EVOLUTION

What we may be calling as unnatural in the society today, is it not possible that an evolution has just begun? The living beings evolve continuously and the nature adapts to it; and mind you the vice-versa is true as well.

The gay relationships, fading away of human basic instinct of procreation- specially amongst females, confronting sexual hunger head-on and stripping it off the maze called love, relinquishing the parental care, suckling the newborns etc are few such examples. We for sure are evolving to a next level; for some it could be a sad story. Is that the ongoing “gender war and truce” heading for a unisexual society of hermaphrodites? Not immediately but say after some thousand years? I am not sure but it looks like not impossible. Fast increasing of IQ levels in each progressing generation with a catalyst of accelerated growth in science and technology is throwing much loftier options as against the basic natural instincts, we elder humans have been captive of!

 “Chaachaa!  why are we faced with so many options in life? It is impossible to decide and choose.” asked one of my nieces. She was so right. Whenever surfing net or the TV channels, I for one find it difficult to decide and choose. The communications viz: voice, data, video or  physical travel  have entered fourth generation and opened avenues possibly good enough to distract us from our basic instincts. The plenitude of information availability has out grown largely the time and space. Too much to do in so little time! What to catch and what to discard is not easy. In fact you cannot see all the options to choose the best from. We may end up choosing nothing, yet keep wandering in hope of the best. We may wish  and chart so much to-do before thinking of any sort of settlement or commitment. A lifetime may be too short to do everything we desire to do. So where is the time? Some decades back there were few options, gated and channeled life, designated charter and role for each relation, few resources, few contacts etc. 

Does it mean we would evolve humans sans love, womb, sex, parents, and siblings??????

Chinese Intrusion

Indian bankruptcy of its National Strategy and pragmatic leadership is not a whistle blown from trumpets of WikiLeaks but a brooding repetitive thought with a despair. Pt Jawahar Lal Nehru, like a novice jumped to accept Chinese suzerainty over Tibet, rather bargaining to have the Indo-Tibet Border demarcated as a prelude to our generosity. We withdrew from Chumbi Valley and Askai Chin areas as a good neighbourly gesture. Yet, Chinese Army rode down the Himalayas outraging the Indian integrity. Our Army took 9 years to come out of the scare of abominable Chinaman and the mirage of never ending  assaulting waves of PLA assaulting one after the other.

WW II was fought between the Allied and Axis Forces, in a third country as the battle ground, and the British training pamphlets sprouted from there. Even prior to that WW I had the similar deployment and the strategy or tactical concepts dwell in that context. Our bookish Generalship and incompetent political leadership could not read a simple cast that we from the times of history have the raiders from North and the Sea. We have frontiers and not borders with our neighbours. British India and Republic of India are two states with  different geo-political influence. Before, we regroup to protect our fence it has to be erected in its first place. 1962 lessons were drawn down the drain or whiskey in the officer's messes. we left 150Km of territory in Arunachal undeveloped so that Chinese forces find difficult logistically invade us and we need not defend it. How do you like that? Thanks to General Sundarji we had "Op Falcon" launched in response to Wang-drung-Chu intrusion. Instead of developing politico-military deterence we thinned out inwake of growing better relations and cutting costs. Any layman will tell why should Chinese invade? They can keep nibbling and inching forward. They have permanent defences, permanent logistic bases and not occupying a Firm Base or vulnerable Logistic echelons like British Armies had fighting Germans in France or in North Africa. Chinese have decades and not H-hour based time plan. we were to put our military acumen together to evolve a Border-Frontier and LAC management strategy as well as tactical drills.

But we neither made fence nor thought of protecting it. to make the matter worse we had a division of the subcontinent which also had no fence demarcated. in 1971, we had created history and master piece of  a 'total victory'. We ran out from Bangla Desh little slower than a retreating or fleeting Army. We could have relinquished Bangala Desh deliberately only after erecting our fence with her public ratification. Are these rocket science in political maneuvers?

Today, we have LAC and disputed borders all around. A simple old adage that  "neater fence make good neighbours" never made sense to our imbecile strategic leadership, both military and political.

