smaller ones of her three cubs. He knew, that she is Dotty and just finished her night patrol, along with her cubs. Dotty, with her young ones now in a process to settle down for the day, he further stressed. I asked, why she is called Dotty? Kamlesh explained that the Tigress has a ‘D’ looking spot on her forehead, and that’s how the name. And, there is another Tigress who is named Spotty, on similar lines. The pug marks were seen vanishing into the woods, and we all knew where she has taken a morning break. There was continuous calling, and the presence of Tigress was eminent. But, she wouldn’t just show up. Our patience gave up. We decided to drive upto the refreshment point and have our breakfast, in the meantime. The hawkers, there were making hot pakoras, steaming Maggi, and ginger tea. I didn’t touch packed Breakfast from Hotel. As, we were getting done with our last sips of hot tea, there was sudden alert sounded for the Tiger, who was greedily eyeing for some cows, strayed grazing into the buffer. All the tourists jumped into Gypsies, and everyone just broke loose, zipping towards the sought after spot.

And, lo behold. The Tiger was in his ambush, tactically sited. Unnerved by huge gallery, the regal predator was sitting on the fringes, well camouflaged. His demeanour was kingly and we all watched him with widow eyes. Our wait was over. After, granting us a great audience, he quietly walked to his next bound for an intended hunt. As he gracefully moved, his gender was reconfirmed and “ He is Bhamera’s son” said Kamlesh. What a name the royal beast had! I enquired further, and unfolded the story. There was Tiger who had once strayed into nearby village, called Bhamera. He got his name. What we saw was his son. Seems so strange! No?

Our mission was nearly over once the Tiger had shown up. For all those wildlife enthusiasts, who venture into various sanctuaries and parks, I would leave a thought behind. It is the forest and it’s environ that has to be savoured and felt by our souls. Focusing on Tiger sighting can rob you of the small pleasures of watching the flora and fauna, the cooing and chirping of the birds, fluttering of jungle fowls, that innocent gaze by antelopes or may be monkeys jumping around. The moist air of jungle has soul filling scent and earthly whiffs that invigorates your nostrils and lungs. The quietness and serenity of jungle is treasure we miss in cities. Let’s not miss woods for the trees, or shall we say Tiger?

Part II

A visit to Bandhavgarh would be incomplete without having shopped and eaten at Malaya, a boutique cum café run by an elderly lady Ms Neelam. Her shop be better called as an Art Gallery. She relocated herself away from the hustle bustle of Ahmedabad city, for her sheer love for living in smaller places, close to nature. The lady has rightly thought of running such a delightful corner in a rustic rural, Tala. Ms Neelam has a passion of collecting art & craft works from pan India, specially the tribal work. She singlehandedly drives her Maruti Gypsy, and detests national highways. Venturing deep into the countrysides, she looks for dying arts and skills of our Indian tribes, reach out to artists, crafts(wo)men and does her best to preserve these. Each item in her shop is carefully selected, handpicked and needless to say priceless. Himmat Singh and I bought a few souvenir, but God sent, through her, was my favourite fresh beans, French Press filtered Coffee, with a delicious banana cake (egg free), that too complimentary. Knowing her was great pleasure, and my blog would have been equally incomplete without mentioning The Malaya.

