THE STORY CALLED SINHGARH - A FOXY'S PERSPECTIVE
Hi, I am Arun- a docile guy born in the correct city Delhi (the backyard of all smarties in Fox Sqn!!!) but brought up in the heartland of macho Texans (Rohtak- the exact lat and long). Now , the instincts of survival of the sweet guy in the rough Texan land were unique and became a folklore in the local English Medium School as the Texans (the JATS-Just Adore Them) never touched the boy because of his protective ring of pals (more interested due to his academic skills and favorite of all the good looking gals half of whom shared his last name Jyoti!!!). The docile boy was foxed by his own Dad to at least clear the NDA exam and then to at least clear the NDA interview and then to at least get a toncilits operation to at least clear the temporary unfitness in the medicals so that the Texans would respect his inclination towards Army and finally to at least join the NDA for at least one term and then rejoin his medical college classes. The boy , though docile, but was impressed more with the Navy and to please his Dad joined the NDA for that at least syndrome that he faced back in Texas. The rude shock of Academy life and loss of George Michael hair style woke him up from slumber but alas all he could do was to watch the Jhelum Express cross the NDA Wing at 1745 hrs each day when he would be nursing his aching limbs because his Dad by now had decided to teach him a lesson and forgot completely of the promise to withdraw him. Partly the reason of non-withdrawal was also the boy's decision to be a Naval Offcer rather than join the Dad's dream- the JAT REGIMENT. Broken promises and phenomenal support from coursemates saw the boy reach the main Academy and there stood the Khetrapal's Fortress. The entry into the Sqn and the gifted First Floor Central Lobby cabin were Dad's last gift to the boy and now he had no protective ring.
The survival instincts took over again and the boy sat down one night to make 8 special I-Slips and promised to himself-never to part with those I-Slips. The bad and not so good times of the IInd & III term flew like minutes and one fine day the Carry On announcement followed the boy's name. Wow, thought the boy- I am on my own now but the 8 I-Slips were still in his pocket and he had preserved and saved them very carefully and of course smartly. When everyone went in for a punishment on periphery or the mighty Sinhgarh, the boy was on his own and lived a peaceful existence.A smart turnout, a smile and a prompt salute was all that the boy had in his armor and it served him well. By now the other coursemates were quite aware of the nooks and corners of periphery and Sinhgarh.
One fine morning, the ever cherubic Naval Sqn Commander decided to hand pick the boy ( he always thought that the boy would become his Naval Assistant when he would be the CNS!!!) for the Bangalore hike. The poor boy did not know that the lady luck was not so good with him this time. As the train chugged into Bangalore platform, the boy met his old schoolmates who by now were riding Yamahas on Bangalore roads in their Engg Colleges. The lure of the Bike (both at NDA and outside NDA) can be a lethal combination for a cadet and the boy had completely forgotten about this old adage and the 8 I-Slips. On that fateful evening, the Brigade Road beer party got over and the old classmate tossed the key to boy and lets rock it was the Mantra. The boy revved the engine, put on his desi Ray Bans ( Connaught Place types!!) and zoomed the bike. The front rider did a 0-80 in no time and the bikes roared. 3 bikes and 6 young and dashing riders zoomed up the road. Boy was wearing his favorite Jeans and Jeans Jacket with a huge NDA insignia on it and raced ahead. And lo, suddenly, a lovely lady with soda glasses decided to cross the road. As she neared the middle of the road , the boy froze, for, she was none other than the journalist wife of the Sqn Cdr. The heart missed a few beats, the bike was slowed and revved up again to beat the heat of the heart. Phew, it was a close shave buddy and the boy reached back the camp safely at night. However, there stood the mighty Sqn Cdr and there was a curt question- Did you ride a bike today Son? Aye Sir was the answer ( one can not doubt a journalist even with soda glasses!!!) and the smile and the prompt salute did not deter the Sqn Cdr from handing over 04 Sinhgarhs to the poor boy at Bangalore itself.
