ONE GOOD ADVICE DESERVES ANOTHER

How we admire the wisdom of those who come to us for advice. Indeed, some people are convinced that rendering advice is a fundamental right at par with such other rights as Right to Speech, Right to Religion, and Right to Property. Whatever be a person’s condition, these advisors are convinced that he or she would benefit from their (unsolicited) advice. Should the concerned person then do the unthinkable of not taking the advice, it is invariably followed by an ‘I-told-you-at-that-time-but…’ attitude.

I don’t know what the pecking order amongst the gratuitous advisors is but the real experts in this field are the ones who render medical advice. These professionals are armed with advice ranging from simple cough and cold remedies to cure of something as serious as cancerous growths. First of all, don’t get me wrong; these are the people who really feel for you and wish you well. Their hearts bleed to see you lying on the hospital bed. Their concern for you is so much that they would do anything within their means to make you better. Their mood is somber when they subject you to careful visual examination after depositing roses and the customary ‘Get Well’ card at your bedside table. And then comes the verdict, “You look good. You don’t look ill at all. But these days who can tell? My aunty also had the same problem a few years back. Everyone kept saying how she was improving. I was the only one who told her to get an MRI test done since I had read on the Internet that sometimes the malignancy doesn’t show in blood tests or X-rays. If only she had listened to my advice. But, you don’t have to worry. I am sure everything would work out right in your case. One can’t keep getting MRIs done just because someone tells you to. Bat on, Ravi, and don’t you worry about Lyn at all. We shall look after her.”

So after cheering you up when these good Samaritans leave, getting an MRI done becomes so much of a priority with you that you wonder if you should be spending the night without getting one done. You remain awake the whole night, tossing in the bed from side to side. In the morning when the doctor tells you that they have decided to discharge you as the tests have found nothing wrong, the ominous warning about ‘malignancy not showing in blood tests or X-rays’ makes you miserable. So if you are not able to convince the doctor of the need to get (an urgent) MRI done, you somehow elicit from him as to from where you can get one done privately on your own.

There are experts on every conceivable topic that you can think of. They can give you advice on how to invest your money, where to go for dinner, vacations and shopping, the best suited careers for your children, and, how to run the cricket team, navy and the country. If only Dravid had listened to them and brought in Agarkar at the crucial moment, the results of the match would have been different! Surely, Vajpayee must have been blind to overlook their advice on US of A. “And mind you”, they would tell you with great authority, “Manmohan appears to be committing the same mistake.”

How devoid of colour life would be if we did not have these people offering us advice. But, have you ever noticed that the guys who give you good advice are never around when their advice fails? At the very moment when you want to have a word with them regarding the hare brained idea they talked you into they are probably busy finding another gullible man and advising him. In any case, even if they were around they would probably tell you that you did not follow their advice in the manner they had envisaged. Alas.

A man once drove his second-hand car to the dealer and said, “Can you please tell me, once again, about the virtues of this car that you sold me. Sometimes, I get very dejected, you know.”

The hard-core advisors, however, take all post-advice criticism in their stride. An insurance apprentice once complained to his senior that he had followed the latter’s advice regarding persistent approach in door to door selling of life insurance and that he was badly insulted. The veteran looked the rookie in the eye and said, “Son, I have been in this business for forty-five years now. I had doors slammed in my face. I was abused, slapped and hit. But, insulted? Never.”

How I wish I had put a rupee in my piggy bank for every bit of advice that was rendered to me and I had the good sense to ignore. I would have been a very rich and/or famous man by now. But I, the sucker that I was, followed the advice, for example, to buy shares with my hard-earned savings just prior to the market crash caused by the activities of a certain gentleman called Harshad Mehta. Earlier they had advised me that the safest investment was real estate and I bought a plot of land in Punjab’s most upcoming city. To borrow a phrase from a retired Admiral – the ink was not yet dry on the sale deed – when another gentleman called Beant Singh decided to kill the Prime Minister. Suddenly Punjab was in turmoil and my golden investment was not even worth the paper it was written on. In the recent past I stood as a prosecutor in the closeted atmosphere of a courts-martial room, day after day, whereat everyone (there are generally only twelve people in a CM Room) looked at me accusingly except the stenographers (who had their backs to me and hence were not looking at me one way or the other) and I remembered the advice given to me some thirty-five years back: “Join the navy see the world; join the navy meet the girls.”

So, to cut a long story short, here is my advice to all you ladies and gentlemen:

• Don’t let anyone build up to his or her advice. You are in for a jolt. If you follow it you are jinxed and if you don’t it would keep rankling in your mind. This is particularly true of the forwarded e-mails asking you to forward these for good luck or else.

• Since I notice that despite my advice you are still reading this article, my next advice is that ask the person giving you advice if he has ever followed his own advice.

• If you are really bold, counter a person’s advice with one of your own. For example when they tell you that Methi soaked in water is the best cure for gastric problems, tell them, “My aunty tried that for a number of years but what cured her finally was Karela juice with raw garlic.”

• Remember that experts and professionals really don’t need advice. When a person asked a famous sculptor advice on how to carve an elephant out of a rock, he was told, “Take a large piece of rock and chisel away everything that doesn’t look like an elephant.” Life is as simple as that.

BREAKING NEWS – INDIAN STYLE

A midshipman was being trained by a Captain on the art of breaking news. A telegram was received for one of the sailors that his father had expired. “Let me see you use your imagination”, the Captain told the snotty, “and break the news to the sailor in the most indirect fashion”. The midshipman went straight to the ship’s broadcast and announced, “Do you hear there? Do you hear there? This is the Midshipman of the Watch speaking. Seaman Kuldip Singh, your father has expired. I say that again: Seaman Kuldip Singh, your father has expired.”

This was really the most insensitive approach and the Captain immediately berated the Midshipman, who promised to do better next time. Another opportunity came his way within a week when a telegram was received about Radio Operator Manickam’s mother having passed away. This time the midshipman wasn’t going to make the same mistake. He had the complete Communications Division standing in a line on the quarterdeck. He addressed them about the importance of having parents. And then he told them, “All those whose mothers are alive, take a step forward.” Noticing Manickam he said, “Don’t be too sure, Manickam”!

Truly, there is a great art in breaking news, good or bad. However, the way our news channels are breaking news these days it is evident that news too has become a commodity to sell. Most of the breaking news items leave us wondering whose lives are being affected with that particular news, or if it is really news. Breaking news item should have an element of unexpected or at least out of the ordinary. Surely, if the whole world already knows about it or was expecting it, it can’t be breaking news. Let us consider the news worthiness of the following actual and imagined breaking news items:

• Such and such enquiry report constituted by the government finds no evidence of malpractice/corruption/conspiracy.
• Indian Hockey team returns from such and such championship without winning a medal.
• The American President is ready to solve the West Asia problem.
• Pak says they had no hand in the recent massacres in Kashmir; or, a captured Jihadi in Srinagar reveals he was trained in POK.
• The pollution levels of Indian cities reach dangerous limits.
• Minister says he will prove his innocence in “people’s court”.

Indeed, the everyday ritual of breaking news on news channels reminds you of other phrases starting with ‘breaking’ such as ‘breaking wind’, ‘breaking into song or dance’. An American was attending a dinner hosted by an English lady. Over the dinner table when she loudly broke wind, a gentleman on her right got up and said, “I am sorry, please excuse me.” The American was nonplussed until the etiquette (of not embarrassing the lady) was explained to him. So after an encore by the lady, the American did not wait for the gentlemen to the left or the right, but shot up from the seat and said, “This one is on me”!