Death of Mainstream Politics in Kashmir

Death of Mainstream Politics in J&K

The Ceasefire line of Indo-Pak war in 1947-48 was also de facto, divided the polity of J&K on lines of secularism. On its Eastern side the J&K polity, enjoyed the confidence of an emerging progressive leader, Mohammad Sheikh Abdullah. He had changed name of his political party from Muslim Conference to National Conference. Nearing independence, the friendship between Nehru and Sheikh grew stronger and was forged more on ideology and mutual admiration. While, the integration of J&K into union of India under the provisions of article 370 had begun well, the demand of plebiscite didn’t die as wished, and anticipated by Nehru. The trust between Nehru and Sheikh started eroding as both were testing waters to encroach upon more and more political advantage. Nehru, had signalled in his Calcutta speech(1948), that Plebiscite may be difficult due to changed circumstances, and later subsequently enforced CAG jurisdiction over J&K, and merged its state forces with Indian Army much against the wishes of Sheikh. This led to mistrust and doubt in the mind of Sheikh, if his decision of supporting Instrument of Accession, was right. He started exploring possibilities to have an independent Kashmir, and his liaison with Ayub Khan, US envoys suggested that.
What came to be known as Kashmir Conspiracy was hatched. Sheikh was arrested and put behind bars in a jiffy. He didn’t realise what had hit him. This gave a backhand blow on Kashmiri mainstream politics, and seeds of separatism were sown right in.
Then, began the era of making and unmaking of Jammu and Kashmir Government through rigging elections, and manipulating politics of the state. The mainstream political leadership learnt the art of doing a tightrope walking, keeping the separatists and Delhi, both in good humour. Winning public support was of no consequence. The separatists had their militant wing going with the aid of Pakistan, and resorted to radicalisation through jihadi money to keep fuelling the insurgency. The mainstream politicians had to fine tune the violence, separatists voices and Delhi’s cash flow, there in lied the art of living. There was no slot for common Kashmiri to share political space and chip in to build its future. As a result these, manipulators swelled financially and had their coffers full.
The real leadership of Kashmir that had believed in joining secular, socialist India, and with a greater autonomy, while discarding the Pakistan option being regressive, had no other choice but to fade away or join separatists. The Delhi sponsored and groomed stooges, represented mainstream politics of Kashmir but this was sheer pretence, and fake. It had no future. In Hindi a saying goes, jhoot ke paanv nahin hotey. The message from Center was loud and clear that Government in state would represent Delhi, and people of Kashmir do not matter.
A new strategy was unrolled by Delhi on 5th August 2019, as a Kashmir resolution formula. The State was reorganised into two Union Territories with severely curtailed legislative powers. The idea is to strengthen the local bodies and empowering people at grassroots levels on one hand, and dismantle the helm of mainstream leadership on the other. Should it work or not? This current speculation is puzzling Kashmir observers now. Rekha Chowdhary in ‘The Wire’ says : “By denigrating mainstream politics in Kashmir, the Modi government at the Centre has created a dangerous vacuum, reversing the gains of the past couple of decades.”
The empowerment of Panchayats in Kashmir is a noble idea and should work with people handling their own affairs of development and governance, leaving the separatist agenda for state leadership to conduct. And this has been already decimated smartly. Even the Hurriyat shall meet the similar fate.
Honestly speaking, mainstream politicians have failed the people of Kashmir by conspiring with Delhi, match-fixing with Separatists/Militants, and conniving with ISI. It’s good that vitiated leadership of Kashmir is dispatched home and new crop of leaders to build Kashmir for future is ushered in. It’s not going to be straight walk but would need sustain effort and support from Delhi to de- radicalise, and heal the wounded hearts of alienated as well angered Kashmiris.
It may, still be premature to mourn the death of mainstream leadership in J&K, and wait for the new Kashmir to shape. Possibility of moments of rejoice shouldn’t be discounted.

Mention-in-Dispatches.

