(NDA special is a biannual train that runs between New Delhi and Pune carrying NDA cadets to their homes during term break and getting them back. The train used to take 7 to 10 days to reach Delhi from Pune and an equal time to get back. It was last priority for the railways and the cadets would get 10 to 15 days at home. It was a unique experience since you learnt Spiderman (hanging by the fan with your feet on one side and the hands on the other), Superman (keeping your feet on one side of the upper berth and your hands on the opposite end) and much more. It was an extended ragda which ate away a good part of your leave. You were mandated to travel by it unless you belonged to a place which wasn't covered by NDA special - and it pretty much covered all places north of Pune. This continued for some time till it became a butt of end of term entertainment show jokes much to the delight of the cadets and the discomfort of the instructors and logistic officers, and a commandant decided that something needed to be done about it. It then started to run as a regular train covering the journey from Pune to Delhi in 2 to 3 days ....)
The Run Up
Had just passed my 12th - much to the surprise of Ms Zutchi, my class teacher - her predictions didn't hold out against my mom's prayers i guess, and I decided to fill in my NDA entrance exam form. I thought Navy would be a better choice since they were always in Bombay or Cochin or such nice places as compared to the Jorhat or Faridkot that I'd been to as a kid and so opted for Navy. Dad had got me admission into Khalsa College Amritsar, so that I could get to know my roots better (somehow couldn't convince him that the roots would flourish better in Delhi) and I was now desperate to get out of that place. The examination centre was a buzz of activity - kids with thick Manorma Guides and mathematics books (which I'd never touched in school and so made no sense touching now), parents coaching them and giving last minute tips and an occasional vendor selling UPSC exam guides guarantee-ing 100% success. After the first exam there was a break for 45 minutes during which I came out to the garden outside the centre and was lying down listening to the same vendor making a sales pitch. The next thing I knew was him shaking me and asking if I was also appearing in the exam. The park was empty and the second exam had started 15 minutes ago!!
The interview call was for Bangalore. Had heard of MG Road and Brigade Road..... I couldn't have asked for more. The mere fact that had cleared the exam was good enough for me to last through 3 years staying in Room No 27, Nabha Hostel, Khalsa College, Amritsar!! Met a few people leaving the SSB centre who told us that no one had made it from the past 5 batches of over 300 people. Well, who was bothered about the interview..... it was Brigade road that I was interested in!
Met Bisht- a jawan who'd come for selection as an officer. He knew how to sweet talk the sentries at the gate into opening them for us after we came back from pubbing at 1 in the night and laugh our heads off at candidates who were still studying (god only knows what) when we got back. To everyones shock we were the only ones to be separated from the "baba" lot and like sahibs our luggage was shifted into rooms for the medical check up candidates. The medical was even better. The Air Force hospital insisted in making everyone go through all tests irrespective of whether they were applicable or not. We were only too happy when the pretty eye specialist took a little extra time to clear us. Somehow the eyes could never focus on her lens when she'd bend over to look into our eyes but would invariably stray to her plunging neckline!! We'd been warned about the medical specialist ... he was very stern and accepted no nonsense. So there we were - 5 of us, standing in our birth suits in front of him - waiting for our turn to bend in front of him and cough while he squeezed and checked our family jewels! (talk about medical procedures). The procedure was going painfully smoothly till a Brigadier, accustomed to barging in without waiting for his turn, walked in with his wife. There was no where to run and no where to hide. So five young men made his wifes day by wishing her good morning the way she would have never heard it ever before - and I don't think he would have ever rushed into the Doctors room out of turn ever after that. The incident seemed to loosen up the doc a bit and as he "checked" Bisht, the doc asked him if he smoked. Without batting an eyelid, wincing in pain, Bisht blurted out "yes, I'm sure smoke would have started coming out by now". That got us off the lid. The doc laughed his head off and we got away without any more squeezy procedures which were in store!
Dad had left the decision to join entirely to me. After days of deliberation I asked him to take me to Karol Bagh. When he asked me why, I told him that I needed to buy night suits as it was mentioned in the list of things to carry along. So, that was sealed then. (He bought me a bath robe too - another mandatory thing to be taken along!!!)... :o)
First View of NDA Coming Up!!
