WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Like Keats’ quote about Beauty being his most famous quote, similarly, the most famous quote of William Shakespeare, the 16th century poet and playwright (the greatest in English literature) is:

“What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”

It was in his most famous play: Romeo and Juliet.

Neither Keats nor Shakespeare served in the armed forces. If they had, they would have known that any discussion on names is Much Ado About Nothing or in simpler (armed forces) words: Just hot gas.

After retirement, I met many a sailor, especially when I had to interview them about jobs in Reliance (wherein I had a job myself). They would tell me about the ships that they served on. In order to get the dates right, frequently I would ask them about the names of their Captains. Guess what? Most of them would remember their Captains as “Captains” and tell me many things about him, except the name; eg, “Our Captain was a very kadak (tough) man but, Sir, dil bahut hi saaf (Very clear heart)”. With that description, they would hope that I would know who he was. Bill Shakespeare would have probably called it ‘Comedy of Errors’, but, I having similar background as the sailors, straightway understood.

You fondly remember many people in the armed forces not by the names their parents gave but how you called them when you served with them. For sailors, a Captain is a God and you don’t start calling God names!

As Signal Communication Officer, the first ship I served on was INS Talwar (the old Whitby class anti-submarine frigate that we had got from the British but later converted by Indian innovation (jugaad) into an SSM (Ship to Ship Missiles) capable platform by retrofitting four P15 missiles from the OSA-M missile boats (the ones that attacked Karachi on 04 Dec 1971 in the most daring surprise attack anywhere in the world) on to the ship).

Ship’s Engineer Officers are called EOs on smaller ships (frigates and below) and Cdr Es on larger ships (destroyers and above). EO, on a ship, is normally assisted by a relatively junior engineering officer called ‘Senior Engineer’, affectionately referred to as ‘Senior’. ‘Senior’ is generally the officer who you would call for various reasons ranging from ‘ship making black smoke’ (not healthy for engines as well as a give-away) to ‘fresh water having not been opened in bathrooms even for ten minutes’.

We had this ‘Senior’ on board, who, after leaving the ship, got transferred to New Delhi. He was even more affectionate than most. I was going to pass through New Delhi during my next leave and hence planned to meet him there. I told him on the phone (landline) my arrival details. He, of course, came to receive me at the railway station and we went to his house.

Dinner was to be late (when two former shipmates meet, dinner has to be late in order to give Hercules XXX Rum a chance; else, it goes waste and armed forces can ill afford wasteful expenditure of anything). All throughout, I kept calling him ‘Senior’.

At about midnight, when the rum-to-blood level, in our bodies, was suitably restored to our former days, ‘Senior’ had a brain wave and asked me, “Sir, I left Talwar more than seven months ago. Why are you still calling me ‘Senior’? You can call me by my name now”.

I was startled. I thought and thought and thought and was surprised that ‘Senior’ wasn’t his ‘actual name’ and then told him the truth, “But, ‘Senior’, I don’t really recall your name.”

By that time, we were called by his wife for dinner.

Next day, he drove me to the railway station (to catch my onward train to Kalka) and when the train was about to leave, he handed me a slip of paper. I opened the slip and there it was, his name: SK Sharma!

A SHIP NAMED AFTER INDIA’S HOLIEST RIVER

This was published in the Navy Foundation Magazine ‘Quarterdeck’ 2014.

Bimal Roy’s 1961 movie ‘Kabuliwala’ had its story adapted from a story by the same name by Nobel Laureate Rabindra Nath Tagore. The movie was directed by Hemen Gupta who had been private secretary to Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose. The movie had a famous number sung by Hemant Kumar: Ganga aaye kahan se, Ganga jaaye kahan re. Families of the commissioning crew of the second of the Godavari class (modified Leander class) ships, named after India’s holiest river, INS Ganga, must have sung the opening lines of this song many times during the one and a half years after commissioning that I remained on board as Signal Communication Officer.

Ganga was in a hurry everywhere, even to be commissioned. Normally, ships of a class follow their pennant numbers sequentially from the first one of the class. But, Ganga would have none of it. After F20, Godavari, it suddenly overshot F21, Gomati and got commissioned as F22 on 30th December 1985.

Visiting a ship before commissioning fills you with strange feelings. We used to visit her regularly at Mazagon Docks. A ship being commissioned is not unlike a baby being born; gradually it takes shape in its mother’s womb, the yard, and then slowly starts kicking around. For me it was a prolonged association with the Godavari class since I was a part of her Trials Team at WATT (B) (Weapon Acceptance And Trials Team (Bombay)) and undertook the trials of communication and electronic warfare compartments, and harbour and sea trials of the equipment. The CO designate, Captain KK Kohli, wanted the ASW Officer MS Shekhawat and I to continue in WATT as long as possible and we undertook most of our own trials and ensured we got the best. We even put through some much needed modifications.

But the comparison to a new born baby ceases a few days before commissioning. It now becomes like the rehearsal of a play. I have directed and acted in a few and hence I am aware that on the night before the final staging, you can’t believe you have finally got the act together. Similarly, in our case, we were to be commissioned by the Prime Minister Shri Rajiv Gandhi on the 30th Dec 1985. On the night of 29th/30th Dec, we couldn’t believe Ganga would finally be commissioned the next day. There were cables lying around, last minute painting to be done, woodwork wasn’t yet over and there was dust, confusion and overalled men everywhere.

However, came the dawn of 30th and everything was suddenly ship-shape: the brass gleamed, the floors were waxed and shining, and there was sudden freshness and neatness around. On the morning of 30th, as I reached on board in ceremonial rig, I felt that the ship was, in this respect too, exactly like the holy river Ganga: it remains holy and sacred, hiding in its depth all that’s thrown in it.

This was the second ship after Godavari whose commissioning I watched at close quarters. For men in uniform, commissioning signifies the transformation of the ship from mere skeleton and flesh put together by the Yard to having its heart and soul put into it by the men who are going to have it as a second home, sail on her and take her the harm’s way.

This distinction is as curious as it is fascinating. The men who build the ship work under challenging conditions. One slip by them in, say, welding, can result into serious incidents and fatalities. They too have a sense of belongingness with the ship over (in our case) years of pre-commissioning period; a period when there is no power, no air-conditioning, no water, no order and nothing good to look at. And yet, as soon as the ship is commissioned, we tend to forget them and reason it out with ourselves that the ship didn’t belong to those “uncouth”, “grimy”, “paan-chewing” and “bidi-smoking” workers and supervisors.

I was much younger then, restless and impatient and admittedly didn’t have these emotions that I have now. But, later, when I commanded INS Aditya, the Fleet tanker, as the second Commanding Officer, I sailed her to GRSE (Garden Reach Shipbuilders and Engineers) for her GRDD (Guarantee Repairs and Dry Docking). As we approached the berth in the Yard, the entire workforce that had built the ship and commissioned it just about a year ago watched her on her homecoming from all nooks and corners of the Yard. Many of the ordinary workers and foremen visited the ship so as to share in the pride of having built the longest ship (172 metres) that could negotiate the Hoogly river.

Returning to Ganga’s commissioning, after the commissioning warrant was read out by the Captain and the ship’s commissioning pendant, national flag and naval ensign broke out, we stepped on board and felt that now she was she, a living being, pulsating with the power of machinery and weapons. The Indian designers had done wonders; she was the second ship of her tonnage (3600 tons of standard displacement) to carry two large Seaking 42B Helicopters on board that gave her tremendous advantage in ASW and anti-ship warfare. The ship was fitted with the latest and wholly indigenous Composite Communication System (CCS), a feather in the cap of Bharat Electronics and indigenous APSOH Sonar. It was the first ship in the Indian Navy to have Selenia IPN 10 Combat Data System as also INMARSAT. Together with its weapons of four P22 anti-ship missile launchers, one OSA-M SAM launcher, two 57mm anti-ship, anti-shore twin guns, two ILAS3 triple launchers for A244S ASW torpedoes, and four AK230 AA guns, it carried a deadly punch. We felt proud to step on board.

As the Captain escorted the Prime Minister for a walk around the ship, we were closed up on the equipment in our compartments. I was on INS3, the latest Electronic Warfare system from Selenia, Italy. My heart-beats were increasing as Shri Rajiv Gandhi approached the EW Compartment on the back of the Ops Room. I briefly explained the equipment to him and even after nearly three decades, I still remember the question he asked me, “Can it detect and jam frequency-agile radars?” All of us were used to the perception of our political leaders not knowing anything much about matters of defense. But, here, we had a PM, who asked a most relevant question about a complex electronic system. After the morning commissioning ceremony my chest was already bursting with pride. After hearing his question, it literally ballooned.

