THE DEEP OPERATIONS

August 1914, the German naval base at Helgoland (a small German archipelago in the North Sea) was abuzz with activity. A flotilla of 10 U-Boats 9Submarines) were being made ready for the first ever War Patrol to challenge the Royal Navy warships in the North Sea. The strategic concepts discussed and debated in rooms ashore had to be now put to practice at sea. The communication channels were limited and operational experience was only in sketches and papers. The only advantage of U-Boats was their capability to submerge and then wait for their prey. The torpedo was developed as a potent weapon and its connect could wreak havoc for a loaded warship. Speed was in favor of the ships and they could zig-zag in vast open oceans to save themselves from the prowling U-Boats. The concepts of engaging opponents from underwater had never been tested at sea and so was the case for the ships, which also had to find operational solutions to save themselves from the enemy’s torpedo.

The grand strategists spent countless hours as intelligence reports kept on pushing in sketchy details of the new dimensions that were to emerge in the war at sea. The enemy concepts were not known and also the potential fire power could not be imagined. The Cat and Mouse game had set in brilliantly as frenzied activities tried to catch up with the timelines at Helgoland harbour. Setting 10 U-Boats into operational mode and sending them to ocean’s distances to wage the war cry was a herculean effort. Finally, the moment arrived when the first of the U-Boats powered up its diesels and manoeuvred into the open ocean. The U-Boats tactics took their birth as one after another, the rest 09 U-Boats also sailed out towards the North Sea. The sentinels of the deep had taken their posts.

“Captain on the Jetty”, came out the voice on the Submarine’s loudspeaker. The boat was all set for a war game operation and the 03 HODs (Heads of Departments of Executive, Engineering and Electrical Section) rushed up the Control Room’s well to meet the Captain on the Submarine’s casing. A warm handshake from the Captain greeted each HOD as they reported their readiness for the patrol. The sea was calm and quiet and the weather was absolutely perfect to kiss the sea depths. The Submarine crew had worked hard over the months gone by to make the Submarine fully operational after her scheduled long overhaul and repairs. The dismantling, repairs/replacements/refurbishments and the final buttoning up and firing of the integrated equipments onboard a Submarine is a niche gamut of operational excellence. The events are always in a hurry to overtake the timelines and the crew is always hard pressed to meet the myriad challenges. Each soul, right from the Captain to the junior most Sailor, chip in their might to put the mammoth machine into motion. The Submarine’s crew had toiled hard to reach this day and the Old Lady’s machines were singing like canary. The battery juices and high pressure air was topped up and the Submarine was carrying its full load including war ammunitions. After all, it was a Patrol and she was supposed to sustain at sea for around 06 weeks. The operational tacticians had given her a pivotal position in the war game and she would have to deploy her own tactics to meet the challenges of enemy’s flotilla. The Submarine’s siren was sounded 03 times. On a crisp order from the Bridge, the massive Main Motor turned her screws (propeller blades) and the giant steel body started moving in astern direction. The Captain exchanged a salute with the Submarine base crew and gave orders to take the Submarine out to sea.

The last of the German Submarines left Helgoland and soon the Wolfe Pack was inside North Sea. Their aim was to sink capital ships of the British Grand Fleet, and so reduce the Grand Fleet's numerical superiority over the German High Seas Fleet. The first sortie was not a success. Only one attack was carried out, when SM U-15 fired a torpedo (which missed) at HMS Monarch. Two of the ten U-boats were lost.

The crew of the Submarine was closed up at Action Stations till the Submarine reached the diving area. The pre-diving checks were carried out and soon the ballast tanks were flooded with water from the Bay of Bengal. Within no time, the massive steel had dived to its Periscope Depth. The final sweep was taken on the Periscope and the Captain ordered the deep dive procedure. Effortlessly, the well oiled Submarine gained depth and settled down to its deepest depth. The machines ticked well and systems had bonded well. The crew settled down as the boat silently cut across the deep sea waters to its designated area. The challenge to meet the operational tasks had begun well. The phases of the war game and patrol commenced in the next couple of days and the crew and machine responded well.

