Memories of 1971 Indo-Pak War

In October 1971, I was serving as an instructor in Signal School, INS Venduruthy, Cochin (now Kochi). I had gone to Bombay (now Mumbai) to participate in the Navy Golf followed by the Inter-Service championship as a member of the Navy team. On my return to Cochin, I was urgently summoned by my OIC, Cdr ‘Clinker’ Karve, who told me that I had been appointed as Fleet Communications Officer (FCO), Eastern Fleet. As there was no such fleet at that time, I requested him to stop pulling my leg and let me rest after a tiring train journey. He explained that this was no joke, a new Fleet had been formed and I should pack up my bags and take the next train to Vishakhapatnam (Vizag).

With a warlike situation developing with Pakistan and possibilities of operations in the Bay of Bengal, the Naval Headquarters had decided to divide the hitherto single Indian Fleet into two with the Western Fleet based at Bombay and the Eastern Fleet at Vizag. I was therefore to join the staff of the Flag Officer Commanding Eastern Fleet (FOCEF) RAdm SH Sarma.

We had hardly settled down in a temporary office in the naval base at Vizag when we were told that we had to embark on Vikrant for exercises as the Chief of the Naval Staff (CNS),  Adm SM Nanda, wanted to watch the new Fleet in action. Vikrant was at sea off Vizag, so we had to board the ship by helicopter. We were told that we were going on board for a day or two but as the stay could get longer, we should carry an extra set of uniform and the evening mess dress, the Red Sea rig. So with two sets of uniform, the evening wear and a pajama suit, we choppered on to the carrier.

It was the first time that the new fleet staff got together to conduct exercises and that too watched by the CNS and the C-in-C Eastern Naval Command (FOC-in-C East), VAdm N Krishnan. Luckily we gelled well and the big brass was satisfied that the fleet was in good hands and the ships ready for action. CNS and FOC-in-C choppered back ashore and we were left on board for what would turn out to be almost 2 months!

We were ordered to proceed to Port Blair and keep the Fleet battleworthy. We kept exercising at sea and as a carrier group, the main accent was on air operations and anti-submarine warfare as we knew that Vikrant was a prize target for Pakistan which had a submarine, the Ghazi, capable of operating in the Bay of Bengal, far from her base in Karachi. We were also aware that Pakistan had a fairly extensive network of intercepting high frequency (HF) radio transmissions, the usual method of ship-shore communications in those days and concealing the position of Vikrant was our chief concern. We, therefore, tried to completely avoid such transmissions at sea while making use was of landline sources while in harbour. This was easy while we were in Port Blair as it is a naval base with good communication facilities.

Towards the end of November, when war seemed imminent, we were moved off to Port Cornwallis, the northernmost island in the Andamans, so that we could launch air attacks on the then East Pakistan within a few hours. We had logistic requirements but not wanting to break radio silence, I decided to proceed ashore by boat to find the island police wireless station to transmit our signal traffic to NHQ/ENC. Not having much to do in harbour, Adm Sarma decided to accompany me. When we landed ashore, we discovered that the wireless station was miles away on the other side of the island. Just then a jeep happened to drive by. We stopped and with some bullying by the Admiral who blared out the exercise of presidential powers in an emergency, we managed to convince the reluctant driver to take us to the police station, clear our messages and drop us back to the jetty.
Later, we discovered how effective our radio policy was. The Pak Navy did not know our uptodate location and Ghazi was off Vizag while we had already moved within striking distance of East Pakistan. As we know, Ghazi was sunk off Vizag soon after the war started.

While waiting for action, the large flight deck of Vikrant provided good opportunity for physical activity. Unique, however, was the use of the quarterdeck for golf. The ship had a number of keen senior golfers like the second-in-command, Cdr HML (Bhaisahib) Saxena and the Engineer Officer Cdr BR (Billoo) Chowdhry apart from Lt MB (Mike) Bhada and self. Mats and nets were rigged up to allow fullblooded drives while buckets were used for pitching in golf balls!