After the PM and VIPs and other visitors left, finally we had the ship to ourselves. The Commanding Officer brought his old mother on board and took a picture with her; there was a combined picture of the commissioning crew. By evening when we had the commissioning cocktails on board, we already had the sense of ownership.

The Prime Minister’s association with the ship didn’t end there. One year later, we took him and Smt. Sonia Gandhi for their visit to the Andaman & Nicobar islands. They also visited and interacted with the officers in the wardroom and the sailors on the quarterdeck. Ganga’s helo-deck accomplished a record number of helicopter sorties during their visit.

I still remember, the first sortie by Seaking that the PM and Smt. Sonia Gandhi took. She was at his arm all the time as a shy wife. Before going in, one of the crew gave them the Mae Wests to wear. Shri Rajiv Gandhi dutifully donned his but Smt. Sonia Gandhi declined, came closer to him and said, “He is my life-saver; I shall cling to him.”

Now, many years later, when lots of water has flown in its namesake, the holiest of the rivers, Ganga; operations and exercises that she has participated in, foreign shores that she has touched, I still remember the first time we sailed on her, when she was still not commissioned. In the afternoon, when I came down for lunch (to be had from a cardboard box), there was frantic announcements for me to come up on the bridge. When I finally ran up, panting, the CO asked me how much time it would take me to learn Greek. I told him that my brother was learning Latin and got a smattering of it in about two months. Greek, I told him would be even tougher and may take at least three months. “Ah” he told me, “You mean to say that it would take us three months time to understand the signal our Signal Yeoman has received from Rajput on the Signaling Light.”

I marveled at the fast one that he had pulled on me. But, we also knew the task at hand. We toiled and sweated in the next few months to make hers one of the finest ship’s companies in the Fleet. The ship named after India’s holiest rivers soon became one of the best in the Fleet and we felt proud to be so named on commissioning.

CHEST PAIN!

When I was a Lieutenant (another common-sounding rank with the Army and hence eligible to be called ‘Lieutenant (I.N.)’ by them (Please read ‘Captain (I.N.), Is It A Rank?’), I once reported with Chest Pain after playing a game of squash racquets. I was in an establishment called INS Agrani (Navy’s Leadership School for Petty Officers), in Coimbatore. I reported to the No. 6 Air Force Hospital there (as I go along, you will see how mine was a totally tri-service experience). I had assumed, with my ignorance-is-bliss-attitude that chest pain was like any other pain; eg, pain in the throat, leg, hip, arm and head. Little did I know that docs, friends and relatives go into a tizzy as soon as you utter the words chest pain. Before you can say anything else, Medical Specialists and Cardiologists take positions around you like fielders in the slips in a cricket match; telling you how you should reduce stress levels, how to put a pillow under your head and how to take life easy and just as it comes.

After I survived the first onslaught by the concerned docs, I was sent on sick leave to my home station Shimla in a medical category so low that one had to be on one’s knees to find the ruddy category.

Anyway, Shimla’s Military Hospital, at that time, didn’t have a qualified cardiologist (apparently people in hill stations have very sturdy hearts) and at the end of my leave I was asked to report to Army Hospital, Delhi Cantt for my re-categorization.

This was the biggest eye-opener experience for me. The Medical Ward was full of officers who had reported with Chest Pain. I learnt that all of them were getting their houses made in NOIDA and reporting with Chest Pain ensured free boarding and lodging in Delhi. The docs in the Army Hospital were following a don’t-trouble-us-and-we-shall-do-likewise policy. Officer-patients at night would tell grateful tales (for me horrid tales in my condition) of how they had stayed there for months without being seen by a doctor.

Chest pain ensuring free boarding and lodging

I made a lot of noise and Colonel D (I better not give the full name), the Cardiologist, agreed to see me on the next day of my reporting to the hospital. In the hospital, I discovered that even Brigadiers and Generals were scared of him and waited patiently outside his clinic cum office for hours altogether. If Colonel D would get annoyed, he could spoil an officer’s otherwise brilliant future by finding something wrong with his ECG or worse, a murmur in his heart.

After being sobered by such tales, I entered his office with trepidation and he asked me to bare the upper part of my body and lie on an examination table behind a screen. One Medical Assistant came and put jelly at various spots on my chest and after that went through the process of attaching the leads of the ECG at the jellied spots. These kept coming off as I breathed in and out; the breathing having become harder with the scare of the procedure and anxiety about the outcome.

Anyway, I maintained my calm with the visions of my Medical Category finally rising to its original lofty height. Just at the time when the MA was going to call Colonel D to have a look at me, some docs entered the room with reams and reams of ECGs.

Colonel D enquired from them if these were the ECGs of a very sick patient Subedar Swaran Singh. Through the slits in the screen I noticed that they all nodded agreement.

Colonel D took the first ECG and said, “I see some improvement from the last one.” At this they gave him more and more ECGs and he nodded encouragingly that the patient’s condition was indeed improving. Finally, when they finished showing him the last one, Col D enquired, “So, how’s the patient now?”

At this, one of them solemnly said, “Sir, the patient died this morning; we are still trying to figure out why.”

My breathing stopped altogether. For once the ECG leads on my chest stood their position and stopped falling off.

Epilogue: I got my category of a healthy young man after undergoing several tests such as TMT and sitting in a Decompression Chamber. I continued having a T-inversion in my ECG all throughout my life and even now. However, I cannot tell you enough how mortified I was that I would have suddenly improved ECG like Swaran Singh, and then conk off without anyone knowing why.

REMEMBERING MY TENURES IN MWCs AND CNW

This was published in the Navy Foundation Magazine ‘Quarterdeck’, 2015 issue:

I have had the rare distinction, in the Indian Navy, of having been the Director of all three Maritime Warfare Centres (MWCs) and the College of Naval Warfare (CNW; now NWC or Naval War College). To the best of my knowledge, the Navy hasn’t had another officer who was given all these appointments together. If I count the time I spent in Spain for writing the operational specifications of Action Speed Tactical Trainer (Vizag), a little more than one-fourth of my time in the Navy has been spent in training others in tactics, operations and strategy.

Until the time I left the Navy in end Feb 2010, with the exception of two officers: VAdm SCS Bangara and VAdm P Chauhan, no one commanding these operational training units in the Western Naval Command (the sword arm of the Navy as we fondly call it) ever made it to their next ranks (indeed, these two officers too made to their next ranks in spite of being posted there and not because of it). However, these institutes continue to do yeoman service to the professional upbringing of officers of the executive branch.

My repeated tenures in MWCs reminded me of this classical violinist giving a solo-performance on stage. Every time he finished, someone from the audience shouted: Encore and so the violinist played the piece again. After these encores happened a number of times, the exasperated violinist shouted back, “Encore, encore, encore; just how many times you want me to re-play the piece?” At this, one man in the audience shot back, “Until you get it right”. I don’t know whether I finally got it right or not, but, after Feb 2010, I did not hear any more encores.

Why Tactical Trainers? The fact is that it is really very expensive being at sea; it is much costlier training at sea. When I was the Ship’s Commander of the aircraft carrier Viraat, a quick calculation brought home the point to me that it was costing the nation Rupees Two Crores a day to have her at sea. If we now start adding to it other costs such as for having other ships, aircraft and submarines at sea, and the cost of missiles and other ammunition, one would know the extent of how really expensive it is. And if now we add to these figures the cost of mistakes including lives that may be lost due to such mistakes, we come up with costs that are simply forbidding. Tactical Trainers are, therefore, excellent and very cost-effective alternatives to going to sea. General Patton’s “The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war” aptly sums up the rationale of the Tactical Trainers; indeed, that was the motto of one of the MWCs I commanded, written in large letters above the Large Scale Display (LSD).

In Vizag’s ASTT (Action Speed Tactical Trainer) and MWC (Mumbai), I was able to sell the idea to the Fleet Commanders and their staff to even try out their FXPs (Fleet Exercise Programmes) in the Tactical Trainer with the Ship’s command teams before proceeding to sea so that precious time at sea won’t be wasted on such signals as ‘Where are you going?’ and ‘Read Back your station’. The FXPs could then concentrate on more professional aspects.

Maritime Warfare Centre (Vizag) was the first of the MWCs I was the Director of on my return from Spain where I helped to develop the system (It was known as ASTT (V) or Action Speed Tactical Trainer (Vizag) then).

MWCs conduct training and games at varied levels: from the operators level to the highest operational level as in Shiksha series. Games for operators are generally procedural including communication procedures.