The days at sea are utilised well to bond the crew and to meet the operational aims. Life onboard a dived Submarine depends on the efficiency and response of each and every man onboard. One small step of mistake can lead to a fatal end. The sweat and toil of the crew has to be perfectly matched at each stage. The well performing Submarine was now cruising along on her patrol phase and waiting for further orders. She was on her farthest point from mother harbour when Murphy (Murphy's law is an adage or epigram that is typically stated as: Anything that can go wrong will go wrong) decided to pay a visit onboard.

The Submarine had come up to put up a snort to charge her batteries and to provide well deserved fresh air to the crew. The 02 big diesels engines were running smoothly. Suddenly, the warning lights for the Starboard diesel engine came on and the engine tripped. The checks revealed a broken crankshaft and the starboard diesel was now gone for good as the repairs were time consuming and could only be attempted in the harbour. The Officers huddled down together and a detailed appreciation was prepared. The patrol and the games were not yet over. The Submarine had to sustain for at least 03 more weeks at sea and she was almost 400 miles away from her mother base. The appreciation clearly revealed the grit, resolve and the technical capability of the crew. The Captain decided to continue with the mission on a single engine and meet the challenges head on. This entailed a week of patrol and then a 02 week trudge back to the mother base. The vital parameters of all other machines were re-checked and calculations were re-hashed. The analytics were clear. The crew had to conserve each bit of power to meet the challenges with a single good engine. The battery charging capability had been reduced to 50% and this meant more time at snorting stations. This in turn meant that the single diesel engine had to be now flogged for double the time of operation and its engine running hours were being gobbled up at double the rate too.

Murphy was looking at the patient and competent crew. Their resolve had not satiated Murphy’s hunger. Murphy wanted more and it struck again the next day. The good engine’s sea water cooler is a massive piece of machinery. This ensures chilled water supply to the engine to keep its temperatures in operational limits. Murphy quietly pierced the cooler’s pipeline and soon the sea water had meshed itself with the oil inside the cooler. The warning signals came on and the engine had to be shut down. The boat dived to a safe depth and the engineers began their investigations. The situation’s appreciation revealed that the replacement could be carried out with a spare cooler. This replacement warranted 24+ hours of uninterrupted work. The battery was not fully charged when the mishap occurred. The electrical calculations were not very encouraging as the discharging battery could enter into a deep discharge mode and render the battery set useless.

The crew set into motion as Engineers began the process of dismantling the damaged cooler. The electrical load of the Submarine was reduced to a bare minimum as all the unwanted equipment was shut down. Ventilation was limited and an occasional pump was used to pump out water and maintain the depth. The war gaming ships were closing in and the Submarine’s position could not have been compromised. The Captain and his Officers took a brilliant decision of not to surface and attempted the critical repairs whilst submerged underwater. The Submarine would not give up its position and neither compromises the operational commitment. The task had to be met - was the resolve of the Submarine’s crew.

Time started ticking, temperatures inside the Submarine were rising, the battery was slowly getting drained and the air was becoming thicker with the carbon dioxide component as both Officers and Men went about their job of replacing the damaged cooler. The sweat and effort continued unabated for 28 hours. The battery was barely a few minutes away from its deepest discharge point when the engine was fired and the well generated current moved to charge the drained battery. The snorting station brought in whiff of fresh air for the crew and a loud round of applause went around for the gutsy engineers. Each man in the crew had played his role to the perfection to meet the challenges of the deep operation.

The Submarine moved on to its new location and met its tactical challenge with aplomb. Soon, the game was declared as over and the Submarine Crew had played its role well. The boat was brought back safely to its Mother Base and guts of the crew brought well deserved glory. The Commander-in-Chief sent his heartfelt congratulations to the spirit of the crew. The damaged crankshaft needed a long layoff. Such was the gusto of the crew that the boat operated on a single engine for the rest of the operational cycle and the flag of the Indian Navy and the spirit of the Submarine Arm flew high on its mast. The deep operations need men of steely resolve, courage and conviction. They do not give up and continue to innovate. If something is important and Murphy is also smirking against you, go and do it. The challenge would be surely met.  

       

Whose Life is it Anyway!!