We too would like to tell the news channels how horribly out of place their breaking news items are. The flaming hurry to somehow beat the other channels whilst breaking news would put even the American dinner – guest to shame.

THE VIRTUAL WORLD

The entire ‘Srishti’ (Creation) – any Swami (man of God) would tell you – is ‘Maya’ (mirage); the only Reality is God. I heard this in my childhood and I heard it many times later. I heard it again recently and it is only now that I am beginning to realize that there is a great deal of truth in it. Reality is what one believes to be real. That’s why a person’s Reality is different from another person’s Reality, or as the English say, “One man’s meat is another man’s poison.” For heavens’ sake, it is the same object that we are talking about. How can it appear to be so diagonally opposite to different people?

Let us look at the concept of Reality; anything is real only if it exists in two variables known to us, that is, in Time and in Space. Let us tackle the Space factor first since it is easier to understand. How do we know a thing exists in Space? Simple, by feeling it with any of our five senses. Out of these five senses, for the sake of reasoning, we shall take the sense of Seeing. It is often said that seeing is believing. It is because there is no doubt about the existence of a thing after we have seen it with our own eyes. But now imagine that we enter a room in which this thing exists. It is pitch dark and we don’t know whether this thing exists unless we can make it out with other senses, that is touching, hearing, tasting and smelling. What if the thing is odourless, noiseless, tasteless and occupies no form? Difficult to imagine? Alright, let us just say that it has odour, noise, taste and form well below or well above the range of our senses; does it still exist? The answer is that we do not know. Hence, when we say that we don’t know, it does not mean that a thing does not exist. It is simply that it is beyond the range of our senses, which are our only way to establish if a thing exists. Therefore, as far as we are concerned, the existence of anything in Space is dependent upon our ability to see, touch, smell, hear or taste it.

All these are dependent upon the Rules that we ourselves make or discover. For example, many a times, we think of a person as extremely bright and intelligent when we see her and later find the same person extremely stupid when we hear her. Why? Simple – because Light travels much faster than Sound!

Let us pause to think of how do we see this person or any other person or thing? It is because of the Light emitted or reflected by that person or thing reaching us. And, Light travels at the, well, Speed of Light, which is very very fast indeed. Hence, we see the person or thing instantaneously. But, what if the person or thing is very far away, say, Light Years away? Well, in that case, by the time Light from that thing reaches us and supposing that thing is moving, we only imagine to see it where we see it, whereas in those Light Years, the thing may have actually moved elsewhere.

Let me explain this with an example. Let us say that a new star is born in the sky (it actually happens often), emitting, for the sake of hypothesis, distinctive light, say, green. Let us say, for the sake of argument, that you could travel faster than the Speed of Light and take a Space Odyssey towards this new emerging star and see it and return to earth. Now, let’s say, in the intervening time you have grand children and it is then, one day, when your grand children are playing in the courtyard that they see this new star in the sky (because of the light from that star having reached them after those many Light Years) and they run excitedly to you and shriek, “Grandma, come out and see there is a new Green Star in the sky.” And you, without stopping cutting the vegetables in the kitchen reply, “Oh, now you see, is it? I saw it fifty years back!”

So, you saw an event ahead in time in comparison to others, simply because you could travel faster than the speed of light! The distinction between what you always thought as Real World and Virtual World gets blurred! We refuse to believe it when the sages of yore used to call our world as Maya (the Myth). These worthy persons could travel (in body or estrella) at whatever speed they chose and actually (in our Reality) appeared sometimes at what appeared to be two or three different places at the same time!

So far, in our physical world, nothing can travel faster than the speed of Light and hence we tend to imagine that there is no other world. But think again; is it really true? Actually, something can travel faster than Light! Think about it; yes, our Dreams can actually travel much faster than any physical phenomenon known to us. If we do not get scared to, we can go Beyond the Rainbow and see another world and return to tell the story to others who would eventually see it many years later:

“Aa chal ke tujhe main le ke chaloon,
Ik aise gagan ke tale,
Jahan gham bhi na ho, aansoo bhi na ho,
Bus pyaar hi pyaar pale.

Jahan dur nazar daudayen, aazaad gagan laharaye,
Jahan rang birange panchhi, aasha ka sandesha layen.
Sapno mein pali, hansti ho kali,
Jahan sham suhani dhale,
Jahan gham bhi na ho, aansoo bhi na ho…”

This is an old Hindi song from the movie ‘Door Gagan Ki Chhayon Mein’ (Under the Far Skies), which is translated thus:
“Come let me lead you into that world,
Where there’d be no sorrow, no tears, but only Love.
Where as far as eyes can see,
You’d experience the unhindered sky,
Where birds of all colours,
Would bring the message of Hope.
In this dream world, Joy would blossom with sunrise,
And evenings’d lead to a sanguine sunset”.

Possible? I am sure we can make it possible. All we have to do is exactly what the Man from La Mancha, Don Quixote, did:

“To dream, the Impossible Dream
To touch the untouchable glory,
To reach the unreachable star…”

But, the doubts arise; don’t they always? “What if we all live in the virtual world? If we are always looking for ‘Tare Zameen Par’, who is to take care of Life’s real problems? What about electricity and water complaints, for example? The leaking faucet won’t be repaired simply by dreaming; the monthly bills have actually to be paid; children actually have to be dressed to go to school and the maid has to be actually trained over and over again”.

My answer is that there is time and place for everything! You dream when you can and you live when you have to. And if you can live and dream at the same time? Well, then, ladies and gentlemen, you are blessed indeed.

PRAYER OF THE FAITHFUL

Give me the good sense, O’ God,
Though I am most useless of the blokes,
To see sense in First Lady’s plans,
And to laugh at my Captain’s jokes.

I too want to rise, my Lord,
I too want to belong.
I want to be in tune with times,
I surely can’t do no wrong.

I too have visions of me, my Lord,
To up to the highest reach;
In the interim, I don’t mind,
To be called a worm, snake or leech.

To reach the highest of high, my Lord,
I don’t mind stooping so low,
As to kill my individuality,
And to say “yes”, when I mean “no”.

The only creed I have, my Lord,
Is my love for the blue oceans,
And somehow to make my own thoughts,
In sync with my CinC’s emotions.

I know that day won’t be far,
When I stand to get my just reward,
When everyone’d finally realize,
That I’ve really worked very hard.

SMALL VESSELS BIG RESOLVE

My stints with the Killers were two: the first one was as a commanding officer of INS Vipul, the 1241 RE ships collectively named as the 22nd Killer Squadron, the flame bearers of the legacy of original Killers – the 25th KS. This was in the year 1993-94. The second one was as NOIC (Andhra Pradesh) when the 25th KS in its second avatar (that is the Chamak class of OSA II Missile boats, which joined the Indian Navy in 1976-77) was placed under my operational command in 1997-98. Pratap and Charag had been decommissioned in May 1996, one year before I joined. But, I had six of them throughout my tenure: Prachand, Pralaya, Prabal, Chapal, Chamak and Chatak.

