DOESN’T PAY TO BE A GOODIE-GOODIE GUY

When I undertook to allow the armed forces to train me to become a good staff-officer (Read Learning ‘The Ropes’ At Defence Services Staff College At Wellington, Nilgiris – Part I’ and ‘Part II’), I also took it upon myself to let go of all that used to keep me in high spirits. It was a tough decision but I was going to prove a point to me; which was that even though I was a proud member of fauj, Sikh religion and hailing from Punjab, I could do without the elixir of life. Suddenly from an irresponsible vagabond I stepped into the sober though somewhat sombre world of the nek aadmi.

Accolades started flowing in a-plenty. In addition, I also became the butt of many jokes. I sought refuge in the friendship of SK Sharma, an Air Electric officer and a Brahmin with a keen sense of humour.

Do you remember the Catch 22 logic of Yossarian’s friend Orr who had a bucktoothed smile due to crab apples in his cheeks? He used to carry rubber balls in his hands. So when anyone teased him about having crab apples in his cheeks, he used to tell them that he had rubber balls and they were not in his cheeks but in his hands! Well I tried the same logic for my perennial sobriety, through my friendship with SK Sharma. Whenever, anyone told me that I was wonky, I used to point towards SK Sharma and say that whereas I had recently become a teetotaller SKS had been so from the time of his being at his mother’s knee onwards. In this ingenious manner my friendship with SKS helped me ward off many barbs targeted at me.

Our friendship had just begun to bloom when the blow stuck us. Sharma and I used to go by our four-wheelers (cars) anywhere and everywhere and had sold off our two wheelers (scooters and mobikes). Since we didn’t indulge, we had the spare money for the fuel and we had just begun to enjoy ourselves in our combined world of puritanism. The blow that stuck us was that the Government of India, without consulting SK and I, suddenly raised the petrol prices from Rupees 10.50 a litre (in Tamilnadu) to Rupees 13.25 – an almost 30 per cent increase.

The next evening, since it was his turn, I waited for SK to pick me up from my house in Castle Quarters to go to WGC (Wellington Gymkhana Club) to play billiards. He arrived at the appointed hour but instead of chuckles of laughter and sunniness that used to herald his arrival, I noticed that he was competing with an Egyptian mummy for years of lifelessness. I got into the front left seat of his car and we arrived at the club. Nothing was said between us since the news had killed our enthusiasm almost totally. He played the first shot and I noticed that he offered me an easy in-off followed by red potting and promise of many other geometric possibilities.

I applied sufficient chalk to the tip of my cue and took my stance for what I hoped would be a long break. And it is precisely at this time that SK chose to break the agonising silence of that evening.

“Have you heard the bad news Sir?” he asked.
“Yes” I replied icily so as to cap all further conversation until I had completed my break of at least 30 points.
“I am afraid” he continued with determination, “It is going to affect us the most.”

I had no choice but to break my stance as the Tsunami was almost at my door-step. I put the handling end of the cue down and my look asked him to explain.

“Well Sir” he explained, “Both of us don’t smoke, drink or have any such vices. In order to offset the increased cost of petrol, all that the drinkers, for example, have to do is to cut down an equivalent amount of their drinking and they land up with the same expenditure as they used to incur earlier. You and I have no such cushion.”

I was immediately reminded of a dialogue from a Smita Patil movie that went like this: “Nangi kyaa dhoye kyaa nichode?” (A poor naked woman doesn’t have enough to wash and squeeze out)

We quickly finished the game that SK once again won easily. He dropped me back home and I changed and drove my own car back to WGC. Ordering a series of drinks at the bar had become for me a matter of life and death. A Brahmin with his simple wit had put an end to my short-lived abstinence; I was already preparing to offset the next fuel price hike.

The bar where I drowned my sorrows caused by fuel price hike (Courtesy: wellingtongymkhanagolfclub.golfgaga.com)
The bar where I drowned my sorrows caused by fuel price hike
(Courtesy: wellingtongymkhanagolfclub.golfgaga.com)

By the time I left DSSC I had adequately prepared to offset fuel price hikes for the next decade or so!

ARMED FORCES PERSONNEL WERE RICH

The title doesn’t seem to go well with the constant struggle that the armed forces seem to be having for obtaining adequate remuneration for the serving and retired personnel. Curiously,  this intense – and at times, bitter – struggle is not with the government but with another arm under the government (just like the armed forces) called bureaucracy. Bureaucracy or babugiri has relentlessly endeavoured to keep the armed forces on a tight leash and is often seen fighting tooth and nail anything given to the faujis as just job satisfaction.