Circa 1987, the winter chill of New Delhi was at its peak. North India had fogged out as it had been for ages during the winters. Those were the days of surface transport dependence and fog would cripple the train and bus operations between cities. The entire Northern Plains get blanketed during these chilly days and life gets thrown out of gear. There were days when the window of navigable lights was limited and utmost care was to be taken to drive through these days. On one of these days, I was standing at Rohtak Bus Station to catch a Bus to New Delhi. I was 16 and in my Class 12^th. The next day was my entrance test for the National Defence Academy (NDA). Those were the days when mobiles had not connected the World and each word had to be written or spoken if it was to be conveyed to the recipients. 06 of my classmates were also supposed to be taking the NDA exam in the same centre at New Delhi. The inclement weather and the ongoing examinations had left us all in disarray and no concrete plans could be made to make a travel to New Delhi. All that we all understood that we would have to rendezvous at the examination centre and appear for the test.

The chill of the winter hits India each year with great vengeance. The weather starts changing slowly and turns into a pleasant pink before it assumes its vagaries. The Indian roots are deeply immersed in the hot climatic conditions and winters are actually not expected by many folks. Such is the ferocity of the winter that it completely throws the country into a limbo as the movements get restricted in Northern parts of our vast Nation. Each year we encounter the winter’s myriad challenges and the learning curve continues!!

The Sun could not breach the fog and at about 12 noon, I set for the bus station. The bus frequency was erratic due to the fog cover and each bus was moving at a over filled capacity. Somehow, I was able to set foot in a bus and quietly settled in a seat to read my examination syllabus book. The bus took almost 03 hours to cover the 65 kms distance to New Delhi and I took an auto-rickshaw to reach my maternal home. The chill had engulfed the city and I was happy to be in the warm confines of the house. Sleeping fitfully through the night, I woke up early the next day to another fog filled morning. I set two hours before the scheduled time to reach the examination centre and the auto-rickshaw drove with great care to ensure that I reach on time. The Government School at Laxmi Nagar, New Delhi offered us cold wooden benches and windows sans glasses. The winter chill was present everywhere inside the school as we settled down to write the examination of our life. After all, it was the first big examination that we were appearing for to move to the professional lives. Many a brave hearts had come wearing their blankets as is the norm in the Northern Indian states. Their mettle was tested to the core of their bones as the invigilators made them write their examination sans the blanket. I took off my second pull over and gave it to my class mate who also had to leave his blanket aside. The bonhomie was its best as all class mates sat down to write the coveted examination.

Raised in the state of Haryana, I have seen soldiers of all types of Indian Armed Forces. The folklore states that each house would produce a Soldier and a teacher. Our childhood days were all on the foot. We would read name plates after name plates on the houses and discover the names of various Indian Armed Forces personnel and their regiments/ services. Our neighbourhood was primarily the refugees from the Western neighbour of India and not many soldiers originated from these homes as the families were still coming to terms with the trauma of partition. The family sizes were reducing and the partition generation would try to ensure that the household would assemble around the hearth each evening and they would then feel assured.

Cities like Rohtak had a large migrant population as also the traditional families. Our family had a century old footprint in the city, but, my Grandfather was a migrant from the west. The wars of 1962 and 1965 were the starting points when soldiers started settling down in our city. The 1971 war saw many more moving in from their villages to the city as the soldiers bid adieu to their units and came home on pension. They settled modest homes and we grew up in a mixed zone where the western migrants and the military veterans settled together. I would carefully observe these ram rod straight soldiers with their impeccable grace and chained dogs moving about in our colony. The name plates in front of their homes sang the saga of their lives spent to save the honour and grace of India.

One day, my father returned from his Bank at New Delhi and his childhood teacher Master Ramdhari came over to our home. He came to inform my father that his student Colonel Hoshiar Singh Dahiya, Param Vir Chakra would be coming to meet them the next day. The venerable Colonel was a Param Vir Chakra (the highest Gallantry Medal) from the 1971 War. My father and he went a long way together as they both, at one stage of life, stayed in the modest home of Master Ramdhari to study Mathematics. My father’s excitement knew no bounds and the next day he took me along with him to meet the great soldier. It was around noon when the Colonel arrived at his teacher’s humble abode in his Military Regalia of Grenadiers Regiment and it was a tearful re-union amongst the battle hardened soldier and his Guru. As a few lucky ones sat down with the Colonel and glasses of butter milk were poured, the venerable Colonel described his life in the Indian Army. A volley of questions by his juniors and peers were answered. Being the youngest and the only child in the gathering, he blessed me as I gazed at his ribboned medals. He pointed towards them and stated, “Son, you have to join the Army and earn them”. He gave a pat on the back of his juniors, touched Master Ramdhari’s feet and left for his next destination. This meeting left a long lasting impression on my juvenile brain.