"Kilo" shouted the Adjutant as my turn came and I became a "killer" for life. Everything in Kilo started with K. Now you people know where Ekta Kapoor got inspired from. Kill em Kut em but Kneel Knot, Killer Khalsa, Klu Klux Klan, Khas-um-khas, Kaatils, Komarades ... the list was endless! I met Dhillon outside the mess - one of the four Khalsas who were allotted Kilo Squadron for this batch! Both of us had trunks to carry and so piled one on top of the other and started walking towards Kilo. As we crossed a building with a colourful "J" written on it, three guys sitting in the lobby shouted out and called us. Very warm reception we thought. This was a nice place with warm and helpful people - I was quite sure they would help us take our trunks to wherever Kilo was. 5 minutes later we were doing push - ups, squats and running around trees and sweating like pigs! Our crime -walking while crossing the ground in front of J (Juliet) squadron - so what if we were two people, new in the academy, carrying two loaded trunks. Juilet was a sworn enemy of Kilo. While Juliet was known as Kollege, Kilo was the Kommando Squadron of the academy. Just my luck!
Killers Kill .. Killers don't Run!!
The first thing to come up was the Novices Cross Country. The route went in front of Kilo Squadron and I wasn't too comfortable tummy wise when we started running on the final day. So when I was crossing Kilo, I decided to answer natures call in the comfortable confines of my squadron. I completed the route and came in the bottom lot and was mentally prepared for some "solid" ragra after this. We had overall come 13th (out of 15) and were very dissappointed. As we gloomily entered the squadron, jalebis and namkeen greeted us. Midterm Mood (a time when you can do as you please and take all liberties which were otherwise term specific) was "ranted" to us and life was rocking .. atleast inside the squadron. It was Kilo tradition to come in double figures in cross country and we had lived up to it .. .because Killers Killed .. they didn't run!!
Do you Know Who I am!!!
If you are not sure who you are, how could I be?? So this guy came whistling on a sparkling new cycle, looking all important. As we crossed him, we continued to talk amongst us which must have hurt his ego.. How dare an Ikkeeee talk in his august presence!! Sacrilege! He stopped us and shouted at the top of his voice "Khalsa! How dare you talk in front of me!! Do you who I am?". Well, I sure didn't. So I whispered to Chahal (who was standing next to me) if he knew who this guy was. Chahal, in one of his moods retorted, "Menu kee pata, ehnoo puchhle" (How would I know - you ask him only)! I think it was a little too much for his celebrity ego to digest! Just imagine someone not recognising Amitabh Bachchan in India!! Anyways, he told us to note the alphabet behind his cycle and ask our appointment incharge to meet him and cycled off (no longer whistling). We happily told our cadet incharge about the incident. That night when I got up to go to the loo at 1, the poor fellow was climbing the stairs wearing a big pack on his back and looking as if he had just come after taking a dip in the swimming pool. PT trophy was a tradition in Kilo ... no wonder these people trained so hard....
By the way, till the third term, cadets were more or less the stress busters of the squadron. Whoever wanted whenever to do whatever to them could get away with it. So it was Ikk"eeeee", Duk"eeee" and Tik"eeee" with the "eee" signifying shrieks of agony. After the third term one started enjoying the finer things in life, like sleeping in shorts, coming out of your cabin with only a towel under your bath robe or having a music system in your room - of course the volume was dictated by the term you were in or being privileged to wear sneakers instead of "Kelachandra" canvas shoes for games! And so after the third term "aaaah" was suffixed - chauk"aaah", panj"aaah", chhakk"aaaaaahhhhh" - the "aahs" signifying pleasure and satisfaction.
Table Sessions
Everything in NDA had a tradition or so it seemed. Every Ikk"eee" had to sit next to a tikk"eeee" - who would teach him the finer aspects of table manners. So Kilo, again to my good luck, had a tradition of ragging on the table too! Before I learnt how to drink soup, I learnt to make a square meal with it! Take some soup in your soup spoon and make imaginary squares in the air!! After every square, pour that soup back into the dish and fill it up afresh to make fresher squares.... for the food must always be fresh! This was interspersed with general knowledge questions - no, nothing related to the country or foreign affairs but things like "Why is the Ashoka Pillar red?", "How many trees in front of the mess?", "How many swords in the mess?", "How many rolls possible in the 1st floor corridor of a squadron?", "How many tiles in a room?" and the list was endless!
