Yesterday evening I witnessed a unique performance by special Children at the School Function. These lovely children went about the performance with absolute gusto and were all smiles even as everyone in the Audience shed tears of appreciation for their courageous performance. The beauty of this performance was the connection the children had with their Choreographer.Their eyes were all focussed on him and they complimented all his moves.Amazing...

     

Today's world thrives on connections. This is the era of Blackberry,Androids and I Phones and Whats App et al.The matrix of Connectivity is huge and offers tremendous potential. As a Child, I used to keenly observe the Postman.He used to visit our house each day and was offered a Glass of Water even if there was no letter. My Grandmother (till she was alive) would make read each letter aloud as she had turned blind by early 1970s. Each letter was suitably replied.My mother would utilise each and every corner of an Inland/Postcard in her write-ups. The eleaboration of events of the past was given in minutest detail and the details surely used to come alive in front of the reader.

       

Since letter reading and writing had been imbibed from a young age,so I was not surprised when my Mother affextionately kept 50 Inlands and Postcards in my NDA Trunk. These tools really came handy in my First Term when I was put under a severe grind to shed my Civvy bearing. I used to find time in between classes and weekends and kept in close touch with all my relatives,friends and girls too. My.writings were equally reciprocated and I used to receive a decent number of letters each week. My mother's volumes kept me abreast with all the family melodramas and I could stitch the events alive as I read the letters by changing the position as per the lines written.

     

In my 2nd 6th Term in NDA,I struck conversation with a lovely girl and was on my knees within a week to propose to her. The great skill.of writing letters came very handy as I kept myself alive in front of her despite a long distance relationship. The letters could take 2-3 weeks to.reach Manipur from my Station Lonavala but the number of letters kept the stream flowing. At times,I wrote 2-8 Letters per day!!

     

As technology grew,most of my letter contacts came on email service.We maintained our connections.Technology leap frogged to Gmail Messenger and FB and we too kept migrating. A green dot on Gmail Messenger indicated the presence of the contact. A ping and we were on.

        

One day,I received the news of a young Offr who had gone missing from his place of duty.He was lost at sea. I kept my prayer to not to believe that he was a young Fox.He had dreams and energy. The ship returned to harbor and I kept waiting for the grey dot to turn green. It never happened and my worst fear came true as I lost connect with the fine young Offr whose voice and write-ups cheered many he knew.

       

The world is indeed a punch away from any sort of connected keyboard. This write up has originated from a hand held phone even as the heat of the battery is numbing my palm. Stay connected is the buzz word. The dot must remain green and Whats App status must be Online is my sincere wish for you all.

My Cycle- My Hero

In my humble opinion, the Wheel has been one of the most important invention of mankind. The turning of Wheel has helped mankind to achieve many other milestones. The Cycle is an off shoot of the mighty wheel and "The Lost Bicycle" has generated an interesting debate on the Fox Web.

       

Circa 1981, I had got promoted to Class VI. Like everyone else of my age ,I also desired to possess a bicycle. Those days,the World (and especially India) was a simpler place to live. My father possessed a Black Colored HERCULES cycle. Hercules was a heavy duty and sturdy cycle. Each working day,rain or shine, my father used to pedal from home to Rohtak Railway Station,a distance of about 6 Km one way,to catch the train to New Delhi. In the night,the bell of the Hercules would announce his arrival (The World was much quieter those days and small sounds could also be heard from a distance).

     

My father agreed to buy me a new Cycle provided I learn how to clean the bi-cycle.I undertook the lessons from my father on a Sunday morning and for next 06 Months,I did the entire maintenance of the Hercules. The catch was that I was under strict instructions -Not to Mount Hercules as it was my Dad's favorite.