The order to attack the airfield at Cox's Bazar came on the night of 3 December and the next morning, air attacks were carried out by Vikrant's Seahawk aircraft. Before the first sortie, the atmosphere on the carrier was electric and tense, not knowing what awaited our pilots. The mood changed to ecstasy when they came back all intact after successful strikes. I recall the Squadron Cdr, Lt Cdr SK (Gigi) Gupta, being garlanded and hoisted on the shoulders of his colleagues and taken all around the flight deck like an Olympic champion! Thereafter, air attacks were mounted relentlessly on Pak ships, naval and port facilities in Chittagong, Khulna, Mongla and Chalna harbours.

The Fleet action resulted in an effective blockade in the Bay of Bengal preventing any supplies from reaching East Pakistan and escape of Pak troops and ships. This was a huge factor that led to the surrender of 93000 Pak troops headed by Lt Gen AK Niazi and the resultant birth of Bangladesh.
While the operations were in progress, the submarine threat was ever present as we learnt of the sinking of the Ghazi only towards the end of the operations and could not totally discount the possibility of another submarine in the area. Shallow waters, sea turbulence and shoals of fish often resulted in sonars sounding submarine and even torpedo warnings. High speed being an anti-submarine measure, Vikrant would often rev up to its maximum speed of a paltry18 knots resulting in the ship shuddering and straining which would alarm all on board of an imminent threat.

Having softened the enemy through air attacks, preparations were on for amphibious landing of troops at Cox's Bazar. A number of naval and merchant ships carrying army troops were converging off the landing site. In the midst of all this, we received a signal from the landing ship Magar, "Periscope sighted, confirm friendly." Because of the heavy signal traffic and incorrect precedence, the message reached us after about 45 minutes. We knew that none of our submarines were in that area, so if there was a submarine it would be Pak's and defenceless Magar would by now be toast! Fortunately, it turned out that Magar had mistaken a fishing stake in tidal waters for a periscope and was quite safe. However, the signal, broadcast as it was for all to receive, resulted in the landing units scattering all over. It took quite some time to get everyone back on track and delayed the landings by a couple of days.

The entry of the US Seventh Fleet into the Bay of Bengal was a cause for concern. CO Beas, Cdr L Ramdas (later CNS) made a signal to FOCEF asking what action should be taken on encountering the US Fleet. The reply of the Admiral was classic, "Exchange identities and wish them the time of day!" As we know, the US Fleet never came anywhere near us and was only meant to frighten us in which it completely failed.

Came 16 December and the Pak troops surrendered and Bangladesh was born. The job done, Vikrant was told to return and received a tumultous welcome in Madras (Chennai), its first port after the war. A number of gallantry awards were won by its personnel led by MVCs for the CO, Capt Swaraj Parkash and the Seahawk squadron commander, Gigi Gupta.

While Vikrant was told to return, FOCEF received personal instructions from CNS to disembark and proceed to Chittagong to supervise clearance of mines from the harbour channel so that ships could operate safely. Vikrant's choppers put us down on land with our two sets of cotton uniforms in pretty cold weather. We spent two days in Agrabad Hotel which was expensive before organising makeshift arrangements at the deserted Chittagong naval base. Messing was in the landing ship Gharial which because of its shallow draught had managed to enter harbour.

Our problem was that we did not have any minesweepers to do the sweeping! Intelligence had told us that the mines were of the ground variety and had been randomly laid. After much deliberation, it was decided to requisition two fishing boats and trawl a thick wire between them hopefully to catch any mines. Bikash Ghosh, the FTASO, scoured the market till he got a suitable piece of wire. Thereafter, he in one boat and Mohan Chandy, the FGO, in another, went up and down for several days sweeping the channel.

On 31 December 1971, we celebrated the New Year's Eve at the Chittagong Club. Bikash and Mohan left early as they were slated to go for the final check sweep in the morning. Looking forward to a lazy morning, I waited to ring in the New Year and returned to the mess well after midnight. There I found the FOO, Cdr Vyas, waiting to tell me that they had decided to send another boat as a rescue vessel and that I should board it by 6 am!

