Category: Anecdotes

As we got to the end of our NDA stay, I wasn’t particularly expecting any medals or anything.  So it was nice to learn that I would be given an actual medal for academics.  Somehow I was set up as 4th in rank, 2nd in science stream.  Well, that sounded a bit exciting.  Wow, a medal!

We had to do drill practice for getting the medal.  It was an indoor ceremony.  The other 3 didn’t seem to be taking it too seriously, but it was the only medal I was getting, so I was fully attentive and serious.

The drill involved marching up the stairs.  The SM saab explained the correct form for the march up the stairs – you had to pretend as if you were going to stomp on the stair, but then had to control your leg so you actually put the foot down very softly, without making any noise.

Ok, sounded like fun, controlling the leg muscles that carefully.  Only, the other 3 just totally ignored the SM saab, and kept making loud noises, stomping on the stairs.  Nobody said anything.  I wondered what was going on, but the other 3 were very busy in important ceremonial stuff as they were getting the medals in the full POP and I am sure there were other duties.  So I didn’t get a chance to talk to any of them about this minor detail.  The SM saab was supportive of my drill.

The next practice, the principal was present.  Now the other 3 banged on the stairs, and I put my foot down softly.  So to the principal, it looked like I was shamming, and not even bothering to make the proper military noise.  He yelled at me a bit.  I used to think he was a useless git, and looked at the SM saab for direction.  He had an expression “What an idiot” for the principal, and after the principal had walked away, he told me I was doing well.

So in the actual ceremony, I continued putting my foot down very softly.  I had to think about that one – the whole academy was watching, and perhaps many present would think I was shamming.  But I knew the correct procedure, and by then had a “I don’t care what people think” attitude totally down, so I decided I was going to do what was the correct procedure, and the one I had drilled for, never mind what everybody thought.

So I was the only one soft-stepping in that ceremony.  Not sure how it looked, for after that we were gone from the academy, and I never got a chance for any academy-feedback.

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.

I was putting up a post on a friend’s Facebook wall to wish him a happy birthday when I realized how impersonal and automated the whole process has become. Facebook reminds me that it is so and so’s birthday and would I like to wish him? It then directs me to the appropriate person’s wall and prompts me to type a message. My mobile keyboard remembers the appropriate word sequence once I type ‘Happy’, and all I have to do is accept the complete sentence followed by my friend’s name to make it look personal.

The whole system reminded me of a CO who insisted that every bachelor on his birthday and every married officer on his anniversary must get a Unit sponsored gift. Most of the time people already have everything they needed and a gift is therefore something useless.

The Adjutant and the rest of the Unit Officers came out with a solution to keep the CO happy. On every occasion they pooled the money (usually deducted from the ‘Tea Club’ account) and gave the concerned Officer a lump sum of money to do what he felt like (something like a kitty) and at the evening party a neatly wrapped box with some trash was handed over to the Officer.

The CO was happy because he was under the impression that the Officer was getting something he liked or desired to have and everybody else was happy since no nerve racking brainstorming or shopping was involved. The Officer was happy because he had some extra spending money… of course I wondered what would happen to the Adjutant if the CO ever found out!!

We were visiting my friend and course mate Girish Saini the other day at his house at Pune. His daughter Gauri was showing me her camera, a Nikon DSLR and asked if I could do something about the lack of clarity in the results before she took it to a camera shop. She had been on a holiday to Mauritius with her friends and had been clicking away group pictures. Now it turns out that they are all rather blurred and she didn’t know what to tell her friends. I assured her that whatever it was, it couldn’t be as bad as the predicament I was in when I was in the Air Force.

          It was way back in the nineties when we were carrying out armed missions over the Siachin, long before the Kargil incident happened. There was a Siachin fighter mission planned that day and the CO, a photography buff himself, decided to take a trainer variant of our aircraft so we could take some good photographs over the Siachin with the fighters in the foreground.

As chief photographer of the squadron – because I had an SLR (not a DSLR, it was in the days of film!) – I was the natural choice. The big day dawned, nice and clear, an ideal day for air to air photography. I pulled out my trusty Canon ME Super. It had a reel loaded from earlier and the counter read a low usage of 8, leaving almost 28 shots to go. Colour films were expensive those days and in fact we tried to squeeze out 39 out of the 36 possible shots by dark room loading and going to the very end of the reel.

