Our unit was located in the Cantonment area at Trivandrum, popularly known as Pangode Camp. Though, normally, the cantonments are located away from the main city and most of the times the civilians are not allowed to enter that area, unless for a specific purpose, but in this case a very busy city road passed through Pangode. Our Battalion Headquarters and the Unit Quarter Guard were located bang on that road opposite each other. There is a tradition in the Army that whenever an officer passes in front of the quarter guard on foot, on a two wheeler or in a vehicle, the guard commander brings the guard to attention by shouting the word of command in a loud voice (as heard during the Republic Day Parade). This is to pay respect to the officer, regardless of the unit that he may belong to.
During our initial days at Trivandrum while the unit was still in the process of settling down, we realized that our guard commander was shouting the word of command and was bringing the guard to attention a little too frequently during the day. One of our officers went out to check the reason and came back laughing from ear to ear. When he explained to us the reason for the same, we all were in splits. The reason was actually amusing. The officers are identified by the guard commander by the pips that they wear on the shoulders when they are in uniform. But when they are in their games rig which is half sleeves white shirt/tea shirt and white shorts with PT shoes and white socks, they are recognized from the same dress. In the southern India the men generally wear half sleeves shirt and a dhoti and whenever they are seated on a two wheeler their dhoti remains folded above thigh level. In case the shirt and the dhoti are white, the same look like white shirt and shorts from a distance. Well for our Dogra soldiers, who had come to the southern part of the country for the first time, it was natural to mistake the white shirt and the dhoti of a civilian riding a two wheeler for an officer's games rig. Hence they came to attention every time that someone passed in front of our quarter guard wearing that attire. It was only after all the jawans were familiarized with the dress of the locals that the frequent saluting stopped in our quarter guard.
Another very interesting incident that I wish to share here is when I once accompanied Major Dongre, our battalion Second –In - Command to visit a patient in a local hospital. After entering the hospital we enquired about the direction to the special ward that the patient was admitted to. To our utter disappointment everyone that we met, spoke such chaste Malyalam that we could not make any head and tail of the directions that he or she gave to us for reaching the ward and we kept moving in circles in that big multi storied hospital before we could locate the correct ward.
Major Dongre had also to visit the collector’s office for some work. After entering the collectorate building we went to the concerned section. Having been bitten once by the lingua franca of Trivandrum, we asked an official sitting on a desk that if we could converse with someone who could speak English. Hearing this, the whole section stood up in protest. One of them probably a union leader, took us around the section and introduced us to each and every employee spelling out his or her educational qualifications. Most of them were holding masters degrees. It was only after we explained to the gentleman about our experience in the hospital that we had visited in the morning, that he let us go but not before we apologized for the faux pas.
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Trivandrum -- (1979-1982) : When the Army is not fighting a war , it is supposed to be training itself for the same. And if one sweats more in peace, one will bleed less in war. And that dictum came true at Trivandrum as our battalion was put through a rigorous regimen of training, which was conducted either in the unit training area, on the sea shores of Kerala and Tamil Nadu, or in the jungles of Karnataka. We also traveled to the hot and dry deserts of Rajasthan once a year for taking part in the battle simulation exercises. Once again traveling by Military Special trains from Trivandrum to Rajasthan and back which took ten days either way. Apart from training, our battalion also played host to number of visiting dignitaries who would go around visiting temples, beaches and other places of tourist interest in and around Trivandrum.
After we had spent some time at Trivandrum, our Army Commander [this time the actual one], Lieutenant General RD Heera, expressed his desire to visit our location. It is a common practice that whenever a very high ranking dignitary is scheduled to visit a unit or a formation, his or her protocol file is forwarded there a few days in advance. The file mentions all the likes and dislikes of the visiting dignitary. It specifically indicates the food habits. The Army Commander was our biggest boss, next only to the Army Chief. Naturally, the whole cantonment was in a spin. The file, containing the likes and dislikes of the GOC - in- C and his wife, had reached our immediate higher headquarters at Trivandrum well in advance and we had gone through it many times over, so as not to miss out on any thing. There was an item mentioned as shower curtain. I was part of the group of officers deputed to see the arrangements in the MES Inspection Bungalow (army equivalent of a VIP guest house) where the visiting couple was to stay. Everything else was in order, except for that damn shower curtain, which was not available anywhere in the market (now of course those are available, dime a dozen, even on some of the pavement bazaars). We hunted for the shower curtain in every nook and corner of Trivandrum city but could not lay hands on one. We were about to give report of the same to the Commanding Officer, that suddenly, a thought crossed my mind. I had a friend from Shimla, Ashok Sood, who worked at a five star hotel located at Kovalam Beach near Trivandrum, as Front Desk Manager. While we used to visit the Kovalam beach quite often for our picnics, we also used to organise there small parties on the occasion of dining in or dining out for the incoming and out going officers of the unit respectively. More often than not the winding up coffee used to be at the Beach Resort, the five star hotel as mentioned above, courtesy Ashok Sood. I contacted my friend on telephone and sure enough, he provided us with a shower curtain, which we got duly fixed in the bathroom of the VIP suite of the Inspection Bungalow.