So powerful is the legacy of the Killers that everyone in the Indian Navy is affected by their saga of glory. But if you are a Killer (that is if you have ever served on the original 200 tons missile boats or their later day successors, the 400 tons REs), your chest bulges out with pride. And, no matter how many times you have attended the Killers Nite, and how many times you have heard the story of Operation Trident, you feel a tremor run up your spine when you come to the part whence Nipat, Nirghat and Veer set Karachi ablaze. How fortunate you would be, you ask yourself hopefully, if you were to be asked to take part in something equally brash, daring and decisive?

As Commanding Officer of Vipul, I was also the Div Commander of K222 Div. In an exercise another ship of the squadron (Vinash under then LtCdr Anil Chawla) and my ship were anchored very close to the coast in the shadow of hills, so as to defeat any radar detection and even visual sighting. At the appointed hour at night, we were to weigh anchor, charge at high-speed, attack the “enemy” harbour and return to our secret anchorage before dawn. With the distance involved this called for more than seven hours of steaming above thirty knots, with all four turbines (the Cruise and Boost turbines) clutched in. Even though it was only a mock attack, as we quietly weighed anchor and proceeded to our respective sectors for attack, the ships pulsated with live energy. Outwardly nothing could have been perceived as we were totally darkened. But inside it was like a bomb with live fuze.

At such speeds the forecastle of the ship rises and you stand on the open conning deck, holding on to a guardrail. Even at that, there are occasions when your feet are in the air and your only contact with the boat is a few fingers of the hand, the other one holding the binoculars. “Is this how Nirghat, Nipat and Veer would have felt on that fateful night of 4th Dec?” you ask yourself, “Nay, the excitement and the suspense would have been even more. After all, actual enemy harbour and waters around it are so different from simulated enemy harbour.” At those speeds, as you hear the report of a fishing vessel being sighted or detected in pitch dark night, you are already crossing it. So you start praying not so much for the success of the “mission” but that the fishing boats would have the good sense to show some lights.

Even the enemy has to be fast to protect its harbour and assets. The Ops Room teams of the ships on Local Naval Defence have to swiftly plot and assess fast and fleeting contacts because before they can ascertain whether these are real or ghost targets, these are gone outside their limited detection range (because of the low radar profile of these boats).

Anil and I were lucky to have arrived at our predetermined positions without being detected. As we coordinated a sectoral and simulated missile attack, we imagined the targets our missiles would hit: PNS Muhafiz, PNS Khaiber or PNS Shahjehan or perhaps the fuel storage tanks! More than twenty-two years after the original attack, even a simulated attack still brought the blood rushing to one’s temples. I am sure it still does. An SSM seen at the receiving end still causes nightmares. The lookout’s cry of “fireball approaching from Green Four Five” is still the report requiring greatest urgency of action.

After the attacks as we made our way quietly towards the secret anchorage, my boat was detected by the “enemy”. However, much before that I was aware of her presence. I took shelter just astern of a large merchant ship proceeding in the direction we were headed, in such a way that our silhouettes nearly merged. The “enemy” having detected two targets at one time felt cheated about the “vanished” second target and angrily directed the “ship on my starboard bow stop immediately for investigation” on MMB radio-set. I kept totally silent, but, what ensued was a lively volley of choicest abuses from the master of the merchant ship who was woken up at 2 AM to answer this call!

Nevertheless, the “enemy” ship claimed to have fired her SSMs at me. At the debrief it was established that these might have resulted in the sinking of the merchant ship, because of the nature of the missiles’ seeker head logic. For the first time it made me feel good about my smallness – having adequate wherewithal to do big damage to the enemy but small enough to be detected and targeted; this being the very essence of the spirit of the boldness and the daring. I feel that the crews of these boats are as if injected with this spirit on joining. Thinking-out-of-the-box is the current buzzword in the Navy. The Killers were never restricted to any box, real or imaginary.

Four years later, when I was the NOIC in Vizag, two of my missile boats, each being twenty-one years old and hence in poor state of health, took part in an exercise with the Eastern Fleet, in sea state four to five. Both developed defects at sea but the grit and professionalism with which they met these contingencies made the Fleet Commander appreciatively write to me. That year, yet again, we celebrated the Killers Nite and gifted a memento to all the guests with the words ‘Anytime – Anywhere’, the words that describe the Killers spirit the best. It also indicated the resolve of the 25th Killers Squadron, which would do anything to recreate the aura of the night of 4th Dec 1971, notwithstanding their condition or the sea state.

“No fear if the task is dangerous or daring,
No worry if even the gods aren’t caring;
But we sail on we sail on we sail on still,
For we the Killers have an undying will.”

ONLY FOR THE LARGE HEARTED

There is a risqué joke about how only real men can drive taxis in Paris. Professionalism and other attributes apart, I feel only the real large-hearted can do well on Viraat; and if you haven’t been one before being posted, you become one soon enough.

I took over as the ship’s commander after my command of a 400 ton boat, Vipul. Whenever I used to meet Viraat at sea or in harbour, I used to fear they would hoist my boat on one of the LCA davits. I had a ship’s company of eighty, whereas on Viraat, close to three hundred sailors would be on leave and temporary duty at any one time. The then Commander Rajender Singh, when he handed over to me, told me that being ship’s commander would be like being General Manager of Bombay VT. One of my biggest fears was that whilst talking to sailors outside, say in Kohli stadium, I would ask someone which ship he was serving on, only to be told that he was with me on Viraat. Another big fear was that someone someday would report an incident in a compartment and I won’t even know where it was, let alone know about the compartments surrounding it.

And yet, the mind and body expand automatically and respond magnificently. You not only remember men but remember details about them. Unlike small ships where an incident is reported rarely, on Viraat, incidents used to be commonplace and everyone used to take these in their stride and find quick solutions. Decision making becomes faster and if you are not one or two steps ahead of the game, you cannot have an honest sleep at night. I must have taken many bad decisions during my tenure but I always felt reassured that the majority ship’s company supported me as against my leaving them in the lurch for not having decided in time or at all.

My Commanding Officer, Captain JS Bedi, was ten times faster. There must have been times when he could have lost control, for example, when we had a major AVCAT leak or when, off Kochi, a Harrier in bad weather was very late in returning at the limit of its ROA; but, he always gave the impression of being in total control. I recall that whenever we were very tense onboard, say, due to an accident or incident, Captain Bedi would tell us the juiciest Punjabi joke to break the tension, so that everyone would return to normalcy. However, I don’t remember a single occasion when he passed on to us anger, fear or anxiety. He had the enviable ability to sift out significant from a lot of gibberish and with word or gesture he invariably guided everyone not to dissipate time and energy on the insignificant.

He stood by his principles but never made trifles into principles. I remember the time, when after days of sailing on Viraat, we anchored off Karwar and I asked his permission for taking the officers to Anjadip for a soiree. The only parting injunction that he gave me was, “Please make sure no one comes back drunk on board.” He was at the embarkation ladder when we returned on board – hold your breath – the next morning. After a binge that lasted greater part of the night, I had ensured that everyone slept on the beach. No words were spoken as we got off the boat and stepped on the quarterdeck; but, one look at his face conveyed to me the Tsunami that was about to hit. Silently I followed him to his cabin and his enquiring look demanded my explanation. “Just followed your instructions”, I ventured tentatively. “What instructions?” he demanded with matching aplomb. “The one about not coming back drunk on board”, I stuttered with increasing confidence, “We got drunk and hence slept there until we got un-drunk, I mean, sober.” His look said “dismissed” and so I returned to my cabin and then the phone rang. With trembling hands I picked up the receiver and there he was with his peerless response, “Next time you guys decide on an evening like this, don’t forget to take me with you.”

