THIS BAND OF BROTHERS
It's been exactly a month, that I retired from the Indian Navy, and I'm already feeling nostalgic. Part of me is like, in the brig - what do you do with all this time. And part of me is, to tell you the truth, having a chill out time. I mean I never realized that so much can be done, whilst doing nothing. The perverse pleasure of going out for leisurely walks when others are scrambling to launch and reach office in time. Actually falling asleep while doing yoga. My canine kiddo is loving her daily perambulations too. Letting your dog sniff every nook and mark every corner (I guess that's her version of Social networking). No hurry to get back within a time frame. Bliss! Hey I could get used to this! Hmmm! Anyway the sabbatical continues for a month or so, till I step onto the fast lane again. Till then snooze away. 26 years, man, I've earned this break.
The reactions to my last blog (Au Revoir on Swallowing the Anchor) has left me overwhelmed. Farewells are wonderful. They make the people in your extended universe say the most wonderful things to you. On a serious note. Overwhelmed by the mails, phone calls, texts. Thank you. The journey has indeed been awesome.
Talking of journey's and Extended Universe's ( EU's are in vogue, what with Marvel and DC leading the charge - even Thor can make money before launch, ably assisted by my fav Hulk. And Bman v Sman move over, Wonder woman rocks. Even the bad guys in the fantasy EU rock, aka Suicide Squad). Nope! This post is not about movies or comic book Heroes. It's about the Extended and Parallel universe (s) that I have inhabited for the last 26 years. It's a tribute to the many who have made my memories beautiful.
At the center of this EU is a Band of Brothers we like to call coursemates. Concentric and overlapping circles and elipses (and squares and whatever weird geometric and freeform figures you can think of). Some join you around the volatile times when you're just 18 years old, others at 21. Other inhabitants include Squadron types, Ship types, place types, Cadre types, Branch types, gym types - seniors juniors - you-think-of-a-link types. Maybe even a loose nut here and there - psycho types (the ultra marathoner gang, the cycling to the far corners of the world gang etc - not me for sure), - et all types. Anything for a reason to affiliate and bond, to build a family beyond your family. Not surprisingly, matters of faith remain strictly restricted to the Flag, the Country and the Men you command . For the uninitiated, living the Chetwode Motto. (Aptly enunciated here)
So, as a tribute, I'll step back in time, ramble some more and play hopscotch with reminiscences. (For those who know of what I say - Guys! Mundane Musings needs to be reborn).
It's a dawgs world : Chaggu the Cadet.
At the Naval Academy cadets are allocated squadron's. These are not merely a home away from home for 3 years. These are the epicenter of your universe. Naturally fierce loyalties and rivalries, spawn forth. The NAVAC of our times was at Goa with just about two Squadrons, Destroyers and Frigates. It was - Us/Me of the - Mighty Destroyers aka Daggers vs the (flimsy excuse called) Frigates aka Falcons (really? You think?) Chaggu, the puppy, burst forth into our lives in the midst of a fierce war during the dramatics competition. That is, he had a (ok, well 2 sec) role, in our skit and the foolish Falcons were hell bent on kidnapping him and presenting him as their mascot. What followed were secret maritime operations that can't be put in the public domain. Needless to say, Chaggu was repeatedly kidnapped and rescued. But the daggers prevailed. It ended on a slightly tragic and painful note. Not used to constant change of habitat and stardom he lodged his vehement protest. He bit and pee'd all over yours truly at the grand finale. That he did that on stage in full view of the academy was just another little issue. But there is a silver lining, I got a chance to visit heaven/resort, viz the MI room (as the local medical facilities are known). And in true naval tradition, I, was sentenced to a full course of anti-rabies shots. This meant periodic visits to the free world as the main hospital was located in the heart of civilization, away from the walls of the academy.
At the Naval Academy cadets are allocated squadron's. These are not merely a home away from home for 3 years. These are the epicenter of your universe. Naturally fierce loyalties and rivalries, spawn forth. The NAVAC of our times was at Goa with just about two Squadrons, Destroyers and Frigates. It was - Us/Me of the - Mighty Destroyers aka Daggers vs the (flimsy excuse called) Frigates aka Falcons (really? You think?) Chaggu, the puppy, burst forth into our lives in the midst of a fierce war during the dramatics competition. That is, he had a (ok, well 2 sec) role, in our skit and the foolish Falcons were hell bent on kidnapping him and presenting him as their mascot. What followed were secret maritime operations that can't be put in the public domain. Needless to say, Chaggu was repeatedly kidnapped and rescued. But the daggers prevailed. It ended on a slightly tragic and painful note. Not used to constant change of habitat and stardom he lodged his vehement protest. He bit and pee'd all over yours truly at the grand finale. That he did that on stage in full view of the academy was just another little issue. But there is a silver lining, I got a chance to visit heaven/resort, viz the MI room (as the local medical facilities are known). And in true naval tradition, I, was sentenced to a full course of anti-rabies shots. This meant periodic visits to the free world as the main hospital was located in the heart of civilization, away from the walls of the academy.