During the course of General Heera's stay, a dinner was hosted by our unit in his honour in our Officers' Mess. Once again different arrangements were entrusted to a number of officers of the unit. An officer was specially deputed in the bar to see the drinks arrangements. Our Battalion, which was raised in the year 1900, had the proud privilege of being in possession of some of the choicest of wines, which were preserved for special occasions. Once again a final inspection was carried out by the Commanding Officer. Everything was in order. The General and his wife were escorted from the MES IB to the Officers' Mess at the designated time. The CO welcomed them and asked the General for a drink. He spelt out his poison. When the lady was asked for her drink, she said that she would prefer tender coconut water. Hearing this, our CO's face fell for a moment. He signalled to the nearest officer and asked him to arrange for Mrs Heera's drink. Immediately the Subedar Adjutant (the JCO in charge of administration) was telephoned. Fortunately our unit area had a number of coconut trees. A working party of a few jawans was organised who climbed the coconut trees and chopped off some fruit. The lady was served with fresh tender coconut water, though, with a slight delay. While she took the first sip of her drink, I noticed our CO wiping away a tiny droplet of sweat off his brow with his index finger tip.
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Having completed its tenure in Nagaland, our battalion got de-inducted from the insurgency area and was waiting for the orders for next move. Since the battalion had seen a tough posting, we were expecting some good peace station. And what better we could have got than Trivandrum, which the Commanding Officer announced on getting the orders from the higher headquarters. Every one jumped with joy. Trivandrum was possibly the best peace station an Infantry unit could have got. As soon as the Commanding Officer broke the news of the move, the unit went into the mobilisation mode. In the Army, the Standing Operating Procedures (SOPs) are laid down for every activity. Each one knows his role. Generally, a wise CO goes into hiding in such circumstances to avoid any jitters. Our CO did the same thing. In no time the unit got packed up and was ready to move to Dimapur railway Station. The rolling stock (railway wagons) was ready. Whenever an Army unit moves, a full train is allotted to it with various classes of compartments, wagons and carriages to accommodate officers, JCO and other ranks in addition to arms, ammunition, vehicles and other equipment. There are also separate wagons having cook houses called military langar to cook hot food for the troops. It is a unique experience to travel in a Military Special -- the term used for such trains. Our train took fifteen days time in reaching Trivandrum Central from Dimapur. Genarally in a normal movement other than the war situation the military specials are given last priority in order not to disrupt the normal traffic of passenger trains. One can imagine traveling in the same compartment (first class coupes for officers and second class sleeper coaches for the other ranks) for fifteen days, so we, the bachelor officers had decorated our respective coupes with our favourite pinups. Our train used to have long halts on important stations to let the normal rail traffic pass as well as to replenish our logistics. The train would be parked in some yard where the jawans would come out and do some brisk physical exercises to straighten their limbs. The officer mess would be established at a suitable open space with a small shamiana thrown up and with pipe band playing in attendance. The food and drinks would be served to officers and ladies there in style (some of of the officers were also joined by their families to enjoy the experience of the travel by a Military Special).
I will narrate a very interesting incident which occurred on our way to Trivandrum. Our train was allotted the route along the eastern coast to avoid interfering with the busy railway traffic of the central route. All the Army or Naval units falling on our route were informed of our move, who had to supply us with necessary dry and fresh rations on the way. A duty officer was deputed out of the younger lot in rotation to see that the move is systematic and things go as planned. I was deputed as duty officer one night. After a continuous run for many hours, our train stopped at a station at midnight. As per the practice i got down and met the Station Master. I was carrying the route chart of our train provided to us by the Railway authorities. When i laid the route chart on his table to tick the station where we had reached, i could not find the same. I asked the station master to have a look at our route chart. After looking at it he started shaking his head from left to right and after a few moments of silence he looked up and gave me a very hopeless look. He told me that we had come on the wrong route. The station that we had reached fell on the central route instead of our scheduled coastal route. The station master explained to me that the traffic control at Asansole (West Bengal) had wrongly put our train on the central route, and that we had come a few hundred kilometers off our route. I immediately informed the CO. He got damn upset over this. We had to pick up our supplies on the coastal route only. He asked me to arrange to take the train back to the bifurcation point, which was left behind hundreds of kilometers as mentioned above. I came back to the station master and told him the same. He was already arguing our case with the control over telephone. The traffic control were not in favour of getting our train back on the original route and we were not prepared to move further on that route for obvious reasons. I gave my piece of mind to the Station Master who obviously was not at fault. But that worked. He shouted into the telephone and told the traffic control, " look the Army Commander is sitting in front of me and is getting damn annoyed. You please take the train back and put it on the original route". I was flabbergasted on hearing him addressing me (I was Second Lieutenant at that time) as Army Commander, may be due to his limited knowledge about the rank structure of the Indian Army. Army Commander is a term used for General Officer Commanding In Chief, one of the five senior most Lieutenant Generals in charge of a Command. After a little more shouting from the Station Master the traffic control relented and our train moved back to travel on its original route. I will never forget the name of that railway station -- SHERGARH, Madhya Pradesh. This incident took place in 1979.
This post also forms part of series on my life journey. To read all the posts in this series, please click here.
