1. Today’s my last day in uniform marking the completion of a journey which had begun way back on 28 Jan 67 when I’d joined class VII at the Sainik School, Kazhakootam. The transformation of a gawky, homesick lad to his present disposition has been a continuous process and is still on, thanks to a whole lot of people who’d flitted in and out of his life, over the years.
2. After my initial schooling at the Naval Primary School, Bombay, the Holy Angel’s Convent and the Model School (the latter two at Thiruvananthapuram) I‘d reached the portals of the SSKZM. I was terribly homesick and didn’t want the others to know about it and I used to cry into my pillows! And another trait – that I’d got rid off after painstaking efforts – making fun of the others and reacting against anyone who did that to me. Consequently, I’d made and unmade friends and enemies at school, many times over. The roles of Prefect, House Captain and an Under Officer in the NCC, helped me gain confidence in myself and in taking a stand on issues, come what may, from an early age. I would be kidding if I said that there weren’t any events that had saddened me while at school – not being selected for the Advanced Leadership Course and the Republic Day Camp were dampeners. And the villain was my height!
3. My brief stint at the University College, prior to joining the NDA was an eye opener in the real sense and a trend setter in making new friends. I tasted the tremendous freedom on the college campus and the nasty goings on of campus politics. I’d opted for the Physics (Main) with Chemistry and Maths as subsidiaries and had the privilege to learn from fantastic teachers like Vishnu Narayanan Namboothiri sir (English) and Sankaran Namboothiri sir (Physics). I’d briefly nursed dreams of becoming a doctor - the manner in which everyone looked up to the doctor, when life was at stake, bolstered by so many movies that I was privy to gave a heady feeling, so I thought. But this brief dream was brushed aside when the NDA results had come about. How I could do medicine without doing the Pre-Degree Course with Biology main was a question that defied logic – probably deep within I knew that I would get into the NDA!
4. Life at the
Academy was fast paced and gruelling. I’d learnt the art of survivability –
thanks to my school life and the Academy life – at an early age. And I used to
get noticed in all gatherings because of my height. I was the shortest in our
course in the Hunter Squadron and because of it, I was exposed to a lot of
ragging initially, so much so, that quite a few of my seniors used to inquire
as to why I’d no friends/school types/place types among the seniors so that I
could get exempted from the fallins . The upshot of the experience was that I
could absorb a lot of physical pain and had vowed to myself that I wouldn’t
resort to ragging my juniors. In return, they’d given me a wonderful gift that
remains etched in my memory, “Blue in decency” in the write up on the passing
out course in the NDA journal and I'd made a lot of friends with whom I
continue to interact even to this day. I must let you into this one. When the
appointments were announced in the 6th term, much to my chagrin, I
found that I was made the CQMS(Cadet Quarter Master Sergeant) – a thankless and
glamourless one as he did not have a ‘cane'. I’d put it across to my Divisional
Officer that I did not want to take over the job. It was then that my Squadron
Commander had stepped in to tell me that this post was given to me taking my integrity into
account!
5. I’m
among the very few with the dubious distinction of having passed out of the NDA
twice and the story goes like this. I’d passed out first as an Air Force Cadet
and had fetched up in the Elementary Flying School, Bidar. The instructors were
hard task masters but friendly and indulgent towards me. They insisted that I
must report my height as '4 ft fuck all inches' whenever queried. And while I’d
got the hang of landing the trainer HT-2, my take offs were hoary for which I
was introduced in the crew room as 'the guy who takes off from anywhere other
than the tarmac'. For fitting into the bucket seat of the aircraft, I used to
use a couple of cushions beneath and the second couple behind so that I could
touch the rudder pedals fully adjusted towards me – a matter that was the cause
for mirthful laughter and leg pulling.
6. But on the day
of my solo check, due to mid-flight vibrations of the vintage aircraft, the
rudder pedals had gone back to their
original position rendering me rudderless – I understood the meaning of the word in all its horrific consequences that day!
Though the instructors did try to egg me on for another attempt at
solo, my passion (?) for flying had
diminished when they confirmed that I could only become a transport/ helicopter
pilot – because in those days my mind was full of being a MiG/Gnat pilot or
nothing else. Consequently, I'd returned
to the Academy for my second 6th term as a naval cadet. And it was
the time that I’d attained ‘Nirvana’ – came to know the Academy better and I
was made a ‘cane appointment’ despite my insistence that it should be given to
the guys from the actual course and not
to people like me who had already had their chance!
7. I'd joined the good ‘ole Delhi (Ex HMS Achilles baptised in the second world war’s Battle of the River Plate) along with my course mates in Jan 77, as a cadet for six
months of training that brushed up the rudiments of life at sea, followed by
six months of training as a Midshipman on board the old Beas.
-
Sitting on the footpath with
friends opposite the Metro cinema in Bombay having “paav bhaji” – that guy with
the push cart made it really well - fully tanked up, well past midnight.
-
Pulling on cigarettes, packed with Afghan
charas, sitting on the low parapet wall beside the road at Malabar Hill with my
circle of doctor friends.
-
Lying fully stretched on the
marine drive at Chowpatty after being thrown off my bike and watching a Best
double decker clipping past half a foot away.
-
Enjoying a mujra at the Bombay
central where I’d got sentimental about the dancer as she’d given me a lot of
‘bhav’ (?) over the evening.
-
Missing death by an inch when
I’d gone on a Srilankan Naval ‘Kruger’ while chasing an LTTE boat who’d
fired at us from their machine gun and a lead had singed my hair .
-
Saved a sailor from death from
a taut tug wire rope that had entangled his leg (In gratitude, he has named his
son after me)
-
Scooped out a sailor who’d
fallen overboard with the ramp door of my ship flouting all rules of ship
handling and seamanship.
9. I can go on and on but suffice to understand that these
activities if they’d come out in the open,
either my family would have disowned me long before or the Navy would
have court martialed me! With the highs came the lows but the main theme in my
life has been to bounce back to live life all over again after the real bad patches.
10. As I pass through my last day in
office and the handing/taking over activities are on in full swing, I suddenly
realise that I'd be missing the trappings of service! And no, I do not have
anything in mind and am in a 'fancy free and foot loose' sort of a situation. We'll be moving to Guruvayur on Monday morning and the commissioning of our new house is gonna be on 29 Nov. I've named the house 'The Quarterdeck' though
Lekha has preferred the name, 'Sukriti'.
Tailpiece.
It's onward sunset boulevard!
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