It was a unique start to the New Year and I was sleepy as hell but orders are orders. To compound it, I found that the so-called rescue vessel had a much deeper draught than the minesweeping boats. This meant that even if the minesweepers went over a mine without touching it, the rescue vessel was more likely to be struck! With a hope and a prayer, we trailed the boats the whole day. Fortunately nothing untoward happened. A safe channel was marked and a message sent to the Naval and the Eastern Naval Command HQs that shipping could resume. Soon after, we returned to Vizag on Gharial, having missed all the victory celebrations!

Till........

To celebrate their Liberation Day on 16 December every year, the Bangladesh government invites around 25 veterans including 2 from the Navy who took part in the 1971 War on the Eastern front, as state guests with their wives. I volunteered to go in 2017. I have never witnessed such warm hospitality ever. Apart from the 16 December parade, there were functions galore with warm, emotional praises and tributes and precious souvenirs. The highlight was Sheikh Hasina's reception where she spent 4-5 minutes talking to each of us inquiring about our part in the war, thanking and telling us that we had played a large part in the birth of her country. After tea and snacks, we were waiting for her to leave but she stayed till the end and saw us off. We were truly touched by her words and hospitality and she certainly won our hearts.

P.S. The Sharma family was well represented in the war on both fronts and that too on the flagships of the two fleets with Shashi Mama on board Mysore. Also, Akhila's brother Tony (Col SC Mehrish) fought with his regiment 16th Rajput in Hili Sector on the eastern front. He had the mortification of seeing the soldier next to him killed in enemy fire.

Remembering Jack and Aku - Two Martyrs of the 1971 War

The first few days of the 1971 Indo-Pak War went off very well for the Indian Navy. The Navy, in action for the first time in independent India, was itching to prove its mettle and through brilliant planning and innovation, carried out very successful air strikes on the eastern front blockading the Bay of Bengal and missile attacks in the west causing havoc on Pak naval ships and harbour installations.

It was perhaps overconfidence and a bit of bravado that caused the Navy its two tragic losses - the sinking of Khukri on 9 December and the downing of an Alize on the 10th. And on each of these, I lost a close friend - Jack Suri and Aku Roy respectively.

Jack was the Executive Officer, second-in-command on Khukri. We are all familiar with the brave actions of Captain Mulla. Jack was his right hand man and had the ability, intelligence and personality of a fine officer. He would not suffer fools but had a soft heart and was a very sociable person. Although he was 3 courses senior to me, we got to know each other when he could not make it for flying and joined our batch for SLt's training courses. A year later, we were shipmates on Gomati. Sometime later, he was an instructor in Signal School when I did my Communications specialisation. He was a fitness freak and was forever worried about a bulging waistline though he had not a gram of extra flesh on his waist. Squash was his passion and he played every day and was the naval champion for many years. I was not quite his standard but could give him a good game and we played each other often. Fond of his drink, he would croon Elvis Presley's "Wooden Heart" and Mohammed Rafi's "Abhi na jao Chhodkar" or "Teri pyari pyari soorat" without much coaxing! Incidentally, he also taught Lucky the 'naughty girls in London' trick!

Aku was an excellent pilot who was held in high esteem by the aviation community. He was a lovable, popular figure who believed in living life to the hilt. He was a restless soul always moving on. It was perhaps because of this that he was chosen to fly a sortie which was an overreach for a slow and defenceless aircraft like the Alize.

Two years earlier, he was flying off Vikrant over the Bay of Bengal and had to ditch in the sea due to a technical fault. I was on board the rescue destroyer "Trishul" and witness to the ditching though unaware of the identity of the pilot. I had a sinking feeling it was Aku. But Aku had made a perfect ditching and the crew was picked up by a helicopter safely and without any injuries before the aircraft sank. Relieved, I sent Aku a message I still remember, "Of all the places in the world, did you have to choose the Bay of Bengal to dip your wick?"