This wonderful spirit of being proud members of a larger team reflected in everything on board and I am sure it still does. I remember that we arrived in Mumbai harbour one day prior to the annual Pulling Regatta, having practised very little in Kochi. Viraat was berthed on the outer side of South Breakwater. Hence, nearly one-third of the course to the finish line was along Viraat; and that made all the difference. Captain had personally addressed the teams and had demanded that a win would be counted by him only if a Viraat boat would beat the nearest boat by at least two boat lengths. I had assured him that we would win the Cock by winning the largest number of races ever and not just by points. All was going well until we came to the MEs’ race. They had just finished doing long and arduous hours of watches at sea and I had mentally prepared to concede that race. They were in the third position when the racing boats came close to Viraat. And then hundreds of excited voices on Viraat started the altogether familiar litany: WE RAAT, WE RAAT. It was simply magical; a new and sudden energy was injected into the MEs and they started pulling as if they were possessed. Lo and behold, they won the race. We won the Cock by winning the largest number of races ever, at least till then. The Captain made sure that the MEs were the first to be photographed with the Cock. I can never forget MCME M Singh’s countenance that day. He would have done any rooster proud.

Life is memorable never because of mammoth events but because of small nuggets. The memory of Master Chief PTI Chauhan having prayed for me at Vaishno Devi and having brought me a small amulet, which I always carry with me, moistens my eyes even now; I having won his total devotion by insisting that we should have mass PT on the Flight Deck every morning. It would be difficult for any ship to match the sight of MCPOs and CPOs volunteering to clean and paint their mess decks and alleyways so that Viraat would come out a winner in FOST assisted workup. How can I forget the sight of a sailor moving up and down on the Flight Deck in webbing and with a baton in his hand one hour after the ship had weighed anchor and sailed out of harbour, he being the AWKWARD (Harbour Security) Sentry, not having realized that the ship had sailed?

I know that a variety of phrases are used to describe life on Viraat. But, I feel that the phrase that describes it best is that ‘it is a life of constant discovery’ – a discovery that often fills you with wondrous pride, belief in hidden potential of men, and their indomitable spirit; a discovery that fills you with awe just as much as it fascinates you. Five months after having joined, when I was confident that I knew all about Viraat, I went about, on New Year’s Eve, wishing men at their duty stations. I came across an LME on watch in the Fwd Pump Space, a post so remote and lonely that if anything were to happen to him, it would be four hours later that he would be discovered by the sailor relieving him. I discovered that day that this watch-post existed! I discovered soon after joining that irrespective of fire and flooding taking place in any part of the ship, our NBCDI L Ram would reach DC HQ within a minute from anywhere on the ship and Chief ME SR Singh would be invariably taking charge at the vicinity of the incident as if he just happened to be there! I discovered that our cooks and stewards hardly ever rested and whenever HODs visited me in my cabin, PO Std Swaran Singh would magically appear from nowhere with tea and shakarparas. I discovered that Cdr (Met) Dey somehow knew the inside story of all happenings on board. I discovered that the same men who worked hardest also were skilled musicians, comedians and singers. I discovered that we had the finest pilots and air boys on board and the best D team. Finally, I discovered that it was my good fortune to have served on Viraat.

Many years later I commanded the tanker Aditya and I had forgotten how large Viraat is. Initially, my ship was based at Vizag but half way through my tenure she changed base port to Mumbai. Thanks mainly to Viraat, during my first day with the Western Fleet, I supplied more fuel to the ships than during my entire tenure with the Eastern Fleet.

A time would come when Vikrmaditya would join the Fleet and they would tell us what a magnificent sight it is when MiG 29 takes off from her deck. And we the Viraatees would wistfully remember the sight of the Sea Harrier taking off from the ramp of the ship, and appear, for a moment, suspended in vapour. We would still insist that there is no lovelier sight. Large would give way to larger, but we would persist in our belief that the largest hearted men were only there during our tenure.

“WE ARE TRYING OUR LEVEL BEST”

“We are trying our level best”; what a lovely expression it is. The first thing noticeable about it is that it is typically Indian, almost at par with such great Indian innovations as “Law would take its own course”, and “We are servants of the people who have elected us”. The use of this expression fills us with hope, satisfaction and joy. Someone, somewhere is thinking of us and – you guessed it – trying his level best to get us out of the situation we are in. For example, we may be stranded on the road for nearly two days, with flood waters menacingly swirling around us, but as soon as we hear this reaction from the authorities, we do a jig in sheer joy. “Aha”, we scream, “now things would improve. We could have been worse off if they hadn’t been trying their level best.” Here are a few other equally amusing uses of this expression:

Doctor to Relatives of Patient: Please don’t lose heart just because his heart, kidneys, liver and pulse have failed. I am trying my level best to make him win the next Olympics Marathon.

Husband to Wife: Disregard my seeming disdain for the last three hours. I am trying my level best to understand your point of view.

Son to Father: I knew you would get carried away by my current level of marks, which universally resemble eggs. Don’t you realise that I am trying my level best to improve?

Taxi Driver to Passenger on the Road to Airport: It has been only ten hours since we left Navy Nagar and already we have reached Worli. As you can see, I am trying my level best to reach the airport at the fastest.

Indian Politician to General Public: I accept the fact that 63 years after independence, half our countrymen are living below the poverty line; that we don’t have drinking water, electricity, houses, food and schools. However, don’t ever forget the redeeming fact that we in the APNA (All Promises No Action) Party are trying our level best.

Agriculture Scientist: In the last seventeen years of our experiment, this piece of land may not have produced a single grain of rice. But, since I am trying my level best, we shall soon have bumper crops.

Indian Hockey Team: None of you should be disheartened that we were first from the bottom in the last tournament. But, can’t you see we are trying our level best and next time, if the umpiring, playing conditions and cheering improves, we may just win the gold.

PWD (NH): It may be that the current state of roads resembles the craters on the Moon but is there any doubt in your mind that we in the PWD are trying our level best?

Lawyer to Client: You are being very cynical about the Indian judicial system simply because your case has taken twenty-six years to settle. You never appreciate my trying my level best to obtain the verdict in your favour at the earliest.

Accounts Officer to Widow of Employee: Madam, everyone is full sympathy for you for the loss of your husband. We are trying our level best to complete the pension formalities. As soon as the file is obtained from the secretariat……

How nice the world would become if people won’t try their level best? How nice would it be if things are made to work in India, that is, Bharat?

WE ARE LIKE THAT ONLY

‘Slumdog Millionaire’ did for us Indians something different from an article in the Readers Digest, a few years back. The article had labelled Indians as some of the rudest in the world based on an international survey. We went to town confronting the western perception about politeness. What good is western politeness, we asked challengingly, when no one comes to anyone’s rescue? Indians, on the other hand, we asserted, would naturally help anyone in difficulty, be it during floods, earthquakes, stampedes or whilst waiting for trains or aircrafts several hours late. It is at this stage that ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ invaded our collective consciousness. Without going into the merits of the movie and its concept, I would like to venture that yet another time we have been duped into believing that perhaps there is some sort of virtue (the feel good factor) in being what we are. We may be living in squalor, we may be rude or uncouth, cruel or ill-tempered, but, finally the prizes of unheard of riches and a charming beauty would fall at our feet.