This article, however, is not about the babus’ penchant for “saving public money” by suggesting re-usable condoms. You can’t get the better of them by writing articles or returning your medals at rallies at Jantar Mantar in New Delhi. They know every Jantar and Mantar for keeping the armed forces essaying to get out from the maze they have put them in.

Admiral SM Nanda, the CNS with Mrs Indira Gandhi, the PM (direct access and not through the babus!)
Admiral SM Nanda, the CNS with Mrs Indira Gandhi, the PM (direct access and not through the babus!)

This article, on the other hand, is about how rich the armed forces personnel were. That they were and are rich in commitment, valour, values and patriotism is already an established fact with very few exceptions. This article is about their richness in money terms. I have taken me and family as test case since no officer in the armed forces would be as poor as I was when I served the armed forces of this great country.

Why did I choose to be poor? I had my anakh (Punjabi word meaning Pride or Honour) as a young man born in a Punjabi family wherein they would do anything to keep their anakh. I had seen my father exhibiting it in large measure when he married my mom. He won’t expect and accept a single paisa from anyone that included his parents and her parents. A self-made man, he boasted with loud guffaws that he was a king.

So, unconsciously, I followed his example, but went several steps ahead of him. As the train took me to the Naval Academy in Jun 1973, I decided that there won’t be a single occasion whence I would take anything in money or in kind from my parents. I was on my own and I became fiercely independent.

The Navy looked after all my needs. The highest pay that I got in the Navy was as a Midshipman, Acting Subaltern Lieutenant and then Lieutenant; that is all before the age of thirty. I could eat and drink merrily and have sufficient left over to see movies and buy me shirts from Charagh Din and other clothes from shops in Colaba; the kind I could never afford again during my remaining career in the Navy. What is more, we could afford to dine, once in a while, at restaurants like Delhi Durbar, Khyber, and in restaurants of Taj and Oberoi hotels. And then we had our clubs and messes that gave us a life-style that many were envious of.

We could also go abroad once in a while on ship visits and even whilst staying within the Custom regulations we could buy the latest in two-in-one music systems and cameras. Imported Canteen goods from ship-chandlers too gave us some social edge; imagine a girl being presented with Tosca perfume or Toblerone or Hershey’s chocolates during those days when not many in the civil-street could afford them.

Also, by better and more efficient use of the resources given to them, the armed forces’ messes looked plush, glamorous and could match the fare and atmosphere of five star hotels. The decorum and traditions in these messes would actually put them even beyond these hotels. On the occasions of Mess Nights, one felt like a king with the wives matching the deportment of royal families. I don’t remember many occasions when there was any lengthy and persistent talk about how poorly we were paid.

The average countrymen vied with one another to get a glimpse of the impeccably turned out men and women in uniform on the Republic Day at Rajpath. Those who had the privilege of having attended a naval function, for example, told of their experiences proudly in public fora and media.

A view of the RD Parade of 1951. Countrymen vying with one another to have a glimpse of the smartly turned out men in uniform (Pic courtesy: www.pinterest.com)
A view of the RD Parade of 1951. Countrymen vying with one another to have a glimpse of the smartly turned out men in uniform (Pic courtesy: www.pinterest.com)

On special occasions like Navy Ball, the elite of the city vied with one another to be seen in such functions; Navy was a way of life that was looked up to. An old time video of a Navy Ball shows the best film-stars and personalities in Hindi film industry attending the Navy Ball: Mohammad Rafi, Raj Kapoor, Raj Kumar, Rajendra Kumar, Vyjayanthimala, Nutan etc.

The first "Navy Day" on December 04 was celebrated in 1972. On this Day when the Navy dedicated itself anew to the service of the nation, the Army Postal Service Corps (56 APO) brought out a Special Cover to commemorate the Navy Day on 4 December 1972.
The first “Navy Day” on December 04 was celebrated in 1972.
On this Day when the Navy dedicated itself anew to the service of the nation, the Army Postal Service Corps (56 APO) brought out a Special Cover to commemorate the Navy Day on 4 December 1972.

The government had intended it to be so; so as to make the difficult, challenging and life-sacrificing profession of armed forces attractive for the youth of the country. It was an acknowledgement of the tough and risky lives that they led. The government voiced this in various fora and documents. No one had reckoned that the wily babu would not envy this life-style in the manner of the common countrymen; but, would like to bring it down to the level wherein armed forces personnel would have to beg and agitate for their rights and privileges.