      

A few days before Janamashtmi of 1981, my Father brought home a a shining Red colored HERO JET Cycle.Incidentally,this cycle had a Stand but no Carrier!!! Strange, but,it was an exact replica of a NDA Bike! My father said that a Carrier was not required as my back would be strengthened if I would ride with the weight of my School Bag on the back. How right he was. Now,I maintained two cycles and had my brand new Hero as my proud possession. The weight on my back made my back sturdy and molded my shoulders to lift weights even as I pumped the cycle to school and back. The 4 seasons of India hardened me well and life moved on till one day I decided to do a stint on the Hero. I had a bad fall and my left knee broke. A great medical debate happened to save my knee.bone and I was pumped with a lot of Penicillin for many many months. I was bed ridden for 5 months and missed my school. As tears flowed due to pain and anger, my Father did the maintenance of both the Cycles as I watched. He polished and rubbed my Hero and kept it greased and oiled. The Doctors got me walking with a stiff left leg and with a bone as brittle as eaten up charcoal.

     

On a visit to our home,the Doctor saw my shining Hero. He was impressed with its shine.He told me to mount it and thus began my physiotherapy. I began by riding on a Stand and realized the firmness of a Stand. A Cycle Stand could withstand all my weight as I sweated to bring my body to motion from the long bed rest. Gradually,my left leg started to loose its stiffness. One day,I took the bicycle off its stand,threw away the crutch and rode on much against the wishes of my mother. My Father was happy when he was told in the evening about the development.

     

I got back to rides and maintenance of the Hercules and the Hero. On Sundays,my father started taking me for Badminton lessons so that my Left Knee could gain more strength. My Hero was my constant companion. It saw me off to NDA where I rode F-46 and maintained it like my own-Hero.

THE BUNKING THEORY

I have been a "Bubblehead" (read Submariner) since 1997. The last 16 years in the Sword Arm of the Indian Navy have firmed up my belief that:-

        
        a) Some guys have all the luck
        b) What you bunk today ,catches up with you on a rainy day

Having been a medical student,I had conveniently decided to leave Maths on a slight provocation from my Maths Teacher.It is ironic that how teenage hormonal changes can shape your entire life. Seminal events have unassuming beginnings. A murder of a Prince had led to a World War!! However,inspite of having known history,I could not relate its significance to my future and the primary reason was the zeal of my teen age.

        

 I was all of 16 years when I decided to bunk the Maths Class. A routine check by the affable Mrs Vij (The Maths Teacher) was good enough to let the cannon go loose. I simply decided to leave Maths inspite of all the good advice by a few good mates and the venerable Mrs Vij. Destiny has its own dimensions and who knows at that age!!

      

The wheel of life turned and soon I was appearing for Medical Entrance and the NDA Exam.The NDA Exam was only at behest of my father who exhorted me to take it as a challenge. A guide book and some Divine Power boosted the percentage and I went through motions of clearing both Medical College and NDA.

       

The time and tide can be unpredictable. Amidst all joyous events,I landed in NDA.This was the first time that the "Bunk Bug" stood in front of me like a monster. The lure of the White Uniform could only be fulfilled with B.Sc. Degree. One can imagine the pain that I had to undergo as I tried to learn Maths from Class XI onwards in NDA. I had no option but to attend each and every class and had to keep my sensory organs absolutely alive to gather each and every word of Maths.

I just could not bunk any class.This led to another good habit of attending all other activities as I was always "On Parade". One fine day in the IVth Term, I wanted to enjoy the fruits of being "LIC (Locked In Cabin)". A good mate did the needful and I tried to enjoy the locked environment.However,it was a short lived slumber as the threat of missing the Maths class woke me up. I could hear no sound in the Corridor.My mind was racing to get out of the Cabin. Some tense moments passed and I heard the voice of trusted CB named Bairath. I called out his name and slided the key outside for him to unlock the Cabin. The door opened and I was greeted by my Div "Oh" Flt Lt Daniel Victor. " Bugger,your Maths Teacher is looking for you.Carry On.". Good impression saved my skin that day. I fumbled an apology and raced to the Class of Mr Rao. Mr Rao had missed my familiar face on the first seat and called up Sqn as he was our Counsellor too! Destiny and lack of luck keeps guys like me on toes.