The journey to Sinhgarh is a carefully crafted art. The back pack has to be placed with such weights that it clears its USTAAD WEIGHT TEST in first go. A pointed object in the back pack can become the nemesis of the Cadet in the first few kilomtrs itself. The gear including shoes and socks have to be top class with out loose nails or else the cadet is gone for a six. There are many such lessons which the veterans gave before the boy set out for his first Sinhgarh and his first punishment (luckily the Sqn Cdr had decided to make it an unofficial punishment for the boy as he was already a Brigadier !!! Ranks do get respect). The choice of running Sinhgarh or cross country on a Sunday morning can never be compared (guys with stomach issues would vouch for this). The overalls, boots and back pack and the mighty water bottle start pinching the moment Ustaad says go. "Arre Cadet Jyoti, aaj tum bhi yahaan?", curtly said Fox Sqn CHM Girdhari Singh, " zara dum se bhagna aur 4 ghante mein complete maangta hai, okay", he added.
The run was kicked off and cursing the decision to meet classmates and the Yamaha, the boy started running. As one crosses the MES point and turns right , the GANNA FIELDS emerge and can not be raided in morning because of the freshly laid human 'mines' and the Gandhi Topi man guarding it. The turn from Dam towards CME had by now warmed up the body and the group was evenly dispersed. A 1-Ton crossed by and CHM Girdhari Singh looked back with a mischievous smile and drove ahead. On a bend, a white Fiat car crossed the boy and some one waved. The boy with his head down and getting a constant shove from his assets all around had no intention of waving back even if she was Manisha Koirala or Juhi Chawla. The car turned around and came and honked behind the boy. Who can it be now- the Boy thought and turned back. Bingo, stepped out the ever dangerous Texan ROMINDER HOODA (The Compass Specialist who could puncture any tummy with any type of Compass and was enjoying a holiday in Pune with relatives). " Abe ******* , tu yeh kya kar raha hai?", said Hooda in chaste Haryanvi. " Arre yaar , yeh ***** apni fauj ki training chal rahi hai aur woh samne wali pahadi mujhe climb karni hai aur wapis pahuchna hai Academy mein", chirped out the boy. " Abe to chal , baith gaadi mein aur tujhe ghuma laate hain", offered Hooda. The boy was now in dilemma, 8 I-Slips and this time , if caught, then that can be the end of the arsenals that the boy possessed. As the Texan watched, the boy shook hands, hugged him (more for thanking him for not pushing that Camlin compass into his tummy), pointed towards the Sudan Block's mesmerising dome, looked at Sinhgarh and ran to catch up the lost minutes.
The survival instincts took over again and the boy sat down one night to make 8 special I-Slips and promised to himself-never to part with those I-Slips. The bad and not so good times of the IInd & III term flew like minutes and one fine day the Carry On announcement followed the boy's name. Wow, thought the boy- I am on my own now but the 8 I-Slips were still in his pocket and he had preserved and saved them very carefully and of course smartly. When everyone went in for a punishment on periphery or the mighty Sinhgarh, the boy was on his own and lived a peaceful existence.A smart turnout, a smile and a prompt salute was all that the boy had in his armor and it served him well. By now the other coursemates were quite aware of the nooks and corners of periphery and Sinhgarh.
One fine morning, the ever cherubic Naval Sqn Commander decided to hand pick the boy ( he always thought that the boy would become his Naval Assistant when he would be the CNS!!!) for the Bangalore hike. The poor boy did not know that the lady luck was not so good with him this time. As the train chugged into Bangalore platform, the boy met his old schoolmates who by now were riding Yamahas on Bangalore roads in their Engg Colleges. The lure of the Bike (both at NDA and outside NDA) can be a lethal combination for a cadet and the boy had completely forgotten about this old adage and the 8 I-Slips. On that fateful evening, the Brigade Road beer party got over and the old classmate tossed the key to boy and lets rock it was the Mantra. The boy revved the engine, put on his desi Ray Bans ( Connaught Place types!!) and zoomed the bike. The front rider did a 0-80 in no time and the bikes roared. 3 bikes and 6 young and dashing riders zoomed up the road. Boy was wearing his favorite Jeans and Jeans Jacket with a huge NDA insignia on it and raced ahead. And lo, suddenly, a lovely lady with soda glasses decided to cross the road. As she neared the middle of the road , the boy froze, for, she was none other than the journalist wife of the Sqn Cdr. The heart missed a few beats, the bike was slowed and revved up again to beat the heat of the heart. Phew, it was a close shave buddy and the boy reached back the camp safely at night. However, there stood the mighty Sqn Cdr and there was a curt question- Did you ride a bike today Son? Aye Sir was the answer ( one can not doubt a journalist even with soda glasses!!!) and the smile and the prompt salute did not deter the Sqn Cdr from handing over 04 Sinhgarhs to the poor boy at Bangalore itself.