PM Indira Gandhi with the crew of INS Vikrant, the ship that helped her win the 1971 War (Pic courtesy: Indian Express)
PM Indira Gandhi with the crew of INS Vikrant, the ship that helped her win the 1971 War (Pic courtesy: Indian Express)

Gradually, armed forces men fell down to tenth or beyond choice of eligible women for marriage. The babu laughed smugly. Gradually, everyone wanted to become a babu; leaving the profession of arms for the desperate, third-class, and less than ordinary men and women. The babu  patted himself on the back. Gradually, people seemed to forget that whilst we have the finest armed forces in the world, we also have one of world’s worst bureaucracy. The babu smiled with self-satisfaction. Gradually, the armed forces personnel returned their medals, sat on hunger-strikes, and were reduced to the dishonourable ways of the netas and the babus. The babu guffawed triumphantly and said, “Now, I have got them where I wanted them to be. They are as bad as the rest of us. I got fed up of listening to them being the saviours of the country.”

The babu won. The country lost.

THE YEAR 2222 AND NAVAL WARS

She liked the ring of the year 2222. Now that Hinglish had become the largest spoken language in the world, people in America, Germany, France and England and many other hitherto unheard of countries all spoke in Hinglish and ushered in the year 2222 with sounds of Bai Bai. The commentators on BBC and CNN channel had tough time reporting whether they were asking for Maid Maid or saying Good-bye to the year 2221. The commentator on IBC (Indian Broadcasting Corporation) Abdul Mahavir Singh however knew precisely why Bai Bai was important. Some three billion men in the most populous country in the world, India, had got fed up of household chores that their dominant wives subjected to day in and day out and were demanding Bai Bai, a title for a male or man-servant; the title having been chosen by women who felt that it required twice the man-servants to do a maid’s job.

Her name was Marilyn Zahida Singh; such names had come about by a decree of India’s Prime Minister Fatima Elizabeth Kumari. India had become the most secular country in the world; hence, all names of men and women above 18 years of age (the age for voting), by law, had to have names from at least three communities figuring in them. Indian politicians, the most secular of the lot, as always, had names as long as complete couplets of the 15th century mystic poet and saint Kabir. There was hardly any community or caste whose name was left out unless they were sure that such a community was redundant in the forthcoming 2222 elections for the 2222 seats (another importance of the Bai Bai year) of the People’s Gantantra Majlis (Names of Houses in Parliament had to follow the rule as given in the decree for names of people; indeed almost all names – say, of parks, monuments, schools, colleges – were to be likewise).

Marilyn sat in the park named after India’s great-lover-of-ahimsa Maulana Mohansingh Kipling Gandhi and thought how nice it would be if she had had a good husband like many of her friends in the Indian Kootnitik Bahria, a name adopted for the Indian Navy after it had become strategic with the induction of 22 or Bai (another importance of the year Bai Bai) nuclear submarines. Her husband Ravinder Pervez Stalin Ravi just sat at home and wrote his stupid blog whose spellings had changed in honour of the year Bai Bai and was now called Sun22anyname.

Marilyn Zahida Singh was an Admiral in the Navy having been given command of a coastal defence vessel Begum Ahilya Kaur. Abdul Vikram Singh Committee (Short title: AVSC) Part 22 (another importance of Bai Bai year) report had ensured that Rear Admiral was now the lowest rank in the Bahria and within a few years a person became Vice Admiral and then Admiral. The ranks after that were dependent upon the job requirement, eg, Admiral of the Minesweeping Squadron and Supreme Admiral of the IKB. Men had stopped going into the Navy as most of them were busy putting up anecdotes of early 21st century on a group called HIAOOU* when their grandfathers, great grandfathers and great great grandfathers were in the Navy. Nobody quite understood what the Chinese sounding name Hiaoou meant or stood for. But, amongst the members it had become a form of greeting, eg:

Member A: Hiaoou there!
Member B: Hiaoou to you too. Just loved your latest and original and very relevant story about the level of commitment amongst women in the United States Navy and another absolutely original one about buying a bicycle with a carrier or stand. (An “original” joke on HIAOOU was deemed to be the one which had been put up less than ten thousand times).

Sitting in the park, Admiral Marilyn Zahida Singh thought about whistling at two men going past; but then two things stopped her. One, People’s Gantantara Majlis had passed a new law on the Protection of Indian Aadmi against Sexual Harassment and Other Offences; and two, both looked straight ahead mortally scared of sideways glances in a predominantly female society. Even at that she would have whistled just to have some fun and also knowing that people from the armed forces didn’t have to follow laws; but, she remembered how her husband Ravinder had touched her feet in the morning when she left for work (Indian traditions, she felt were stupid and this two century old tradition of men touching the feet of their spouses had to be put a stop to; she was liberal minded and often talked about Men’s Emancipation and Empowerment of Men) and had entreated her not to flirt with men. She loved him and he was nice to kids. Despite Sun22anyname, he found time to cook and often made her favourite dish Sambhar very well.