I was far away on Vikrant in the Bay of Bengal when we got the news of the downing of the Alize over the Arabian Sea on 10 December. I experienced the same sinking feeling and was right but this time, Aku's luck had run out!

There were rumours that Aku was one of the many POWs who were illegally held in Pakistan long after the War but these remained unsubstantiated.

Aku was one year junior to me but we served in the same station many a time and found each other's company fun. Once he took Viji Malhotra and me on an Alize flight to shake us out of our senses. He went through all kinds of stunts but Viji and I kept our nerves. When we got back to our cabins, we passed out for 24 hours!

Aku was tall and handsome and quite a ladies' man. Some compared his looks to a Greek god. He and Jack were different personalities but shared many traits. Above all, both were very eligible bachelors. In view of their fate, it was perhaps better that they remained so. Still, they left behind a large number of friends who would always remember and miss them.

God rest their souls in peace.

Our Family Sense of Humour

All of us in my family, cousins et al, consider Pitaji, my Nanaji, as the original Head of our Family. He had a subtle sense of humour and would voice his comments coolly with an expressionless face. One day, a nephew of Mataji, my Nani, turned up and wanted to meet Pitaji who was having a bath. The nephew said he would just get a paan from the corner shop and be back in 10 minutes. The nephew had a reputation of not sticking to his word. So when Pitaji came out and was told that nephew had come and would be back shortly, Pitaji immediately remarked, oh, then he won't come.  And he didn't!
During the 1976 emergency, a relative serving in the Rajasthan government had to undergo vasectomy. He visited us sometime later and after he left, Pitaji wondered aloud if the relative's voice sounded effeminate!
Pitaji's favourite story was about an examiner who while marking answer copies decided on the final result depending on which nostril he was breathing from: right meant pass and left, fail.
Another trait of Pitaji was giving his own name to places. During our first visit to Bombay (which itself officially mutated to Mumbai later!), Cuffe Parade became Duff Cooper and Wodehouse Road, Hobhouse Road for us ever after.

Shashi Mama (Cdr PK Sharma) had his own brand of humour. As a teenager, home on summer vacation from Allahabad University, he developed fever and was confined by Mataji, a strict believer in the maxim 'starve the fever', to a milk diet. Shashi Mama took it sportingly and once in a while we would hear a feeble shout from his room, "Doodh maharaj ki jai.'
Bharatpur was not a very happening city at least in the 40s and a vacation there in scorching summer was hardly something to look forward to. Shashi Mama must have found it very boring for every evening he would say in a singsong voice, "garaz ke kaat diya zindagi ka din ek aur.'
He also had his own vocabulary. Some of his favourites were 'mare pe do laat' (for the constantly downtrodden), 'janampatri pe joote maar' (for someone succeeding beyond his capability) and 'thanks but no thanks.'
If a party needed livening, one could always turn to him to perform his song and dance number "Balma jajaja, balma jaa."

