TEMPLE OF GOD

“Hurry”, said the man from his rickshaw seat,
“Else, we would be late for the Mangal Pooja”.
His wife tugged nervously at the flowers,
She had gathered as an offering to the gods.
Her face was red with accusation,
Not just against the frail rickshaw puller,
But also against her husband,
“I told you not to hire this man,
He hardly has strength to pull,
Let alone pull with speed.
We shall have the curse of the gods
For being late for the Pooja”.

Pic Courtesy: Allianz Knowledge Site

The City of Joy,
Mother Theresa’s adopted city,
Was as unkind to the rickshaw puller,
As ever it used to be;
he could have been a slave under the British yoke.

Pot holes and filth on streets were not enough
To chastise the rickshaw puller;
It had rained heavily and hence,
He stood behind the pulling bar
In knee deep squalid water.
He had promised his family of three children
And an ailing wife, food,
After two days of starvation.
Their hope of meals, on the seat behind him,
Blasphemed him with all their might
For making them late for the prayers.

I saw the sweat on his muscles,
I saw the wetness of his brow
As he tried in vain to get the wheels
Out of the unseen ditch.
I thought how wretched was the man,
How cruel was life for him;
Could anything be worse?
And then,
And then, I looked at the couple on the seat.
Fuming and fretting,
Cursing and abusing,
Little did they know,
How close they really were,
To your temple, O God!

DURING OUR DAYS

One month out of the Navy and already I am using this hackneyed expression. Read on; it may just be different from the old-hat.After wielding the stick at me for some time, one of my COs suddenly shifted to the carrot approach. “You are lucky”, he thundered, “I have made a list of my COs and believe you me, all of them were b——s of a very high order”. But surprisingly, instead of bemoaning, there was an air of wistfulness about him, as if his COs having been anything other than b——s would have been a letdown! How many times we have heard of these comparisons between the present and the good old days – our days? Is it only a natural instinct for us to somehow relate to those halcyon days of our youth or was there really a big difference?

The other day, a really dear friend came home to share the evening meal. The conversation drifted to the propensity of the senior hierarchy of the Navy to get entangled in trivial matters. I told him that I had seen the signs of this many years back. I recalled that whilst the Book of Reference on Seamanship laid down that a Petty Officer of the Watch would supervise lowering of sea-boats; in effect I have seen the Ship’s Commander personally involving himself in the evolution; and, in case there was to be a Commander who felt that his POOW was good enough, his CO would nudge him, “Number one, just go down and see everything is alright”! I also told him that we had anchored our ships in Bombay harbour as Acting Sub Lieutenants; and whether any CO of today would ever take that risk. My friend disagreed; lately he has taken to disagreements to appear more assertive and I granted him that. Then he went about saying that he knows of at least one Commanding Officer of a large ship who has permitted a Sub Lieutenant to bring the ship alongside.

Now that is something! Despite all his disagreements this friend is a good soul and in this case he had a relevant point – we are often too judgmental of the actions and perceptions of those who joined the Navy after us.

A few years back in the US Naval Institute Proceedings (USNIPs) I read an article titled ‘Fish Rot from the Head’ (Major General J.D. Lynch, Jr., U.S. Marine Corps (Retired) (Feb 1995). The crux of the argument was that whilst lamenting the decline in the professional ethics and morality of the junior officers we should do a little soul-searching and conclude that the senior lot is also responsible for the rot; indeed more than the juniors. Thus General Lynch concludes, “The best way to motivating and leading our young – rather than to merely criticise – is to set a living example of professional standards and moral courage of the highest order.”

The commendable leadership and courage displayed by the young officers during the Kargil conflict, against almost impossible odds, prompted the Commandant of Indian Military Academy to say, “Their bravery and sacrifices can be compared with those of Shahid Bhagat Singh and Shivaji”. Admiral Nadkarni reminded us in a post – conflict article in The Indian Express, of the “indisputable courage of our jawans and the leadership displayed by the officer corps. Hence, if our young officers have it in them to prove their worth in battle, the litmus test, why do we have this bias that they lack the values we had during our days? And yet, we often admit that the intake level of the present era men and women joining armed forces is much inferior than in our days. Isn’t it an admission of the sense of commitment of the present lot who have to climb steeper to reach the same heights or standards as were seen during our days?

Every era is modern in its own time. To compare the values of one with the other without a debate about the circumstances, constraints and opportunities may not be objective. I recall the period of my first CO as an officer. The ceremonial involved in his arrival on board and departure were such that all work, not only on the upper decks of the ship but also in the dockyard in vicinity, used to come to a standstill. A battery of men used to receive and see him off, including men for carrying his briefcase and keeping the car door open. The prestige and powers enjoyed by a Lieutenant Commander at that time were more than those enjoyed by a Commodore of today. A signal made by the Commanding Officer of a ship used to be respected by the shore authorities even when made for shore power supply or shore telephones.

Nowadays, irrespective of periodic and forceful reminders that the tail should not wag the dog, the ships are very nearly on their own, with their staff going from pillar to post to be able to meet deadlines. Authorities ashore find it more convenient to do the policing job, sending a plethora of do’s and don’ts on such wide ranging topics as ’care and maintenance of diesel alternators’ to ‘correct procedures and norms for expenditure through non-public funds’ to ‘parking instructions’. It is not my case that these subjects are not important. But if a great deal of time and energy is to be spent in correcting the perceived mistakes and proclivities of lower formations and personnel, it would leave very little time and inclination to assist in finding solutions to problems that ships and personnel are facing more than during our days.

“We never made such stupid mistakes” may not be the correct argument. It would be akin to a father shouting at his son for poor marks, only to discover that the Report card being shown was his own of his school days!

‘Every officer or sailor above a Seaman’s rank is a leader’; we never get tired of saying. But we conveniently forget that every leader requires some free space around him to be able to demonstrate and exercise his leadership. How many times have we let a Petty Officer to lead on his own or a Commanding Officer or Director to exercise his powers without keeping the headquarters posted (a euphemism for seeking prior approval). Should it be the argument that in the bygone era men could be trusted more because they had proved to be worthy of trust, the older generation would still have to share the blame for not having developed adequate trust in their subordinates.

We are good at issuing instructions on every conceivable subject – a sort of broadcast method of communications (no reply needed or expected). However, confidence, trust and values cannot be promoted by issuing tons of instructions. Let us examine the oft-repeated injunction to the youngsters not to do anything that may sully the good name of the Navy. Here too, a modicum of objective reflection would bring home the point that there are more oldies that have dragged the Navy into media and courts for promotions and appointments than the youngsters. Senior officers who had navy running in their veins only the other day, stridently air the ills of the Navy as soon as they miss their promotion or are posted at a non-choice stations or appointments.

The young officer of today does not look at the Navy with the same awe and optimism as his predecessor used to do. The never ending austerity measures, the ever diminishing free space, the intense and 24/7 security measures, and the perceived loss of dignity and prestige (especially in comparison to his civilian counterparts) are constantly tugging at his consciousness whilst we want to remind him of our times. It is all very well to assume the ostrich pose or to be always suspicious of his intentions, morals, ethics and professionalism or to keep reminding him of our lofty traditions and enviable heritage. But, it would be better to do something to change the reality – his reality, that is – and not the reality during our days where we continue to live even during these days.