       

Bunking is a natural phenomenon for many. It has many ways too. Reading a book hidden inside the Study Books is also a type of bunking. The "Mast Ram" students would vouch for this. These guys had good luck.They would study 10 pages for exams (unlike me who had to either mug or practice the entire book) and the question paper would come from those 10 pages only!! This phenomenon I saw in all my degrees including Engg.Bunking somehow needs a lot of Divine Help. Divine Help does not come on its own and is a gift.

       

Over the years,I maintained my attendance record in all the Fall Ins,Musters and Parades. Bunking never could become my Cup of Tea. Each year Maths has continued to haunt me. The two years of Class XI and XII were great without any calculation but since then each year I have paid the price of Bunking Maths.

      

 Today,I am happy as "On Parade" status keeps life energetic and cherubic. Early mornings are a pleasure with mother nature and am ready for clubbing each evening. Golf beckons at 0530 hours tomorrow and surely the day would be better as it builds up. Bunking vs On Parade-debate continues....

THE LOST BICYCLE

Humans have had a panache for Riding. They have been interested in riding various forms of living and non-living things (imaginations are welcome!!). So, it was not wrong that the humans who had to establish the National Defence Academy chose a Bicycle as the important constituent of a Cadet's life. Vehicles for human transport that have two wheels and require balancing by the rider date back to the early 19th century. The first means of transport making use of two wheels arranged consecutively, and thus the archetype of the bicycle, was the German draisine dating back to 1817. The term bicycle was coined in France in the 1860s.  The present National Defence Academy was commissioned at Khadakwasla on 07 Dec 1954. Spread over a sprawling 7015 acres, the planners of NDA had to choose a mode of transport for the young Cadets. The most obvious choice was a Bicycle as the Horses would surely have been difficult to maintain by the Cadet whose life was always rocking.

In the absence of DPP/DPMs and of course L-1 Tendering process, NDA got lucky and some robust bicycles were purchased for some of the most virile boys who had to be turned into Men. These bicycles were unique as they only had one accessory fitted onto them. This accessory was the reliable "Stand". The sturdy "Carrier" was omitted from the Cadet's bicycle for reasons best known to the planners of the NDA. The Cadet had to put his Satchel around his neck and his right shoulder had to take the weight of his satchel. This shoulder had to be strong to give a firm Salute to both Juniors and Seniors all along the Uniformed Career.

 As the first of the pioneer Cadets moved to Khadakwasla, the campus bustled with their activities. They were constantly on their bicycles scourging the length and breadth of the massive land mass that NDA possessed. Each Squadron had a Cycle Parking Bay and also a Cycle Repair Shop with a qualified mechanic to keep these machines ticking for a Cadet. I was very fortunate to possess a Bicycle called F-46. This bicycle had been a proud possession of many a stalwarts including the Fox's Pride SCC Arun Khetarpal/Fox/38 (Later 2/Lt Arun Khetarpal,PVC-The Hero of Basantar)!! The bicycles of this genre were raw iron bikes and extremely sturdy.
         
These bicycles were well maintained as the Academy progressed. However, one day a vicious Chain Reaction started. The junior Cadets had moved into the Sqns and one of the job entrusted to them was to park the Bicycles in the Sqn Parade Ground early in the Morning. It was one such day when a bicycle was found to be flat!! The senior Cadet arrived and took the easier wrong. He took the junior Cadet's cycle for his ritual. The junior was entrusted with the responsibility of getting the cycle repaired. Stuck in his own myriad world, the junior Cadet could not get hold of the cycle mechanic. Sometime in the evening, he found that the cycle had nothing wrong but a defective valve. The evening had set in and the Bn Area was thinly populated. With the sound of air moving out of a tyre, the first Valve was managed. No one saw and no one investigated!! The era of managing saw a new edition into its colossal collection. The choice of "easier wrong" catapulted this act into a full time activity. Generation after generation of Cadets kept on hearing air sounds as valve after valves kept on getting adjusted and the NDA atmosphere was loaded with the escaped air.
         