Fire 🔥 Fire :
One of the eventualities, that every man or woman in the navy, is drilled to an inch of their lives, is to combat fire, and structural damage. Imagine a fire on a steel building floating out at Sea - I mean really- Float???? (despite all these years I'm still not fully in agreement with Mr Archimedes ). With scores of little compartments made of steel. And zillions of of things that are naturally combustible. I mean they are meant to catch fire at some time. Like Fuel and ammunition among others. (My faith in these drills was reinforced time and again, especially as a Midshipman, when we had an accident on board leading to a major fire. This is the first time I saw actual metal on fire). Among the first reactions on sighting a fire is to bellow , with full lung power that you can muster, FIRE FIRE FIRE. This reminds me of an incident during our ab initio courses as Sub Lieutenants. After a fruitful liberty out-pass, a coursemate and I, returned late into the night. Our steed of metal, a contraption that bore the Number Plate and moniker 'GAS'. An argument on the Indian obsession of 'Kitna deti hai' (Miles to a liter of fuel) hinged on the owner proving that the tank was still half full, ending, with a peek-a-boo with a cigarette lighter. Gas exploded with full gusto. Whether we were ejected or bailed out, I do not remember. It was violent and with a lot of force. But I do remember, that years of Training (of some other nearby SLts - who shall not be named) kicked in. While GAS stoically burned the shouts of FIRE FIRE FIRE rang across the officers mess. Later we realized that one guy was shouting F F F and another was running behind him shouting - "Stop! Thats bloody 'GAS', not my blanket, not my bucket you F F F". Gas doused in a dignified manner, my claim-for lack of combustible material, and the owners claim - due to proper use of "F" Fighting equipment. Anyway one thing was ensured for the rest of our stay. Parking was never an issue - GAS always got right of way. Many years later GAS got a ceremonial burial at Sea. (Some say it was driven off the Jetty.....But..... That's another story for another time.)
APenny Lid for your Thoughts (or a Kick on your Posterior:)
Have you ever wondered why the men and women of the uniform are so stoic? Stand endlessly, face extreme hardships face fire - all without expressing emotions! Training training training, and well, lessons well learnt, sometimes with a 'kick' on the posterior. An anecdote here of a senior (who shall again, not be named) a firebrand and my Training Commander at one of the training schools where I was an 'under trainee' officer. A farewell dinner is usually brought to a close by presenting the departing officer and his wife with mementos. Followed by the Commanding officer speaking a few (very very kind) words and rounded up with a thank-you speech by the departing officer. Now everything, even spontaneous, has protocols and timing. This senior often gives vent to his poetic side. After thanking the CO for his kind words he wound up with in a lighter vien - "Yaaroon mujhe ye mat pucho ke main yahan kya karta tha! Main Andhoon ke shehar mein aaeena becha karta tha" (Literally, loosely translates to - Friends don't ask me what I did here, In effect it was like selling a looking glass in a town of blind people) (now those blind men were my clueless kind of trainees or someone else, I'll reserve judgement). So naturally the whole audience broke into a wild applause. Or so I thought, till I realized that it was only me who was cheering at full steam. Imagine the pin drop silence, that could be cut with a knife. Well I got a "NICE", cup of tea with the incoming and outgoing Training Cdrs and loads of time on the Drill Square to fine tune my "sense of timing."