A major tactical game between Blue and Red normally takes about two days of setting up and testing. A typical game starts with briefings by Blue and Red OsTC (Officers in Tactical Command) of their respective forces. The MWC staff would normally not interfere with the concepts and tactics being tried out. However, they would assist in verifying the soundness of plans and their conformity with existing concepts and tactics.

Control Room of MWC (Mumbai). Control Room is at the rear end of the auditorium.

When the ships’ command teams with their operators occupy the cubicles allotted to them, the MWC Control Team begins the game. MWC Control Team is forever concerned about progressing the game in such a way so that not only the conops and tactics as planned are tried out but also that appropriate lessons are learnt. Hence, they would run the game at various speeds (including 16 times normal speed) and also jump to pre-defined game times. Often the actual encounter or engagement between the forces is not as significant as the actions and events leading up to it. Sometimes, a game is frozen to give the OsTC chance to re-appreciate the situation.

A common debrief is held at the end of the game. As the game is replayed for the benefit of the forces, screen shots are presented of important situations and the Control and forces can exchange views on what, where, how and why of situations. MWCs have Subject Matter Experts (SMEs) on every field and they guide and advise the Command Teams on desired improvements and lessons learnt.

A debrief in progress in MWC (Mumbai). Don’t think I am sleeping; I am praying that all would go well!

MWCs are also employed for analyzing, briefings and debriefings of major exercises such as SPRINGEX, SUMMEREX and TROPEX. All the tracks of all units taking part in the exercise – ships, aircraft and submarines – are reproduced on ASTT as per the reports received from the units and all encounters and engagements are analysed. The hot wash-ups and debriefs of these exercises often comprise big-wigs from Naval and Command Headquarters. These are very challenging tasks for the MWC staff as often the time available after all narratives and tracks arrive is not more than 36 hours before a hot wash-up is held. On the morning of the debrief you stand at the podium bleary-eyed and fatigued but satisfied as a cow who has been milked for enormous quantities. The trick, during the debriefs, is not just to keep yourself awake but also to keep everybody’s attention through clever use of humour and even apt cartoons so that desired lessons learnt will sink in with alacrity. MWC staff has to also keep strict impartiality and objectivity. One has to also keep the auditorium cool since heated discussions often follow the debrief by MWC.

In one of the exercises, curiously, a major ship of Red force, insisted that they had not only detected Viraat (of the opposite Blue force) on radar but had visually sighted it (“clear lower decks was sounded and the entire ship’s company saw Viraat”) when Viraat was as many as 380 nautical miles away. Even after the tracks were shown, the ship insisted that they had seen Viraat. Then there was another time when a ship, in her narrative, single-handedly demolished the complete opposite fleet whereas our analysis showed that she came nowhere near engagement ranges.

Incidents like these are fascinating enough to conclude that there are many who like to do during debriefs what they couldn’t do at sea.

I also endeavoured to help utilize MWCs for limited war-gaming of new concepts and tactics either thought about by MWC staff or by INTEG (Indian Naval Tactical Evaluation Group). During my tenures we did considerable brainstorming and used to not only question the validity of old tactics and concepts but also come up with new ones. One of our recommended concepts was later adopted by the Fleet as viable concept and changed the way we looked at carrier formations. This made us very happy and satisfied. Another significant paper of MWC (MB) was presented in the Commander’s Conference, accepted and approved in totality and that’s how the Indian Navy started with the institution of a Doctrine and Concept organization called MDCC (Maritime Doctrine and Concept Centre) under the FODC (Flag Officer Doctrines and Concepts). We at MWC felt proud that a concept devised by us was adopted navy-wide.

Since MWCs have large auditoria to seat about 120 to 140, these were also utilized to host visiting dignitaries of India and abroad. We learnt a lot from these interactions, whether it was debriefs of Malabar series of exercises with the US Navy or even with the PLA (Navy) Chief Admiral Wu Shengli. The latter helped me in having a most successful visit of the NHCC (Naval Higher Command Course), when I was director, CNW to China (the first of its kind ever).

That brings me to my tenure in CNW (the College of Naval Warfare). I was there as a Director for nearly three years before my retirement. I had decided, on joining, to raise the level of training (of mainly operational art and strategy) by a few notches. This is despite not having even one fourth of the officers as directing staff. To give you a feel of how scarce the staff was, I am reminded of the visit of Lieutenant General Mohanty, the then Commandant of Army War College (at Mhow, MP). He said that he had heard a lot of the quality of training at CNW and wanted to visit and see for himself. As his car arrived at the portico, two of my officers (from the executive branch) stood next to me to receive him. Later, whilst having coffee with me in my office, he expressed a desire to “meet the rest of your officers”. When I told him that there was no “rest” and had seen them all at the portico, he nearly fainted out of disbelief. Between one DS (the other being a sort of XO) and me we managed the complete NHCC and never made the student officers feel they were was anything wanting. We conducted seminars, panel discussions and invited the very best to deliver talks to them including Ambassadors and even the former President Dr APJ Abdul Kalam.

Student officers of Naval Higher Command Course enacting a parody of Peloponnesian War during an Alumni Meet

During my tenure we introduced the study of the Peloponnesian War for the NHCC. I invited former Navy Chief Admiral Arun Prakash to deliver a talk to the officers on the War (of course before all talks, the officers are prepared to receive these talks appropriately through self-study, presentations between themselves and by the DSs (in this case me and one more). A few days before Admiral’s talk, I met him in Varuna Mess in New Delhi. He was re-reading books on Peloponnesian War that he had last read when he was a student at NWC, USA. He said having a smattering of the subject was one thing but facing bright students of the rank of Captain (and equivalents in the Army, IAF and CG) required in-depth study. When he delivered his talk, the extent of his preparation was evident. I saw Deputy Chiefs, Fleet Commanders and other senior officers arriving at CNW to deliver talks with assiduous preparation. I think that’s the real strength of this fine institute of highest training in the Navy; the felt need by senior hierarchy to prepare the officers for higher responsibilities.

It was extremely satisfying to get the feedback from the students after leaving CNW. I met one of them in Naval War College, Rhode Islands, USA, when I accompanied the CNS for the Sea Power Symposium there. He was undergoing the Naval Command Course there and he openly admitted that he learnt more and better at CNW than there. Another former student phoned me after completing his NDC (National Defence College) course and told me with pride that he conveyed to the Commandant of NDC that the level and quality of speakers at CNW was much higher than even at NDC.

With the resources (including officer manpower) that we had, it was a tough going both in MWCs and CNW. However, the best reward that you ever get is accolades like these from those that you helped train. These are enough to last a lifetime considering that – as the saying goes – men give their lives in battle for merely two inches of ribbon.

ADIEU PATRICK DESYLVA – MY DOCTOR, FRIEND AND AN ANGEL

Even though I am married to a Catholic, I never considered 13 to be an unlucky number. From now onwards, I have reason to hold it as an unfortunate day. For it is on this day in this month (February) that I lost my doctor, friend and God’s own angel on earth: Patrick DeSylva. He was (it is difficult to think of him in the past tense) special – very special – and it was shocking to get the news on last Monday evening that God wanted Patrick to be nearer to Him than we wanted him.

My Association with Him

They say that people come into your life for a reason. Long back I was convinced that Patrick (Paddy as some of us called him) came into my life to prove to me that whilst I thought God was unkind to me for having given me a life-long disease Psoriasis, He was most kind by giving me an outstandingly reliable doctor, guide and advisor whom, on one plane I could hold affectionately as a friend and on another plane look up to him almost as a saint sent on earth by God to do His work (If you see his picture above with the wax statue of Mahatma Gandhi when he, Patricia and Rohit (wife and son) visited Hongkong in May 2012, it would not be surprising to see more than slight resemblance). Patrick was indeed Mahatma to all his patients. Desylva was his surname; it could have been Nightingale, for, even as a very senior doctor in the Navy’s Hospital in Mumbai, Asvini, he would personally attend to patients’ (both officers and sailors) lesions and other skin afflictions.

I became his patient in 1994 when I was second-in-command on INS Viraat. His clinic was in the old building next to the gate. He was a Surgeon Lieutenant Commander at that time. It was the first time I had seen such large crowds of patients waiting. Later, I was to know that even if there were other dermatologists, people preferred to wait for him to see them. He took cuttings of my nails to rule out fungal growth and asked me to carry out an RA Factor Test to rule out Rheumatism and soon he diagnosed it as Psoriasis with Arthropathy.