Coincidentally, when I joined the Navy, I, together with all other Indians, lauded the innate simplicity of Rundi K Bakshi played by Peter Sellers in The Party. Now, when I am about to leave the Navy, Slumdog has done something similar. In between, we had Aamir Khan in ‘Rangeela’ and a host of other movies portraying the uncouth Indian winning everything that was at stake.

Nothing has changed over these thirty-four years; nothing in India ever changes. We still believe in miracles and fairy tale endings. We are like that only. A great nation? A great people? Well, there is no harm in opening our eyes sometimes and looking at ourselves as what or who we really are. Here is a short list.

Poverty and Squalor. The last five years have been a period of unprecedented GDP growth for India, second only to China. Yet, the number of poor in the country has increased. Where has all the money and growth gone? Well, the richest 10 Indians have 10% of the GDP and the richest 50 Indians have 30 % of GDP. In Mumbai, the areas under slums have increased since independence. We don’t have our poverty to blame for our being filthy. We take immense pride in personal hygiene and bathe frequently, many a time in the open. However, our cities are filthy because of our collective habit of littering. Most of our tourist places are now huge trash bins. We frequently perceive an eating place to be expensive if it is clean and are very much at home in muck. The last census showed that nearly half the population of Mumbai does not have access to toilets. We repel clean surroundings so much that the first paan spittle appears even as a new building is being white washed. Even naval areas are not immune. We are like that only.

Chaos. One reason why we have this uncanny ability to take things in our stride is because we love chaos, especially on the roads. The state of most of our roads tells us that roads in India are meant for many purposes other than for traffic. Roads are, for example, virtual playgrounds, pastures, garbage dumps, promenades, procession routes and meeting places for people and animals. There is perpetual maintenance going on. We are very environmentally friendly people. Hence, if roads are where rivulets and agricultural fields used to be; these are kept as close to their original purpose and condition as possible. Even where we have four-laning of a road, a greater part of this would still be used as two lanes because of never-ending repairs on two of the lanes that keep alternating. Our driving habits constantly remind us that life as a journey (suhana safar) can’t be taken too seriously. Many of us finish this journey without losing life or limb and that is more by chance than design or intention. Signboards and road markings are for decorative purposes only. Anyone new to our places has to repeatedly ask people for directions. Thus we transform even simple journeys into adventure trips. We are like that only.

People in a Hurry. Any foreigner coming to India is instantly taken aback by the sheer number of people on the streets. We have perfected the art of individually being in a flaming hurry whilst collectively standing still. With all our manpower every task assumes the proportions of a project, which goes on forever. Recently in Dubai I learnt that a four lane undersea tunnel took just four months from the award of contract to completion. In that much time, we have not been able to complete laying tiles on a pavement between Afghan and RC Churches. Yet, no Indian would wait for a second to let the vehicle ahead of him to cross the traffic lights before him. Announcements such as, ‘Please do not open the overhead lockers until the aircraft comes to a complete standstill’ or ‘Please allow the passengers ahead of you to disembark first’ are necessitated only in India. Perhaps, the frustration that we feel about our files not moving at all in public offices or our court cases not coming to any conclusion goads us to at least be ahead of the next person. We push, we fret, and we break queues to somehow get ahead. At every level crossing in our country, as soon as the gates are closed to allow a train to cross, from both sides, the vehicles joining at the rear start moving towards the closed gate on the opposite lane. Within no time, the road is now totally blocked since both lanes from both sides are full. Thus the entire traffic gets delayed by minutes, if not hours. However, those who jump the lanes have this satisfaction that delayed or not, they are now ahead of others. This goes on, without fail, at every crossing, every time. We never learn. We are like that only.

Everyone is Someone. We have no respect for the rule of the law. Taking shortcuts and to somehow “adjust” things are astuteness for us. If and when caught on the wrong foot, instead of feeling guilty, we are prone to ask, “Pata nahin main kaun hoon?” (Do you know who I am?) Reminds me of the hefty Chinese in a restaurant picking up cudgels with everyone in sight with the haughty proclamation, “No one can stand up to me; I am Chow Mein from China”. This continued for some time until a really massive sardar confronted him, “Hello, Chow Mein from China, You want to have a bout with me?” Looking at the massive hulk of the sardar, our Chinese hero stuttered, “But, actually I am Chicken Chow Mein.” How we wish someone would tell our paper tigers too as to who they really are.

Worshipping Heroes. An Indian hero is worshipped better than a god. Indeed, many erect temples for these heroes. In many part of the world, heroes are said to have larger-than-life existence. But, in our case it is literally true. God forbid if anything should happen to our hero; we can commit suicide or burn our homes or those of others. Curiously, many a times, lives are lost in protecting not just the hero but also his statue. We are like that only.

Chai-Paani Bakshish. Indians now rank amongst the most corrupt people on earth. The chai-paani bakshish has assumed gargantuan proportions. Everywhere and for everything palms are to be greased. There is a greater sense of acceptability of this type of gratification in public life. Indeed, a few years back I saw a cartoon in which the cop had stopped a driver and demanded money to let him off his petty traffic offence. When told by the driver that he did not have money, the cop told him, “Don’t have money? Don’t worry, we accept credit cards.” Another cartoon is equally revealing. It is about crores of rupees of scams that we so regularly unearth. In this cartoon a cop is taking a handcuffed petty thief to jail and is telling him, “You are unlucky that you stole a few rupees. If you had stolen lakhs, I could be your security guard.” A notorious bandit-queen-turned-politician had amassed more riches in a few years in politics than in all the years of her being a dacoit. We just love scams and speed money. We are like that only.

Everyone is Involved. There are no private transactions – everyone is somehow involved in everything. Take a street fight for example. Let us say Mr. A has an altercation with Mr. B. Very soon, realising that arguments are not getting them anywhere, A reaches for B’s neck or vice versa. Mr.C who was all this while applying katha in his paan shop jumps to B’s rescue. This stops A in mid track since by this time he had already started seeing visions of B having been reduced to pulp. Mr. D, at this stage, is on an urgent errand to Electricity Office for asking for reduction in his monthly bill. He quickly takes in the situation and does not like the unfair play of two (B and C) against one (A). He temporarily forgets his errand and jumps in the fray. This is totally to the liking of E who sees in this an opportunity to settle scores with D for playing the music too loud when he is doing his Paranayam. Gradually, therefore, the crowd becomes bigger and shouts of ‘Maro saale ko’ (Beat the brother-in-law) shriller. In the outer circle of this ruckus, no one is quite sure about whose side he is on, but, that does not deter him to actively participate in the proceedings. A happy ending is reached when everyone goes home after paying chai-paani money to the indulgent cop. A not so happy ending is when the politicians and religious heads jump in and something called an Inquiry starts. We are like that only.

Inquiries Galore. Inquiries are taken rather seriously in India. I’d go so far as to venture that these are best job opportunities for retired judges, politicians and bureaucrats. The purposes of Inquiry? Well, it is rather simple – an inquirer does exactly what a court writer used to do in the reign of kings, that is, to record history as viewed by the king. In a democracy, however, the ruler can’t go on forever. So, as soon as the ruler changes, thirty thousand or so pages of this recorded history (called Inquiry Report) is consigned to flames and a new Inquiry on Inquiry is constituted. Meanwhile, most of the people who are subject or victims of the earlier Inquiry either are either themselves consigned to flames or become powerful government officials. The cycle goes on and on. We are like that only.