Vinnie Mama (Cmde VK Sharma) was more of a stiff upper lip PG Wodehouse type. One of his early ones was about a British noble lady who acquired a new chauffeur. When asked for his name, he replied, "James."
Noble Lady, "Tell me your surname, I only address my chaffeurs by their surnames."
Chauffeur, "Darling, James Darling."
Noble Lady, "Drive on, James."
His naval anecdotes would fill more than a book. And he actually authored one titled "With a Pinch of Salt"- a must read for those interested in naval life. A classical anecdote was one about sounding action stations on a ship. The Gunnery Instructor (GI) wanted to quickly establish communications and blared on the Armament Broadcast, "All positions, this is GDP (Gun Direction Position), how do you hear me, over?" No answer. Louder, "All Positions This Is GDP, How Do You Hear Me, Over?" Again no answer. Third time, screaming, "ALL POSITIONS THIS IS GDP, OVER, OVER." A new sailor thinking he must quickly rectify the situation grabbed the nearest mic and said loudly, "GDP, This Is All Positions, hearing you loud and clear, how me, Over?" GI very angrily, "WRONG. You should have said, THESE ARE ALL POSITIONS!"
A second one...A Captain followed a morning ritual of opening his safe, taking out a booklet, reading it religiously, replacing it and locking back the safe. The XO (second-in-command) was mystified and grabbed the first opportunity to open the safe and get hold of the booklet which read, "The right side of the ship is Starboard and the left side Port."
One with not such a stiff upper lip. A pilot was gently navigating an Italian ship into a narrow channel.
Pilot, "Starboard 5." Italian Quartermaster, "Starboda 5, 5 of-a starboda wheel-a on sir."
Pilot, "Starboard 10." QM, "Starboda 10, 10 of-a starbod-a wheel-a on sir."
Pilot, "Starboard 15." QM utterly exasperated now, "Starbod-a 5, starbod-a 10, starbod-a 15, why can't-a you make up-a your mind. Here, I put-a plenty of starbod-a wheel on, hard-a starbod."
CRASH, BOOM, GHRRRR....
And in real life... We were in Jaipur together when Vinnie Mama had to leave for Bombay. My family and I went to see him off on the train and we found that he had been allotted a seat on the side instead of the usual full berth. I was unfamiliar with this and asked him how he would sleep at night. He said no problem and demonstrated by unfolding the seat and the one opposite thereby joining them and making a sleeper. He then said that normally the train conductors were very accommodating and would find an old person a regular berth. Just then a person in a black coat and white trousers was passing by and Vinnie Mama addressed him, "Conductor sahib, conductor sahib, if you would be so kind to an old man......" and started stating his case for a proper berth. The person tried to say something but Vinnie Mama continued nonstop and would not let him get a word in edgewise. Finally when Vinnie Mama stopped for breath, the man said, "But gentleman, I am not the Conductor." Vinnie Mama offered profound apologies and the man started walking away. Vinnie Mama then said to the man's retreating back,"But you are dressed like one." That really brought the house down including the black coat-white trousered man.

As my father and Dadaji passed away when I was very young, I didn't get to know many relatives from my paternal side. There was one exception though and that was my granduncle (called Alwarwale Chachaji by me) who was also related to us from Mummy's side as he was married to Mataji's elder sister. He was a Judge in Alwar state and was very fond of Pitaji as well as me and we used to visit him often. On weekends he had a kind of durbar to which all our community folks flocked. Ladies went to the upper floor and gents stayed down in a big hall. Chachaji was fond of practical jokes and on one occasion caught hold of a child and asked him what had been happening in his house earlier. The child mentioned that his aunt did not have a petticoat to wear so she asked his mother, who was not coming to Chachaji's place, to lend her one for the day. The child went out to play and after sometime was summoned by Chachaji to go and tell his aunt that his mother had sent a message asking the aunt to return the petticoat. The innocent child went and conveyed this to his aunt in the presence of all the other ladies. The aunt angrily stormed out cursing her sister and muttering what  the emergency was why her sister could not even wait for her to return. Fireworks must have exploded at home when she got back!

Babuji, my father-in-law's humour had a rustic touch. Fond of sher and shayari, his stories sounded wonderful in chaste urdu. A lot of juice is lost in translation but here are a couple of them.
A singer was going on and on at a village concert till everyone walked away leaving just two people. The singer on noticing this said to the two, "You are truly knowledgable about music and I thank you for staying right to the end." One of them remarked, "Thank you, sir, but we are just waiting for you to finish. Yeh lalten meri hai aur durrie iski."
At another concert, the public got utterly disgusted with the music but the performers showed no signs of stopping. Finally, a tough looking sardar got up and charged up to the stage brandishing his kirpan. Scared, the artistes started getting up and scampering but the sardar told them, "Aap kyon uth rahe ho, aap toh gaate rahiye, mujhe aapse koi gila nahin hai, main toh usko dhoondh raha hoon jisne aapko yehan bulaya." I used the idea often in actual situations and recall that in August 1983, Adm Dawson ordered the Western Fleet to carry out anti-submarine exercises in the thick of monsoon. 90% of ships' companies were seasick, ships were all helter skelter and nobody had an idea of what was going on. I, as Fleet Operations Officer, said to CNS's Naval Assistant, "Forgive the ships, I am looking for the person who ordered the exercises in the first place." This was probably conveyed to the CNS who thereafter always looked askance at me.