As I sat down to write the NDA exam braving the chill, my thoughts gathered around the medals I saw on Colonel Hoshiar Singh, Param Vir Chakra’s chest. 06 of my classmates wrote the examination and at the end of it 05 of us joined the NDA/Naval Academy to begin our respective military Careers. I became the first one in my Colony’s lane to join the NDA. The neighbourhood was tense as one of their children was leaving home to a new pasture and would not be back each night to sit close to the hearth. The old had tears welled up as their memories of partition stood up again whilst the young exhorted me put in my best foot forward in the new life. My father’s elder brother had witnessed the partition as a 19 year old and always wore a suit and a hat as a remembrance to his days before partition. He silently took off his hat as my trunk was loaded into the waiting taxi. Tears welled up in his eyes as he hugged me and wished me good luck for my onward journey. My father stood still and proud and reminded me about the great legacy of the Indian soldiers. The entire “Mohalla” (neighbourhood) bade me farewell and kept waving till the car ferrying me to New Delhi Railway Station turned right at the end of the long road. At the highway, Master Ramdhari waited near his modest home. My father and I touched the old man’s feet and he blessed me all the luck in my Military Career. A glass of homemade butter milk was gulped down and I set off for my new life. The winter had not set in and the day was clear of any fog.

Today, I am at the fag end of my Military Life. The weather is turning again in North India. The subtle winter chill is slowly knocking the boundaries of the northern states. I am counting the days before I hang in my pristine Naval Whites fully decorated with my share of Indian Military Service Medals, my Submarine Badge and my Commendation Cards. It has been a fantastic journey of encountering the fog and finding a clear way out of it. The fog is setting in again and I am again ready to find a clear path out of the fog this time over too. Those days, I was alone in the maze. Now, my World is closer and well connected. The lights are brighter and guidance systems are much more developed. Whose life is it anyway-a new challenge beckons and it is a singular opportunity again to meet it head on.

THE BREAD CRUMBS & LIFE'S OPERATIONS

Bread forms an important constituent of our food intake today. Large variants of breads greet us in the markets and we choose our pick depending upon our tastes and health. People of all ages patronise the bread. Bread is a staple food prepared from dough of flour and water, usually by baking. There are many combinations and proportions of types of flour and other ingredients, and also of different traditional recipes and modes of preparation of bread. As a result, there are wide varieties of types, shapes, sizes, and textures of breads in various regions of the World.

          

Good old days of the yore, the shops were few in our town. Bread was considered to be a luxury and as children we used to wait for Sunday breakfast to enjoy our bread. Rest of the days, it was Chapatti (or Roti) in all 03 staple meals and with different combinations of vegetables, pickles and pulses. All 03 meals were simple to make and easy to digest. The early morning breakfast was made out of left over Chapattis of the night. The old chapattis were converted into a hand meshed mixture of Desi Ghee (Clarified Butter) and Sugar and was popularly known as Churma. High in calories, Churma along with a glass of milk would give adequate sucrose shot to the brain and as students we were absolutely live and chirpy in the school. The school break Tiffin box would contain Paranthas (Parantha is an amalgamation of the words parat and atta which literally means layers of cooked dough) with seasonal pickle. All classmates would sit down together and savour the mid day meal. This togetherness built up bonhomie and long lasting friendships. The dinner was again a simple affair around the hearth where warm Chappattis would be affectionately served by the lady of the house.

          

Sundays would usually be the days when we were given a chance to indulge in the modern breads. Our city, Rohtak, had badminton clubs where fathers and sons would play games together. The clubs would start functioning from 5 am onwards and some amazing contests would take place. As children, we also got chance to play with our elders and this led us to pick the threads of the game with great ease. By Class 8^th we were matching our sporting skills with our elders and there were days when we clinched game and match from them. After the games, the entire club of 10-14 people would sit down on the roadside shop (Om’s Tea Stall or popularly known as OTS) to enjoy a well deserved bread sandwich and tea/juices. We would intently listen to the animated discussions of our elders and picked many a threads about the World happenings from those discussions and debates.