SEVENTY-EIGHT NOT OUT

A few days back, on the fifteenth of March to be exact, my mother became seventy-eight years old. She has been a widow since my father died of an unfortunate jeep accident on First of May in the year Nineteen Hundred Eighty Four. She is a very simple person; some may call her ordinary. She is still the greatest person that I have come across. Greatest and the most beautiful.She was in her teens, indeed only seventeen, when my father married her. She became a mother when, at the age of nineteen, she gave birth to my elder sister Mona. During those days girls married early so that later they would not become a burden on their parents. I have heard the story of her betrothal several times. It began when my Nanaji (grandfather on my maternal side; everyone in the family called him Pitaji) went to Ropar where my Bapuji (grandfather on my paternal side) lived with my grandmother, whom we all called Bebeji. His mission was to affiance his second daughter, my mother, with my father’s elder brother. However, this elder brother was to go to America for further education (since Bapuji was an officer and an intellectual, all his sons had taken after him and considered good education as the primary aim of life) and hence did not want to be encumbered with a newly wedded wife just prior to his departure. Pitaji was to return home empty-handed but on an impulse my father said that he was ready for marriage! Marriages are made in heaven and both families accepted it.

My father, just like his brothers, was a self-made man and had all the attributes of self-made men: diligence, fierce pride, boastfulness, over confidence, and a proclivity to look down on anyone (the softies) who leaned on anyone for success including parents and relatives. The sobriquet ‘Officer’ was taken rather seriously in his family. All throughout his life my dad had utter disdain for those who indulged in un-officer like conduct. My sister and I grew up with my father taunting the ‘Lalas’ (the business people) who, my dad made us believe, would do anything for making a fast buck; even sell their souls.

My father was not yet an officer when my mother was married to him. He was still studying for his master’s degree in agriculture. He was posted as an inspector in the horticulture department in Kandaghat, a town where my mother stays nowadays, all by herself, in a large house. Kandaghat and the surrounding areas were under PEPSU (Patiala and Eastern Punjab State Union) at that time. Later, in 1956, when the re-organisation of Punjab and Himachal took place, this area became a part of Himachal and my father decided to join Himachal Government Horticulture Department. Parochialism in our country had always been alive (before and after independence). In later years, a Punjabi Sikh having decided to settle in Himachal was not taken very kindly by those who called themselves indigenous Himachalis. In the two decades before my father’s death all sorts of plots were laid to stop my father from reaching the highest in the state horticulture department. Himachal welcomed people from states in the Hindi belt, but, Punjabis were looked at with contrived antagonism.

However, having been posted to look after a government-owned orchard in Kandaghat was bliss at that time. My father often said that he was the raja of the place. For a grand sum of fifty rupees a month he could take as many fruits (stone fruits such as plums, apricots, and peaches) and vegetables as possible. To the reality of this good life my dad sometimes added the fiction of his boastful claims. So one day when he had some cronies from Punjab and they had the usual drinks and meat pickle (my dad hunted with the twelve-inch double barrel gun that earlier belonged to his father; later it was passed on to me after my dad’s death) my dad started with his reality with fiction concoction, “Life is really good around here”, he boasted, “I get all the fruits and vegetables and three litres of milk everyday.” My mother, at this point, corrected him whilst still cooking in the kitchen, “Tin liter nahin ji. Thuanoo galti lag rahi hai. Sade tanh do hi anda hai (Not three litres. You are mistaken. We get only two). Dad was enraged. After the guests left he took her to task for making him lose face in front of his college friends. It came out that my mother had genuine concern that the milkman might have been cheating them; supplying only two litres of milk a day but asking her husband to pay for three. My dad learnt the hard way never to lie to her or in her presence.

I heard about another incident when my mother reached Ropar after her marriage, that is, at her in-laws house. It must have been strange and awkward for a girl of seventeen to find herself in totally unfamiliar environment. To top it, as was the custom during those days, she had to keep ghunghat and not look up. So when she was taken for her first movie in an open air theatre it was in that posture that she found her way to a bench with her husband and other elders around her. One of the elderly ladies made her get up and sit again as, in her veiled condition, she had sat with her back to the screen!

When Pitaji’s father (my great-grandfather from maternal side) was made to migrate from what is now Pakistan he had to give up a flourishing bicycle business. I saw a picture of my mother at the time of the partition. She was dressed like a man and wore a turban in order to avoid being molested. I thought that the precaution was a sham since the turban had made my mother look even more beautiful than she looked in her other pictures that I had seen.

Pitaji’s family settled in Urapur, a small village almost equidistant from Nawanshahr and Ludhiana in Punjab. They built a really huge mansion with brick and lime and until I finished my schooling this house was the only pucca mansion of the village and was called ‘haveli’. It had a large hall at the entrance with a punkah that was pulled on both sides with ropes by menials to provide air to the gathering. It was here that my great-grandfather and later grandfather used to have durbar for the villagers (both of them headed the Panchayats during their times, initially by nomination but later through open elections). There was a large framed picture of my great-grandfather in this hall. In the later years, when this hall was more or less unused, this picture was removed to the hall on the first floor, which was being used by the family as a sitting cum drawing-room. It was here that a Murphy radio set was kept on a platform at a height. During my primary schooling we went for our vacations to Urapur and I remember listening to Binaca Geet Mala on this radio. For a number of weeks the number one song used to be: ‘haal kaisa hai janab ka’ and later ‘zindagi bhar nahin bhoolegi woh barsaat ki raat’. I remember how Amin Sayani used to work up the ladder to the top song for which a bugle used to play and announce its top position; the excitement used to reach a crescendo both in his voice and with all his listeners.

Most of my school vacations were spent here in this haveli. In later years one full wing of the haveli had been rented out and Pitaji and family had an L shaped wing to themselves. Other than the hall the ground floor had store rooms in which shakker, gur and grains used to be kept as also utensils for larger parties such as langar. On the first floor there was a large verandah and rooms built on three sides of it. The veranda had a hand-operated water pump on one side. It was on this pump that I once tried to catch a sparrow with my bare hands by slowly tip-toeing up to it. Probably I would have succeeded but little did I knew that the entire family watched with bated breath and could not resist laughing at my clumsy end effort, actually demanding of the sparrow to come into the crook of my hand. During those days I could get hurt easily especially with my failures. So, later that night, when I slept with my mother on a manji (a rope woven cot) on the kuchcha kotha (roof-top covered with soil; which was watered in the evening to make it cool) I asked her how to catch a sparrow. She pointed to the room at the end of the kotha where the manjis used to be stored at that time. When I asked her how, she told me that I would think of a way.

So, next day I went to the room on the top floor. I found many sparrows there. I started closing the two doors and the windows with their chains. Almost all the sparrows flew out except one. The chained doors and windows had small gaps but not enough for this lone sparrow to fly out. The first stage of success had been achieved. Now I turned to the task of actually catching this sparrow rather than just encage it in a 10ft by 8ft by 8ft room. After initial flurry of flying around the room the sparrow sat at the end of a standing manji. I approached it. Just when I was within a few feet of it, it flew again. I let it fly until it sat at the sill of a window. I approached it and then when I neared it, it flew again. Aha, with this I had found my way! I continuously ran after the sparrow so that it would never sit anywhere or rest. Both of us kept going round and round. When it would go higher towards the ceiling, I would shake the bamboo (with a broom at its end) kept there and keep the sparrow from slowing down or resting. I do not know how long it went on. We did not have watches those days and my estimate of time would be coloured by my own frustration and fatigue. Anyway, the happy ending was when the sparrow slowly fell out of sheer exhaustion and I picked it up.