Then there was this maverick who also went onto wear double brass. Our first encounter. Shortly after I had met with an accident. All banged up, saved by a Helmet. Broken jaw, maxilla busted. He loped over to me, menacingly. Glared fiercely and said -"Yeah! So You're Jairath!" I managed to squeak a puzzled "Yes Sir!" . He glared me down for a minute burst into a smile struck out his hand and beamed through his beard "Bloody chap, B#$%, Welcome to the headbangers club." This Naval Diver, remained mentally and physically fit despite a near death experience in his younger years. Always quick with joke and a sharp wit, in the most stressful times. His stories range from - kicking his course mate (in jest of course) in full public view at the customary mess function, on attaining double brass, and saying - "Its been my life long ambition to kick an admiral - fortunately he's my course mate." Years later when I missed a crucial board, he was the only one, and THE one in fact, to give me the sanest advice. Again I was down and out and he picked me up with his firm hand shake and drawled -"Cheers and congratulations! Look at the brighter side! Baldy, You're free now!"
Me No Speak English :
Travels and ports of call are a part of Naval Life. It happened in Sydney,Australia. A hectic liberty, a visit to Chinatown and Paddy's Market for some cheap souvenirs. Now Australia is one place where we least expect to see panhandlers. A peer and I were waiting for our transport back to the ship. We noticed a petite young woman, well dressed, walking our way. Any guy, especially a 40 plus, balding guy, weighed down with loads of packages, would be surprised when a woman walks up to you stops in half stride and addresses you. That my friend was a "homely" type with an absolutely-married-man-look added to the unexpectedness of the encounter. What confounded us more was that she stuck out a manicured hand (Yes! Men do notice!!) and said "Can you give me some money". My idea of a beggar was a bedraggled look! An unwashed faced. Not top of the line Nike's and manicured fingers! And she did not look distressed in any way! We were so stunned that a half lit cigarette fell from my lips! The lady might have had some genuine reasons for her actions, not being judgmental here, but we were dumbfounded! It was like lightning had struck ! After a minute my married-look-man friend recovered and said in a deliberate broken English "Me-me no speak English." I continued to gawk! Speechless! She tried her level best to mime her words but we were too stunned for words! The pantomime continued for what seemed ages! My friend repeating endlessly "No English! No English!" , me nodding my head vigorously and the lady getting more exasperated by the minute. Ultimately she gave up on us and moved on! I think she half reached into her pockets to lend us a few cents! Thankfully.... or maybe embarrassingly, our car drove up to save the penniless from the speechless!
I can go on an on. And perhaps will in my next. But for now let me say that this Extended Universe shall remain Inviolable. Its difficult to put mere words to terms like course mates or Pal. Like when your wife asks you, (even after 10-15-20-??? years of marriage and in the system) "But how can you tolerate this guy, I mean you obviously don't like him" or "I can't stick him"- the only words that you have "Yes, Ya, I know, Hmmm, But .... He's my coursemate Ya...!" or "We're Squadron Types" or "We're Ship types" Comprehendo?
One of the eventualities, that every man or woman in the navy, is drilled to an inch of their lives, is to combat fire, and structural damage. Imagine a fire on a steel building floating out at Sea - I mean really- Float???? (despite all these years I'm still not fully in agreement with Mr Archimedes ). With scores of little compartments made of steel. And zillions of of things that are naturally combustible. I mean they are meant to catch fire at some time. Like Fuel and ammunition among others. (My faith in these drills was reinforced time and again, especially as a Midshipman, when we had an accident on board leading to a major fire. This is the first time I saw actual metal on fire). Among the first reactions on sighting a fire is to bellow , with full lung power that you can muster, FIRE FIRE FIRE. This reminds me of an incident during our ab initio courses as Sub Lieutenants. After a fruitful liberty out-pass, a coursemate and I, returned late into the night. Our steed of metal, a contraption that bore the Number Plate and moniker 'GAS'. An argument on the Indian obsession of 'Kitna deti hai' (Miles to a liter of fuel) hinged on the owner proving that the tank was still half full, ending, with a peek-a-boo with a cigarette lighter. Gas exploded with full gusto. Whether we were ejected or bailed out, I do not remember. It was violent and with a lot of force. But I do remember, that years of Training (of some other nearby SLts - who shall not be named) kicked in. While GAS stoically burned the shouts of FIRE FIRE FIRE rang across the officers mess. Later we realized that one guy was shouting F F F and another was running behind him shouting - "Stop! Thats bloody 'GAS', not my blanket, not my bucket you F F F". Gas doused in a dignified manner, my claim-for lack of combustible material, and the owners claim - due to proper use of "F" Fighting equipment. Anyway one thing was ensured for the rest of our stay. Parking was never an issue - GAS always got right of way. Many years later GAS got a ceremonial burial at Sea. (Some say it was driven off the Jetty.....But..... That's another story for another time.)