Soon the sardar instincts took over and inspite of the tikk"eee" shouting on the table, we'd hog as much as possible and then get punished later. One night after a particularly fulfilling dinner, as I stood outside waiting for three more people to come (you could go from one place to another only in groups of four or more - called a squad), a Sergeant Tanwar of I (India) Squadron called me and told me to run around a tree. He didn't seem to be too impressed with my running as I came jogging back and gave me an even longer route which went close to my squadron. As I was approaching the turning point there was a power failure and the whole place went dark. Seizing initiative, I sprinted inside my squadron and went off to sleep. In the meantime, Dhillon - another sardar of my squadron - finished his dinner and stepped out to wait for a squad. Imagine the Sergeant's surprise when he saw the Khalsa whom he'd sent to run around the tree standing next to him waiting to go to his squadron! Dhillon came back at 1230 that night - wet like he too had had a bath with his clothes on!
10 Meters Jump!!!
The only exposure I'd had to swimming was with a tube in a pool where my feet could touch the ground. 25 meters was the mandatory limit for first term and I was like solid lead in the pool. The ustaad who'd teach us was particularly fond of taking the learner to the deep end and then pulling his leg down to make him get over his fear of water. Reasons for not entering the pool varied from swollen privates to father sick at home to skin infections.... anything one could think of to get away from him. To my misfortune, one day I came under his scanner. As my turn approached, I excused myself saying that I had an upset stomach and went to the loo. Once inside I quietly picked up my belongings, jumped out of the window and ran back to the squadron. As I reached my room I was really ashamed of the escapist attitude adopted and decided to go back the same way. In the meantime alarm bells went off when I didn't return to the pool after such a long time. A search was launched for me and when I wasn't found, everyone was about to go back. Imagine their surprise when I stepped out of the bathroom which they'd just checked and found empty. In all this chaos I got saved from the drowning glory of Ustaad Panigrahi and was perhaps the only cadet to learn swimming without having drunk water in the pool.
I had barely managed to cross one obstacle when the second one popped up. The 10 meter jump. Every term all the cadets had to jump from the 10 meter high platform. While standing on top of the 10 meter diving board, the pool below would look like a match box. On top of it I knew someone who had dived and fallen outside - the episode left him paralyzed for life (God bless his soul). Three days before the jump, all conversations would get highjacked around stories of people who had not jumped the right way and burst their family jewels or who could not come back to the surface and had to be fished out. Seniors would counsel juniors on how they should be brave and not feel scared of the jump. The hype built around the whole affair made it even more fearsome! While waiting on top, some would box the air to get the adrenalin flowing, some would pray and some keep asking the one behind to move ahead till there was no one left behind. But jump each one would have to. There were the ones like Suraj who tried to turn the jump into a dive and landed flat on their tummy and then had a red, aching front for days, or some who jumped with their legs open and came out with blood seeping out of their trunks when they stepped out of the pool. Some wondered why the water wasn't coming and looked down to see and never made that mistake again. Yet others like Motilal refused to jump and when an officer tried to push them down, they took him along in his full uniform. Others like me bragged about it when they went home while swimming with their dad and had to do it for him and his friends to see! They learnt to keep their mouths shut. The jump would start from "dukki" term. The ritual was akin to a ghoulish KKK ritual. Pin drop silence. Hundreds of cadets sitting by the poolside being lined up one by one and asked to jump like Another Brick in the Wall. In my "dukki" term, I managed to get into the academy golf team. It had its own privileges like simpler PT tests, late breakfast and outings. During one such 10 m jump, I was also required to be at the golf course. I hoped like hell that the officer in charge would see me at the swimming pool and ask me to go to the golf course instead. As I fidgeted around, my prayers were answered and he spotted me shouting out in surprise as to what I was doing there when I was supposed to be at the Golf course. My joy knew no bounds - my plan had worked. As I prepared to leave, he dropped the bomb shell. "On the board before you leave". No one had jumped till now! The whole battalion was looking at me. Some sneering, some laughing and none feeling pity - thats the way NDA is... I started the Battalion jump in my dukki term!
Escape and Evasion
Most of the junior terms went into mastering "management" and escape and evasion. The aim was to save yourself today - tomorrow will be faced tomorrow .... and tomorrow never comes!! The first three terms were a sophisticated version of "hide and seek". We hid and the seniors seeked! It started in the first term when we were being hit around during a routine night ragging session in the loo. After an hour or so, as we rolled aroung under showers dripping alternate cold and boiling water, Jain suggested that I faint and he'll carry me back to the cabin! So it was decided. I stopped moving and lay down. Jain immediately sounded the alarm that I'd fainted. Not ready to give in so easily, my caring seniors threw boiling water on me - but they'd met their match - I didn't move. I was taken away to a cabin closeby. As we huddled around our anger grew at being manhandled so badly. So we took out rods and came out shouting - ready to beat up the seniors. The mutiny had started....... and crushed within minutes!! We were rolling again although after a promise that we wouldn't be touched again.... As they say, "When rape is inevitable, might as well enjoy it"!!