People’s Sentiments. Whether or not, in India, law, rules, ethics and procedures are to be respected, there is something called ‘people’s sentiments’ that is always to be respected. So whilst on one hand we earmark crores of public money for cleaning Ganga or Yamuna, we respect people’s sentiments to continue polluting rivers and seas by immersing anything they may consider sacred. Talking about religious sentiments, how ironic it is that we have to display pictures of gods and goddesses on public walls, not to worship them but to somehow stop people from urinating and defecating against the walls? Many still don’t care, realising that their bowel needs are stronger than their spiritual leanings. We do the same for noise during religious festivals. Most of our cities are now close to being un-livable. If the stench does not get you, the noise will. We are like that only.

“Agli Baar Chhodenge Nahin”. Whatever you may say about India’s past or present, the future is always bright. After every scam, insult to national pride, failure to do well in sports etc, defeat and despair, we are filled with renewed resolve to tackle it better next time. Many of these hind sights are due to volumes of Inquiry and Investigation Reports. We debate, discuss and argue threadbare every aspect of the unpleasant situation that we have gone through. This takes days and months and years. And then? Nothing changes. We are like that only. Meanwhile, reality changes into fiction and fiction changes into reality. I saw a cartoon in which some of our netas were seen coming out of a cinema hall after seeing Richard Attenborough’s ‘Gandhi’. One of them remarked, “Stupendous really.” And the other one commented, “And I believe it is based on a true story.”

What if ‘Slumdog Millionaire II’ is made in the year 2050, when our GDP is slated to become the highest in the world, and it shows another young Jamal voluntarily falling into shit to get the autograph of Big B’s grandson?

Jai ho!

IS THERE REASON TO CELEBRATE WOMEN’S DAY IN INDIA?

Today, we are again excited with the idea of celebrating International Women’s Day. We are good at celebrating days; we celebrate Republic Day and watch and applaud soldiers, sailors and airmen smartly march by and then forget about them for the rest of the year. We organize talks, fashion-shows, sing-song sessions, and car rallies to mark the IWD and then clap our hands and get it over with. The fact is that our apathy towards women is as enduring as our display of faith in thousands of gods and goddesses.

About a decade back I was browsing an issue of the Time magazine. There was a nine-page article about Risk or Extreme Sports in the United States. It fascinated me to read that an increasing number of Americans were turning to BASE (an acronym for Building, Antenna, Span (meaning bridge) and Earth (meaning cliff) jumping and such other sports wherein the chances of death or grievous injury are nearly as high as standing close to targets in a firing range. “The US”, the article read, “has embarked on a national orgy of thrill seeking and risk taking. The rise of extreme sports like BASE jumping, snowboarding, ice climbing, skateboarding and paragliding is merely the most vivid manifestation of this new national behavior.”

It got me thinking. The USA is a country wherein human life has become so secure and convenient that its citizens have to think of ways and means to get out of the dullness of being the best in the world. But what about poor countries like India? Despite our much touted spectacular GDP growth we have more poor people than anywhere in the world. We tend to forget this fact when we celebrate important days – Republic Day, Independence Day, Holi, Diwali, Children’s Day and Women’s Day. In India, one does not have to indulge in any extreme sports to get the thrill of brushing against sure death in routine daily activities. Travelling in the suburban trains of the most cosmopolitan city in India would bring one as close to the Maker as, say, a roof top bus ride in the hilly roads of Himachal. That one is alive at the end of the journey is as much a miracle as the discovery of gods’ statues drinking milk! Travelling on the foot-boards with the body balanced precariously, crossing highways and railway tracks, crossing raging streams without as much as a life jacket and working in mines and factories without a semblance of safety equipment are some other extreme sports Indians indulge in everyday.

You can die in India by visiting a holy shrine since a stampede can be caused anytime. You can die by drinking liquor and even taking medicines since you can never be sure whether these are spurious or not.

So when wealthy newspapers and publications celebrate womanhood by organizing fashion shows and car rallies nothing can be more disgusting. Women of substance? These must be the miniscule per

centage of Indian women. Here are some of the risk sports Indian women indulge in and let’s not even pretend that we shall have these sorted out the moment we give thirty-three percent representation to women in our Parliament. These would if we can be naïve enough to believe that since, all these years, men were represented in parliament it has solved the problems of the common man and made his lot better.

Training for adventure sports in India starts at a very early age. The newspaper of three days back, 4th Feb 10 that is, brought out the rape of a three-year old. And that’s a case that has come out in the media. What about thousands of girls who are victims of child-abuse every day? The statistics are that the incidence of this extreme sport is forty-nine percent in our country.

In the past, the most popular risk sports for women had been a game called Sati. Both young and old could take part in it (like it says in Indian matrimoni

als: ‘age no bar’). The only qualification was that their husbands should have left them for heavenly abode. Hardly anyone came out alive, but still it was more popular than bungee jumping and had greater social acceptance. Even after 63 years of independence many women still are forced to participate.

There is an equally adventurous sport called Dowry. Indian women qualify for it as soon as they get engaged. The risk in this game is even greater than Sati. In this, a wom

an and her parents, or in-laws and relatives deliberately put her in a situation wherein she would constantly get the thrill of being beaten, immolated or hacked to death. We have laws against domestic violence but these have made women as secure as, say, laws against dowry.

We can argue that both Sati and Dowry may not be as popular sports for women as in yesteryears, but we have to admit that in our great country (Mera Bharat Mahan) stripping women naked in public (or otherwise show them their place) has continued with the sane vigour since Mahabharat days. Indeed, a few interesting variations have been added over years such as making them drink urine, throw acid on or smear their faces or letting their families, especially young kids, watch the spectacle. This sport has been taken up by even so-called forward – looking organizations trying to protect the Indian women against the ills of western civilization.

At one extreme, in India, we have a Rakhi Sawant or even Vijayraje Scindia being in the news for sharing a kiss in public (the Indian media just loves this kind of news); at the other end we have the vast majority of them being oppressed on an everyday basis and still not making news. It is because that it ceased to be news long time back.

In India, one really enduring adventure sport can be called ‘Just Being a Woman’. After my father died in a jeep accident, my mother stays by herself in a village called

Kandaghat in the most progressive state in our country called Himachal. What did the neighbours do to lessen her sorrow? Well, they encroached on her land and generally made her unwelcome in her own place! My repeatedly approaching the authorities over years had no effect until I painted the scenario of similar things happening to their own mothers! I am now assured by all concerned by a phrase that is used everywhere in India: “the law would take its own course.”

The state of my birth, Punjab, is no better. In Punjab (which I always thought was an intellectually advanced state), a few years back when they found female foetuses having been discarded in a well, they publicly acknowledged how Punjabis hated the girl-child. In Rajasthan they still kill female infants and a few years back in Bihar a father sacrificed both his daughters to bring good luck.

To end the list of adventure sports in our country, let’s examine the most popular for the lone girl. It is called Rape. It is as savage and brings as much pleasure to Indian men as the Afghan sport ‘Buz

Kashi’. The woman gets the choices of keeping mum, going to courts and being derided, face ostracism for having incited the man (more often, men) (we had an elected representative of people in Goa who said that recently) to indulge in it, and lastly ending her life.

So are the authorities or elected representatives or media the only ones to blame? As Indians, a few years back, in the most cosmopolitan city in the country called Mumbai, we watched the rape of a woman in a railway compartment and did nothing about it.