As I saw more and more of him, I was to realise that despite the shock of my life-long affliction, God had compensated me by giving me the best doctor ever. His presence, his talking to me and his prescribing medicines and advice to me, all were always reassuring. In nearly two decades of my being with him (though I kept getting transferred all over and he too did the same), there were many instances when, however busy he was, I went to see him just to be reassured and not to obtain any medicines or treatment. He probably knew it but never looked edgy or gave me less importance. And, later when I compared notes, I found that there were hundreds with whom he was into such arrangement.

Amongst many memories of his, I shall take out two, just to tell you what sort of doctor he was. In the year 1995, I got my first attack of Urticaria (Hives). I drove to Asvini, at night, for emergency treatment. He was not even on duty; but, within no time he was there attending to me. It is as if he had left a word that he should be called for any of his patients.

The second incident is even more poignant for me. When Patrick’s own condition deteriorated, which finally led to his demise (it was sometime in 2009-10 that he was diagnosed with Parkinson Disease), I had to start seeing another dermatologist. However, three years ago, when I was admitted to Asvini for severe gastritis, I found him visiting me at my bedside having been brought there on a wheel-chair. Whilst I talked to me, he stared somewhere at a distance. However, at one point there was a flicker of recognition. Little did I know that that would be the last flicker of recognition that I would see in him.

Patrick’s Career

Patrick was born on 17th March 1955. Coincidentally, Patricia (Puttu), his wife also has birthday on the same date. He was a student of St Theresa High School, Bandra from Jun 1960 to Apr 1971. He joined St Xavier’s College in June 1971 for BSc (Chem) (Honours) and graduated in Oct 1975. Soon thereafter, he got selected for Army Medical Corps (AMC) and graduated from AFMC (Armed Forces Medical College, Pune) Grad School in June 1980. He specialised in Dermatology thereafter and that’s how I saw him from 1994 onwards. Patrick was so fond of his AFMC roots that he never forgot to wish his colleagues and friends from there on the AFMC Day on 04 August. And this continued even after his Parkinson Disease (PD) had progressed extensively. He retired as a Surgeon Commodore. I was waiting to see him as a Commodore. But, sadly, PD came along and put a sudden end to his career and life. We all have to bow to God’s will. However, one still fails to understand why God would give Parkinson to someone like him. All of us entertained fervent hopes of Patrick’s full recovery. Here is what a friend, Glen Ferro, wrote to him on FB on 30th Mar 2016: “Hey Paddy. Have been meaning to talk with you and share my written testimony with you. God healed me of CANCER- NHL 3rd stage high grade diagnosed in 2007.
If you sms or WhatsApp or post me your email address I could send you the soft copy. If HE did it for me HE can do it for you. Godbless.” Alas.

Personal and Family Life

Patrick’s is a very closely knit and private family and I have Patricia’s permission to intrude and share a few photographs, when I told her that without this my tribute for him won’t be complete. I must begin by acknowledging that Puttu always stood by him in this entire period of trial that God made them go through. I have seen them occasionally in social gatherings including at our house in Ahilya building, before I retired in Feb 2010. She exhibited enormous courage, love and compassion to renew memories with him by visiting places even when his condition worsened.

Patrick completed his specialisation from AFMC in June 1986. Before that, on the 6th day of May 1986, he and Patricia married in Pune. Rohit was born on 25 Mar 1987 (I am thankful to Rohit for having put up the accompanying lovely picture yesterday). Nikhil, the younger son was born on 24 Nov 1988 in Kochi. Both grew up to be handsome, loving, intelligent and well-mannered children in the likeness of their parents. Indeed, every year, for Christmas, we all looked forward to seeing the family picture, next to the X-Mas tree. Here is one each from the happier days (year 2010, before the PD started having effect on him) and the last one in Dec 2016:

Being a doctor, Patrick would have known how the PD would start affecting him together with dementia and depression. Hence, after he joined the Facebook on 29th Mar 2009 (having been prodded into joining by a friend Rita Villaneuva), many of his posts were full of his scores on online video games such as Burst the Bubbles, Mindjolt, Angry Birds, and Zombie Frenzy, so as to keep his mind active. I took my son Arun to see him once (Arun has been a video gaming champ); Patrick and him happily discussed video games.

On his 60th birthday on 17th March (Puttu has her birthday on the same day. She is four years younger)

We would wish them on their birthdays (same day: 17th March); sometimes Patrick on Patricia’s timeline and vice-versa. Both would very graciously respond to the birthday greetings. It was a treat to receive his message despite the shakiness and slowness of his movements due to PD. How we all prayed for him.

And all the while, slowly but relentlessly the disease progressed though there were occasions and moments when it didn’t look like the disease had any effect on him whatsover. The 12th Dec 12, whilst attending Rohit’s graduation convocation, appeared to be one such day:

All the cheer that this brought in his life was soon wiped away  when Patrick lost his father in March 2013; as it is Parkinson Disease has the symptoms of anxiety, dementia and depression. In 2012, the family (mostly because of Puttu’s resolve and dedication) kept a brave face by visiting Hongkong, Macau and Shenzhen (Guangdong) in June of that year. Anyone looking at the pictures can’t believe that he is suffering from a dreadful disease:

The most poignant picture (poignant now that Patrick has left us) is of them visiting Udaipur to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary on 6th May 2016. The picture is representative of Puttu’s, Rohit’s and Nikhil’s desire to see him as happy as possible. Indeed, there is another picture of them going to Goa together to celebrate his 60th birthday.

Patrick that We Would Remember

Whatever be his patient’s circumstances, Patrick always talked to them with a smile that started slowly (almost imperceptibly) around his lips but soon spread to his face and to the faces of his patients. He always brought hope to all of us even though in the end he landed himself in a hopeless condition. Patrick was an epitome of that small minority who hide their own pains in order to bring cheer to others.

We were at Vice Admiral Lowe’s house once (not too many years back) and Patrick took up a guitar and it surprised me (I didn’t know about this attribute of his) to hear him play and sing a lively song. Honestly, he appeared more appealing to me than Elvis. How was I to know that Patrick would leave us early like his singing idol did?

Patrick was deeply religious. What about comparison to Saint Patrick, the Apostle of Ireland? Saint Patrick’s Day is observed on 17th March, which is Parick’s (Paddy’s) birthday and the day when Saint Patrick died. It is difficult for me to get over the interpretation that on the day when one saint died, another was born. Here is a family picture on the Saint Patrick’s Day in 2016, less than a year before Paddy died:

 

Dear Patrick, knowing you, I won’t be surprised that you would have got to work in heaven too; after all people require to be cared for everywhere and you are always there to provide a helping hand. Since I have enough evidence with me that you would have, I have to tell you that my Psoriasis requires to be attended to again and like all your patients, I wish to be seen only by you.

Please don’t fail (you never did) all of us.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY VINOD AND SAVITA MOHINDRA

(Vinod Mohindra is a profilic poet in Hindi and a friend. On their wedding anniversary, I too tried my hand at some Hindi poetry to wish them.)

कोई आप जैसा नहीं लिख सकता, विनोद जी, लेकिन आज आप जैसे शब्दों में आप ही का अभिनन्दन है:

विनोद तो विनोद* हैं, और सविता हैं सविता#,
उन्ही के उजाले में विनोद जी की बनती है हर कविता।
बधाई हो आप दोनों को, सालगिरह के शुभ अवसर पर।
ह्रिदय में बहती है आपके प्यार की मंगल सरिता@।

हमारे दिलों पे रोज़ रहती है, आप की ही छवि,
सविता जी नूर हैं, और आप ठहरे कवि,
तमन्ना है यह दिन सैंकड़ो वर्ष आता रहे,
हर वर्ष आपके लिए लिखे आपका भाई रवि।

ईशवर खुशियों के ख़ज़ाने आपके लिए भरपूर रखे,
आपके प्यार में पहले प्यार का सरूर रखे,
दोस्तों को अपनी रचनाओं से ऐसे ही आप लुभाते रहें,
ग़मों की आग को आपसे हरदम दूर रखे।

विनोद के लिए हो सविता, सविता के लिए विनोद,
भगवन, आपसे YKDN$ वाले करते हैं अनुरोध,
ऐसे ही बनाये रखना इस प्यारी और मधुर जोड़ी को,
मन स्वच्छ और कोमल हो, कभी ना आये क्रोध।

(*Humour, Light hearted) (#Sun और bright) (@stream) ($ Facebook group called ‘Yaad Kiya Dil Ne’)

Vinod to Vinod* hain, aur Savita hai Savita#,
Unhi ke ujaale mein Vinod ji ki banati hai har kavita.
Badhaayi ho aap dono ko, saalgirah ke shubh avsar par.
Hriday mein behati hai aap ke pyaar ki mangal sarita@.