  

Golf Royale

Maharani Gayatri Devi, the former queen mother of erstwhile princely state of Jaipur was known for her beauty and elegance but few would know her love for Golf. It was in 1943 while holidaying in Gulmarg, Kashmir that she first had a feel of this awesome game of golf. She got so fascinated by the sport that  she insisted  Maharaja to lay out a Golf Course for her, the first thing after reaching back home. His Highness Maharaja ManSingh II of Jaipur was himself an epitome of chivalry and a debonair horseman who enjoyed an apex handicap of 10 in Polo. By the way higher is handicap better polo player you are, unlike Golf. He obliged his beloved and in the backyards of Lilly-Pool (Maharani’s abode), part of Rambagh Palace Estate, came up a nine holes brown course designed by an Englishman specially hired for the job. He also coached and taught golf. The flora and fauna was sacredly preserved and wild life remained tolerably undisturbed. The pea-hens, pea-cocks, hares, jackrabbits, partridges, squirrels peeped out to watch this funny game of golf with dismay. As the course was slowly taking shape the coterie of Maharani was growing around the game of golf. Some were already showing the signs of being bitten by its bug. Afternoons were now busier and an ostentatiously stylish new social circuit was forming around the royals. Crème-la- town was seen importing golf sets, straw hats, flannels and colourful parasols. A round of golf would invariably author comic stories around some desperadoes, who tried all the magic to be winners and able to draw attention of the Queen. These tit-bids would then be narrated most ludicrously by some of the flunkeys over a sumptuous cup of tea served in silver by liveried staff from the palace. The caddy boys would be sitting at the feet of the feudals and brown sahibs, cleaning their flannel bottoms and stockings of the “Burrs” which used to get stuck while chasing the ball in roughs. The most predominant undergrowth of vegetation in this part of the country comprises of such bushes which have “Burrs” as their pollen bearer. These get stuck with their porcupine looking spikes to your clothes and get carried away afar for better and a healthy pollination. They say the person who invented Velcro straps got his brain wave from these “Burrs” in dessert.

An indigenous extension of golf was found here during those days and may be it came from sheer love for outdoors, that generation of Raj fashioned and enjoyed. Could be, that originally the Scottish shepherds who invented this game also played similar kind of golf. On Sunday mornings golfers clad in flannels, breeches, corduroys, Jodhpurs, Knickers with Pith Hats, Straw Hats, Golf Caps on their crowns would set out to Tee-Off for a cross-country Golf with a final destination about 3 miles away, the Maharani Farms. Mr Malookh Singh Bakshi, one of the survivors of that era fondly remembers those fun days. Each would take as long a shot as possible and the field of fire permitting. The band wagon of staff with extravagant logistics of snacks and refreshments would trail behind the golfers. The incorrigibles would be carrying their hip flasks full. As the whole zing-bang negotiate the woods, jungles, ploughed fields and hutments the natives, specially the children and women with their veils on would come out to see their Queen and sahibs; wondering “ what the hell are they doing in this heat?”.  Usual breaks, enroute for drinks and rest were well organised by some of the rasookdars .  The final destination was well prepared to receive the golfers with the printed shamiyanas and tentage being put up neatly.  Local muddhas were laid out with soft cushions to give some respite. Some ladies would then have joined in driving via the road, for the gup-shups sessions. After a round of high tea and some quipping awhile, golfers will freshen up, change and come out for cooking party. Those with culinary skills will cook their best dishes where as grills and barbecues will be there as part of common affair. Lanterns lit up the area sufficiently enough for people to see each other and dim enough to keep the tranquility of the place intact. Local liquor, distilled by some of the experts with recipes of medieval era vintage, along with scotch used to start flowing as the party got merrier.

Since those days of Raj, Rambagh Golf Club has come a long way and now we have 18 holes green course, a five-star Restaurant, and other at par amenities like pool, gym and air conditioned well stock Bar. But yet I indulge in fantasizing those golden days of sublime style.   