          

Soon came the time, when all my classmates were ready to move to the professional institutes. Circa 1988, we moved to our respective institutes for further career oriented courses. I along with 03 of my classmates joined the National Defence Academy (NDA) at Pune. I was the last one to leave for the Course and my mother had packed the food for the entire journey to Pune. The Churma tasted exotic as I finished the last of the packed items as the train moved into Pune Railway Station. The first meal at the NDA was a lunch. The chapattis were different in taste and profile than the home made ones. Soon the routine of the Academy took its count and each meal started becoming prized.

           

This was the time; the bread emerged as the most important constituent of life. Time was always at premium and in the minimum possible time, the Cadets had to fill their ever churning stomachs to the full to survive the day. Soon, I got accustomed to finishing my power breakfast ranging from a few seconds to a treasured 10 minutes breakfast. The magnificent dining hall of the NDA could accommodate almost 2000 cadets. The first day at the dining hall, I was mesmerised by its sheer size and clockwork precision in which the food operations were being handled by a calm kitchen and services staff. It was clockwork precision at work as 1800+ cadets would move in and out to have their meals in the Academy. The management of bread became a grand affair for the junior cadets. As we were being taught the nuances of military training, I saw a neat packing of sandwiches going into handkerchiefs or paper napkins. Time was always at premium and so were resources such as butter and jam. The bread was never an issue and was available in plenty. 25 grams of butter and 50 grams of jam could be used to make 5 double sandwiches to satiate our hunger. The packed sandwiches would be carried to classes and shared with mates who would then grow to become Brothers-in Arms and live with the bond forever. These sandwiches packed in various forms and methods tasted out of this world and their value can never be re-paid to the generous soul who brought them hidden in his pocket of starched uniform. Many a days of tough tone could be successfully encountered through charging of the blood’s sugar levels by these bread sandwiches.

          

The dinner at the NDA was a combination of bread and Cow Peas curry (Lobia). Hungry and raring to charge our energy levels to meet the further unknown challenges, we would wallop bread after bread pieces with the curry. The filled stomach can become empty any minute, but who was worried at that stage? Running against time, we could easily finish our meals in record time and that too with exquisite table manners. This was a grand part of the Military training. As the life moved on into the Navy, the bread moved with us as an important part of our life. Life onboard training base mess, sailing ships and then Submarines had bread in all its meals. The quantity of butter and jam grew as life moved on from a Cadet to a young Officer. The importance of each meal remained steady with the growth of life. Not a morsel was wasted as the value of food remained a high priority.

          

Today, breads of various varieties are consumed by us. We have encountered new combinations and formations of breads. The sides of the breads taste better and the fresh bread boasts of many ingredients which are marketed as elixirs for humans. The traditional Churma, parantha and chappattis have steadily disappeared from the dining tables and tiffin boxes of school going children and adults alike. Canteen and corporate lunches have now migrated to various hues, tastes and styles. The pint liquids have been added on as stress busters. Food joints near schools and colleges see footfalls from young generation and the food consumption patterns have seen a big change. New market trends are firmly in saddle now where food industry is related to fitness and other ancillary products including medicines. The cycle of stress and strains coupled with complex food and sedentary habits castes its vicious gaze on every human being. Many fall victim to the unprecedented attacks as we sit more than we walk/stand.

         

Now is the time to move, keep fit and make those bread crumbs precious. The pattern is clear and precise for each one of us. The predictions are bleak as medications are catching up with humans at an early age than before. Shall we look back and visit the good old days again-keep the food simple, walk a mile longer each day and sweat out those extra calories to meet the complex challenges of our lives. The cost of life’s operations needs a merited look, isn’t it folks?