To conclude, three of my favourites.
A full chapter on Sex in George Mikes's book 'How to be an Englishman' : "The continental people have sex, the English, hot water bottle."
In a cartoon, the trainer standing by the fence during a race is exhorting his horse to run faster, "Come on Black Beauty, come on!" Black Beauty aborts the race and heads for the trainer.
In another cartoon, Ginger Meggs, according to me a kid naughtier than Dennis the Menace, is walking back from school with a classmate.
Classmate, "Albert says he is the biggest liar in class."
Ginger Meggs, "Don't believe him!"

Blood is thicker than water and the humour gene is now flowing well in the veins of the younger generation. Having studied at Lovedale, my cousin Rajeev can keep you laughing for hours recounting Tamil jokes and with his experience in the advertising industry is an expert at fun in pun.

Survivor Tale 2 - Dismissal from Navy

Apart from the dip in the sea, I, like many others, have had my share of accidents but they don't really make for an interesting story. This tale, however, is about surviving possible dismissal from the Navy.

Back in 1960 I was undergoing Sub Lts courses in Venduruthy, Cochin (Kochi!). I haven't been to Cochin for a long time and my geography may be incorrect now but those days, officers under training used to stay in the South Wardroom near the Basic & Divisional School jetty. A US Navy ship was visiting and as US ships don't serve liquor on board, they decided to hold a cocktail reception on a Saturday evening in the South Wardroom to which some of us were invited.

My friend Bakshish (who is no more, God bless his soul) and I hung around together with an American Lieutenant, call him Yankee, and were really enjoying the party. When it came to an end, we decided to continue the revelling at the US Club which was holding the usual Saturday dance. The Club in the old days was a fair distance away across the Base near the Command Mess.  Since it was quite a walk, Yankee suggested we carry a drink, literally for the road.

So the three of us, impeccably attired in our formal Mess Dress complete with bow tie, monkey jacket et al but no cap, commenced our moonlight march each with a big glass of scotch in our hands. We crossed the parade ground and came to the main road. We were overtaken by a car which slowed down and stopped just ahead of us. Yankee said, "Hey, this guy is offering us a lift" and waved at the car. Out stepped the martinet Commander (second in command) of Venduruthy and asked us who we were and where we were going. Shaken and surprised by seeing the Cdr but oblivious of any wrongdoing, we identified ourselves and said we were going to the Club for the dance.
Cdr, "Where are your caps?"
Us, "We were at a party and not wearing them."
Cdr, "And what have you got in your hands?"
We thought that was quite obvious but maybe the Cdr needed enlightenment, it being nighttime, "A drink, sir".
That was enough to send the Cdr in a raging fit and he lashed into a venomous diatribe the sum total of which was that we were a disgrace to the uniform and unfit to be officers, roaming around as we were with a drink on the public road. Yankee was told to go away and Bakshish and I were ordered to present ourselves in No. 2s (formal uniform) in the Cdr's office after the Monday morning Divisions (parade). Cdr then drove away.

We were stunned at this turn of events and trudged back to our cabins. I wondered aloud if we really deserved such harsh reaction. Bakshish said no, he knew the real reason. Cdr had proposed that Bakshish marry his daughter but he was resisting. I immediately cheered up and told Bakshish to say yes and our problems would be over. But Bakshish was adamant and said he couldn't do that as he was in love with someone.