Morning golf at Rambagh………

The winters had slowly crept in this time; and morning golf at our club has become breathtakingly beautiful. Bleak sun sneaking over the Moti Doongri fortress greets you with a promise and brings some respite from the chill. Blue smoke of the night fires hangs low, and dew on the grass refuses to flee in the face of weak sunshine.  Waiting at the first Tee you see the fourball ahead disappearing into the mist. If you are lucky, you get a cup of hot coffee from Biramn who remain busy taking in/out golf bags from his custody. The caddies get quite squeezed-in and their hands refuse to come out of their pockets. Omprkash advises “sab 10 se chale jaao voh khaali hai” but somehow it doesn’t go well with the body and mind. We wait for some more time.  Some feel happy that they are not immediately behind that profound ‘caddie-less foursome’ who remains undeterred by time and space. Walking through a narrow lane towards Tee-2 an occasional snuff emanating from caddies’ shit hole reminds you of a jungle time. If, you are lucky a cute family of partridges will show up, fast bipedling towards another bush. This is the last of bushy undergrowth that we are left with after a merciless gardenisation of our golf course by some thoughtless people. The natural flora and fauna we had earlier which also yielded as an abode to our little wild life like peahens- peacocks, hares and jackrabbits has been erased to pave way for flower beds, and cosmetic plants. I for one miss them a lot. Tee No 6 has become a permanent Tea-Junction and loud shouts for ‘Killoooooooo’ are heard from the distance. Hot tea and rusks are served here by ‘Chhotoo’ and they come escorted by one ‘Seema’. Her gait has an attitude and eyes have a glitter. Of course, she is going to share that rusk of yours, which is difficult to avoid. While you enjoy a soaked rusk in a hot tea, those who are greedy of playing faster and more numbers of holes keep cursing you behind their plastic smiles. Virendra Luna smartly gauging their mind says “you guys please have tea on me and enjoy the break too”.  Seema is a friend of Killoo and enjoys golf cart rides during logistic trips of the canteen. I wonder that out of the whole gang of ‘dirty-dozen’, the  stray dogs; she has been the only smart one to have won a patronage, not only of Killoo but some of the retired senior bureaucrats who are precariously famous for their second love; the animals. The Killoo’s Tea-Hut is a place for morning     gup-shup and reminds me fondly of Chaupal or Nukkad where grapevines get woven and club-politics is cooked.  The golfers shun teeing off from 7^th as they see a ghost haunting in Garcha’s Stables who sucks in golf shots and especially if the ball is a new one. Those who are seasoned will play safe much to the left. By now, the first layer of woollens gets removed, caddies shove them into the bags, and you feel much warm and get rid of that extra piece of clothing hampering your swing. But, one keeps cursing the golf shoes which cannot protect the feet getting wet from the moist grass.

 Most of the Golfers will call it off after nine holes to converge on the gazebo for a hot breakfast and settling of the accounts. Burnt toasts with chopped onions and tomatoes with a generous sprinkling of a special masala imported from Indore by Sudhir Kasliwal is an indigenous topping improvised in RGC cuisine with zero calories. Some, on the other hand will order a sumptuous menu so as to make up for their lost money; you guessed it right: the winners would sign the bills. Neta ji will invariably be seen collecting winnings from those who took the bait and me in particular has been quite a victim of his. The chatting prolongs and get louder as Dr Raghvender Chaudhary walks in announcing the last fourball-in. Tirlok, the waiter in distress will have his hands-full for next one hour.

psychology of work

I left Army seven years before my retirement for two reasons. First being love of golf and second my wife's blatant refusal to accompany me on any more postings. After small stints here and there,I finally  sat back at home. The famous question as work or not to work? keeps bothering me. I never felt the need to work and am quite happy with net surfing, golfing, gossiping around and bit of travelling. But, people around me and well wishers always insisted that one must work to remain occupied fruitfully and physically fit. It also ensures a daily routine and you remain in presentable getup or in military language "turn out". To be very frank I also felt some emptiness somewhere. So I kept moving in and out of jobs. When in job,I do not want to continue and when out of it, I want to join one.
Once over a cigarette I kept brooding over it and realised job assigns you a niche in the society and those who are jobless or retired lay in the outbox "in the e-mail jargon". That stems the psych to work and to remain in the loop. It is quite a churn in the stomach to stop being part of the main run. But it is even worse to work for hack of it as you still remain a squire peg in a round hole. I still ponder over it. should I quit my new job where I feel like the same peg?

MAUSAM

I like Pankaj Kapoor as few of the genius actors. 'Mausam' was long awaited and I literally struggled to finally watch the film on a DVD. After  a long time we had that intensity of emotion and drama on the screen which I thought will never come back. Some of the newer generation, I heard labeling it as a slow drag. I only feel sad as they are slowly getting bankrupt of romance and art. Those couples who vowed to live together against all odds of money, cast, creed and power are rare to see. what matters today is money, packages, BMWs, villas, brands,jets, yachts, designers,etc. where is a place for Indian Air Force Officer fighting for his country and mankind? he is not in a hot demand. Very few boys dream to fly fighter jets against what most of us did then.