Hamaare dilon pe roz rehati hai, aap hi ki chhavi,
Savita ji noor hain, aur aap thehre kavi,
Tamanna hai yeh din sainkdo varsh aata rahe,
Har varsh aapke liye likhe aapka bhai Ravi.

Ishwar khushiyon ke khazaane aapke liye bharpur rakhe,
Aapke pyaar mein pehle pyaar ka saroor rakhe,
Doston ko apni rachnaayon se aise hi aap lubhaate rahen,
Ghamon ki aag ko aapse hardam door rakhe.

Vinod ke liye ho Savita, Savita ke liye Vinod,
Bhagwan, aapse YKDN$ waale karte hain anurodh,
Aise hi banaaye rakhna is pyaari aur madhur jodi ko,
Man swachh aur komal ho, kabhi naa aaye krodh.

Happy😃 Anniversary Vinod ji and Savita ji.

CHICKEN! CHICKEN!

“Chicken! Chicken🐔!”

At the height of one-upmanship between the Americans and the Soviets, they would send uninvited observers for each other’s naval exercises. These would be in the form of ships, submarines or aircraft. The submarines were the most dangerous. They would surface in the midst of a rival ships formation, making the formation to suddenly alter course to avoid collision. Observing this, the submarine would signal: “Chicken! Chicken!” on its signalling projector.

This Chicken game was one game about which you could read hundreds of such news items as: Russian and American Pilots Play ‘Chicken’, as in The New York Times of 22 Nov 1970. The interesting thing is that it is still going on (Read: ‘Russia Is Playing a Dangerous Game of Chicken With U.S. Forces In the Baltic’ reported in the Maxim on 14 Apr 2016).

Sometimes, serious accidents took place because of such disdain for each other. We, in the Indian Navy too, since Navy operates in international waters, have faced such close to dangerous buzzing by both Soviet and Americal planes. In the 1980s, when the Indian Navy shifted tack from acquiring old British ships to having new Kashin-II class destroyers that were built by the Soviets for us, the kind of snooping to know about the platforms became intense. One of the British ships visited Mumbai during those days and was docked at the commercial docks (Ballard Pier) close to our own Naval jetties. Divers from their ship attempted to espy on the underwater fittings (Sonar domes etc) of the Kashin-II class destroyer (we called them simply Rajput class, named after the first of those ships: INS Rajput).

The first of the Kashin-II destroyers of the Indian Navy: INS Rajput (Pic courtesy: ShipSpotting.com)

Marking and Counter-marking are the words used nautically for what an observer/intrider does and what a ship designated by the rival force does to keep the Marker under close surveillance. These terms, as you would have guessed, have been taken from Football (eg, man to man).

I was on INS Ganga when we were sent to observe Pakistan Navy’s annual Sea Spark exercise. PN had six refurbished Gearing Class destroyers at that time named, Shahjahan, Tariq, Taimur, Tughril, Alamgir and Tippu Sultan. It was nice to see all six operational during the exercise.

PNS Tughril, an ex Gearing class destroyer of the US Navy

Tughril was directed to be a counter-marker to us and it was literally on our tail throughout, sometimes dangerously close. It interfered with our navigation on numerous occasions. At one point it was very close to us and it was one of the five times in the day (as Sunnis do) for Namaz. We could see the entire ship’s company, wherever they were, on their haunches for Namaz and we were wondering who was running the ship so close to us.

After the first phase of Sea Spark got over, we traversed South to fuel from the tanker INS Shakti commanded by Captain Frank Richard Clarke. During abeam fueling, the ships are connected by a fueling hose and hence only about 100 to 160 feet apart. It requires skillful navigation by both ships to maintain precise stations so close. A fueling run lasts for more than an hour and in case of an aircraft carrier, it would be hours before ships disengage. Here is a much later day picture of a US Ship and Japanese Ship alongside INS Shakti for replenishment:

 

File:USS Theodore Roosevelt and JS Fuyuzuki sail alongside INS Shakti (the new one by the same name) during a replenishment (Pic courtesy: Wikimedia Commons)

As we on Ganga, took so station on Starboard (right) side of Shakti, we suddenly noticed Tughril having taken up station at equal distance on port side of Shakti.

INS Ganga

Tughril signalled to Shakti: Can I have some fuel too?
Captain Clarke signalled back to him, tongue in cheek: Yes, but you will have to pay in US Dollars.
Promptly Tughril signalled: I thought Indian Navy accepted Roubles only.

In that brief exchange, the realities of those times were succinctly conveyed.

And now, 32 years later, they are Trumped by the US!

THE UNFORGETTABLE RONNIE PEREIRA

I have not written a full-length essay on Indian Navy’s most revered officer: Admiral Ronald Lyndsale Pereira, Chief of the Naval Staff from 01 March 1979 to 28 Feb 1982. My training period included, I have had an acquaintance with him for less than nine years of his active service and thereafter even more occasionally until 14 Oct 1993 when he died at the age of 70. I have repeated an anecdote about his sterling leadership from Hugh Gantzer’s ‘The Golden Book of Delhi’ when he was the Captain of the cruiser INS Delhi (ex HMS and later HMNZS Achilles) in ‘Leadership In The Navy – Past, Present And Future’, one of the earliest essays on this blog. However, I would like to bring out that the persona of Ronnie Pereira transcended the dimension of Time and officers who joined the Navy, even after me, could and can feel his aura. When I posted this on my Facebook Group ‘Humour In And Out Of Uniform’, one of my friends, Rishi Raj Singh wrote: “In Dec 15, a fine colony of 26 flats as Part of Married Accommodation Project (MAP), was inaugurated at Port Blair, a Tri-Services Command which all of us are aware of. It was named ‘Pereira Enclave’. It shows the respect he had from all the three Services. I had the honour to be the first occupant of a ground floor house, overlooking the runway.” And, Rishi Raj Singh would have never served with Ronnie Pereira anywhere.

Similarly, respect for this great officer transcended the narrow confines of the service that he belonged to: Indian Navy. I am giving a link to a beautiful, humorous, adorable and exhaustive article about this ex Navy Chief by an IAF officer (Wing Cdr Unni Katha, VSM (Retd)) published in a tri-services magazine Salute: ‘Remembering Ronnie’ in Apr-May 2013.

The Lambretta scooter mentioned in the article that he drove after retiring as the Chief of Naval Staff found its way from his home ‘At Last’ in Bangalore to one in Coonoor when I was undergoing Staff Course in 1990 (I did it belatedly as a Commander, having been sent abroad and told to do my bit in DOT (Directorate of Tactics)).

My wife’s cousin Trevor Mendez used to run a car and two-wheeler mechanic’s garage next to the DSSC (Defence Services Staff College in Wellington (Coonoor) (I am sure many of you must have been to this kind-hearted, bearded soul, always to be found with a cap). Admiral Pereira used to bring his scooter there for repairs and later a car. Trevor told me that he had become hard of hearing from his left ear after having met with an accident in Bangalore. And this scooter and later his car had been purchased through loans.

What did he do with all the money that he should have saved (after all he retired as the CNS)? Here is an incident told to me by his Flag Lieutenant BR Sen (now Commodore Bhaskar Sen, Retd, and member of my Facebook group ‘Humour In And Out Of Uniform’ wherein I published this post), when he was the CNS, to give you a hint:

Admiral Pereira often used to come out of his office and pace in the corridor. One day he met a Master Chief Petty Officer who happened to be a ship-mate of his (Read Wg Cdr Unni Katha’s article and you would know that he never forgot faces and names). He saw that the sailor was looking a little worried and asked him for the reason. The Master Chief told him that his daughter was to be married and he had applied for a loan of Rupees Five Thousand from the INBA (Indian Naval Benevolent Association) and after days of running around he had still not got the money.

Admiral Pereira brought him to his office, took out his cheque book (of the bank whose branch was in the South Block), wrote out a cheque for Rupees Five Thousand, gave it to him, wished him the best and sent him a happier man.

After the sailor left, there was frantic call from the Admiral for Bhaskar Sen: “Flags, can you hop across to the bank and check if I have that much money in my account?” Fifteen minutes later, Sen came back and reported that the Admiral had a little more than that and hence the sailor won’t be disappointed.

Admiral Pereira loved his men much more than he loved any material gains for himself.

He visited us in Coimbatore when I was posted there as a young instructor in the Leadership School. He paid for everything that he asked for, his mess bill, his wine bill and presented me (his Liaison Officer) with a pair of cuff-links, which, knowing him, would have been paid for by him.