Suddenly there was a beep on her 22G phone and the screen had the Admiral of the Eastern Fleet Lolita Rahim Das telling her, together with an inlay of the map of Indian Ocean, that Somali pirates (who had kept on increasing their area of operations) had attacked a Shipping Corporation of India vessel Subedar Major Hoshiyar Sajjid Turner, MVrC off the coast of Japan and she, Marilyn, should sail with despatch to be there. They already had the Mistress of the tanker on video conferencing call and she told the ship’s Mistress to await her arrival. The other SOPs for her appeared on the screen immediately.

She called the Pirate vessel and demanded video conferencing with the lead pirate. They insisted on texting only. She had no choice; you can’t dictate terms to pirates nearly four thousand miles away. At one stage she lost her kurta and called them SoBs when the pirates demanded 600 trillion rupees as ransom money (Rupee was now trading at only 1000 to a US Dollar after the new Indian PM Manmohan Fakhruddin Smith’s economic reforms, which had pulled the Rupee out of its worst ever 1669 to a US Dollar). At that time, she had no idea of the surprise that awaited her in this Global War on Piracy that was going for more than two centuries.

Marilyn quickly calculated that at her speed of 500 knots enabled by a miniaturised nuclear plant, it would take her nearly eight hours to reach off Japan; also taking into account that in her passage through Malacca Straits, she would have no choice but to reduce speed to less than 300 knots in keeping with the International Regulations about Safety of Navigation in Channels and Gulfs 2179. The regulation was already 43 years old and was due for revision since everybody knew that in some of the channels proceeding at such low speeds as 300 Knots was literally sailing into the hands of the pirates. But, China was stridently opposed to the amendment until the United States admitted that all vessels must keep clear of South China Sea since the Chinese had renamed it as Mao Lake and had claimed it as Internal Waters of China.

Begum Ahilya Kaur was equipped with the latest state-of-art laser guided Pepper Spray Missile Launchers and Marilyn had ensured that she always had the WWR of the ammo missiles on board to meet any contingency. These missiles could decapitate pirates at a range of nearly 300 miles. But, she knew that this time through she would have to launch the deadly missiles at closer range so that whilst incapacitating the women pirates, the Mistress of the merchant tanker and the crew would be protected against the ill effects of Pepper.

One of PSMs as seen by Admiral Marilyn Zahida Singh with her vessel in the background! (Pic courtesy: www.youtube.com)
One of PSMs as seen by Admiral Marilyn Zahida Singh with her vessel in the background!
(Pic courtesy: www.youtube.com)

There had been an international move to ban such biological agents as pepper spray missiles; but, women’s organisations (there were millions of such organisations on the earth; lately, the United Nations had changed its name to United Nations of Women) had nipped the move in the bud by pointing out that women had to suffer pepper in the kitchens for centuries and now that it had become a WMD or Weapon of Male Destruction, why couldn’t women have some fun?

The Coastal Defence Vessel Begum Ahilya Kaur sailed at 2222 hours on the night of 22 Feb 2222 and headed for the pirates. She spoke to her ship’s company of 22 women live on the secure video on their watches and explained the mission to them. There was general euphoria in the mess decks as the GoI permitted 22 per cent of the loot of the pirates to be shared amongst the ship’s company depending upon their rank. Marilyn wasn’t thinking of the loot; she had enough and she didn’t really crave material things. Last time she had got the IKB Medal 2 Bravo (Medals had become so many in the Indian Armed Forces that they were now merely numbered; the highest was 1 Alpha) for a Search And Rescue mission. Indeed, women easily had about a hundred to their credit within about 5 years of joining service. The rule was to wear specified ones on different days of the week. Still an IKB 1 Alpha was worth having. Marilyn dreamt that IKB 1 Alpha would soon be hers after teaching a lesson to Somali pirates off Japan. She thought of grabbing a few hours of shut-eye before facing the pirates. The sunrise was at 0422 hours and she would be less than a thousand miles from the pirate ship.