Soon, the junior Cadets had a new item as their pocket content-The Innocuous Cycle Tube Valve!! The sale of valves in NDA Market kept on increasing as the supply could never meet the demand. The sole reason for this mismatch was the smarter Cadets who kept on releasing a large amount of air from the cycle tubes to meet their targets. Courses after courses moved out of Academy and the Valve Management became an important art for many Cadets. If only the Academy had switched onto Tubeless Tyres, the famous NDA Bicycles would have never grown notorious.
         
The pent up feelings lead from one thing to another. If a bicycle could not be repaired, then it had no other way but to be lifted on the shoulder!! It did make the Cadet sturdy as his legs grew accustomed to more weights but maybe it did dent his confidence of riding the bicycle. The Foreign Cadets from Nepal and Bhutan and some stalwarts from romantic North East could not handle their bicycles as they could never get into the company of those "Master Green" Cyclists who were by now under their cycles. The anger of a Cadet can escape like a volcano in many ways. Many a desks in the Classes and cycles bore the brunt of pent up feelings. One guy thought of teaching some one a lesson. He rode the bike into an obscure corner of NDA and dumped the NDA Bicycle into a bush or Charlie Well. Innovation has been the bed rock of humans and especially a Cadet. Someone became more evolved than the others and rode a bicycle to NDA Lake and just let the poor bicycle drown in the fathoms of the water. Many cycles met with gory ends.
        
Now the bigger question arose!! A lost bicycle had to be compensated by the owner. The poor Cadet had to loose his pocket money and of course come with a bigger cheque in the next term to fulfill the damage. Sure, there was an occasion when the entire Academy's bicycles functioned. It was the day when venerable Commodore (Later Admiral) Ronnie Pereirra rode the entire NDA to Pune to watch the famous Movie PATTON. It is therefore evident that the entire NDA can have all its bicycles working if there is a clear vision and devotion. Any loss is pinching and for a Cadet the bicycle is one of the most important part of the NDA Kit. It is his speed, his time saver and his savior which can help him to conserve his precious energy. My heart goes out to those who lost their precious jewel (read bicycle) at NDA and had to bear the brunt of this loss. An obituary to these lost bicycles would be in order by the affected individuals.
     
My F-46 withstood with me for 06 terms in the main NDA (Brigs are a blessed lot at the NDA and enjoy 02 princely 6th terms!! My royal salute to the Generals and Field Marshals- Sirs). It took me from the corners to corners of NDA in no time. Smooth as it could get at ripe age, this bicycle was as macho as it could get. I rode this bike all the way from Fox Sqn to the NDA Gate when my then Girlfriend (and now Wife!!) came to meet me for the first time at NDA. Riding tall on F-46 , I led the Auto rickshaw carrying my future in-laws from NDA Gate to the magnificent Foxtrot Squadron. The Khetarpal's Fortress sealed the affair and F-46 was the first NDA kit that my future wife saw. My heart goes out to the lost NDA Bicycles. It is a sincere request that a 02 minute silence be observed after reading this email to mourn the loss of the NDA Bicycles.
     
I love my cycle and these days too I am riding one. I clean this bicycle every week, get its air topped up and park it in the Balcony so that its Valves do not get adjusted. Very soon, I will be riding this Bicycle to the Office as the Winter peaks up and the threat of sweat and the White Uniform withers away. The Lost Bicycle of PK Roy Chowdhury Sir/Fox/37 has stoked many an emotions and wish we can find that lost cycle. Last known coordinate- THE KHADAKWASLA LAKE. Let the hunt begin - please Foxies. Trust you too have some NDA Bicycle stories and can we hear them- Homeswar Luwangcha/Fox/80- Hope you are listening Tamo (Big Brother).....

Golf and Submarines

It was a lazy weekday at INS Valsura at Jamnagar in Jan 1997. I was operating as the SUTO (Senior Under Trainee Officer) in the rank of a Lt.The bunch under my Command included 03 Coursemates from the Basic Engg Course and 28 Sub-Lts from the Naval Engg Course.