Its belly was warm and it still fluttered; but I was not going to let go of my prize. I brought it down to show to the family. I am sure they would have totally forgotten about my failed attempt to catch a sparrow the previous day. I am not sure whether they understood how I had caught that one; perhaps they thought that it had already fallen somewhere and I picked it up. But, I think my mother understood. She went about doing her work in the kitchen but I saw that momentary glint in her eyes. In later years, after my father died in a jeep accident, and both the other sparrows had flown (my sister had married an Army officer and my younger brother immigrated to the United States) my mother and I worked tirelessly to preserve our place in Kandaghat, which we have named ‘Whispering Winds’. The burden of never-ending problems that we faced would have made anyone give up. But I remembered the lesson of the sparrow: if you are too tired to fly, you lose your independence, you can be enslaved! I do not think my mother required the lesson of the sparrow; she is the one who devised it for me. At the age of seventy-eight, she still does all her work at home by herself. No one is going to catch her sitting down and doing nothing!

Pitaji’s family was fairly well off; first through business and then through agriculture. However, dad and his family had to struggle due to their pursuit of knowledge. My mother adjusted to it really well. She sold off many of her things including jewellery to pay for his education. And then finally, my dad became an officer. Officers during those days commanded a lot of respect and were beyond reproach. But they did not have too much of money. They were still better off than officers of today who neither have money nor respect.

Gradually, I have seen a change coming about in our community and nation, that is, the steady rise of the business community, investors, industrialists and entrepreneurs. Lately, this has accounted for India’s spectacular GDP growth. In comparison, the decline of the prestige and status of the government officer, despite all Pay Commissions, has been near total. The sure index of it is the answer to the question, “If you had a choice, who would you like your daughter to be married to?” Government officers, other than bureaucrats are well lower down the choice-list. Pitaji married his daughter in my father’s family due to status. I am not sure if he would do it today. All of my mother’s sisters and other relatives are far richer than us. My father had seen it coming. Just prior to his retirement he set up a small-scale mushroom industry so as to close the gap with the other relatives. But, then, before he could succeed he died of an accident. My mother and I had to somehow repay the bank loans; I even sold off a plot of land my father had gifted me on becoming an officer in the Indian Navy.

My mother went through all this without complaining and with fortitude. Whenever we had a bad situation she reminded us that we had gone through worse situations and were still alive and kicking. She did not have the education of my father but I am sure she has far more common sense. Her simplicity allowed her to solve most problems through grit and determination.

Despite my father’s infamous anger (he was a perfectionist and always wanted everyone to do the right things; he did never spare himself too), I would venture to say that ours was a happy family with him being the head. Unlike his brothers who were ambitious and hence neglected their families, dad was a family man. Indeed, there was never any occasion that I remember that he did not take all of us with him wherever he went. It is another thing that he soon forgot that we were holidaying and would suddenly ask Mona or me about our performance in the school just at a time when we would be ready to savour the enjoyment of dipping our feet in a stream or plucking apples from a tree. That would start his favourite chain of harangue, the end point of which invariably was that nations can only do well only if they have good mothers. “Give me great mothers and I will give you a great nation”; he claimed that Napoleon had said (even to this day I have no proof whether Napoleon said that or not; but, as with all his quotes, the force of his own authority always overwhelmed that of the original or fictitious speaker, in this case Napoleon). At this juncture my mother would cringe with resignation at the familiar twist of the proceedings which always made her the person responsible for any wrong that anyone in the family had committed or was at the verge of committing! His oft-repeated refrain was, “Bachche bigadh hi nahin sakde si je manh ne pains layian hundiyan (children would not have turned rogue if their mother had taken pains (to improve them))”.

The modern child would never be able to imagine the extent of the badness of his children that dad was bemoaning about! It would be something as earthshaking as me getting three marks less than hundred in mathematics or Mona doing the unimaginable blunder of buying a song book rather than Praag or Chandamama (two famous children’s periodicals of our time) that we were allowed to get!

In Dharamsala (Himachal) when both Mona and I joined the College after our schooling, there was no let up in dad terrorizing us! So in the evenings when we would hear his Monga (a German jeep) turning into our colony we would quickly take postures at our study tables. But dad would get us, at least me, nevertheless. He would suddenly discuss some world news in my presence and would gauge my ignorance when I would fumble to connect to it!

My mother went through all this without ever berating us in front of dad. In private she would tell us with all the sincerity at her command, “Thuyade daddy theek keh rahe hun. Jina jayeda padhoge unhe hi layak banoge. Pher apne apne ghara wich khush rahoge (Your dad tells you right. The more you study the more intelligent you will be. And then you will be in your own families and will be happy)”.

Another curious hobby that dad had was to invite all and sundry to our house for dinners and other meals without ever consulting my mother. Mostly such invitations would be ad libbed at the last-minute. Irrespective of our tight situation dad always expected the guest (s) to be treated “royally”! Should mom ever do the unthinkable of not presenting the guest with the best in the house (for example she might, at times, want to keep the latest mithai (Indian sweets) for a later day) dad would sense it during the meal and ask for it in front of the guest, thus deeply embarrassing her.

Dad was a very good man at heart, very honest and totally sincere to his job. He was very jovial and never kept any rancour with him overnight. Once he had taken out his anger, on the spot, for all practical purposes the matter was closed as far as he was concerned. I remember this incident when our driver Kuldip earned my dad’s ire for not having checked POL of the vehicle before the journey. The result was that we were delayed and put to considerable inconvenience. Throughout the remaining journey my dad kept taking out his steam on him. So, by the time he dropped us back at Whispering Winds, Kuldip was in tears. His having been ex-Army had given dad added ammunition to kill two birds with one stone; my dad had felt that only the mentally retarded joined the armed forces (“je koi parhan likhan wich theek hove than fauj kyun join kare” (anyone who is good in studies has no need to join the armed forces). After dropping us, Kuldip asked my dad’s permission to go and then dad let go nice and proper at him for having contemplated leaving without having his dinner, which invariably used to be given to him at home! That night Kuldip had the fastest dinner ever!

After a few years of my becoming a navy officer, when I visited Whispering Winds on leave, my father invited me to have a drink with him on the roof top (I am especially in love with this spot since it offers an enchanting view of the hills and of the Ghaghar rivulet between the East and West hills (ghat). When the moon rises on the hill across it is one of the most breathtaking sights that I have seen, especially if it is full or nearly full). Initially I was as wary of having a drink with him as of my younger son Arun in having me as a friend on Facebook. My earlier experience of having invited him for a drink on board INS Himgiri, whence I got my watch-keeping certificate, had left me shaken (dad had seen the JOM – Junior Officers Mess that we stayed in and wanted me to immediately leave the navy rather than to “continue living in a pig-sty”. But dad appeared to be in a fine mood and hence I consented. As the evening and the drinks progressed, dad became more and more mellowed and then he told me many things about my mother. Many of these are in this article. Others had to do with how he and all of us were fortunate indeed to have her in the family.

It has been twenty-six years since dad died but my mom recalls many of these things that my dad told me. She was not on the roof-top when my father and I had our evening drinks but most often than not she heard and saw things through telepathy. I always suspected that my mother has super-natural powers. To start with I heard about her sleep-walking when she was at Pitaji’s house as a young girl. Then, in Dharamshala, once I was studying at an unearthly hour of 3 AM. It takes time to build up concentration for studying and in those initial twenty minutes or so my mind was drifting. One of the ideas that occurred to me was that I had to study and if only I would get a glass of hot milk (we were not allowed to have tea or coffee during those days!) I could really concentrate. It was eerie when my door opened and there stood my mother with a glass of milk. There is no way she could have found out that I was studying since my mom’s and dad’s room was at a distance; much less that she could have guessed that I could do with a glass of milk; even though my parents were early risers it would be another two and half hours before they would get up.