Satellite tracking was on and all the time giving the picture of the SCI tanker and the pirate vessel. Even at night, the thermal imaging camera pictures were of very good quality. On instructions from her, the Mistress of SCI ship had conveyed to pirates that there was a sudden machinery breakdown and engineers were working to get it right. On persistent queries from the pirates, she had told them that expected time of defect rectification would be about 0700 hrs next day. The pirate vessel was, therefore going round and round the merchant tanker. Marilyn knew that that made the task of using her lethal PSMs even more difficult. To be on the safe side she had asked the merchant tanker Mistress and crew to put on gas masks.

At 0520 hours she got up. At 0530 hrs, she sounded Action Stations. At 0545 hrs she brought down the speed to a comfortable 250 knots and gave order to bring the two PSM launchers to readiness State One. She momentarily closed her eyes and pictured IKB Medal 1 Alpha being pinned to the left hand top pocket of her tunic.

As soon as the pirate ship came within the range of laser optical device she trained it to have a look at the lead pilot. She froze. At first glance it looked like as if the pirate hadn’t had a haircut for a number of years. But then, when the pirate turned around, she saw him….nay, her. And this is what she saw:

(Pic courtesy: ooche813.blogspot.com)
(Pic courtesy: ooche813.blogspot.com)

Her dream of the medal drifted away. She rued that she had sailed nearly four thousand miles from home, all the effort put in, and finally it turned out to be a female pirate. Naturally, International Women’s Law, for which 222 countries were signatories, did not permit PSMs or Pepper Spray Missiles to be used against women.

Her hopes of another medal being pinned on her tunic lay in shambles. She closed her eye and saw the medal disappearing from her vision.

She opened her eyes and heard Ravinder telling her, “Lyn hurry up and pin my medals on the tunic; I am getting late for the divisions. And, please stop daydreaming; last time you pinned my name tally upside down and I had to stand drinks for everyone.”

As she hurried with the final touches on his tunic, she straightened the brass buttons; five in front and two on the epaulettes, she thought of Bai Bai year wistfully. Admiral Marilyn Zahida Singh my foot, she thought; it was more like civilian bearer Lyn and possibly Leading Cook First Class Lyn.

Bye bye, Bai Bai; she thought, you can’t dream too far ahead in time.

_______________________________________
*HIAOOU is a group on the Facebook and is expanded to: ‘Humour In And Out Of Uniform’.
Here is the Link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/faujihumour/

KUCHH TO HAI

कुछ नहीं भूला
कुछ नहीं खोया
कुछ था भी नहीं
कुछ है भी नहीं
ओस कि बूँद थी क्या
या उड़ता हुआ गुबार?
हवा के झोंके की
अपनी कोई हस्ती है क्या?
ख्वाब था
ख्वाब है
हमें अपनी खबर न थी
उन्हें मेरी खबर न थी
तिनकों के आशियाँ में
बस्ते थे हम, और अब
यादों के धुंदले साये में
अब और ठिकाना ढूँढ़ते हैं
ये धुएं के महल
ये गहरे अँधेरे
ये वीरान मरहले
ये हैं मेरे हमसफ़र
मेरे हमदर्द मेरे अपने
कौन छीनेगा इन्हे मुझसे?
शुक्र है तेरी मुहब्बत में
कुछ तो मिला है
कुछ तो बचा है

Smoke Plume

Kuchh nahin bhoola
Kuchh nahin khoya
Kuchh tha bhi nahin
Kuchh hai bhi nahin.
Ose ki boond thi kyaa
Ya udata hua gubaar?
Hawa ke jhonke ki
Apni koi hasti hai kyaa?
Khwaab tha
Khwaab hai
Hamen apni khabar na thi
Unhe meri khabar na thi.
Tinako ke aashiyaan mein
Baste the ham, aur ab hain
Yaadon ke dhundle sayon mein.
Ab aur dhikaana dhoondte hain
Ye dhuyen ke mahal
Ye gehre andhere
Ye viraan marhale.
Yehi hain mere hamsafar
Mere hamdard, mere apne.
Kaun chheenega inhen mujhase?
Shukr hai teri muhabbat main
Kuchh to apna mila hai
Kuchh to apna bacha hai.

CHALTA HAI – MOHAN RAM-BHAROSE

CHALTA HAI – MOHAN RAM-BHAROSE is Chalta Hai’s first attempt at movie making and is already being talked about as a potential Oscar winner. Here are some of the scenes that have already been shot (being an international movie, some of the dialogues are in English, whilst others are in Hindi; the ones which are in Punjabi have been deleted in order to avoid getting an ‘A’ Certificate for the movie):

Scene One: A warship has been wrecked and is seen going down in almost still waters (Sea State 1). The hero of the movie, a certain RR, (not to be confused with another Ram, eg, Raja Ram or with the expression “Ram Ram” (of ‘RR Satya Hai’ fame) is seen in sea-water clinging for dear life to a wooden grating along with his friend RS (Raavan Singh; he was christened as Ram Singh on birth, but, after he joined WATT, all the constructors led by one whose name has two Hindu gods strength, pronounced him as the most evil man on earth: Raavan).