Trevor’s caution to me about his hearing handicap served me right whenever I interacted with him during my Staff Course. I met him on a few occasions at Trevor’s and then in the DSSC canteen where he came to buy liquor.

One day, after our appointments (transfers after the course) were out I met him outside the canteen. He was quick to see me looking a little sad. “Son”, he boomed, “What’s happened? You look down and out”. I told him about my transfer to Vizag where I didn’t want to go. “Oh, don’t be” he told me, “It can’t be such a bad place. Now, let me see when was I in Vizag?”

“You were the Fleet Commander there” I told him wryly.

“Oh, yes, I was”, his eyes gleamed when he continued, “Wonderful place, Vizag; all happy memories, except one….there was this C-in-C there….”

“Admiral Kulkarni” I blurted out.

“Yes, that’s right, Admiral Kulkarni. He used to be always treading on my toes: ‘do this’ ‘don’t do this’…. one day, I marched into his office and told him: ‘C-in-C Sir, you mind the Command and I shall mind the Fleet’. Believe you me, son; after that we never had any problems……wonderful place, Vizag; you will enjoy….now cheer up….that’s better, that’s my boy”.

Most of us keep thinking of problems and these keep becoming bigger and bigger. Admiral Pereira solved these quickly by meeting them head-on.

How many of us, would?

When I was posted in Naval Headquarters in the years 1987 to 1990, after 5 to 8 years of his having been the Navy Chief, tales of Admiral Pereira were still fresh when we used to meet in INS India Wardroom or Kotah House Ante Room. Before that, I remember having attended his farewell in Western Naval Command Mess when he was being posted out as C-in-C of the Command to take over as Vice Chief of the Naval Staff at Naval Headquarters, New Delhi. Even though he was the C-in-C, there wasn’t any separate farewell for him; I am sure he would have ruled it out as wasteful expenditure of time and money. It was also Rear Admiral Kirpal Singh’s farewell from the Navy that night and one more officer’s farewell. Ronnie Pereira’s farewell speech was short and humorous. He said, “As a Commander, I told my girl (Mrs. Phyllis Pereira, married to him since 1952): ‘that’s probably my highest rank (because of my straight-talk). And then surprisingly I was promoted to become Captain….and so on, and now I am going to take over as Vice Chief. The lesson, therefore, is never be afraid to say your bit. If you have it in you to become senior, no one can stop you.”

I do remember that after he took over as the Chief of the Naval Staff (after his short tenure as VCNS), he wrote a personal letter to all commanding officers in which he bemoaned the ‘Zero Error Syndrome’ that was creeping into the Navy. He brought out that he wanted officers to be encouraged to come up with innovative ideas without overly worrying about failures. Three and half decades later, how I wish they had listened to him.

These days, we routinely bemoan how the politicians and the bureaucrats (the netas and the babus) have gradually and relentlessly downgraded the status of the armed forces personnel. From the tales that heard in Naval Headquarters, I would like to believe that one person who withstood this onslaught was Admiral Ronnie Pereira. Even though he left five years before I joined, some of his tales in NHQ had become legends (if anyone knows better, please correct me in the comments of this blog since for me these are second or even third hand accounts):

#1. I believe, on the eve of the Commanders Conference, a protocol guy from the PMO’s office came to NHQ to see for himself last-minute arrangements particularly seating plan. There was no seat, he observed, for Sanjay Gandhi. Adm Pereira told him that none was necessary. This guy left in a huff but was back in half an hour with: “The PM desires that there should be a seat for Shri Sanjay Gandhi”. “Alright” said Admiral Pereira, “Tell her to choose between him and me for the conference.”

#2. We were at that time deciding on the integral helicopters on ships of Godavari class. The final choice was to be Aerospatiale Super Puma (French) or Sea King (British). Some of you would recall how the ministry favoured one over the other; it was in the media. When the file was routed to the Financial Advisor, he had made a detailed note on the tactical advantages of one over the other. Admiral Pereira had thumped him by a note whose import was: ‘When the file is routed to you, it is for ensuring the financial canons are adhered to. Leave the tactics to the experts.”

Here is another endearing quality of his that wasn’t emulated sadly. As soon as he hung up his boots, he never interfered in the working of the Navy in any manner; no succession plan wranglings, no controversial utterances, nothing.

When we were in the DSSC, one of my seniors’ Syndicate was given an MRP (Minor Research Project) on Maritime Strategy. They thought it would be a great idea to obtain Admiral’s views on various subjects as also on the distasteful jockeying to become the Chief that was in the news all the time.

The Syndicate fixed an appointment with him at his residence in the evening. He offered them a drink and they started chatting. More and more drinks flowed and everyone warmed up to talking to the great man. Finally, they returned almost totally sozzled close to midnight. I asked my senior SP Singh sir about Admiral’s views about Maritime Strategy and other matters. He said after some time no one remembered what had they gone to him for. His aura, the easy camaraderie, the warmth of his hospitality and personalised treatment were more of a treat than any officious talk.

After he died on 14 Oct 1993, Mrs. Phyllis Pereira received hundreds of letters from officers and men of the three services. She disclosed that many of them hadn’t ever been his contemporaries.

People like Ronnie Pereira achieve a certain timelessness and hence become unforgettable.

MARRIED TO THE MOB!

Ladies and gents, guys and gals,

Did any of you see this rip-roaring American comedy starring Michelle Pfeiffer and Matthew Modine? Michelle Pfeiffer did the role of her lifetime as Angela de Marco, wife of gangster Frank “The Cucumber” de Marco. Matthew Modine acted as Agent Michael “Mike” Downey, the undercover FBI agent assigned the task of investigating her mafia connections.

So, you have understood the name but must be wondering what has this got to do with my Facebook Group ‘Humour In And Out Of Uniform’ or HIAOOU for short? Well, if you look at the poster, you will read the words: “They’re her family….. whether she likes or not”!

And now you’d start seeing the connection! We have any number of these young, wistful girls who marry armed forces officers because they are impressed by the uniform, smartness and the daring. Star-stuck, they keep dreaming of the time they would be alone with the husbands….however, the mob never leaves the husband. It takes sometime for it to sink with them that the mob is the family.

My wife and I, for example, married in love (some of you must have seen and read some of my posts about us, eg, ‘Lyn And I – Scene By Scene’ and ‘Navy Couples – Made For Each Other (A Valentine’s Day Post’). I cautioned her that during our wedded life, friends may land up home any time; but, I don’t suppose the full impact of it registered with her…….well, until, they actually landed up! As I offered them drinks and told her to come up with some small-eats, she whispered to me, with more than a slight edge: “But, we’ve had our dinner long time ago.” After 35 years of being with the ‘family…..whether she likes or not’, this initial comment of hers appears downright naive to her only, now! She can now hold classes for ‘young, wistful girls marrying armed forces officers‘ with this opener: “Decades before Airtel got this ad, the faujis knew that ‘Har ek friend zaroori hota hai‘. There is nothing like rustling up left-overs for the friends; your husbands and they would demand the best. So, you ought to be prepared at all times.”

Now the other side!

I was posted as a bachelor officer in Navy’s Leadership School for Sailors: INS Agrani in Coimbatore and CRJ was our XO (Second-in-command). A few of us (four to be exact) were bachelors and, in the nights, we raided married officers houses in rotation. None of the ladies needed any classes to understand how to treat us; they were the epitome of hospitality, affection and generosity.

One day, CRJ, in order to (re)establish authority as XO (second-in-command is after all second-in-command!) told us in mock-anger that we created too much ruckus in his house during our last raid. He was, otherwise, the sweetest of the souls and so was Mrs. J. We, the bachelors, had a conference and decided that probably Mrs. J didn’t like our boisterous nature and hence CRJ’s bemoaning. So, we decided, (as in naval slang) ‘with immediate effect‘, to skip CRJ’s house during raids.

Ladies and gents, this continued for two weeks. We raided every other house but CRJ’s. After this period, we were urgently summoned to CRJ’s office. As we entered, he closed the door behind us and then – hold your breath – he broke down completely! He said Mrs. J had been berating him every night with, “The gang has stopped coming to our house only. You must have told them something bad. Shame on you. Have you forgotten your days as a bachelor? Now, do something before we are permanently ostracised.”

And so the cycle continues!
Today you are the ‘Mob’, tomorrow, you are ‘Married’!

THEY ALSO SERVE WHO ARE IN NAVAL HEADQUARTERS! – PART V – THE URGENCY OF DOING THINGS AND THE NHQ WAY!