Our Course's inception into Service was unique and at each stage we were put under various guinea pig experimentation. This had a large attrition and 02 of my Coursemates had opted to be categories.Though during Navy Balls and Social evenings,they would be the most agile "Homo Sapiens"!!!But during morning parade,X-Country and PT Musters ,these gentelemen would be invariably breaking their cots. The other Operational Coursemate,an ex-Hunter/Delta guy,had all the qualities of a Dagger and Head Hunter.Nothing could move him-not even Mohammad! So,the onus was mine to move this bunch of Guinea Commandoes to the "Right Place at the Right Time". Incidentally,I was newly married and stayed in Married Accm which was a Km and a half away from the Mess. Each morning my life used to kick off at 0500 and ended at about 1400 Hrs. The ever dependable Hamara Bajaj was my constant companion as I shuttled between Home,Mess,Parade ground and Class Rooms.

    
Golf was not on Officer's agenda in 1996.Very few Officers had Golf Sets and a freshly arrived ex-DSSC Officer Cdr Harphool Singh had commissioned a Croquet Court in Valsura.We were quite enamored by the game as we watched a few Staff Offrs and Ladies try their hands on the game. However,the warm blooded mammals as we are,we used to find solace in Squash,Badminton and organised games with sailors.Golf was a wonder game and we would read about names like Nick Faldo,Steve Ballesteros etc..It was a game from Mars till then.

    
On that lazy day,I was told to muster the entire Course in Auditorium by 1130 hrs.I achieved the task and made a report to the Course Offr. A few minutes later,the CO,a Commodore, walked in with a letter in his hand. He stated that the letter was from the Chief of Personnel (COP) and a very few young technical offrs were joining the Submarines.There was an acute shortage and it was our batch which had to contribute to overcome the shortage.The Guineas were zapped and no one was willing to join Subs!

   
The CO exhorted and then shifted his gaze at me and the Dagger Hunter (My buddy) sitting next to me.Dagger Hunter was doing a calculation on a page placed on his thigh. The CO said,"Come on Boys,I need names". My next transfer was known to me and I was heading to a Russian Kashin Class Destroyer at Vizag inspite of having been trained for a Western Ship.This was again a Guinea situation. I looked at Dagger Hunter,made a quick calculation that a Submarine is also Russian and so is a Kashin Destroyer.Also,I would get to wear a Dolphin Badge on my Uniform.

    
In the next moment,my hand was up.The Dagger Hunter (DH) was taken aback.The CO was by now smiling.The DH also raised his hand and in a symphonic movement,12 more hands rose.14 of us had volunteered to be Submariners. The relieved CO walked away and I was told to meet him in his Office. Inside his chamber,the CO called up the COP and broke the grand news. Alongwith the news, he opened up his library and gifted me an autobiography of Jack Welch,the legendary and longest serving CEO of General Electric Company.

     
I read the biography during Sub Medicals at Mumbai. The book spoke a lot about Golf and how Golf made Jack what he was.In the end ,Jack stated that he had 3 wives and it was courtsey the family time lost on work and Golf.He stated that he had left Golf to retain his third wife!!.Jack became my Guru and I decided never to play Golf.

Soon enough,in Jun 1997,I landed in the Submarine School at Vizag with my ever dependable Bajaj , becoming dependable Wife and a topsy turvy but cute 9 month old son.Jack Welch's parting lines were firmly embedded in my mind and Golf drifted away into oblivion.

       
By early 2000,the bug called Y2K bit the Services and also walked in Golf.The IVth Pay Commission had arrived and the salaries were on a rise. I started observing some Sunday early morning movements as a few Golfers would rev up their newly procured Marutis and Hyundais at 4 AM to reach the Vizag Golf Course almost 20 Km away from NOFRA. I was not amused as I knew that it led to virtual widowhood for the Ladies and a Widowers status for the Golfer (courtsey Jack Welch). I even landed up with a smart CO who tried his level best to coax me into the Game but I did not budge.He would regularly task me with Golf Queries and I would generate data to solve his Slice,Chip,Fade and Putt issues.But Golf on Course-No Sir,I have a family and Squash is my game for sweating.