THE FIGHTING SPIRIT

1.       Early August 1988, the early morning alarms in the mechanical, hand wound watches went off from 4 AM onwards. Every Cadet in the 1^st Term of the National Defence Academy (NDA) had a varied routine of getting up to get saddle ready for the day’s routine. The Ist Term Cadets were kept isolated from the main Academy for first 06 months to bake the youngsters and prime them up for an entry into the grand Military Academy from 2^nd Term onwards. The hard core veterans from the various Sainik Schools and Military schools were accustomed to the grind from the 6^TH standard onwards and would be last ones to wake up just minutes before the Cadet’s muster was announced. The ones from the public schools and non-military environment were the pre-Sun risers and trying to get accustomed to the whistles and Bugler’s call. As the Cadets number swells each day in the 1^st Term with newer mates joining in, the alarm routine sees many variations. By the end of July, the NDA Wing had settled down and the mind gets accustomed to the ringing bells. Those were the days when snoozes did not function efficiently if the alarm shut button of the mechanical watch had become victim of a brutal attempt to shut its high pitched bell. Being a hard core Public School types, I had also settled down into my new routine and the 4^th Alarm Bell at around 0430 Hours was my rising signal.

2.       I had joined the National Defence Academy on a few nudges from my Father. He wanted me to fulfil his dream of becoming an Indian Army Officer. The nudges were gentle and also hard, at times as I was keener to pursue a Medical degree. My first cousin’s marriage took place when I was in my 9^th Standard in 1983. The exams had got over and I had scored a good percentage. Those were the days when we used to possess 02 types of shoes- one pair of black Bata Shoes for the school and family events and one pair of White Bata Fleet Shoes. A new design and more spongy Sports Shoes with a Velcro strap locking mechanism had just been introduced into the Indian market. It was a rage and every youngster wanted to wear one such shoe. I was also not left away from such an urge and banked upon my exam performance and brother’s wedding to tilt the decision of my Father in my favour to buy one such pair of shoe.

3.       At a favorable moment, when the new bride had arrived at the home and the entire family had sat around her to conduct a “Ring Finding” game, I brought all my guts to my mouth and requested the new shoes from my father!! The hard nudge that I received in front of the entire family firmly pushed me away from my dream to be a Doctor and I vowed that I would join the National Defence Academy (NDA) to get my dream shoes. My Father gave me a princely sum of Rs 2000/- in April 1988 to undergo the NDA interview at Bangalore. I saved each penny till I cleared the final selection and bought a Rs 1400/- worth of new shoes when I left Bangalore for New Delhi after my selection for the Academy.

Opposite 12 SSB Bangalore- April 1988- After Selection to NDA

(extreme right and the shoes say it all!!)

4.       The story did not end here. It was just the beginning of a new twist into my life. The new shoes got locked in my NDA Trunk immediately on the arrival to NDA Wing and we were back to wearing the Bata White Fleet shoes. The 4^th Alarm bell went off at 0430 hours and I got up to do my rituals before the morning muster for physical training (PT). It was the 4^th week at the NDA Wing and each alternate day we were running 5-6 kms to build up our strength and stamina. These runs through cross-country routes left our not so accustomed limbs and especially legs aching and the thin soul of the Fleet Shoes did not add any succor either.

 Centered between Mates NJ Singh & Deepak Bhasker

5.       As we reached the fields for the PT, we found that a Boxing arena had been rigged there and from that day the Novices Boxing Bouts were beginning. The hard core veterans smelt fun whilst the Public School variants did not have much clue apart from a few remembrances of Sylvester Stallone’s “Rocky-1” antics. The trainers at NDA are seasoned professionals and their plans are perfect. As the luck would have it, I was selected for the first day bouts and pitched against a stocky Sainik School, Bhubaneswar veteran from the other Squadron called November Squadron. A mere look at my opponent and I realized that it was an unmatched battle. Here I was a commoner, who had never fought a school or a lane fight, had done all my home works and assignments on time, had never been punished and had taken pride in my discipline. I had to sustain 03 rounds of 2.5 minutes each against my versatile opponent who by then did not understand/appreciate the meaning of being a Course mate or a Brother-in-Arms as we all become from 2^nd Term onwards till death does us apart.