AUSTRALIA-INDONESIA-SINGAPORE-MARITIME-RESCUE

RR (speaking from the memory of the most ‘intellectual’ books that he had read (written by René Goscinny and illustrated by Albert Uderzo): Shiver my timbers; what happened.

RS (as calmly as explaining A for Apple to a child): Our ship went down.

RR (Perplexed, similar to his hero Obelix): But, did we hit something?

RS: No.

RR (Seeking clarity): Did something hit us?

RS: No.

RR: (Getting that bolt from the blue): The Pakis? Jehadis? LeT? Al Qaeda? Indian Mujahideen? What then?

RS: (Furiously shaking his nut even though almost fully immersed in water) No, no, no, no….for Ram’s sake no. And don’t keep saying “What”; this Watt only got us into thick soup with all our friends. At last count it was 93 Likes, 1 Share and 46 obnoxious comments.

RR: (Losing his patience): But _____(Censored Being in Punjabi; in future: CBP) huaa kyaa?

RS: Nothing huaa Sir; the ship was as it is (Mohan) Ram bharose. Starts singing: “Yeh to hona hi thaa”.

Fadeout with gradually fading notes of the song Yeh to hona hi tha.

Scene Two: Shows an old man MR, wistfully remembering his best ship designs: paper-boats or kaagaz ki kashtiyan. This is the scene wherein the credits of the movie are flashed. The old man, in the background, is seen lowering some of his best ‘designs’ into the water. Gentle notes of Jagjit Singh’s ghazal accompany the credits:

Ye daulat bhi le lo,
Ye shauhrat bhi le lo,
Bhale chheen lo mujhase meri jawaani;
Magar mujhako lauta do
DND ka wo tenure
Wo kaagaz ki kashti
Wo baarish ka paani.

MR's ship design

Scene Three: Shows MR sitting in his office in DND with a huge map of the world. A freshman constructor walks in.

FC: What is with this huge map of the world, Sir?

MR: I am planning the next indigenous design of a navy ship.

FC (Scratching his head, admittedly a great pastime with NCs): I don’t understand what has an indigenous design got to do with the world map?

MR: You are new to the constructor branch. We have to cull the indigenous design from as many foreign countries as we can visit.

FC: But Sir you just finished visiting dozens of countries from Iran to England to Russia; indeed, the number of countries that you have visited is much more than any ship designed by you in a lifetime would visit. Indeed, in later life, if someone were to start a Humour In Uniform group, you would have more than enough to regale them endlessly with your tales of, say, sitting in a plane in Iran full of chickens or being treated as a royal guest by a German company director. Why do you want to visit more?

MR: You will not make a good NC if you keep questioning the need to visit foreign countries extensively in search of indigenous design. In any case, the last two dozen countries that I visited were in connection with Leander – nay – Giri class of ships’ indigenous design. Now I have to go abroad to inculcate the indigenous design for modified Leander – er, Godavari class of ships. Remember, every time I go abroad we get a huge fillip for indigenous design effort.

FC: Now I get it; I too want to get into indigenous designs. I always wanted to visit Scandinavian countries.

Scene fades with FC singing: zara haule haule chalo MR ji; ham bhi peechhe hain tumhaare.

Scene Four: Commissioning ceremony of INS Ganga by PM Shri Rajiv Gandhi. Ceremony over, the commissioning CO is having a party on the quarterdeck. Both the Fleet Commander and the CO are Punjabis. Hence, some of the dialogues are CBP.

Fleet Cdr: I say Kailash, have you seen your ship’s side? It is in the pits.

KKK: I know Sir, such large scale pits were not there either in the British ships or Russian ships.

Fleet Cdr: I believe you have very large free spaces but weapon and sensor spaces are cramped.

KKK: Yes Sir. It is a ______(CBP) pity.

Fleet Cdr: And on the radar you paint louder than a carrier.

KKK: Yes Sir.

Fleet Cdr: Whose ______ (CBP) design is this?

KKK: I am not sure Sir; but, they call it Mohan Ram Bharose design.

Fleet Cdr: Strange name! Why can’t they sail on their own designed ships?

KKK: I think they are hardly ever in India to do that!