The weekend passed without sleep amidst worries about what lay in store for us. Monday finally dawned and we turned up for Divisions. Any hope that the Cdr had forgotten or mellowed quickly dispelled when he tersely reminded us of the appointment in his office. We duly presented ourselves and were given the scolding of our lives ending with the order that we should present ourselves for Captain's defaulters on Friday when Cdr would recommend our dismissal from service.

Dismissal from service! We could hardly believe our ears and our head was in a spin. Could that really happen? But the Cdr was utterly serious and appeared quite determined to carry out the threat. We straightaway headed to our Officer-in-charge's office to come out clean and seek his help. Cdr Sirajuddin, a benevolent father figure, gave us a patient hearing and said he would see what he could do. Shortly after, he told us that he had spoken to the Cdr who was adamant that he would recommend our dismissal to the Captain.

Bakshish and I were shell-shocked at the prospect of our naval career coming to an inglorious end. What would we do and what would we tell our parents/guardians? Like robots we followed our training schedule but all we could think of was the bleak future looming ahead of us. I again pleaded with Bakshish to say yes to the Cdr's proposal but he said he would rather sacrifice his naval career at the altar of true love.

God moves about in mysterious ways his wonders to perform! For some urgent personal reason, the Cdr had to suddenly proceed on casual leave and the next seniormost, Cdr Sirajuddin became the acting Cdr of Venduruthy. Hope sprung anew. As the matter had already been reported to the Captain, Cdr Sirajuddin still marched us for the defaulters where the Captain lambasted us on our inappropriate behaviour but let us off with a severe warning on recommendation of Cdr Sirajuddin who had told him that we were otherwise fine gentlemen!

The relief was enormous, our cup of gratitude for Cdr Sirajuddin overflowed and our conduct for the rest of our stay in Venduruthy was exemplary!

My Pet Lucky

In 1964, Subodh Gupta and I, both bachelors, were Divisional Officers in the NDA and found ourselves staying in adjacent cabins. We had shared some links in the past: he was from the 13th course and I from the 14th, both in ‘Fox’ squadron during my first term in the NDA. More significantly, his Mama, Justice PN Shinghal, was a close friend of my father. In fact, on one occasion, I was visiting Justice Shinghal’s house in Jaipur and as I entered his living room, my eyes fell on a photo on his mantelpiece and I was stunned thinking the photo was mine! It took me a few moments to realize that it was actually my late father’s, so great was the resemblance.

Finding ourselves as neighbours in the Officers Mess brought us even closer and we used to spend a lot of time together. Then in the summer break, Subodh went on leave to Delhi and came back with two very cute Pomeranian pups, a female and a male. He was wondering what to name them. Recalling Walt Disney’s movie and cartoon strip, I suggested Lady and Tramp and so they were named.

Many happy hours were spent playing with the two pups and, being fond of dogs, I inquired from Subodh if I could get a kin of Lady and Tramp. Subodh had acquired them from his brother-in-law in Delhi and readily agreed to get me one. Luckily, I soon got transferred to Delhi and during his next leave, Subodh took me to his bro-in-law’s house in Daryaganj where we were surrounded by a number of pups and dogs. I was asked to choose one and while I was trying to make up my mind, one cute white pup approached me with the most loving and unique gait, something like a fashion model walking on a ramp! The pup had chosen me rather than the other way round and I knew straightaway that that was the one for me. Bro-in-law told me that he had no objection but wanted me to know that the pup had earlier broken its right foreleg which had healed but given it the peculiar walk. I said that was fine by me and I lifted the pup in my arms. I was also told that it had generally been called Lucky because it had survived the fall and got away with only the leg injury but I could give him a name of my choice. I said no, Lucky was a beautiful name and would stay.