     
The stint on Russian Subs had by now introduced me to a new variant of alcohol called "Chisti" or Crude Vodka. The Russian specialists and the Indo-Ruskis taught me ways to enjoy the Vodka and also "Chisti". Still,Golf did not feature in my life.

     
I reached Mumbai and used to go for a walk to US Club where Golf was the religion.I used to see the C-in-C,Vice Admiral Sangram Singh Byce/Fox/32 tee off at US Club. The Fox Spirit was soaring but Golf was a taboo.

    
Eventually,one fine noon at Staff College,a Golf Pro came for a Golf Camp.I pushed myself out of my bed and gave up the siesta to join the Camp. The Club moved but the balls never went anywhere.The game is absurd and tricky I thought. I and a IAF Senior got together and decided to play the game. But alas,a 6th String Hockey player,as I was,I gave a whack to my 1960 vintage Driver and tore a back muscle. Jack appeared in my dream that night and told me,"Go on Son,do not give up." I was back on the Course with a spray to calm my back and continued to hit the balls everywhere in the park.

     
Came a posting to Delhi and the desk was tight. As luck would have it,I got a house (after a 24 months wait) bang in front of Army Golf Course. A Chinese set was bought from Moreh and I was on the Range.A year later,I was hitting the balls at my free will and ventured into the Course. The first Tee Off is divine and pumps up the body and the mind.

   
Jack and his lesson is still firmly ingrained in my mind.I play 9 Holes at a quick pace and am back home within 2.5 Hours. No one minds my foray as long as they find me chirpy and active. Submarines gave my life a new dimension and Golf has added on to my happiness levels.The walk in the Park is good,the thump of Driver is exciting and a Par is all that we look for and anything over a Par is a source of Joy as the hole is either won or lost. Golf is good so long as it is a passion and not an addiction. Submarines demand both-Passion and addiction.

The Cat's Paw

The 6th Term Naval Cadets at the National Defence Academy are an envied lot amongst their Army & AF Coursemates. When the Pongos and Flyboys are struggling to get ready for breakfast after their outdoor trg,the Naval lot is reaching back from the Mess to get into another set of KDs and move on. Many a Naval Cdts have blissfully enjoyed the Butter of their own Coursemates in this phase. However,this bliss is not a forever blessing for many a Cadets do not realise the advantage of being a "Land Lubber". NDA offers a very micro experience of Navy's actual life. The reality of losing the feet from the land hits many when the Ship starts moving towards the high seas.The butter starts tasting a lot more raw and the stomach churns out even the last of the bugs. Many a plastic buckets have faced the agony of Land Tigers foray to the Rocking Seas.

An integral part of a Sea Cadet's life is a Cat's Paw exercise.Soon as one lands on the Trg Ship,a new reality hits.One becomes the lowest form of Marine Life onboard the ship.The glorious ex-6th Termers have to scrub the decks, chip/paint the Ships side, brasso the Ships brass and many more sundry acts. Life becomes topsy-turvy as Navy starts its real training.

In each sortie to another port/return leg to mother port,an exercise called "The Cat's Paw" is carried out. 6 Sea Cdts are lowered on a Whaler Boat about 15-20 miles from the Port.A little ration, Flare Gun, Navigation Chart,Magnetic.Compass and a primitive Communication set is provided to the boat. 02 such boats are lowered and the ship moves away. Then the battle to reach the harbor begins.

My first Cat's Paw happened off Karwar in Feb 1992.Karwar had not taken the shape as a Naval Port then. The sea was a bit rough that day and sea state was about 2-3.Waves were large and rising high.Our Trg Cdr was Cdr VR Naphde,a Rimcollian from 43rd NDA (if memory jogs me right). He took great pride in tough and upright trg. Having a close look at the Sea onthat morning,he ordered the lowering of the Whalers. I was selected as the Coxswain of the First Whaler.My crew seemed to be good as it had a potential Engineer,two potential Divers,a potential Logistician and a potential Pilot. I was given the chance to steer them due to my background of having Captained Whalers at NDA.