Scene fades with the notes of: Hey Rome Rome mein basane waale Ram….

Cut to last scene.

Last Scene: Opening time of a famous mobike peddling shop in Bengaluru. The owner, known by his initials ‘MR’ as most south Indians are known, is saying his prayers with dhoop and agarbatti at a sandal-wood garlanded huge picture of Rajnikant. His wife has arrived there carrying his tiffin with his breakfast.

Wife: Why do you keep praying with dhoop to Rajnikant’s picture?

MR: Because I have the same qualities as him; no one can even dream of beating me. I am fast on the draw. Indeed, I am the fastest like my idol RK.

Wife (Glancing at the morning newspaper): Have you seen the headlines today; another ship designed by you when you were in the Navy has gone down.

MR (Quick on the draw as RK): I have already analysed it as I did with others:

One, ships are manned by nincompoops; for a ship meant for 300, the AHs in NHQ put 600.

Two, my designed ships older than just a few days should be retired. My guarantee of the ships is only about a week; excluding Sunday, that is.

Three, do you think these _____s (Not CBP but still censored!) know how to operate the ships.

Wife: But, why did they sink?

MR (takes out his calculator and does extensive calculations of whose results he writes on the side-lines of the same paper carrying the news about the ship sinking): See here, my stability calculations still hold good. It should never have sunk.

Wife (Remembering something from her primary class Hindi books): Abhi to jyun kaa tyun, kunbaa dooba kyun?

MR: Search me.

The scene fades with MR having pooja thali in one hand and a brass ghanti in the other and singing the ‘hymn’: Rajnikanta fool tumhaare, mehken youn constructor ban ke…..

And his wife singing: Ram teri Ganga maili ho gayi….

The End

And then a voice over: Kahin naa jayiye meharbaan; Chalta Hai abhi aur baaki hai dost.

Chalta Hai is a group on the Facebook with the following Link:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/ChaltaHaiJi/

You may like to join the group. Not convinced? Here are the recommendations:

sardar-singh-630

Bikram-Singh

manmohan-singh-614-3

Here is the Chalta Hai Anthem:

CHALTA HAI ANTHEM
[lineate][/lineate]Sab kuchh chalta hai,[lineate][/lineate]Sab kuchh chalta hai….[lineate][/lineate]Humour, jokes, poems, or cartoons,[lineate][/lineate]Nerds, naïve, saints or aflatoons,[lineate][/lineate]Sab kuchh chalta hai…[lineate][/lineate]
[lineate][/lineate]Original nahin to cut-paste karo,[lineate][/lineate]Apna aur sabaka time waste karo. Sab kuchh chalta hai…[lineate][/lineate]
[lineate][/lineate]Politics chalayo, desh bachayo,[lineate][/lineate]Shadi mandap main RaGa ko bithayo.[lineate][/lineate]Sab kuchh chalta hai…[lineate][/lineate]
[lineate][/lineate]Chahe Viraat Kohli maare sixer,[lineate][/lineate]Yaa kitchen mein chalu ho jaaye mixer.[lineate][/lineate]Sab kuchh chalta hai….[lineate][/lineate]
[lineate][/lineate]Desh hamaara banega beeg power,[lineate][/lineate] Khushiyon ka ho jaayegi shower.[lineate][/lineate] Sab kuchh chalta hai….[lineate][/lineate]
[lineate][/lineate]Traffic mein ham rehte hain # One,[lineate][/lineate]Accidents for us is great fun;[lineate][/lineate]Sab kuchh chalta hai….[lineate][/lineate]
[lineate][/lineate]Ghar mein ham karte nahin kaam,[lineate][/lineate]Office mein to aaraam hi aaraam.[lineate][/lineate]Sab kuchh chalta hai…[lineate][/lineate]
[lineate][/lineate]Trains and flights are never on time,[lineate][/lineate]To be honest and upright is a crime.[lineate][/lineate]Sab kuchh chalta hai….[lineate][/lineate]
[lineate][/lineate]Rishwat khori hai way of life,[lineate][/lineate]Moonh mein Ram Ram, bagal mein knife.[lineate][/lineate] Sab kuchh chalta hai, mere bhai,[lineate][/lineate]Sab kuchh chalta hai[lineate][/lineate]

 

Disclaimer: All characters in the above screen play are fictional and bear no resemblance to any person living or….well, living.