After my father died, my mother lives by herself in Whispering Winds. Most often than not there is no one around. At nights it is rather scary with nary a sound. And yet she is never scared. I asked her once how could she manage it. She said there are two people who are always with her: God and my father. No one has heard her but I believe she often talks with my father.

Many years back, when I was posted at Delhi, on one Saturday we decided to give my mother a surprise by driving up to Kandaghat; the cell phone had not yet made its appearance and we had not informed her by any other means. We reached at lunch time and found that the dining table had been set for five (my mother cooks only for herself and hence was not expected to cook for four of us as a matter of routine). She explained that she had a notion that we would be home for lunch. I had made a mental note of it many years back that no one could surprise my mother.

And yet, my father’s accidental death surprised us all including my mother. We were brought up to believe in the essential goodness of all people and hence it took us a long time to adjust to the spurious world post his death. Dad had a great circle of friends and colleagues who swore by him and were ready to do anything for him! Many of them were in high posts. “Kaka” they consoled me with deepest sincerity, “This must be a great shock to you and your mother. Don’t ever hesitate to call us if there is anything you require to be sorted out”. They addressed my mother too likewise assuring her that she would always be like a sister. Fortunately, dad had always taught us not to lean on anyone and we soon realized that dad was right. Gradually, we realized that people, other than my mom’s sisters and their siblings, had many important things to do than to help us get back on our feet. It is true that none of them told us no for anything but the weaning of interest in us was obvious and perhaps natural. This was still better than my own friends and colleagues at the CNW and Karanja who extolled my virtues endlessly at my farewell (from the Indian Navy after thirty-seven years) and said if I required anything they would be only too pleased to provide it; and who, at the first opportunity (within six days of retirement) declared me persona non grata. Let alone help I was not even to pass through the area! Camaraderie? Well, I did not have to die for my family to learn the hard way.

My dad died on First of May in 1984, Tuesday. It was the darkest day of our lives and it was a very dark night (moon totally obscured). Lyn (in the ninth month of pregnancy), JP (my younger brother) and I were escorted from Mumbai by my mom’s brother (A Group Captain who was posted there). We reached in the wee hours of next day: flight to Delhi and taxi thereafter. Because of Punjab situation no taxi driver was prepared to take us from Delhi and that too at night. So, at Delhi, Mamaji borrowed a friend’s uniform and sat thus in the front seat so that the taxi won’t be attacked.

My mother, a widow at fifty-three, sat at the floor with other mourners. She had always looked young (besides the reason of her innate toughness, anyone married to my father would be young for the simple reason that dad won’t have given her time to grow old!) but, on that day-break, even after having wept the entire preceding day and night, she looked younger still and vulnerable. On the night of first May, dad and mom were to catch a train from Kalka to Mumbai, to be with us during the last stages of Lyn’s pregnancy. But, here were we consoling and condoling her.

Thirteenth of May, the day of Bhog (remembrance prayers) after my dad’s funeral was a Sunday. When everyone left after the Bhog, mom knew that Lyn would deliver anytime and had requested her elder sister to leave a car with a driver. Next day we drove to Shimla and Arjun our elder son was born. It was nearly full moon night! I’d thought that having Arjun at home would divert my mother’s mind from the tragedy and I was correct. There was so much to be done for him. Lyn and I as new parents knew nothing. What is more, our planning had gone for a toss on the First of May. So, it was left for my mom to be a grandmother, mother and midwife.

They say when the going gets tough, the tough get going; I found in my mother the kind of toughness and resolve that I would like to emulate. There were mainly three types of problems that we faced: one the normal bureaucratic hassles that all in India face (even our courts are tilted to favour the guilty by prolonging the proceedings so much that law-abiding citizens face constant jeering, frustration and cumbersomeness; so much so that there is a popular (and infamous) saying that courts are only for the rogues); two, because of my mother being a woman and alone (Indians make the right noises about respecting women and comparing them to goddesses but would take advantage of them at first opportunity); and three, because of parochialism brought out earlier.

So, within no times, our neighbours, encroached on her land, broke through our boundary fence and got us entangled in a number of legal cases. They regularly pronounce threats to me and her, both veiled and direct. An example of these is, “Ravi ji (Ji is an Indian sobriquet of respect but also jeeringly used; for example, “S Ramji bade badmash nikle” (S Ramji was a rogue of the highest order)) aap to chhuti ke baad chale jayoge per mummy ji to akele hi rahenge”. (Ravi ji, you will go back (to your duty station after the leave but your mother will have to stay alone) I have tried my utmost with the local bureaucracy, police and state officials but their oft heard refrain is, “How long can she be given protection? (Not that she has ever been given) It is better that she lives with you.

When I joined the Navy and we used to be deployed in the Gulf of Kuchh (near the IMB between India and Pakistan) we often used to catch Pakistan Television on our antenna. I remember having seen a TV play titled ‘Aurat Ka Koi Ghar Nahin’ (A Woman does not have a Home). How true it turned out for my mother after she became a widow! She often has the water supply to the house disconnected, electricity disruptions, her personal servant (s) threatened by our neighbours to run away, face the indignity of waiting the whole day outside the court (whereat even a lady judge does not give her the priority of being old and widow and alone) and havoc caused by either nature or man.

My mother keeps a very neat and functional house. The one incident that made me feel that she must be really great and extraordinary happened a few years back. She went for her rounds of the orchard and fell and had a head injury. She crawled back to the house bleeding and fast losing consciousness. Instead of going straight to the telephone, she stopped herself outside the house, beckoned her servant Nirmala and asked her to bring the phone unit out and then called for an ambulance! When the ambulance came she had nearly lost complete unconsciousness. When I asked her why she did not go straight inside the house and wasted precious moments in calling Nirmala to fetch the phone unit outside with a long cord, her reply was, “Kaka main sochya ke khoon bahut nikal reha si, ate andar gand pai janda” (son, I thought I was bleeding a lot and it would have spoiled the inside of the house if I were to enter)!

This was not the only time when she surprised me with her innate feelings for others. I have seen how often she thinks of those who have less than us, who are sicker, less able, and in more unfortunate situations. Whilst my heart would be grieving for her situation she would tell me about those who “really” require help! These often include her detractors and she bemoans that God should have been kinder to them than to revisit sickness, accident or bad – luck upon them. I remember the times when we would go hill climbing for picnics or for visiting people. These would be tiring indeed, especially at her age; but, on return, she would worry about how tired all of us would be.

Mom forgets nasty things done to her easily. But, she never forgets the good things. If she ever borrows anything or money from anyone, it would keep bothering her until she returns it.

A few years back she got both her knees operated upon. The doctor had said that these would heal fast and she would be on her feet fast. In the meantime my younger brother had invited her to visit him in Washington and he had done the air bookings much in advance. So, when it came out that her knees were nowhere near healing (these took another six months) she went to Washington on a wheel-chair. At the Washington airport, the security personnel, being paranoid about all kinds of checks post 9/11, wanted to remove her bandages to see if she was safe to be allowed into the country. I would have smarted under the indignity and needlessness of the procedure especially after passing through metal detectors. But my mother’s reaction was, “Kaka, main tanh wheel chair te si; bechare security waliyan nu kaafi kam karna pya” (son, I was on wheel-chair but poor security staff had to do a lot of work). How could mom be a security threat to anyone is difficult for me to comprehend?