The latter, that is, the NHQ way, there is never any panic, never an urgency; you deliberate everything and then either decide or not decide, mostly the latter. I was in the Directorate of Tactics and I couldn’t imagine our forces having reached off Karachi and frantically ringing us up and requesting us to quickly send the next set of tactics!

Compare this with the scenario when you are on the ships; there is always panic, always urgency: everything is to be done by yesterday.

When I used to be on the ships I used to think as to why couldn’t the headquarters quickly reach a decision and transmit to us and all concerned at the fastest. When I was at Naval Headquarters I discovered why.

Before my posting to Directorate of Tactics, I was briefly posted at Directorate of Signals (DNS). People think communicators are dumb, but, the brilliant guys before me had taken up the office in the basement of C Wing in Sena Bhawan. Now, being in the basement, one doesn’t get any natural air. Hence, the whole directorate was air-conditioned unlike any other directorate in NHQ. That’s why, it was a great comedown for me to be posted in Directorate of Tactics, in Heat and Dust, after that (Please read: ‘They Also Serve Who Are In Naval Headquarters! – Part III – A-Block Hutments’).

I was to be ADNS (EW), an Assistant Director in my specialisation: Electronic Warfare. This was a very curious emerging field. In high level and middle level discussions, I was amazed to discover that just about everyone knew the intricacies of EW and the only ignoramuses were the guys like me responsible for it.

Soon after my DD welcomed me, I shifted to my office adjoining him and then the mail folder for the day arrived. There were about three dozen letters and I thought in my mind that they all ranged from being highly urgent to critical. Indeed, at least five of them were marked ‘MOST IMMEDIATE’. I tightened up my girdles and started either answering them or gathering material to answer them. By about 5:30 PM, my DD glanced into my room and found me deeply engrossed in work. He asked me, “Youngster, what are you up to?” I told him. He sighed (clearly at my stupidity; we communicators know how to decode) and said, “But these have not been put up to you, as yet”. I learnt that irrespective of the urgency, things have to be PUT UP TO you first before you start responding.

One day, I think it was a week later, a note arrived from DCNS (Deputy Chief of Naval Staff) Secretariat marked Most Immediate. It seemed that our Director had gone to attend a meeting there of PSOs (Principal Staff Officers) to discuss the urgent need to have an ELINT (Electronic Intelligence) platform to gather ELINT at sea; somewhat similar to what the Americans and Russians were engaged in doing in the oceans and seas of the world. Any squeak anywhere of any radio and radar frequency and these platforms would pick it up, analyse and build up data banks and bring out inferences that can be used later. A few months back, if you recall, it was in the media that Scorpene submarines data had been leaked. Well, submarines use acoustic data and ships and aircraft make use of electronic data. The plan, according to the note, was to convert one of the existing ships into such a role.

I was sitting with the DD when this note arrived. I read it aloud and squealed with joy that finally Electronic Warfare was reaching somewhere. He observed me for sometime as a psychiatrist would observe a loony character. There was an incredulous look on his face that one of his ilk wasn’t able to find the fly in the ointment. I read the note three times more and confirmed to him that I couldn’t find the catch.

With great stress, like how Geetanjali Aiyar used to read the news on Doordarshan during those days (she used to read it as if she was addressing mentally unbalanced children), DD then explained to me that such a platform would be disaster for him and me since we would be stuck maintaining it with the limited means/resources that we had. Already, we were facing gargantuan problems by stealing from Peter to pay Paul; that is cross-fitting equipment parts (the NHQ word for that is ‘cannibalising’) from one ship to the other. And hence, we would be always on the receiving end of disturbing queries and complaints from all and sundry (I have already mentioned that ‘all and sundry‘ ‘knew‘ more about Electronic Warfare than the experts; looking from left to right, he and me).

Eureka, even I saw it now. Fortunately, unlike the Greek mathematician Archimedes, I was not in the bath tub and hence it wasn’t scandalising.

I left the note to the DD for his ‘expert’ handling since by that time the Director had called on the interphone to handle it pronto.

By the end of the day, the DD had drafted out a file noting. It sounded so sincere and – hold your breath – urgent. The crux was:

1. DND (Directorate of Naval Design) to confirm the structural soundness of the mast to take the following equipment (and he named the equipment). He told me with a chuckle that the most urgent mails are normally responded by DND in about six months time (they have a ‘process’ to be followed).

2. DEE (Directorate of Electrical Engineering) to work out the electric supplies that would be required and if these supplies can be met with existing generators on board or an additional generator would be required. In case an additional generator is required, DME (Directorate of Marine Engineering) to work out together with DND as to where such a generator could be fitted and its effect on overall stability.

I am not repeating his entire list here but, there were a dozen directorates mentioned to specifically workout something or the other.

And then he mentioned with a glint (don’t confuse it with Elint, guys and girls!) in his eyes that the earliest he expected total response from everyone, after a dozen queries from each and urgently called for coordination meetings, would be at least one and half years. By that time, let the next DD worry about it.

Brilliant, Sir, I told him with total respect due for a professional. Two quick lessons I had learnt in just one week of being in NHQ: One, you can read a mail and even soak its contents but action/response on it should wait until it is PUT UP TO you. And two, every response must necessarily follow Darwinian theory of evolution coupled with need and suitable actions for self-preservation.

By the way, in one of the files, I found my own letter from a ship that was conducting trials of a new EW equipment. The letter had asked for NHQ decision on a particular point urgently, BEFORE the foreign team went back on Christmas holidays. It was two years ago! Jesus Christ was reborn twice since that letter.

Like I said in my first post: ‘They Also Serve Who Are In Naval Headquarters!’

THEY ALSO SERVE WHO ARE IN NAVAL HEADQUARTERS! – PART IV – FOR THE LOVE OF NATIONAL LANGUAGE HINDI

People from the South India may not agree and there is a court ruling to the effect that they (the South Indians, that is) are right but most of us regarded Hindi as the national language of India. On the lighter side, after their success in Jallikattu episode, no one locks horns with them.

The reason for our (mistaken) belief was that my tenure in Naval Headquarters coincided with a renewed Hindi drive. Notices had been put in all offices: ‘Is karyalya mein Hindi mein kaam karne ki poori chhoot hai’ (There is full freedom in this office to do official work in Hindi).

The government also decreed that 25 percent of all stenographers in all government offices should be Hindi stenographers. Accordingly, Lata, a Hindi stenographer, landed up in DOT, ie, Directorate of Tactics, Naval Headquarters, A-Block Hutments, Dalhousie Road, New Delhi (Please read: ‘The Also Serve Who Are In Naval Headquarters! – Part III – A-Block Hutments’).

I was the junior most of the officers in DOT and hence Lata was duly assigned to me.

Her name-sake hadn’t yet got the Bharat Ratna but I could have given one to Lata any time. I had always prided myself for knowing more than adequate Hindi. However, I soon realised that between my Hindi and Lata’s there was a huge language barrier. There was a further gap between what she took down in shorthand and what she finally typed.

Now, as all of you may know, Indian Navy was very fortunate that at the time of independence, we received from the NATO some of their tactical publications, for the simple reason that we in the Indian Navy used to carry out joint exercises with their navies. They were all in Queen’s English and many of us had problems understanding the true import of the tactical manoeuvres, screens, signals, et al in English itself. Hence, you can imagine the travails of doing official work at Directorate of Tactics in Hindi.

Lata, therefore, sat at her table with a type-writer in front and did crotchet work in summers and knitting in the winters.

All of you must have read my success story about how I finally managed an office for myself in A Block Hutments. This must have proved to you that I am used to converting challenges into opportunities, something that any number of Quotes these days tell you to do. I was ahead of my times, so as to say!

Being quite junior in Naval Headquarters, there were any number of these महारथी (Titans) in various directorates who would want to have the better of me through file-notings and letters. I started replying to them in shudh Hindi complete with such words as अनुलग्नक and संदर्भ.

Let me paint a scenario to you; an actual one. Lets say, Staff Officer to ACNS (Ops) had sent a note saying update on points discussed in last Commander’s Conference pertaining to DOT had not yet been received; I would send a reply back: इस संधर्भ में इस प्रबंध-विभाग की पत्र संख्या ०१०३/युक्ति दिनांक १० अगस्त १९८८ जो आपको पहले ही सलंग्न की गयी थी, दोबारा से अनुलग्नक है I

The effect would be somewhat similar to the last ball six scored by Bhuvan in the 2001 movie Lagaan. Indeed, I kept scoring one ‘six’ after another.