6.       The only sign of good luck were my 03 classmates Satyapal Sindhu, Navdeep Dahiya and Anil Tahlan. Though these gentlemen were also in November Squadron, they opted to be my seconds. As the gloves went into my hands and a rooky head gear was put on my head, these 03 mates kept on egging me to just withstand the onslaught. They were also extremely worried and knew that my face would soon be converted into a pulp. My legs were trembling as I had never taken a punch from anyone in my 17 years of existence on the Mother Earth. The frenzy of the boxing bouts was raking the air and soon the 5^th bout of the day was announced. I faintly remember as Navdeep escorted me inside the ring and pumped in my ears,” Do not fall down, get up”.

7.       The bell was shaken by the mallet and the stocky opponent sized me up nicely and properly. He was as dark as I was fair and looked menacingly into my eyes. A little training before the bout was given by a PT instructor and I ached my mind to remember those pearls of wisdom as November Squadron raised the war cry. The boxer moved towards me and I raised my guard. His first punch landed on my chin and I hit the rope. My 03 classmates also raised the battle cry and told me to move on. Mike Squadron had fallen silent as they feared for the worst too. The punch had shaken my bare roots, but now I knew that how a punch felt. The heat had sunk in and I moved within the ring. Soon, my opponent came in again and this time. I decided to put in my best. One of my punch landed on his lips and I made the fist bloody cut. The “Rocky” inside me rose too. The opponent was very angry and annoyed. The battle had seemed a cake walk for him, but, I had managed to land a few punches and also made the cut on his face. He let go his fury on me and I also did my best to counter his brute force.

8.       The second round began and he punched me harder and harder. The frenzy in the arena was mind boggling. Each save by me was cheered loudly as a commoner fended off a titan. At the end of the second round, my arms were refusing to pick themselves up. Navdeep and Satyapal were very worried and knew that in the 3^rd round, I would be injured badly. My arms felt like 50 kgs each. They did their best to revive me and soon the bell rang. My opponent was now working against time to flatten me for a knockout. I was barely able to hit him as my mobility was not responding. Halfway through the round, his punch flattened me. My squadron Mike raised the tempo and I got up on the count of 5 to face some more barrages. My lip was cut open and I again went down on my back. But now, the bout was not in boxing arena but in the arena of the respective minds. My opponent had also tired down and his punches did not make give any pain to me. I again got up on the count of 6, fended off a few agonising seconds and the end of 7.5 minutes came all too soon. I lost the bout, but, my bar of undertaking the pain was raised from a dead Zero to a perfect Hundred. The pains and stitches remained for a few days but the fighting spirit had been inculcated, the Novices Boxing had achieved its purpose. I had arrived to follow the famed NDA Motto- THE MAKER OF MEN.

9.       My venerable opponent did not complete the Course as he left the Academy half way through the Course and I did not get a chance to be his Brother-in-Arms. I fondly remember his punches and the baking that he gave me to achieve the NDA Motto. The Fleet Shoes made the fight easier. They helped to keep the feet firmly on the ground as sweat fell like rain on the floor. They do not offer a good sponge but they ensure that the feet are firmly in touch with the ground. The good fight and the saving of a knockout earned me a few hours “Liberty” from the NDA Wing to visit Pune City. I proudly wore my Velcro Shoes and enjoyed the day out with my friends.

10.     Yesterday, I saw the epic on “Mary Kom”. I saw Mary Kom mending and wearing the same Bata White Fleet Shoes as she learnt the nuances of Boxing in the trouble torn Manipur. The movie moved the tears and the pain of that first punch on my chin came back haunting. The gentle nudges of my Father to buy a shoe only if I can afford to wear it stood stark in front of me as I saw Mary Kom climbing the hard grinding mountain called Success with the dint of her hard work and raw, brute courage and conviction. I treasure my Shoes. They have taught me the efficacy of labor, sweat, determination, conviction and courage. They have to be earned to keep the legs going. There are many out there in India’s vast lands who would one day wear the shoes that they desire. The essence of the battle is in fighting hard and strong. The opponent may be strong, powerful and agile, but, a Fighter’s spirit can win the final battle. Cheers to all the sports persons of India who have overcome each and every odd to bring laurels to the Nation. The National Flag goes up with the National Anthem playing in the background as they turn gritty battles into medals for the Nation. The fighter’s spirit is unmatched- The Fighter Never Quits, the Quitter Never Wins. Raise the bar, move on and meet the battle head on to get the glory.