As we got lowered from the Port side of the Ship,the Ship rocked to Starboard and the Whaler slammed into the Ship side.I ordered the removal of the Robinson's Screws. The Whaler landed into the sea with a thud and in a wave's trough.In the next moment a wave crest swooped my Whaler up and we came almost parallel to the Ship.I saw a smile on the face of the Trg Cdr as I saluted him.

The next moment,the Ship's screws started turning and she made headway.My boat was going up an d down the waves.A large wave hit us and we lost the Ship. The big waves did not allow us to see the second Whaler. I ordered my team to pull out the Oars to pull the boat. This was the time the reality hit me hard. The potential Divers and the Logistician had started the division of the ration and were merrily opening the Jam and Cheese tins. The waves were pushing us up and down and all seemed to be at sea.

In the next 3 minutes or so,the first diver felt his stomach churning.As he fell sick,the other diver and logistician also fell sick. Without an oar being pulled ,these 3 studs went under the "garboard strakes" and just slept away.

The Engineer, the Pilot and self were left fending the waves and steering the boat to the harbor.Painstakingly,we rigged up our sails and tried to catch the favorable winds.The winds blew on and off and there was no sign of wind beneath my wings. The other whaler was never in contact even as we tried hard to use the vintage comm set."Mother This is Baby-1" and "Baby-2 This is Baby-1" drew no responses.

Soon the ration got over and our water bottles held our spirits. The high waves kept on rocking the Whaler up and down and sails were of no use to the boat or to us. The three of us survivors with Sea Legs kept pulling in rotation as one held the Rudder to steer general direction Karwar.

At about 1600 hrs,the potential pilot saw a dot on the horizon."Mosquitoe approaching", he shouted. Soon,a single engined chopper was hovering on top of us and the Pilots waved at us. As we waved back,the Chopper moved away!!The Comm Set did not utter a sound.The Engineer revealed that the battery was dead.

The sea grew calmer and a great silence engulfed us. The calm.sea brought our 3 comrades into action too. We ploughed on and at 1730 hrs,we raised Karwar.Soon,I glided the Whaler next to the Ship and saw a smiling Trg Cdr on the Helo Deck. I ran up and did my de-briefing.The Trg Cdr accoladed our "Fighter Spirit" and said that our cast off was so turbulent that the other Whaler was not sent off that day. It was our lone battle that day.

Last year,the Pilot got ditched at sea from a Single Engined Chopper.He fell from a great height and was on DIL. He fought valiantly and today I heard that he is back on his feet and raring to go on.The Cat's Paw had proven his mettle. The sea legs and the fighter's spirit came out clearly on that day. Everyday in our lives is a "Cat's Paw" and "Fighters" are always winners....

Travelogue McLeodganj

James Bruce, 8th Earl of Elgin and 12th Earl of Kincardine, KT, GCB, PC had arrived as the Viceroy of India in 1862 after having served in Jamaica, Canada and China. He was educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford, and became one of a brilliant group of Eton and Christ Church graduates, many of whom were later associated in politics and the colonial service. Bruce studied intensively, so much so that he injured his health and had to fore-go a double first for a mere first. Nevertheless he left Oxford not only widely read in classics but having “mastered” on his own, so his brother recorded, the philosophy of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The latter, with its stress on the organic nature of society in which the members and interests are dependent on one another, was a suggestive and intriguing acquisition for a young man who was to lead, with the ready address and genial charm already apparent at Oxford, fragmented and unformed societies towards a new coherence in self-government.

The first of the activities that James Bruce undertook on arrival to India was to use Peterhoff, Shimla as the official residence of the Viceroy. James was a mild mannered Viceroy who ventured deep into the Society to manage his official affairs. This of course left him a lot exhausted in the course of his duty. Something similar is experienced by every motorist as he/she tries to get out of New Delhi on any direction. I underwent the same predicament as I got up with a bad feeling at 0430 hrs on 14 Oct 13. I had planned a round of Golf and start of a drive to Chandigarh by 1000 hrs. However, the stomach cramps did not permit the game. By 0800 hrs I was feeling a bit feverish , but factoring the readiness of mind and a view of the Dhauladhar Ranges, I pushed the car (Swift D'zire) out of New Delhi.