When we were small, dad was posted in a town called Mandi in Himachal. On Sundays dad used to take us to an orchard in Bhangrotu about fourteen kilometers away. Mona and I used to travel by a vehicle whilst dad and mom and their friends used to bicycle. My mother would be dressed in a salwar kameez with her dupatta (a head scarf) tied on her waist and pony tails tied in ribbons. On the hilly road most of them would give up cycling half the way up on the climbs. Not my mother; she would continue cycling up with the cycle-chain making screeching sounds under the strain of the climb. And then, as all of us would watch in open admiration, she would be over yet another hillock. I remember her looking back with glee and encouragement to all the others that it could be done, it was possible.

Yes, Mom, now I know that it can be done, it is possible. We are not going to be deterred by the steepness of the climbs. We shall gleefully look back after conquering each one. You are seventy-eight not out and you will be not out until the end of the match!

ALL IS NOT WELL

Recently, when we watched the movie ‘3 Idiots’, we were entranced by the song ‘All Is Well’. We not only liked the song but also identified with its theme. We do believe that things and the situation we are in would improve and we won’t have to worry too much if we assumed ‘All Is Well’. Reminds me of the time when we were kids and we used to get scared of ghosts we used to hide our faces in the quilt; if we could not see the ghost, how could he see us!

In our country, we did not actually have to see the movie to sing ‘All is Well’. Ask our politicians, for example. Farmers may be committing suicide on a regular basis in their constituencies; people may be dying of hunger; there may be no water, electricity, medical help, and epidemics may have hit the villages, but, the politician would tell you and indeed sing like Aamir Khan, “Ahl izh bell, whai are dey kum planning?” Last year when the news came that India is now 144th in the world in human growth index, our politicians again sang ‘Ahl izh bell’.

Arun Shourie once wrote, “One sure way for evil to last or survive is for good men to do nothing about it.” And, how do we decide to do nothing about it? Well, by assuming all is well. In the vernacular it is roughly translated into ‘chalta hai’. We’d naturally identify with the song since by doing nothing we want the situation to resolve by itself or better still by divine intervention.

Here is a short list of things where we feel all is well:

· Our countrymen are happy, well fed and clothed and contented lot.
· Our roads, particularly our highways, are in good condition.
· We are very close to being number one in the field of sports.
· Our education system is world class.
· Our cities are clean, hygienic and really liveable.
· The corruption in the country will sort out by itself.
· Our country is free of natural disasters and in case one strikes our local government would take care of those who struggle to survive.
· Our judicial system delivers correctly and with urgency each and every time.
· Our teachers, doctors, engineers, industrialists are the committed lot who always think of the country.
· People fall head over heels to pay taxes.
· People at large detest crime and criminals and such people are singled out. Indeed, we have no difficulty in separating the law abiding from the criminal.
· Our trains and air services are always on time and in case once in a while these get late, people are not put to inconvenience because of a could-not-care-less administration.
· Our religious leaders and beliefs promote amity amongst people.
· We care for those who sacrifice their life for the country, that is, the armed forces personnel.

I think I will stop here. Suffice it to say that when we sing, “Chachu all is well’ it merely reflects a fantasy we have of utopian India – a dream world. Therefore, the first step towards the journey to make a better world is to assume that all is not well. A chalta hai, populist attitude is a good box-office formula. But, it must not be taken as a national policy!

Negativity? Well, in this case, the ‘Ahl izh bell’ statement has a negative outcome! People die and continue to live in poverty. Whereas ‘Ahl izh naut bell’ will certainly have a positive harvest depending upon our resolve and efforts to set it right.

So next time you hear ‘Ahl izh bell’, don’t just clap your hands and go unconcerned. All is really not well and we need to do something about it.

LEADERSHIP IN THE NAVY – PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE

We Revere Our Heroes

1. ‘Band of Brothers’; is that what we expect our youth to become in tomorrow’s battlefield? Nelson used this phrase on a number of occasions to describe the remarkably close and friendly relationship that existed between him and the captains who served under his command at the Battle of the Nile on 1 August 1798. The phrase also connotes a personalised or ‘collegiate’ style of leadership that Nelson personified, whence doctrine was often substituted by dinner table conferences just prior to battle. Nelson established himself as one of Britain’s most successful fighting admirals. He established a personal rapport not only with his captains but with his men too, through particular attention to their welfare, training and trust. His ‘band of brothers’ knew instinctively what was required of them. On the day of his funeral, according to Collingwood, there were tears in the eyes of ordinary seamen. Nelson loved them and they loved him. He trained his people by example, persuasion and sometimes sterner measures.

2. Even though his personal life was never exemplary, his men followed his other sterling qualities and largely ignored his aberrations. As described by Admiral Arun Prakash in his essay ‘Nelson – The Quintessential Naval Hero’, “While history has, on the whole been kind to Nelson, many biographers have not glossed over his frailties. Pages have been written about his ambitious nature, his thirst for public acclaim, his greed for prize money and his vanity about his own accomplishments”.

3. In the modern era, I quote an incident from ‘The Golden Book of Delhi’ by Commander Hugh Gantzer, on the occasion of the decommissioning of this illustrious ship. The annual Pulling Regatta was in progress and ships vied for the coveted Cock – a symbol of not only rowing prowess but also of the spirit and indeed the general efficiency of the ships. In a particular race Delhi’s boat won by many boat lengths. The euphoria about the victory was short lived when it was found that the crew had taken part in the wrong category race. It came out that unless the same crew took part in the next race, of the correct category, Delhi may not win the Cock. Here was a crew totally fatigued, profusely sweating and frustrated that their best was wasted in the wrong race. No one could have expected of them to take part in the next race let alone win. It was a lost race even before it started. But then the Commanding Officer of Delhi, a legendary figure by the name of Captain RL Pereira, stepped into the boat and talked to his men. Suddenly despair changed into hope and resolve, exhausted faces gave way to grit, and tired muscles had new life in them. The men not only took part in the race but won.

4. Both these are fine examples of Personalised or Direct style of leadership. As one of the Commanding Officers of yore declared, more with a sense of pride and responsibility than with arrogance, “Hum God to nahin but God se kam bhi nahin” (I am not God, but, am not less than Him). When we joined the Navy, John Winton’s ‘Rules on Seeing the Captain’ were prevalent and never questioned: ‘Rule 1: The Captain is always right; Rule 2: If the Captain is wrong, Rule 1 applies’.

5. Are these examples then of timeless traits of leadership that should be unquestioningly inculcated during the initial training and formative years by emulation? How many Nelsons and Perieras have we cloned so far by this process? What about those who do not become these legendary figures, and that includes the vast majority, but are still required to lead? More significantly, are these styles of leadership relevant now and for tomorrow’s Navy? If yes, what are these time tested qualities and how do we ensure their inculcation? If no, or partially no, how else to groom the youth?

We Believe in Timeless Traits of Leadership

6. Let us start with timeless traits of leadership. Even though Kautilya’s Arthshastra, a 4th century BC treatise, is largely perceived as a set of principles for Economic Administration for a king to preserve the integrity of the state and sustain it for the future, there are fine lessons in leadership too. Kautilya stressed on the importance of such core values as knowledge, skills and attitude. Some of these would be relevant even today: Character (Shilavan), Thinking Ability (Pragna), Communication Skills (Vangmi), Vision (Prabhu Shakti), Mission (Mantra Shakti), Concentration (Drudhachitta) and Watchful Alertness (Daksha).