It was Vth Term, June, 1978. The slip lying on the telephone table in C sqn read “Cdt RS Bhown to report to Adjt’s office in Drill Order, in Sudan Block at 1.30 PM today.” We were fatigued after the morning ‘End of Term’ drill+POP practice and were planning to hit bed when this bombshell exploded in my mind. YV, DPS Aujla, RK Yadav and many others came to express their sympathy. “But none of the Sahabs, Sergeants or ACA has caught me. My I slips, I card, Name Tabs were safe and intact” I moaned. Every one of us was straining our brains with great efforts to find the reason of such a dreadful call that too, in End of Term. Karsolia said “beta tu to gaya” any punishment would imply eating into the Term break. Some said such calls at this time of the term, generally are for relegation. My throat was getting drier and suddenly I swung into action to manage a pair of KDs and summoned Khandu, my orderly to fix a drill order for me. “Sab the boots and anklets are being waxed for the drill competition, should I polish Ammo boots?” He said with sincere concern. I got ready with OG anklets, Ammo Boots, stockings and guarder flashes as Hops tops were not worn in this combination. My friends saw me off with a long face and I left for Sudan Block with a lump in my throat.
In Sudan block I saw Crème’la 55 in shinning regulation-drill orders with torches flashing on their left breasts…Ajit Singh, Surender Singh Jhaj, Ajai Shukla, Karan Singh Rathore and many more (my memory ditching me). Most of them asked me same question ‘What are you doing here?” and I kept on repeating sheepishly Adjt wishes to see me. They brushed me aside and continued with their chat. I stood hiding in a corner and worried about what lies in store for me.
Then, came Guman Singh, our Drill Sub Maj with a cane tightly pressed in his arm pit and white hackle soaring like a rooster. He spotted me and said “Mharashtra State ki lottery hai kisi ki bhi nikal sakti hai!” I could not understand a thing and asked him clearly. He said “I have recommended your name for ACA” and simultaneously asked the Crème’ la 55 to stand in a single file as per the order in the list he was carrying. I told him “sab yeh kya kiya? You have no idea what you have done.”
He thought because my drill and word of command being good, I was an ACA material.
Soon, came in Maj Rupi Brar the offg Adjt as Maj Harjit Singh was out on lve. He checked antecedents and inspected the turnout of all of us (I had joined the Crème’ by then). He got stuck confronting the last man in the file, it was me. “What is your overall order of merit?” he frowned. “Sir, 144th” I fumbled. He gave those dirty looks to Guman Singh who straightened himself with a jerk and we knew the SM has done a big FU. But it was too late to rectify as the list lay already on DepCom’s table. “Now, you stay back for the interview” Maj Rupi Brar barked at me. As my turn came I marched into the DepCom’s office for the first and the last time in my life. Air Commodore Dogra was smiling in the chair and the Adjt stood on his left. Seeing me, Maj Brar stooped halfway to whisper in DepCom’s ear. “Sir, this boy has been called by mistake. We can send him back.” I could hear it distinctly despite its low pitch, and never felt so small and humiliated in my life till today. DepCom was generous to say “Don’t you worry; let me talk to him.” With great difficulty he pronounced my name and asked me two questions rather my views on A) manhandling of jrs by senior cadets and B) smoking to be allowed in 6th Term. I said yes to smoking and no to manhandling. He said “Thank you” and I, followed the word of command of Sub Maj shouting from outside the office. My perspiration was making the starched KDs stink by now but I was a relieved man; rather proud man to be mentioned in Despatches.
In C sqn by now a new star had born. I proudly, told all the mediocre course mates about me being in the run. Maj Satnam Singh ( Tahalka fame later), C sqn cdr thought of me at least worth a DCC as I was put up for ACA. My DivO, Capt Pramod Krishna, asked me to go to Goal Market and get myself photographed with the DCC’s tabs. I was already contemplating to take over 9th Div meanwhile.
Then fell another bombshell. I got Re-Test in English, as usual. This time my papers had gone well but Mr Raina was a cruel man. I was called up by the Sqn Cdr who said we do not want our appointments to be coming for a bloody Re-Test and set a bad example. I saluted, turned about and marched off. Joined the gang of OCs to the place I belonged.

HYDROCELECTOMY

There was this Gentleman Cadet (GC) admitted in Military Hospital, Dehradun recovering from hydrocelectomy. When the Military Nursing Officer visited for cleaning and dressing the stitches, the GC would shout and she would smile teasingly. We as his ward-mates once asked him ” What’s your problem? And he revealed that female touch gets him a … Continue reading “HYDROCELECTOMY”