AFVOA Newsletters of Year 2012

Page 41 of 80 patience. We had a class where each of us was to deliver a 15 minutes talk on a subject of our choice. This period was fun as many cadets came up with their subjects, delivering their talks with josh, little else. My good pal Sekhri chose to speak on the problem in the Congo. He was however stuck with a pronunciation that had the word sound like ‘kango’. Mr Oberoi would cajole him, “Congolese not Kangolese, say that again.” I chose to speak on a pretty common human activity, the KISS. Mr Oberoi heard me for about a minute and then interrupted me saying, “Chari, will you resume your seat?” After I had done so he told the class that we need to be more careful when choosing our subjects and in future the subject chosen will be discussed with him. Turning to me he said “Chari, you will choose another subject and deliver your talk on another day”. The class was more disappointed than I was. The fine art of delegation is learnt subtly at the IMA. I found everybody practicing the motto, “if there is something to be done, there will always be a junior available to do it.” So I was forever doing errands and sundry tasks for my exalted seniors. This was getting intolerable until I hit upon a strategy. Each time I was summoned to be handed a task I said “Sir, I have been told by the QM to count the bulbs that are fused and I am doing that job now. Would you like me to leave that and do your job?” This was not a lie, this onerous task was given to me by the QM and when I went back to him with a figure, he would tell me to count again and be sure of the number. I had an open ended task that helped me dodge the professional delegators. Tiggy Jerath introduced me to cigarettes and I thought smoking was cool. He also took me to his father’s bar (Vijay Bar and Restaurant in Paltan Bazaar). We had a beer and considered that another essential step towards getting our commission. The next obvious step I did not take, but I remember the taxi with a Surd driver, ferrying some of my more adventurous colleagues to their nocturnal trysts, to prove to themselves that they were indeed men who can perform. Looking back I wonder how we went through all those emotional highs and lows and still manage to retain our sanity and our smiles. The brotherhood that bonds through endurance runs, camps, games, ragging, shamming and various other typical activities that we were kept busy with, is permanent. My striped red and grey blazer has never been worn after we left the IMA. But every time I clean out my wardrobe, this piece of clothing seems to talk to me telling me “Oh, come on, you can’t get rid of me so easily.” I guess the memories associated with the blazer will never go. So how can the blazer itself go? As the aging flock run past the 70 th marker, the reunion will be a tonic to be taken in one gulp. All of us will remember our fallen comrades and those who died young. We will remember our instructors and the Drill and PT sahibs and of course our orderlies. Most of all we will fondly remember the Chetwodian dictum. We hope and pray that we have lived up to it when we proudly wore the rank and served the nation. Jai Hind.