As mentioned in the previous post (‘The Also Serve Who Are In Naval Headquarters! – Part III – A-Block Hutments’) my next appointment was to the DSSC (Defence Srvices Staff College) to undergo the staff and administration course. Halfway through my course, I received an official letter from NHQ that I had been given an award for doing maximum work in Hindi. A cheque for Rupees 500 was enclosed.

People in Directorate of Tactics are invariably posted there because of their strong tactical acumen! Both Lata and I were rewarded for ours: she with Bharat Ratna given by me and me with a cheque for Rupees 500!

THEY ALSO SERVE WHO ARE IN NAVAL HEADQUARTERS! – PART III – A – BLOCK HUTMENTS

To the best of my knowledge Henry Wadsworth Longfellow never visited A-Block Hutments, Dalhousie Road, New Delhi. For, if he had, he would have surely revised his famous lines:

“Dust thou are and to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.”

Those who served in A-Block Hutments had even their souls drenched in dust.

And to think that we in the Navy wore white uniforms in summers and black serge tunics and pants in the winters. Dust indeed showed more than our name tallies and hence our actual introduction. Monkeys outnumbered us ten to one. Whilst access was strictly controlled for us through rigorous identity checks, these simians entered and exited at will. Sometimes, honestly speaking, we envied the monkeys; they had more freedom of movement, for one thing.

I remember during those days there was a small news-item (I have kept the cuttting somewhere): Delhi administration had written to Himachal Chief Secretary asking him if the latter wanted a few thousand monkeys to be gifted to Himachal, free of cost. HP Chief Secy had responded, “No, thanks; we have enough of our own”.

DOT or Directorate of Tactics in Naval Headquarters occupied the ramshackle building, the first building next to the road named after James Andrew Broun-Ramsay, 1st Marquess of Dalhousie KT PC and known as The Earl of Dalhousie or simply Dalhousie, the erstwhile (early to mid nineteenth century) Governor General of India. Being from Himachal, when my father was posted in Chamba, we used to visit the Hill Station named after Earl of Dalhousie. It is a most picturesque and pleasant hill station. However, Dalhousie Road in New Delhi should make the Earl turn in his grave.

I don’t have a picture of A Block Hutments (No Photography rule). However, this is a picture of CAO of Ministry of Defence responsible for recruitment and provision of civilian manpower for the Service Headquarters of Indian Armed Forces. These offices are at least ten times better than A Block Hutments just across the road. Sena Bhawan is in the background (Pic courtesy: www.caomod.nic.in)

Most of the Tactics that we drafted out there are classified or highly classified. However, this one can be shared:

When I reported there, after the usual chat with my seniors, I asked them as to where my office was. One of them couldn’t control his laughter, whilst the others suddenly remembered that they had urgent file-notings to make. So, I came out and asked the office staff. They followed similar tactics, making me believe that everyone selected to be part of DOT was because of his/her strong ‘tactical acumen’. Finally, a kind hearted Petty Officer M Singh told me, “Sir, jahan aap ko achha lagta hai, wahin office bana leejiye” (Sir, wherever you see a good place, make it your office). I realised that in addition to ‘tactical acumen’, ‘innovation’ was called for.

Within a few days I managed to get a table and chair and ‘installed’ it in the verandah. If you notice the word ‘installed’ in inverted commas, I must explain. In the armed forces, we always use officious sounding lingo. For example, if you are doing the Middle Watch on the Bridge of a ship, and you have this sudden urge to have coffee, you don’t ask the Midshipman of the Watch to go fetch some. You invariably tell him, “Snotty, go and organise some coffee”. That makes him look important. (Now please don’t ask me what ‘Snotty’ means; look up on Google; else, I shall not be able to complete my story).

A visit to the Directorate of Administration (The Navy has now a Flag Officer Administration after the MoD objected to the Navy appointing a Flag Officer Delhi Area (FODA) without their approval) (Please read: ‘They Also Serve Who Are In Naval Headquarters’) got me some plywood with which I could cover the face of the verandah and lo and behold, I had an office! That got rid of the dust.

James Ivory and Ismail Merchant, unlike Longfellow and Dalhousie, surely seem to have visited A-Block Hutments for they named their 1983 movie ‘Heat and Dust’ that starred, amongst others, Shashi Kapoor and tabla-maestro Zakir Hussain. Hence, after getting rid of the ‘dust’ (somewhat), I had to now tackle the ‘heat’.

A hole was made in one of the plywood sheets and a desert-cooler (an appropriate name for where I was) was installed. It felt like paradise; somewhat similar to how the best cuisine in the world doesn’t seem as tasty as the omelette you make yourself.

This entire process took about one year but, you should have seen the transformation in me. Here I was, in Naval Headquarters and within a year of my being in A-Block Hutments, I had an office to myself!

‘Tactical acumen’ and ‘innovation’ helped. I got a name plate made: LtCdr RPS Ravi, ADOT (Coord) and for the next one year I basked in self glory.

When I left for my staff course after that, having won an award there (seriously, no jokes; I will tell you about it shortly; in the next Part), I felt like singing:

तूने तिनका-तिनका चुन कर, नगरी एक बसाई
बारिश में तेरी भीगी काया, धूप में गरमी छाई
ग़म ना कर जो तेरी मेहनत तेरे काम ना आई
अच्छा है कुछ ले जाने से देकर ही कुछ जाना
चल उड़ जा रे पंछी …

Kuchh na kaho,
Kuchh bhi na kaho.

THEY ALSO SERVE WHO ARE IN NAVAL HEADQUARTERS! – PART II – A GREAT LEVELLER

If you have read my ‘They Also Serve Who Are In Naval Headquarters’, you would remember how I clarified that even though you are in the Navy, you can’t be at sea all the time. You have to serve ashore too. And whilst ashore, you are either posted at headquarters or have to deal with one.

No one likes to serve in Naval Headquarters, but sometimes you have no choice. You might have been a Commanding Officer of a ship, regarding yourself as God or even a C-in-C, one up than God too, whose fine taste in everything was admired by the entire command, in Naval Headquarters you are just a staff officer pushing and receiving something called files.

My first and only brush (thank God for that) with Naval Headquarters was in the rank of a Lt.Commander. In a down-to-earth (literally) manner, I was posted in the newly formed Directorate of Tactics: DOT (Mohan Ram Sir, an eminent writer on my Facebook group called ‘Humour In And Out Of Uniform’ would have, with enough justification, christened it as Directorate of Triviality; since that’s what Tactics sound to many but fortunately it wasn’t formed during his time). Down-to-earth was because the directorate was situated in what was called A-Block Hutments and ‘earth’ was all around and over you in its avatar called ‘dust’.

Commodore Ravi Sikka landed up as our director. Having been in command of an indigenously designed and constructed frigate Nilgiri, prior to his appointment at NHQ, it was quite a come down to be at A-Block Hutments. He was the last word in Tactics and was the original author of INFIs (Indian Naval Fighting Instructions). He was with computers, mathematical calculations, algorithms and probabilities even before most people had heard of them.

Noritake crockery that a CO is used to on his ship

However, what he was not prepared for was the way of doing things at Naval Headquarters in general and A-Block Hutments in particular. During the first meeting that he had with all of us in his office, he asked me (the junior most) to arrange for some tea. I went out, gave instructions to Gullu (the tea-boy) and came back. Now on his ship, Cmde Ravi Sikka must have been used to tea being served by the steward wearing spotless white gloves and in the finest porcelain. So, when Gullu entered with cups (without saucers) of all hues and shapes, threaded with his fingers through their handles; tea in an empty Hercules XXX rum bottle, and paper cuttings to keep the ‘besan’ on, Sikka Sir demurred and said we could have the ‘damned’ tea if we desired but he would not stoop so low. We dutifully had our tea and besan (sweet made from gram-flour, sugar and oil). The meeting finally got over and we left.

Some of the (better) cups of Gullu

Commodore Sikka’s transformation into a NHQ seasoned officer took place, just like the initiation process for all of us, gradually as follows:

Day#4: “I finally had that ‘damned’ tea. It isn’t all that bad, you know” (we smiled at the ‘discovery’ of the new convert).

Day #7: “I say that ‘besan‘ is quite tasty. Looks like they make it well”.

Day #10: “Tea and ‘besan‘! What a combination! Puts life in you”.

Day #14: “Went for this meeting with DCNS in the morning. As soon as the meeting got over, I rushed back so that I won’t miss my tea and ‘besan‘”.

Naval Headquarters culture claimed another victim!
Officers may come and officers may go but Gullu goes on forever!

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