7. These were followed by Dharma and Karma and Maryada or Izzat during the days of Mahabharata as the essential qualities of a Kshatriya. These have been translated in our times as: The well being of your nation and service comes first; the well being of your men comes next; and your own well being and comfort always comes the last. And, Service with Honour.

8. The essential traits of a good leader have evolved over a period of time. There may be differences of opinion about some of them or their relative importance but by and large the following are accepted as desirable traits:

• Bearing
• Courage
• Decisiveness
• Dependability
• Endurance
• Enthusiasm
• Initiative
• Integrity
• Judgment
• Justice
• Knowledge
• Loyalty
• Tact
• Unselfishness

9. Some have considered the following additions, in modern times, but, in many ways these are present in the original list:

• Assertiveness
• Candour
• Commitment
• Competence
• Confidence
• Coolness
• Creativity
• Empathy/Compassion
• Flexibility
• Humility
• Improvement
• Maturity
• Self-discipline
• Sense of humour
• Will

10. I am not going to take all but only a few to illustrate a point:

(a) Bearing. This demands the highest standards in carriage, appearance, and personal conduct at all times. By and large we don’t have any problem with carriage and appearance. But we do have some reservation about the changing ethos of personal conduct. Emulating icons such as Nelson, sometimes means that all is forgiven as long as one is a great leader, eg, Bill Clinton in modern times.

(b) Courage. This is the mental quality that recognizes fear of danger or criticism, but enables a man to proceed in the face of it with calmness and firmness. Let us see what Clausewitz has to say: “If the mind is to emerge unscathed from this relentless struggle with the unforeseen, two qualities are indispensable. Firstly, an intellect, which even in the darkest hour, retains some glimmerings of a light which leads to the truth; and secondly, courage to follow this faint light wherever it leads.” How does one acquire this trait, if one does not have this all along? Like the Army ad says, “Have you got it in you?”

(c) Decisiveness and Initiative. The ability to make decisions promptly and to announce them in a clear, forceful manner should be backed with the ability to take action in the absence of orders. A sub trait of these traits is the Propensity to Take Risks. The good old tenet ‘nothing ventured, nothing won’ is as true today as it was yesterday. Battles and wars are not won by all those who are very adept at naval ops but since all situations cannot be foreseen, we require not only knowledge or net-centric warriors but also prudent risk takers. Is it the fear of failure that lets a leader take the relatively safe middle path?

(d) Combative Spirit. I shall place Combative Spirit very high in the traits that I would want to inculcate in the youth joining armed forces. It is the main trait that differentiates a military leader from a corporate manager. It is a combination of many of the traits given above. In the present atmosphere of vying to improve Inter Personal Relations, especially with seniors, Combative Spirit has become almost non-existent. Physical courage, as given above, is easy to inculcate but there are not adequate examples, in our times, of combative spirit – the ability to meet challenges squarely, with calmness, without fear of consequences.

But, We Do Have a Changed Scenario

11. We have this undeniable fascination with tradition and heritage. After the Kargil War, this strong fascination translated into a series of articles by senior retired officers about crisis of leadership or otherwise. An article by Admiral Nadkarni, however, brought out that the young officers had vindicated our system of imparting values and in battle had displayed traits better than (expected) by the senior hierarchy.

12. Nevertheless, many far reaching changes have taken place in the environment. The Indian Navy’s ‘Strategic Guidance for Transformation’ acknowledges that the Indian Navy faces a fast-changing environment due to variety of factors, which include geo-politics/geo-economics, emerging technologies, rapidly evolving capabilities in our maritime neighbourhood, and, the changing role of the Armed Forces.

13. It would be naïve to assume that the grooming of our youth would be the same as hitherto. As brought out in the ‘Transformation’ document, “The demands of the 21st Century require that we become and remain First Class in the way we lead and manage the affairs within the Navy.” This requires, as brought out in the document, “Clear-headed leadership at all levels, adequate empowerment at senior and lower levels, flattening of the Navy’s internal bureaucracy, and adoption of technology-related ‘best practices’ from industry and/or the navies of other countries.”

14. As far as Personnel policies are concerned, amongst others, we need to revisit HRM in totality, encourage out-of-the-box thinking and reward intellectual inclinations, and a focussed approach towards professionalism, whilst simultaneously enhancing the attractiveness of a career in the Navy, by reviewing compensation and welfare packages and even preparing personnel for a ‘second-career’ beyond the Navy.

15. To give credit where it is due, the Navy has already started experiencing and working on many of these changes. Let us look at some of these. RMA is the readily discernible change but there are others too, which impinge on leadership in tomorrow’s battlefield. Here is a representative sample, and not exhaustive:

(a) There is a blurred distinction between peace and war. From Enemy Beyond, we have now Enemy Within; from well defined states of readiness leading to declaration of hostilities, we now have perpetual tension and alertness. In such a state, it is not uncommon for personnel to get frustrated and either commit suicide or shoot/berate their superiors or both.

(b) There is an explosion of information. As a result, the earlier adage of ‘you can fool some of the people some of the times’ has lost much of its relevance. Nowadays, even young officers have to reckon with an ever inquisitive media, which leave no stones unturned to break news even when none exists. Whilst some have misused the media to carry out campaigns of calumny with vested interests, there are other occasions when the aberrations of the armed forces personnel have been aired openly even when we would have wanted to keep them in wraps.

(c) Let us look at the prevalence of fast changing knowledge and skills. During earlier days, one could get away with some lack of knowledge and skills, as long as one possessed essential attributes of a leader. This is no longer the case. In the last US Presidential elections, the Republican candidate John McCain only had to air his not being Internet savvy and the media went to town bemoaning his potential incompetence to deal with increasingly significant matters of cyber security and privacy.

(d) Perhaps the biggest change in environment that has taken place as a result of the above two is that there is often no time to subject matters to careful deliberation (pause) and then decide. Leaders of tomorrow will have to take decisions on their feet, in fast changing situations, with an ability to quickly sift real intelligence from a heap of information.

(e) Today, we have many other roles of Armed Forces than merely combat. Although readiness for combat would always remain the absolute sine qua non of naval operations, we have to increasingly reckon with naval diplomacy, HADR, multinational peacekeeping ops and a plethora of other roles, wherein the military leader has to deal with many agencies, both governmental and non governmental.

(f) Joint operations are here to stay. However, the senior leadership has displayed a tendency to be assiduously guarding home turf. Military leaders of tomorrow will have to display larger accommodation and should be trained accordingly.

(g) In future battlefield we also have to deal with the nuclear factor. This requires assimilation of escalation matrix at various levels. A decisive blow to the enemy is to be laced with deliberate restraint, much more than it is to be in LIMO.

(h) The entry of women in the armed forces has brought about many changes in our leadership styles. It is not just that the media went to town with the (misunderstood?) remarks of an Army Vice Chief about women not being suited for combat duty, but, there are other questions such as whether the armed forces environment is safe for women? Does a lenient regimen pamper the ladies? Does this trigger rancour among male peers?

(j) Another reckonable factor is that the attractiveness of armed forces has taken a severe beating. It ranges from the youth of the country not valuing the President’s commission to officers declining the higher command courses. Never before in the past did we have armed forces personnel, even though retired, participating in a procession demanding better pay, perks and status, and also returning their medals.

(k) Last but not the least, there is a distinct decline in morals and ethics, and corruption having reached endemic proportions. Of course, we can blame it on the general lowering of standards in public life but gone are the days when the armed forces were immune to it. We often talked about Armed Forces being not just a noble profession but a way of life. We extolled the virtues of ‘An Officer and a Gentleman’, but, now there are an equal number of Booze Colonels and Medal Hopefuls through fake encounters.