So, how do we celebrate the International Women’s Day? I think the first thing is to acknowledge that gimmicks like reservation for women in parliament, talk shows, car rallies, fashion shows and the like are NOT going to make a BIG difference. I was privileged to hear Dr Abdul Kalam on a similar issue. His solution was to strengthen the family system, the bedrock of our society. All agencies, the government, the media, the judiciary must support this and do not let it become a minority group. How can we love Bharat Mata if we do not respect our or someone else’s mata?

LOOSE EMOTIONS

This is a repeat of an article I wrote in 2007. Read on:

None of us want to get an attack of Loose Emotions. We are very careful about everything we intake and digest. Indeed, we hope and pray that not only us but no one close to us would have to deal with Loose Emotions. However, every now and then Loose Emotions afflict us and leave us drained out. These can range from something as harmless as our partner’s emotional outburst to a soldier in the border areas going on a shooting spree before putting a bullet in his own head – the very hotbed of loose emotions. Even though, like AIDS and Cancer, Loose Emotions can be fatal, not enough research has been done on it, particularly in the armed forces. Hence, there is an urgent need to look into history, types, causes, symptoms and possible remedies for loose emotions.

Historically, Loose Emotions is world’s oldest known ailment as also the most widespread. It started with Adam and Eve having been shunted out of the Garden of Eden. Presumably in the G of E gods and goddesses coexisted without having to confront Loose Emotions. But as soon as A and E were dropped on earth, they left behind a trail of emotions and we are still finding it difficult to live with them; or, for that matter, without them. The Urdu poets of yore made good name for themselves and a fast buck (no, not really fast buck because most of them like Zafar died penniless) writing about this great dilemma after being afflicted by it: ”Jeena bhi mushkil, marna bhi na aasaan”.

Our greatest epic Mahabharata tells us about the consequences of having suppressed Loose Emotions. Poor Pandavas – one’s heart goes out to them – had to deal with acute sense of injustice and deprivation, chicanery and guile. They knew it was building up but then, as it is now, there was no sure cure for LEs. And one bad day, they had to face the ignominy of having Draupadi being disrobed in front of their eyes. “Enough is enough”, said Y to A, and A to B and so on until even N and S, at their relatively younger age, were overwhelmed by Loose Emotions. The rest is history, and as you know, the only known cure for Loose Emotions, at that time, followed. Loose bodies and blood lay mangled on the battlefield; those who died were rid of it, but, at an exorbitant cost; those who survived were never the same again.

Let’s have a look at the types of Loose Emotions. Like Vitamins, Loose Emotions also have various types. The total types cannot be described in a small article like this. However, let me tell you about some of the prominent ones. The most prominent, without doubt, is an LE called ‘Love’; a four letter word. This is by far the strongest and most harmful virus of LE known to man. Indeed, virtually all other LEs have their origin in this Gangotri (river-head) of all emotions. Many a time, one is blissfully unaware that the virus has penetrated one’s defences until it starts spreading its tentacles within and without. Initially, the victim’s pulse beat quickens, and blood pressure rises. Soon, one’s eyesight gets affected. Many see stars and become stony eyed but those afflicted badly complain that they cannot see anything except the objects of their love. This stage is known as ‘blind in love’. The victim has only a few more days to live but, under the influence of Love, his other senses also get blinded and he starts thinking that he and his beloved can live by themselves and forever. The really bad cases of this LE ultimately chuck themselves in front of approaching trains or from a cliff or hang from ropes until they are rid of it and of course, of precious life, which is another four letter word.

Slightly less potent but even more dangerous is an LE called ‘Hate’. Many of its symptoms are similar to ‘Love’; for example, rush of blood, loss of vision and so on. But, in this case, the victim wants to do things to others rather than to himself. Hence, throwing in front of approaching train or off from a cliff is not for the one afflicted by it but for the object of hate. Historically, on top of the list was a character called General Dyer. He was afflicted by it so badly that his barrage of Hate felled all those who had gathered for a peaceful gathering at Jalianwala Bagh. (One would think baghs, that is gardens, are ideally suited for (e)motions of a different kind – behind the trees, that is, but GD proved everyone wrong). Currently, after competition in the form of Saddam Hussein has been eliminated by the reverse of Indian Rope Trick, a man called Osama Bin Laden and another called Bush are the world’s leading victims of this LE. By and large, the whole world has divided itself into two camps: those who pray for OBL and those who follow in the footsteps of GB. Amongst the followers of GB, in a ‘sanatorium’ called Abu Gharaib, a female patient called Lyndie was so consumed by this type of LE that when pictures of her having Loose Emotions were released in the media, many others had loose emotions just watching her perform another version of rope trick.

The leading Loose Emotion in the women’s world is one called ‘Jealousy’ or ‘Envy’. A television company called Onida, knowing that ‘television’ is to the woman, in the same manner as ‘golf’ is to the man, advertised its product primarily for the females by cashing on this LE called ‘Envy’. Many a man was duped into buying the telly for his wife lest she should go and chuck stones at the neighbour’s, thereby making him (the man and not the neighbour) pay for not one but two of them.

Yet another type of LE is ‘Anger’ or ‘Rage’. Fortunately, it is easily controlled both by self-help and by help from others. A man, for example, sent a telegram home that he was returning home on coming Monday. When he arrived he found his wife in bed with another man. Naturally, the emotion called ‘Anger’ was let loose until the mother-in-law investigated and triumphantly came up with the plausible reason for her daughter’s conduct, “John, she didn’t get the telegram”. Needless to say ‘Anger’ subsided.

By far, the most amusing (and consuming) LE is one called ‘Pity’ or more specifically ‘Self Pity’. This virus is instantly released when we perceive that someone has got the better of us. Outwardly, there are no signs that a person has been afflicted by it except that the person becomes quieter than ever before. The virus lies buried within the victim until released with the help of alcohol at the Club or the Mess or at an unsuspecting friend’s place. Amongst all the words that are released, two words ‘If Only’ are uttered over and over again. For example, “If only I had sucked up like A, B or C does, I would have been an Admiral by now. If only.” Ladies react totally differently to men when afflicted by it. Their eyes release a substance called ‘Tears’, which they have in large quantities. Whereas men afflicted by it may or may not be heard, women shedding tears in self-pity have to be heard.

Lastly, let’s have a look at the possible remedies. Lest this article should become very long, let’s come straight to the armed forces. For quite some time, the only way in which people in the armed forces dealt with Loose Emotions was to deny their existence. Let’s say A had a bout of depression and he approached B, his superior, to ask for counsel. B would immediately call a specialist in the cure of LEs called Master Chief GI and ask that A should be helped to get rid of this feeling of depression by going around the parade ground five times, preferably with rifle held up high. For good effect B would add, “And Master Chief Sahib, if the feeling still persists with A, please bring him to me.”

But things are a changing. These days it is not rare to find superior officers and sailors take into account the emotional setup of their juniors and encourage them to release emotions every once in a while. Of course many a times the disease is passed from the junior to the superior.

Meditation is a fairly effective method of getting rid of Loose Emotions and if Swami Ramdev is to be believed the only sure cure. My own personal remedy is to think of how adversely life would be affected if I persist with LEs. For example, I keep reminding myself that there is no situation so bad in which you can’t lose your temper and make it worse.