A
Have you ever wondered why the men and women of the uniform are so stoic? Stand endlessly, face extreme hardships face fire - all without expressing emotions! Training training training, and well, lessons well learnt, sometimes with a 'kick' on the posterior. An anecdote here of a senior (who shall again, not be named) a firebrand and my Training Commander at one of the training schools where I was an 'under trainee' officer. A farewell dinner is usually brought to a close by presenting the departing officer and his wife with mementos. Followed by the Commanding officer speaking a few (very very kind) words and rounded up with a thank-you speech by the departing officer. Now everything, even spontaneous, has protocols and timing. This senior often gives vent to his poetic side. After thanking the CO for his kind words he wound up with in a lighter vien - "Yaaroon mujhe ye mat pucho ke main yahan kya karta tha! Main Andhoon ke shehar mein aaeena becha karta tha" (Literally, loosely translates to - Friends don't ask me what I did here, In effect it was like selling a looking glass in a town of blind people) (now those blind men were my clueless kind of trainees or someone else, I'll reserve judgement). So naturally the whole audience broke into a wild applause. Or so I thought, till I realized that it was only me who was cheering at full steam. Imagine the pin drop silence, that could be cut with a knife. Well I got a "NICE", cup of tea with the incoming and outgoing Training Cdrs and loads of time on the Drill Square to fine tune my "sense of timing."
Then there was this maverick who also went onto wear double brass. Our first encounter. Shortly after I had met with an accident. All banged up, saved by a Helmet. Broken jaw, maxilla busted. He loped over to me, menacingly. Glared fiercely and said -"Yeah! So You're Jairath!" I managed to squeak a puzzled "Yes Sir!" . He glared me down for a minute burst into a smile struck out his hand and beamed through his beard "Bloody chap, B#$%, Welcome to the headbangers club." This Naval Diver, remained mentally and physically fit despite a near death experience in his younger years. Always quick with joke and a sharp wit, in the most stressful times. His stories range from - kicking his course mate (in jest of course) in full public view at the customary mess function, on attaining double brass, and saying - "Its been my life long ambition to kick an admiral - fortunately he's my course mate." Years later when I missed a crucial board, he was the only one, and THE one in fact, to give me the sanest advice. Again I was down and out and he picked me up with his firm hand shake and drawled -"Cheers and congratulations! Look at the brighter side! Baldy, You're free now!"
Me No Speak English :
Travels and ports of call are a part of Naval Life. It happened in Sydney,Australia. A hectic liberty, a visit to Chinatown and Paddy's Market for some cheap souvenirs. Now Australia is one place where we least expect to see panhandlers. A peer and I were waiting for our transport back to the ship. We noticed a petite young woman, well dressed, walking our way. Any guy, especially a 40 plus, balding guy, weighed down with loads of packages, would be surprised when a woman walks up to you stops in half stride and addresses you. That my friend was a "homely" type with an absolutely-married-man-look added to the unexpectedness of the encounter. What confounded us more was that she stuck out a manicured hand (Yes! Men do notice!!) and said "Can you give me some money". My idea of a beggar was a bedraggled look! An unwashed faced. Not top of the line Nike's and manicured fingers! And she did not look distressed in any way! We were so stunned that a half lit cigarette fell from my lips! The lady might have had some genuine reasons for her actions, not being judgmental here, but we were dumbfounded! It was like lightning had struck ! After a minute my married-look-man friend recovered and said in a deliberate broken English "Me-me no speak English." I continued to gawk! Speechless! She tried her level best to mime her words but we were too stunned for words! The pantomime continued for what seemed ages! My friend repeating endlessly "No English! No English!" , me nodding my head vigorously and the lady getting more exasperated by the minute. Ultimately she gave up on us and moved on! I think she half reached into her pockets to lend us a few cents! Thankfully.... or maybe embarrassingly, our car drove up to save the penniless from the speechless!
I can go on an on. And perhaps will in my next. But for now let me say that this Extended Universe shall remain Inviolable. Its difficult to put mere words to terms like course mates or Pal. Like when your wife asks you, (even after 10-15-20-??? years of marriage and in the system) "But how can you tolerate this guy, I mean you obviously don't like him" or "I can't stick him"- the only words that you have "Yes, Ya, I know, Hmmm, But .... He's my coursemate Ya...!" or "We're Squadron Types" or "We're Ship types" Comprehendo?
As I move on in life all I can say is - "I may be out of touch but you will never be out of my mind".