And We Need to Do Something about It

16. Once again the list is only illustrative. The idea is to progress the argument that whilst there are timeless leadership traits, time has come to inculcate better suited leadership styles. The Indian Navy’s ‘Transformation’ document has this quote from Bishop G Bromley in the beginning, “Change is inevitable. The great question of our time is whether the change will be by consent or coercion.” Since a considerable percentage of leadership traits are emulated from the prevalent environment, let us see what the current impediments to inculcating leadership traits are and go about systemically correcting them.

17. Confusing Leadership Styles with Traits. We love to glorify personalised or direct leadership. We have this impression that a good leader must be seen to be taking charge of all situations. In recent past there was this senior officer who personally laid down norms for all occasions, which included even dress code and conduct in clubs and messes. The best books on everyday leadership characteristics, that I have read, are Maj Gen Aubrey Redwood’s ‘Follow Me’ series. He described the incident of his going by car and noticing the shabby haircut of a soldier. He was tempted to stop and correct the soldier and then it occurred to him that by doing so he would not only undermine the complete system of grooming but may also indicate wrong priorities. After all, what a senior officer says carries more weight than a junior.

18. Aversion to Other Types of Leadership. As opposed to Direct Leadership (Nelsonian), armed forces officers around the world have traditionally been averse to thinking about changing styles of leadership. Naval professionals had kept doctrine at arm’s length for fear that a binding set of principles might restrict their initiative and independence and hence their leadership style. Mahan said this of British naval officers: “To meet difficulties as they arise, instead of by foresight, to learn by hard experience rather than by reflection of premeditation are national traits.” We have to keep in mind that Direct leadership empowers just one person who gets overstressed to take all decisions, whereas organisational or institutional leadership empowers all personnel at various hierarchical levels. Organisational leadership is unobtrusive and less visible but, even more effective. In the Fleet, for example, with spread out operations in the future battlefield, the days of direct leadership of yore, through flag hoist or within LOS communication are over. The stress is already shifting from ‘where are you going?’ and ‘what are you doing?’ or ‘get back into line’, to more meaningful operations. Many a time when we expect our top hierarchy to display Strategic leadership, we see them engaged in pedestrian issues.

19. Preparing to Fight the Last War. Analysts often accuse Generals of ‘preparing to fight the last war’. The metaphor that comes to mind is that of a frog who tried to behave like a man. He stood on his hind legs and lifted his body up. In this manner his eyes were facing backwards. The terrain that he thus viewed looked familiar. Hence, he confidently marched into unknown territory with its newer dangers with the smugness that he had seen it all earlier.

20. Different Perceptions. The best way to groom the youth is to first know them, rather than at all times being judgmental of their motives. As brought out by Harper Lee in her inimitable book ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’, “The best way to know people is to step into their shoes and walk around in them. Most people are really nice when you finally see them”. We have often dismissed the youngsters with our perception that they don’t have the same values as we used to have during our days. For this, let us examine the Monkeys on a Tree Syndrome, with monkeys perched at various levels of the tree. When you observe from top, you see happy smiling faces; but, when you look up from lower levels, you see assholes. Hence, if we have to groom the youth, we have to stop seeing things from our point of view at all times and have to actually step down to their levels, understand and share their fears, anxieties, aspirations, dreams, biases and perceptions.

21. Zero Error Syndrome. This is translated into being worried not about tackling the situation but the aftermath of the situation. They say that ‘if you are not big enough to lose you are not big enough to win’. To change this perception requires a complete systemic change. Whilst over-exposure in media is always demanding of us to find and punish the guilty, we must be able to differentiate between an honest mistake and intentional or deliberate offences. In his farewell speech RAdm Kirpal Singh brought out that when he faced a BOI he was certain that he would make it to Flag rank because most Flag officers of his era had faced a CM or BOI. Today, with greater promotional prospects, we tend to write off an officer for even imagined offences.

22. Nothing Succeeds Like Success. It is the aspiration of every person who joins armed forces to become as senior as possible. He or she looks around and finds that the adage ‘everything is fair in love and war’ has been made into a way of life. In 2008 I attended a seminar on Terrorism. On the question as to why was it that Army’s Op Sadbhavna had failed to steer the youth of Kashmir away from terrorism, one of the panellists responded that most COs and their staff had translated Op Sadbhavna into a photo op and opportunity to project good image of themselves. Once in a while a case of fake encounters to win medal comes to light. However, in the formative years, the youth looks around and sees his seniors leaving no stone unturned to advance their careers. Thus, at a very early stage he learns that the report of an operation is even more important than operation itself and that he needs to be highly skilled in PPT even before assimilating bridgemanship. He also assimilates the stress on trivial that keeps his ship ticking.

23. Aversion to Out-of-Box Thinking. Out-of-Box thinking has become a popular catchword; but, when exactly do we want our youth to start thinking out-of-box. We are perfectly happy at uniformed personnel imbibing uniform or standard practices and look down on anyone whose cloning is not complete. Once again we must demonstrate that out-of-box thinking would not interfere with our personalised style of leadership. Empowerment at all levels would be the answer.

24. “Positive” Attitude. They say ‘the optimist invented the plane and the pessimist invented the parachute’. In our penchant to improve Inter Personal Relations, especially with those who matter, to be seen as a positive guy is these days more important than doing anything worthwhile. In such an atmosphere the Staff Officer is generally more successful than the Combat Officer, for the former has learnt how to be in good books of his seniors all the while. A Positive Attitude is actually a desirable trait. I only refer to what it has been translated into.

Conclusion

25. Preparing youth for tomorrow’s Navy cannot be left only to the Academy or the training institutions. It should be the systemic approach of the complete Navy. After all, the officer who joins the Navy today would be responsible for our operations tomorrow both in peace and at war. We have a tendency to find technological solutions to all our problems. However, it is the quality of leadership of this young officer, which would make a difference between success and failure.

26. Nelsononian Direct style of leadership was most suited for the era when getting out of line at the wrong moment would spell disaster. These days, we require personnel to think out-of-box, think joint, think fast, think other than war, and be Knowledge Warriors. We should, therefore, lay more stress on Organisational or Institutional Leadership, which is less obtrusive and more effective.

28. Every era is modern in its own times. Timeless Traits of Leadership have withstood the test of time but we need to be more adaptive of changes in our environment. Being constantly judgmental of the values of our youth is not the answer. Making an environment conducive to assimilation of these traits is the only pragmatic solution.

IPR

No, not Intellectual Property Rights, though enough debate has been generated in the public forum on that too. This article is about Inter Personal Relations. During my tenure of approximately thirty-seven years in the Indian Navy (including training time) I have been on the receiving end of a charge of having less than satisfactory IPRs with some of the others, which included a Commander-in-Chief. I have done a little soul-searching and come to the conclusion that perhaps we need to sort out this scourge that has now reached epidemic proportions in the Indian Navy.

Inter Personal Relations have always been important. Just as it takes two to make a row, it takes good IPR to make a substantial difference to what can be achieved when a person or persons interact with a person or persons. A few years back the Indian Navy officially recognised good Inter Personal Relations as one of the desirable traits in its officers. These were amongst the attributes for which officers would be judged and reported upon in their Confidential Reports. A very desirable and lofty idea? Yes and no. Yes, because there is no denying the importance of politeness, tact and empathy whilst dealing with others. If one can, one should avoid treading on other people’s toes. If one can, one should seek to steer clear of controversy and confrontation. No, because not unlike the concept of Religion or even Goodness, it is subject to individual interpretation. And that is where the danger lies. Sometimes, the real interests of the unit and the navy are sacrificed at the altar of IPR. Sometimes, individual differences are reflected in the assessment about overall IPR. Sometimes, individuals who could not get along well with anyone at all comment upon the IPR of others as if they are an accepted authority.