Delhi is growing at a mad pace and is gulping anything that comes in its way. The town planners in India probably are still in 1970s as far as their planning skills go. Delhi roads are perpetually dug up either to create Ring Roads or the Metro or the Fly Overs. What one fails to understand is that why all such things and growth patterns cannot be predicted? However, I love my India. I turned on the GT Road by 1200 hrs and put the car into cruise control mode in the top most gear. This axis is a delight and in-spite of a building fever  and cramps, I was able to generate a good speed. The traffic was low and drive was fun. A pit stop at Karnal was an energy booster and I had a glass of Salted Lassi (CHHACHH). This gave me some energy but the fever was not coming down.

We reached Chandigarh at 1645 hrs and checked in with Pawan Datt Sir/Fox/78. The staff took good care of us. Due to bad fever, I had to fore-go a planned meeting with MK Agarwal Sir/Fox/15, Harender Maini Sir/Fox/33 and Satwant Singh Sir/Fox/48. This was a damp beginning to a well planned holiday. Satwant Sir visited us and in the evening Pawan Datt Sir ensured that some good medicine reached me. I slept fitfully with fever that night and had decided to turn back to New Delhi the next day. However,  a call from McLeodgunj changed it all.

 At Chandigarh, we were joined by the family of a fellow class mate and ex-NDA Sudhir Malik/Juliet/78*79. We all shifted into Sudhir's Innova and left our car at the Zirakpur Mess. The drive to Mc Leodgunj runs via Ropar, Anandpur Sahib, Kiratpur Sahib, Chintapurni, Kangra, Una and Dharamsala. The road is bad in patches but food on dhabas along the road is good and fresh. We had started from Zirakpur at 1045 hrs on 15 Oct and reached McLeodgunj at 1915 hours. I was feeling better with the fresh air from hills and some great view of the Dhauladhar Ranges just behind our stay point.

 The days at McLeodgunj were spent in roaming in the small town and trying all types of cuisines (I abstained) and enjoying the pleasant climate. The crowd was thin and the small lanes were not so busy. Visited the Water Falls, Dal Lake and Norbulinka Monastery apart from chatting with friends in company. A photographic link is enclosed for your perusal:-
 

https://plus.google.com/photos/101238588481972006061/albums/5936340942304251633?authkey=CMrf04Wpv4flaQ

In Nov 1863, James Bruce set out to understand the problems of the hills neighboring Simla. He arrived at River Chandra, on the lap between Kullu and Lahul. He loved to travel among the people. It was the same desire and capacity to understand the society in which he was to govern that had enabled him to assist in creating in Canada a locally acceptable government of moderates between the extremes of race, partisanship, and tradition. However, by now by virtues of his earlier stints, James Bruce was a tired man. He looked years older than his 52 years and 04 months. His wife Mary Louisa was worried about his health too. However, who could stop Bruce from doing what he liked the most- meet people. He was crossing the swinging rope and wood bridge over River Chandra. Suddenly, James Bruce felt a searing pain in his heart, collapsed and died midway between the bridge.

 The Viceroy had taken over India just after the 1857 mutiny and had to his credit the changes that he had brought in Jamaica, Canada and China. He had shown an unusual degree to which he sympathized with the Chinese he encountered and perceived the difficulties of a decadent empire that was most remarkable. He was bound to display some similar traits in India also. However, it was not to be and India remained away from James Bruce's imaginative mastery of his role, and the creative spirit in which he developed it. Countess of Elgin and Kincardine, Mary Louisa buried the Viceroy, James Bruce in the churchyard of St. John in the Wilderness in McLeodgunj, Dharamshala. 

 

McLeodgunj is a great holiday destination to cheer up the wobbled soul. The town offers a scenic beauty at an affordable cost and is a must see.