And after that - enjoy we did . I learnt to hide in the almirah, inside my trunk, to put a hanky on my head and pretend to be a bag in a corner, lock our cabins and climb back in through the window... name it and we atleast attempted it!
The Golden Girls of Social Science Block
Perhaps the only good thing of the academics blocks were the lady instructors - the "golden" lining to the perpetual cloud over the miserable life of the cadets. Some like Rita would bend over your shoulder to hold the mouse and send the cadet into blissful coma. Even the healthy Meena and Beena sisters became the stuff that dreams were made of. Every computer class was spent gazing and absorbing every move of K. She would often check me for glaring at her till it became a joke in the class. Once when the class broke off she told me to clean the blackboard before leaving the room. The whole class left while I was still cleaning it. In the meantime, she switched off all the lights and came and stood right behind me. As I started to leave, K very huskily told me that the board was not clean as yet. Was this my imagination or was this my lucky day!! Something suddenly snapped, I freaked out and ran off saying that it was clean enough. We never looked each other in the eye after that. Memorable moments were also spent learning french from Ms Advani, in the chemistry lab and the workshop too. Those were good days.
Periphery Hera Pheri
The Periphery had a circumference of 5 kilometers (approx) and had wild shrubs and trees growing there. It was an excellent place to hide or sleep or to get away from someone. Once when the academy was particularly "hot" and juniors were getting roggered everywhere, I decided to take the periphery route to get back to squadron. As I was crossing the lone road which intersected it, I heard a car approaching. I dashed across but was too slow. The driver, a major who was an instructor and had been nicknamed "Academy Sergeant", saw me and stopped the car. Thankfully I was some distance away and was confidently out of his reach! I had never imagined in my wildest dreams that this major would start running after me to catch me. We ran where there was no route, we ran on pathways, we ran tearing away at bushes with him screaming at the top of his lungs for the khalsa to stop - neither ready to give up! Finally youth won and I managed to give him the dodge leaving him with atleast a 4 km walk back to his car! What bliss and satisfaction!
Golfie
I had heard that the best way to escape all ragra was to join some academy team - you'd get all the spoilings of an academy team player, get passed in PT tests and if you were in the Golf team - unlimited breakfast and cold coffee on sunday mornings!!!! So, Golf it was! It wasn't so difficult getting into it since I already knew the game. Imagine Golf in the morning, a good hearty breakfast and then sleep under one of the trees in the fairways! Some tournaments were in Pune city and so you also got a chance to go out. During one of these competitions Sundaram (a team mate and senior) and I decided that we would play in civil clothes and come back to academy also in the same - something unthinkable for the lowly ranks of the ordinary cadets! So, it was decided. While returning, as we approached the gate we found Subedar Raman, the most foul mouthed and ugly drill sergeant of the academy, on duty to check people entering NDA. There was no going back now, so I walked ahead. The beard, longish hair and a put-on lousy walk helped me get by. As Sundaram crossed the ustaad, he shouted, "yeh cadet tham" (this cadet halt) and Sundaram, instead of ignoring it, stopped and was caught. Well, not willing to go through this alone, he told the ustaad that I too was a cadet and I got caught too! The next seven days we ran 5 kilometers every afternoon and cursed each other. Some friends are always there for you ...... and some make sure you are always there for them!