A few years back when I underwent the Staff Course at Wellington, Tamilnadu, it amused me to note that we were not to ‘disagree’ with anyone. At best, we were to ‘agree to disagree’ or ‘beg to differ’. A few years back, General Musharraff, during the Agra Summit, became a hero of sorts with the Indian media, with his “straight talk”; the media having acknowledged this “disarming” quality in an army officer. They must have presumed that ‘straight talk’ or ‘shooting from the hip’ is what the armed forces officers are good at. If only they had attended the DSSC, they would have been shocked to realise that the injunctions about disagreements were being given for IPR between peers! One shudders to think what form of IPR would have to be evolved whilst dealing with superiors: “I have a different idea, Sir, but I beg to agree with you, yours is the most wonderful one”.

I think it was Winston Churchill who had once stated, “I may not agree with you but I will defend to hilt your right to disagree”. It would surely be an eye opener for those in authority who feel that good inter personal relations are completely dependent upon those they are expected to command.

A few years back, in an article in the USNIP, a comparison between the essential attributes of combat officers and staff officers was brought out. It was recognised that single-mindedness-of-purpose, brashness, and the ability to call a spade a spade, would be desirable in combat officers. However, since such qualities would tend to show these officers in poor light, during peace time, especially to their superiors, they would have dimmer promotion prospects in comparison to the staff officers, who are generally pleasant, and hence at good wicket, with their superiors. The article went on to add that both the qualities, that is of combat and the staff officers, were welcome in their particular areas, as long as, during war, it is the combat officer who is at sea and not the (good-in-IPR) staff officer.

Sweeping the dust under the carpet has been perfected as a national pastime. A country of one billion finds it well-nigh impossible to produce just one medal winner in Olympics. And yet, any number of sports persons line up to lay their claim to the Arjuna Awards. An article in the newspapers brought out that many a time these awards are based more upon good inter-personal relations than performance. Recently, we had the sad spectacle of Ministers of Parliament falling head over heels to nominate for Padma Shri a certain NRI with dubious past record but good IPRs.

There would have been no harm if IPR were treated as one of the many attributes for which officers are judged. Unfortunately, though not stated or intended, it becomes the most important attribute. Assessment of even performance and promotion potential is made dependent upon the IPR. There is, for example, no attribute called ‘Combative Spirit’, because almost all Professional or Personal Qualities assessment is based on virtues desirable in a good staff officer. It may be argued that Combative Spirit would come naturally to all those who are professionally competent, mentally and physically agile, and meticulous in staff work. But, combative spirit is not exactly the same as competence and agility. For one thing, if you haven’t got it in you, it can’t be faked. Most Indians, whenever they lose, are described as good losers. An apt criticism doing the rounds, after the recent World Cup Hockey, is that we may not be just good losers; we may be perfect losers.

One of the greatest pitfalls of the assessment of IPR in the navy is that since it is seen as one of the stepping stones for success, all attempts are made to get it right in relation to seniors, especially those in judgmental positions. This is often at the expense of one’s juniors who have to bear the brunt of their senior’s penchant for excellent IPR with their superiors. In such a system dissent is often equated with insubordination. In such a system since everyone is busy being positive and improving inter personal relations, often the first signs of cracks in the system are aired outside the system, say media.

Was it always like this? No, I would like to believe. Stories about the navy’s most revered officer, Admiral Pereira, are legendary. He almost became a cult figure. During the Staff Course we would go out of our way to talk to him. Once when I met him there after getting my transfer orders to Vizag, he started telling me about his own postings to Vizag. “I enjoyed commanding the Fleet”, he told me during the course of our conversation, “but there was this C-in-C always trying to interfere. One day (his eyes had the characteristic glint when he said it) I barged into his office and told him a few things and thereafter we never had any problems again”.

I would like to believe that many of my own superiors had the courage and good sense to take disagreements in their stride. Arguments, many a time heated ones, would ensue and yet were never carried forward to reflect general adverse state of IPR. During one of the battle of wits with one of my Commanding Officers, we were all getting it good and proper from him, a little unjustly I thought. I kept drawing doodles on a paper. As soon as he noticed me doing it, he was enraged and snatched the paper from my hand. I had drawn a cricket field with him batting and all the other officers in various fielding positions. He had one look at it and I thought he was going to fulminate. Instead, he asked me to draw my own position before he would decide what to do with it and me. With trembling hands, I took the paper from him and correctly placed myself at Silly Point! He just pocketed the paper and we went about our work. The whole day I kept thinking of how I had thoughtlessly got him on the wrong side. We were very busy in various fleet exercises and hence it was late in the evening when his response came: ‘From Captain to Silly Point: Come and have a glass of beer with me’.

Many others too did not make it mandatory for us to agree with them on all points. One could give one’s point of view without fear or favour, especially at seminars and debriefs. Professional views were countered with professional views and not with pulling rank and seniority. Inter personal relations were as important as today but no one stopped to give too much of thought to them. No one begged to differ but did so boldly. And if once in a while things got out of hand, well, the beer was always kept chilled!

And what do we have now? The other day I sent this coarse, though highly effective, joke to those who matter or mattered:

Many years back a Sub Lieutenant bought a bicycle from the Canteen Stores Department. Noticing that it did not have the rear carrier, he sent his orderly to have one fixed. When the bicycle came back he noticed that whilst the CSD man had fixed the carrier he had removed the stand. Enraged, the young subbie went to CSD and asked the man as to why he had done this. The man in charge there, a grey haired veteran of several decades, told him, “Sir, you appear to be new in the navy. Navy mein ek baat seekh lo: agar career chahiye to kabhi stand na lena (If you want career (to flourish, that is) never take a stand (on anything)).

Sadly, the majority of the lot today has taken this rather seriously. This majority has seen the rise of those who have never ruffled any feathers and reached heights that they aspire to reach. These have, hence, become role models now and have large fan following, golfing partners, and hectic social lives. The race to win the popularity contest is on. Whosoever wins, the navy is the loser!

Our fine navy had many an article and many a poem about the loneliness of command; it is because as a leader of men you were expected to stay apart. Of course, you would do all within your means to ensure the welfare of all those junior to you but that did not interfere with your standing apart. Today, if you stand apart, you are lonelier than ever before.

Here is what I wrote to this C-in-C with whom I was accused of having unsatisfactory IPR: A veteran teacher was preparing a rookie for his first lecture. By way of advice he told him, “As you lecture in the class you will be annoyed with this one student who will nag you with persistent questions. Don’t be put off by him. He may be the only one paying attention.” I was suitably rewarded for having penned this to him and I had my chilled beer alone. But, I was happy that I was not encumbered by the thought of my sea time or promotion.

I remember when Admiral Pereira was the Naval Chief he had written to all Commanding Officers to guard against the trend of yes-man-ship and zero error syndrome. A visionary, that he was, he had seen the early signs of the virus affecting the Navy.

The old-timer never mixed business with pleasure. Many amongst the present lot do not know where one ends and the other begins. We need to set the balance right again.

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 percentage 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 matrimonials: ‘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 woman 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?
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