The journey to Sinhgarh is a carefully crafted art. The back pack has to be placed with such weights that it clears its USTAAD WEIGHT TEST in first go. A pointed object in the back pack can become the nemesis of the Cadet in the first few kilomtrs itself. The gear including shoes and socks have to be top class with out loose nails or else the cadet is gone for a six. There are many such lessons which the veterans gave before the boy set out for his first Sinhgarh and his first punishment (luckily the Sqn Cdr had decided to make it an unofficial punishment for the boy as he was already a Brigadier !!! Ranks do get respect). The choice of running Sinhgarh or cross country on a Sunday morning can never be compared (guys with stomach issues would vouch for this). The overalls, boots and back pack and the mighty water bottle start pinching the moment Ustaad says go. "Arre Cadet Jyoti, aaj tum bhi yahaan?", curtly said Fox Sqn CHM Girdhari Singh, " zara dum se bhagna aur 4 ghante mein complete maangta hai, okay", he added.
The run was kicked off and cursing the decision to meet classmates and the Yamaha, the boy started running. As one crosses the MES point and turns right , the GANNA FIELDS emerge and can not be raided in morning because of the freshly laid human 'mines' and the Gandhi Topi man guarding it. The turn from Dam towards CME had by now warmed up the body and the group was evenly dispersed. A 1-Ton crossed by and CHM Girdhari Singh looked back with a mischievous smile and drove ahead. On a bend, a white Fiat car crossed the boy and some one waved. The boy with his head down and getting a constant shove from his assets all around had no intention of waving back even if she was Manisha Koirala or Juhi Chawla. The car turned around and came and honked behind the boy. Who can it be now- the Boy thought and turned back. Bingo, stepped out the ever dangerous Texan ROMINDER HOODA (The Compass Specialist who could puncture any tummy with any type of Compass and was enjoying a holiday in Pune with relatives). " Abe ******* , tu yeh kya kar raha hai?", said Hooda in chaste Haryanvi. " Arre yaar , yeh ***** apni fauj ki training chal rahi hai aur woh samne wali pahadi mujhe climb karni hai aur wapis pahuchna hai Academy mein", chirped out the boy. " Abe to chal , baith gaadi mein aur tujhe ghuma laate hain", offered Hooda. The boy was now in dilemma, 8 I-Slips and this time , if caught, then that can be the end of the arsenals that the boy possessed. As the Texan watched, the boy shook hands, hugged him (more for thanking him for not pushing that Camlin compass into his tummy), pointed towards the Sudan Block's mesmerising dome, looked at Sinhgarh and ran to catch up the lost minutes.
The climb to Sinhgarh is a picnic for some and curse for the NDA Cadet. However, the money in pockets is always handy to buy the Sweet Lassi enroute and whiff of fresh air on top with the famed NDA Tea and breakfast recharged the body. The run downslope was fun and the climbing fairer sex did not attract much since Cadet Mohit Sabharwal/75 withdrawal case (withdrawn for pinching the bosom of a girl during SINHGARH HIKE) was an apt reminder and the run ended within striking distanc of 4 hrs. CHM Girdhari had a smirk on his face and said," dekha, fresh legs hain aapki punishment route mein, baaki 3 Sinhgarh bhi aise hi bhaagna, okay." "Jai hind Saahab", the boy replied and turned back.
The 8 I-slips remained with the boy till he passed out of NDA and was promptly introduced to the Commandant for having passed out of the Academy with out any official punishment. During the honeymoon time and on a course at Pune, the boy (by now a Lieutenant in Navy) was handed over a Yamaha by Pawan Dutt/F/78 and drove the bike up till Sinhgarh with his lady luck and proudly remembered the Sinhgarh Hike Unofficial Punishment....