Night Fright
It was a dark gloomy night!!! Dark because I'd just washed my hair - they would keep coming in front of my eyes and because of the black colour of my bath robe. Gloomy because all the juniors were being ragged in the toilets!!!! Just as I was about to drift into dreamland, I was woken up by a junior asking me to come to the toilet where the "session" - as these ragging periods were called, was going on. A cadet was missing - hiding somewhere in some cabin and so this was a task for "the specialist". After about two hours of sneaking into cabins through windows and peeping in through wire meshes, I gave up. I'd searched everywhere - under the stairs, in the backyard, in the bushes, in each and every cabin - much to the annoyance of some who were going through "nice" magazines with a torchlight and shared maggi with some who were having a midnight snack - but not found Durgapal - the missing ikk"eeee". Dejected, I walked back to the toilet and reported my failure to my seniors. I was sent back to my room after being admonished and warned to improve my hunting skills. Just as I was about to drift off, a junior again knocked on my door and told me that I'd been called to the toilet again. I cursed Durgapal and wearing my bath robe trudged back to the toilet. There was Durgapal - huddled in one corner - shivering, red eyed and frothing in the mouth!!! He'd been found in the toilet above in one of the loo's in this state. After a lot of mollycoddling Durgapal's story of his encounter with a species of a different kind came out. As he was climbing the stairs to the 1st floor he saw a wild black creature with long hair and red eyes! The creature would sometimes climb walls and sometimes vanish into them. Scared to death, Durgapal ran to the top floor but to his shock the creature followed him there too. He hid in the toilet and as he looked up at the ceiling - the creature was smiling at him - after which he blanked out!! Now, we all knew who this wall climbing "wild creature with long hair and red eyes" was.....! Sardars truly are a species apart and after this I was never given such mundane jobs...
End of Term
Every end of term, from the third term onwards, the whole academy would participate in the march past for the passing out cadets!! To my misfortune, my drill was so good that in my second term itself, I was made a part of this contingent!! So while my coursemates would be standing on the mast smiling away, I would be marching to the drum and spit mixed ear deafening shouts of the drill sergeant. They too were from a different world. Their demands were simple - when the foot stamps - it should make the clock tower fall down, deafen the ears of the Adjutant, break the tarmac beneath.... The dig while marching should be so deep that water should flow out of the earth, form a pond with frogs which should die because of the sound of the march!! And we tried till we were wet - not from the water of the pond but thanks to the sweat which poured out of every pore in our skins!! And there were my dear coursemates smiling away, standing on the mast or participating in PT displays forming pretty flowers with colourful placards and ribbons! Well, I made a vow that I'd march only for my own passing out after this term. So the next term I walked on stilts - new display introduced!! The term after that I was part of the nautanki (dramatics) team and this continued till I almost missed my own passing out too!!
Destiny
Before I knew it, the sixth term was midway and I was in the middle of my Naval service subjects, mastering da-da-dit-da (morse code) - ready to become a "nevala" or a "naval dope"!! On an OJT trip to the naval dockyards in Bombay, while on a ship, I wondered if my free spirit could be confined to the limits of a ship. As I looked at my instructors and other naval officers - I only saw hard working and tensed up faces who were struggling from one milestone to another. On the other hand the men in olive were the happy ones - on a peace posting after years in field - they were living up the good life. This was the kind of life I wanted - happy, with no tensions and free! So I put up an application asking for my service to be changed to Army - chaos followed. I was interviewed by the Commandant - a naval officer (and golfer, who also went on to become the Naval Chief later) and called for a whole lot of interviews and discussions. During one of these discussions, the whole naval fraternity was called and I was asked by Grewal - the Naval Chief Instructor, why I wanted to join the Army and leave the Navy. We sparred for some time with basic replies like leading men into battle, adventure, fighting for the country, etc, etc. After some time, still unconvinced, he ran out of patience and asked me to tell the truth. Having run out of excuses, I shot back asking him how many of his officers in that room were actually happy. A hushed silence fell upon the room. I quoted incidents in which naval instructors were involved in embarassing acts in the academy and in contrast asked him to name one such incident involving army officers - who seemed to be really happy and enjoying life. Not too amused at my reply, Garry shouted back, "Thats because they live in Kupwara and Dimapur and compare themselves to the headman of that village while my officers live in Bombay and Chennai and compare themselves to Tata's and Birlas". I got up from my chair, all eyes on me, the silence deafening, and said, "But at the end of the day, even though they are in Kupwara - they are happy sir, while these people are not". The next day I was a Pongo - an army cadet!
After years of passing out, when I look back now and remember all the silly things I'd done and the not-so-silly ragging I'd faced, I remember my Alma Mater with fondness. Each corner and stone there stretching from the farthest corner of the Khadakwasla lake where my sail boat would get stuck so many times, to the wall of Garware estate which we would try to peep over for he was supposed to have a pretty daughter, from the dhobi ghat in Khandwa used so commonly to go on FL, to the dhaba that we'd trek 10 kilometers to have butter chicken in Pirangut, are memories which I'll cherish forever. Memories of friends who've stood by me in thick and thin, friends who achieved what every soldier dreams of for his motherland, friends who may have lost touch with me but will always remain in my fondest of memories. Friends forever .......
Sewa Parmo Dharma