I clambered into the front seat with my SLR and the telephoto lens plus a wide angle lens for good measure, in case we came close enough to the fighters. My CO hauled himself into the rear seat, a rather cramped affair with minimal outside view. The fighters soon got airborne and went about their business, with us trailing along till we reached the glacier. Over the glacier we closed in and I happily clicked away while the fighters went though their manoeuvres. I must have taken about 20 odd snaps when we decided to call it a day and return to base before the fuel levels ran too low. .

When we landed, we were all keen to see the results printed as quickly as possible – personal copies for everyone plus some for the museum, album too. I had to hold everybody back – it was my camera and film after all – it had 8 snaps left and since I was going on leave in a few days, I said I would use up the remaining film at home and show the results when I got back. The CO grudgingly agreed and off I went on leave.

My daughter Anisha was still young then – incidentally she and Gauri are of the same age – and as a doting young father I took her to the park to play on the swings. I pulled out my camera again and was clicking the first shot when I realized that there was a certain lack of tension in the reel – it was as if the film had broken. I stopped using the camera and took it to the studio to ask the technician to open the camera in the dark room and salvage whatever was possible from the film and print it. He asked me to come back the next day.

Long trip into town the next day. I was all agog, waiting to see and show off the results thereafter. No Facebook and WhatsApp those days – you had to stick the photos in an album and then under people’s noses to get them to ‘like’ it!! – I was at the studio at the appointed hour – the technician was there alright and instead of the results, a shock! He gave me back my camera and said that there was no film inside! How could that be, I wondered? Then it dawned on me – I had been trying out the camera settings months back by checking the ME Super’s auto function and self generated shutter speed in different light conditions. In the process I had kept winding an empty camera but the numbers had kept advancing to 8. When I took it out next I presumed it had a reel in it since I had forgotten my earlier trial runs. Over the Siachin, the excitement about the aerial photography prevented me from noticing the slack which was so evident at ground level.

So Gauri, who do you think had the bigger job explaining away the lack of photographs?

Shakespeare said “What’s in a name ? A Rose by any name will smell as sweet” .

Well, I say, there is everything in a name. What would Edvige Antonia Albina Màino have been had she not changed her name to Sonia Gandhi ?

Try as you might it is extremely difficult to explain to a north Indian that, South of Vindhyas, a name just consisted of two parts, one was your name and the other was one or a group of letters which was simply called initials, ie the full name was not used anywhere. Well the documentation calls for a full name. So a Punjabi ends up calling someone, Gangaikondan or hardanahalli, thinking he is on a ‘first name basis’ ; first name comes first isn’t it ? Not always. I had a class mate VAB Raghunathan and what his initials meant we never knew, and one day we learnt that he also was not aware.

That was when the odd teacher we had from Punjab, had set about the task of educating himself on the naming conventions in the South. After asking all the boys as to what their initials meant, he thought he had got a grip over name, patronym village-nym, family name caste name and so on. Too bad that just then, he got bowled by the system followed by Chettiyaars who usually took the first two letters (instead of one) of their father’s name as initials; A child of Annamalai becomes AN Somename. That was the last straw. He left it as a bad joke and said with a big relief ‘my initials are ASR , and thank God, it is all my name ‘Amrit Surya Ram’

When I joined NDA, I became aware that I too had a difficult name to remember.. ” Subramanian Muralidharan’ . Every problem carries with it an opportunity. At NDA you had the sergeants at every 100 yards looking for law-breakers; that is , cadets who have a speck of dirt in their hankies or cadets running too slowly or may be cadets trying to run too fast when yelled at to stop ! The defaulters had to hand over their identity slips or I-slips as it was called, to the sergeants and then keep reporting to them to retrieve the I-slip.

This is where my name came to my rescue. As a lost case, I was generally on the wrong side of Academy-law. I had two sets of I-slips. For every one of S Muralidharan there were two of M Subramanian. While I was known in my squadron by the former name the latter one functioned as the decoy for other squadron types. It all worked very well till the better part of the second term; A sergeant looking for an elusive M.Subramanian in my squadron would lose interest after some days.

One fine day just as S Muralidharan was reporting to one sergeant, another swooped on him from no where ,’So, Subramaniam, got you at last.” I didn’t have to try too hard to give a lost look. There ensued some animated discussion between my tormentors , on my real identity and in the process anger gradually led to sheer amusement so much so that I ceased to be a defaulter and found myself explaining with an air of authority on the naming oddities in the South.

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 painful erection.
Now, guys he is 55 NDA but let us see who names him.