GUNNERS TOO ARE HUMAN – PART IV – FREE-LOADING GUNS

So you have finished reading Parts I to III of this serialised post (If not, read ‘Gunners Too Are Human – Part I’, ‘Gunners Too Are Human – Part II’ and ‘Gunners Too Are Human – Part III’) and are now ready for Part IV? Well, fasten your seat belts; here goes:

I don’t know if it has changed now; but, during our times, Gunnery Officers also used to be responsible for ceremonials. Hence, somehow, ceremonies used to get into their veins. Everything was to be done with great pomp and show. C-in-C West was retiring and the Fleet was to sail for giving him a befitting farewell. A mass briefing was held at the Fleet Office and FGO was given the responsibility of explaining the finer points of all the ceremonies and accompanying manoeuvres. He and his team had prepared one chart after the other and all these were being explained with a large pointer. All of these were also parts of WFXP or Western Fleet Exercise Programme (as annexures). I hadn’t understood some of the stuff. As I mentioned in one of my earlier posts about Gunners, clarity at either end is what the Gunner likes the most. But, now, as I looked around, I noticed that one entire end wasn’t clear at all. Finally, one of the senior COs could not resist blurting out, “FGO, if you have finished making us totally confused about these manoeuvres, may we now go back to the ships and try to figure these out by ourselves?”

My Officer-in-Charge in Trials Team for acceptance of weapons and sensors in the Navy, however, was very clear about a few things: One was that he never diluted the role of his team, ie, WATT (B). He was very quick on the uptake and quickly grasped the crux of most problems without wasting much time brooding over these. Two, he enjoyed life like a true Gunner and here too he was quick on the uptake of a different kind. So whilst late Lieutenant Joy Banerjee (Trials Officer (Gunnery)) busied himself with trials of guns and associated radars and fire-control systems, our OiC looked forward to taking direct charge of these trials on Make-and-Mend days (Wednesdays and Saturdays when the navy used to have half days in a six days week). And, he made sure that his direct intervention would be just before 12:30 P.M. when most wardrooms would have PLD or Pre Lunch Drinks (PLD is a naval invention for which the Army and the Air Force do not have equivalents).

Indeed, under his active leadership as a true gunner, there was hardly any occasion of a gin-pennant being hoisted by any ship, craft or submarine in harbour, that we hadn’t made use of. (When an officer gets promoted or obtains an honour, he hoists a gin pennant on the mast to hurriedly invite all those who can see it; once again a naval tradition). The gin pennant looks like this:

In the Indian Navy, the gin goblet or glass is missing and we merely hoist the Stbd (starboard) pennant, ie, Gin Pennant without the glass.
In the Indian Navy, the gin goblet or glass is missing and we merely hoist the Stbd (starboard) pennant, ie, Gin Pennant without the glass.

One day, Joy reported to the Officer-in-Charge the result of his trials on the 4.5 inch twin gun of a Leander class frigate. The OiC said to remind him on Saturday morning. Meanwhile, I had done trials of their Electronic Warfare equipment and I too reported to him. He told me the same as he told Joy.

We reported the deficiencies to him on Saturday morning and he said we must visit the ship and help her get over these deficiencies. That afternoon, Joy (even though a Gunner himself) and I had made up our minds that we would be the road block in our OiC’s pathway to happiness at someone’s expense. Anyway, first we visited the EW compartment and then all the gun positions and Joy and I kept suggesting the ways to get over the anomalies. Suddenly when the OiC suggested that we could go somewhere where we could sit across the table (!) for better comprehension of the GO and EWO of the Leander, we knew it was time for us to intervene. Now, everybody would know that he was suggesting the wardroom where Heineken would soon start flowing. So, Joy and I pretended that we had left our Trial Diaries, by mistake (!) in the office and that we would visit the ship later to brief and counsel them.

The OiC, therefore, had no choice but to follow us to the gangway to beat a hasty retreat. However, here like Jeffrey Archer’s famous book, there was a twist in the tale. As we reached the gangway, we found that the brow had been removed for crane movement to load missiles on a Durg. Enquiry from the OOD revealed that it would be quite some time before the brow would be put back.

We announced for the GO and had no choice but to descend to the wardroom. The sweet click sounds of Heineken cans opening was music to our OiC’s ears. The ship’s Gunnery Officer learnt a lot that afternoon about not just 4.5 inch gun but all his weapons including small arms. The Gunnery Trials Officer, Joy Banerjee was much sobered after guzzling each can of the brew. And, your truly learnt a lesson for life: there is no such thing as an unlucky Gunner. Much before Paulo Coelho came on the scene, Gunners knew that if you are determined to get your heart’s desire, the elements conspire to make it happen.

P.S. I met him after a span of nearly 30 years recently and found that he had given up drinking altogether.

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