In the end, if you ever get attacked by Loose Emotions, tell a friend about it. It helps. And, if someone close to you is bitten by the bug, be a friend.

I FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST – DID I?

It was nearly thirty-seven years back that I headed towards the Naval Academy at Cochin to join the Navy as an officer in the Executive Branch. I was to be part of the Eighth Integrated Course, equivalent of the Forty-sixth Course at NDA. Two years before that, I could have joined the Forty-second Course at NDA but even though I was in the merit list, my father did not permit me. He was of the rigid view that military was only for the brainless and the loony. His view, though coarse, found an echo in the writings of eminent authors of that era. I was fond of reading many of these since I was really fascinated by the navy. Taste this:

“The navy is for the mad. The mad and the loony. If you are not mad and find yourself in the Navy, you can only do well by pretending to be one.”

One reason that I could join when I did was that in addition to becoming a little more independent (a totally misleading word as compared to today’s scenario with children; independent then meant that you could float in a degree of false freedom until your parents would pull the plug), I was First in the Merit in the Indian Navy Entrance Exam.

I was awarded the Silver Medal for Academic Excellence when I passed out of the Naval Academy. Many years later I found the medal hidden away in my dad’s things. When I questioned him he said something about the misplaced pride that I could get by displaying it when I was merely “andhon mein kana raja” (a one-eyed king in the land of the blind). JP my younger brother did my father proud by becoming an academician (he is now an Associate Professor at the Georgetown University). Many years later I graduated from the Staff College with the Lentaigne; but, I am sure my father would have held that too with equal disdain.

The navy had a quaint way of looking at things and had equally esoteric language. “Aye aye, Sir”, “One to six heave”, cabins, bunks, starboard, coxswain, “very good” “avast lowering”, and “marry the falls” sounded strange then. To this list sailors had added their own, eg, “Contact designated as Reno Alpha”, “go by walk” and “Dinning Room”. Some are strange even today, eg, “Officers’ Married Accommodation” gives the impression of inanimate buildings having tied the knot.

The navy, I discovered, abhorred long words and expressions as these were considered totally unnecessary. During our parade training, the Chief GI Harbhajan Singh had only to bellow, through clenched teeth, the order “Peeeeeeeee” and we soon understood that he wanted us to “press your heels”. Senior Cadet A Mehrotra could spend an entire afternoon ragging me by using just one mono-syllabic word “so?”. Opening dialogues of an entire afternoon’s conversation in his cabin, whereat I performed such physical feats as “front-rolls” and “on your haunches”, went like this:

A: Cadet Ravi, I asked you to report to me at 1400 hrs. Now it is ten seconds past 1400 hrs. What do you have to say? (He was visibly exhausted by using these long sentences but these were the last ones he used that afternoon).

Me: Sir, I was going after lunch to my roo..er..cabin, and I slipped.

A: So?

Me: I broke my leg, Sir.

A: So?

Me: I was rushed to the hospital, Sir.

A: So?

Me: They took an X-Ray, Sir, and my leg has been put in a restraining bandage for a week.

A: So?

He indicated to me with his hand the now familiar sign for front-roll and I pointed at the leg-in-bandage. He was enraged beyond words and his lips were rounded to utter again the familiar mono-syllable. I had no choice and wincing in pain I started doing the front-roll. As I did the first one his expression changed from interrogative to joyous exclamation…”So!” I also discovered that afternoon that Sr Cadet A M also knew more about the self healing qualities of my leg than the doctors at INHS Sanjivini. As I emerged from his cabin two hours and many acrobatics later it surprised me to know that the ruddy leg pained the least in comparison to many other parts of my body.

That afternoon I silently conjured in my mind a quick and sure cure for a bad headache: ‘Hit yourself on the foot with a hammer’. Even for complex afflictions such as depression and bulimia the Navy has excellent cures.

A few years after I joined I saw a very powerful movie called ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’. Thirty-seven years after joining the loony bunch as I woke up this morning, the morning of my first day as a retired officer I asked myself if I had actually flown over the Cuckoo’s Nest or lost my beans or marbles forever. It felt like a badly aching tooth having been finally pulled out; you not only miss the tooth but also the slow ache it used to cause. For many days after it is pulled out the tongue keeps going back to the place where it used to be and rekindle the pain.

Oh, how we used to do the countdown, as we stood on the Cadet Training Ship Delhi with a six-inch shell each on either shoulder. It was called the DLTGH – Days Left to Go Home. On my farewell, thirty-four years later, when the question of going home arose I had to acknowledge that the navy was the home and somewhere during my time in the navy DLTGH ceased to have its earlier meaning.

It is then that I started asking myself if I really belonged or belong. Subbu told me in the boat from Karanja after my farewell party that as compared to the Army we did not really have a sense of belonging. But that’s always been the lure of the seas. Remember Robert Browning’s Cristina?

“… That the Sea feels” –no “strange yearning
That such souls have, most to lavish
Where there’s chance of least returning”.

The Navy is also probably closer to Life. This kind of detachment is manifested in the words of the old Hindi song:

“Khatam huye din us dali per jis per tera basera tha,
Aaj yahan aur kal ho wahan yeh jogi wala phera tha,
Yeh teri jaagir nahin thi, chaar ghadi ka dera tha.
Kisko pata ab is nagri mein kab ho tera aana..
Chal udhja re panchhi ke ab yeh des hua begana.”

I was to become a Communicator – a kind of independent choice given to me by my Captain on Himgiri as my father was used to giving me. I understood the importance of my job through the ditty of the Railway Signaler:

It is not my job to run the train,
The whistle I cannot blow,
It is not my place to say how far,
The train’s allowed to go.
It is not my job to shoot off steam,
Not even to clang the bell,
But let the damn thing jump the track
And see who catches hell!

I came across many an ASW or Gunnery or ND officer who could have done wonders in their tasks if only the signal had reached them in time! I do not want to sound parochial but I have a feeling that your very character changes depending upon which branch you join! As a Communicator you learn to take all things in your stride because the buck stops at you; you have no one else to blame. For example, when I handed over the P&C File to Subbu I realized that as compared to my predecessors I had made nil letters to higher authorities on issues concerning officers and sailors.

Somewhere along, I cannot place when, the Navy claimed me totally. It did not matter who thought what of me; I became consumed by the naval ethos. I thoroughly enjoyed working for the Navy. A senior officer exhorted me at this stage to “let my hair down and relax”. I was reminded of following passage from ‘Lust For Life’, the biographical novel of Vincent Van Gogh:

“He had an excellent ability to paint. He’d get tired, he’d paint some more; he’d get fatigued he’d paint some more; he’d get exhausted he’d paint some more. After that he would be relaxed and could go back to his painting.”

A person was climbing a hill with a guide. Half way through he was in a thick forest with thorny bushes and sharp rocks. The going was tough. Exasperated he turned to the guide and said, “Where is that wonderful scenery that you were talking about?” And the guide said, “You are standing in it now, which you will see when you reach the top.”

Today, when I have detached myself from the thick jungles of day-to-day goings on in the navy I look back and really marvel at the scenery. I have no desire to fly over the cuckoo’s nest. The loony bunch is family, for heaven’s sake.

“I have come home, dad. I belong to the navy simply because I cannot belong anywhere else. Not now, after seven and thirty years. And dad many of them know words other than mono-syllables. Indeed, yesterday at the end of my farewell Billoo used more words for me than I would have used for myself.”

Sunbyanyname