A great film with a class apart. 

Mention-in-Dispatches.

It was Vth Term, June, 1978. The slip lying on the telephone table in C sqn read “Cdt RS Bhown to report to Adjt’s office in Drill Order, in Sudan Block at 1.30 PM today.” We were fatigued after the morning ‘End of Term’ drill+POP practice and were planning to hit bed when this bombshell exploded in my mind. YV, DPS Aujla, RK Yadav and many others came to express their sympathy. “But none of the Sahabs, Sergeants or ACA has caught me. My I slips, I card, Name Tabs were safe and intact” I moaned. Every one of us was straining our brains with great efforts to find the reason of such a dreadful call that too, in End of Term. Karsolia said “beta tu to gaya” any punishment would imply eating into the Term break. Some said such calls at this time of the term, generally are for relegation. My throat was getting drier and suddenly I swung into action to manage a pair of KDs and summoned Khandu, my orderly to fix a drill order for me. “Sab the boots and anklets are being waxed for the drill competition, should I polish Ammo boots?” He said with sincere concern. I got ready with OG anklets, Ammo Boots, stockings and guarder flashes as Hops tops were not worn in this combination. My friends saw me off with a long face and I left for Sudan Block with a lump in my throat.

In Sudan block I saw Crème’la 55 in shinning regulation-drill orders with torches flashing on their left breasts…Ajit Singh, Surender Singh Jhaj, Ajai Shukla, Karan Singh Rathore and many more  (my memory ditching me). Most of them asked me same question ‘What are you doing here?” and I kept on repeating sheepishly Adjt wishes to see me. They brushed me aside and continued with their chat. I stood hiding in a corner and worried about what lies in store for me.

Then, came Guman Singh, our Drill Sub Maj with a cane tightly pressed in his arm pit and white hackle soaring like a rooster. He spotted me and said “Mharashtra State ki lottery hai kisi ki bhi nikal sakti hai!” I could not understand a thing and asked him clearly. He said “I have recommended your name for ACA” and simultaneously asked the Crème’ la 55 to stand in a single file as per the order in the list he was carrying. I told him “sab yeh kya kiya? You have no idea what you have done.”

He thought because my drill and word of command being good, I was an ACA material.

Soon, came in Maj Rupi Brar the offg Adjt as Maj Harjit Singh was out on lve. He checked antecedents and inspected the turnout of all of us (I had joined the Crème’ by then). He got stuck confronting the last man in the file, it was me. “What is your overall order of merit?” he frowned. “Sir, 144^th” I fumbled.  He gave those dirty looks to Guman Singh who straightened himself with a jerk and we knew the SM has done a big FU. But it was too late to rectify as the list lay already on DepCom’s table. “Now, you stay back for the interview” Maj Rupi Brar barked at me. As my turn came I marched into the DepCom’s office for the first and the last time in my life. Air Commodore Dogra was smiling in the chair and the Adjt stood on his left. Seeing me, Maj Brar stooped halfway to whisper in DepCom’s ear. “Sir, this boy has been called by mistake. We can send him back.” I could hear it distinctly despite its low pitch, and never felt so small and humiliated in my life till today. DepCom was generous to say “Don’t you worry; let me talk to him.” With great difficulty he pronounced my name and asked me two questions rather my views on A) manhandling of jrs by senior cadets and B) smoking to be allowed in 6^th Term. I said yes to smoking and no to manhandling. He said “Thank you” and I, followed the word of command of Sub Maj shouting from outside the office. My perspiration was making the starched KDs stink by now but I was a relieved man; rather proud man to be mentioned in Despatches.

In C sqn by now a new star had born. I proudly, told all the mediocre course mates about me being in the run. Maj Satnam Singh ( Tahalka fame later), C sqn cdr thought of me at least worth a DCC as I was put up for ACA. My DivO, Capt Pramod Krishna, asked me to go to Goal Market and get myself photographed with the DCC’s tabs. I was already contemplating to take over 9^th Div meanwhile.

Then fell another bombshell. I got Re-Test in English, as usual. This time my papers had gone well but Mr Raina was a cruel man. I was called up by the Sqn Cdr who said we do not want our appointments to be coming for a bloody Re-Test and set a bad example. I saluted, turned about and marched off. Joined the gang of OCs to the place I belonged.