Lucky was my companion for the next 7 years and travelled with me all over including some sailings on Betwa and Trishul. Of course I could not keep him with me during long cruises when he would be left behind with either my uncle in Bombay or some friends. Lucky was very popular due to his sweet and friendly nature which, I suppose, he acquired as he had to adjust to different people during my absences. His gait remained his main attraction and my friends’ children would spend hours playing with him fascinated by the way he walked. Once while walking past some kids I overheard someone saying, “there goes Lucky Uncle”. I realized that Lucky’s popularity had far exceeded mine and I was known more by his name than my own!

During the day, Lucky had to be locked up in my cabin while I was away at work. Lucky generally accepted it gracefully but sometimes showed his dislike for being left alone. On one occasion, I came back from office and was aghast to see that Lucky had turned brown! I just could not understand how that had happened. A torn cloth bag containing brown suede polish powder solved the mystery. Lucky had been playing with it and had bitten into it spreading the powder all over. It took a long bath and shampoo to make Lucky white again!

Apart from house training and simple things like fetching a ball, I didn't train Lucky to do very much as I lacked the patience for it. My friend Jack Suri who we sadly lost on Khukri in the '71 War, insisted on teaching him something despite my protests. Whenever Jack asked Lucky, "What do naughty girls in London do?", Lucky would roll over on his back, spread his legs and flail them in the air.

At the end of 1971, I was in Cochin when war clouds started gathering and I was suddenly transferred to the newly formed Eastern Fleet on the staff of the Flag Officer Commanding the fleet. My earthly possessions consisted of a suitcase, bedding, music system, golf bag, car and Lucky. The suitcase and bedding accompanied me while the car with the music system and golf bag were left with a friend to be transported by train at a suitable date. There was a tussle for Lucky but Vijay Prasada’s kids won and took him along with the understanding that they would despatch him when I was ready to receive him.

The war and its aftermath kept me busy till early 1972 when I went on leave and got married. Akhila and I came to Vizag and settled down in our small borrowed flat in Amzari Park and were finally ready to call for Lucky. Alas, we learnt that Lucky had passed away a few days before. Both of us were very dejected as Akhila had seen him earlier and had also been charmed by him.

Almost half a century later, Lucky is vividly remembered by me and my friends and often comes up in our conversations. My grandchildren love to hear the story of his turning brown for a day!

Survival tale 1 - Non-Swimming Me Survives a Dip in the Sea

It can now be told- I was a sailor who did not know how to swim!

People don’t believe me when I tell them this. How could anyone get through NDA and join the Navy without knowing how to swim. Well, here is the story, all too true.

I was never fond of swimming but as it was mandatory for passing out from the NDA, I had to learn. By the sixth term, I could throw my arms and legs around attempting to do the breaststroke for a couple of metres. When I got to that stage, the PT Instructor told me that I must learn to dive as that was part of the test. So I plucked up courage, held my breath and plunged into the pool. The moment my head touched water, my head started throbbing with the most intense pain ever. I scrambled out of the pool and hurried back to my cabin. I slept through the day and night before the pain disappeared.

The next week, I returned to the pool to continue my lessons. I dived and once again, as soon as my head touched water, the same shooting pain returned. Another restless 24 hours before the pain subsided.

Now I was really scared. Time was running out and I was afraid of entering the pool. Anyway, after a few days, I forced myself to go back to the pool. I told the PTI that I was reporting for my test. He consulted the official checksheet and told me that I had already cleared the test! I could not believe my ears and asked him to recheck and saw the sheet for myself. Providentially, it showed that I had indeed passed the test! I thanked the PTI and made a fast exit from there never to return!

Fortunately, all my ships held firm and I was never required to swim! There was one occasion though which was a close shave. As cadets on Tir, we were at anchor in the Andamans and were being given lessons on handling the Captain’s fast motorboat (FMB) by then Lt HML Saxena, commonly known as Bhaisahib on account of his younger brother, Madan, also being in the Navy.  I was the sternsheetman when Bhaisahib took the boat alongside a whaler secured to the port lower boom. This resulted in the whaler being dragged towards the ship so that when he cast off, the whaler boat rope, unseen by me, came across my body and toppled me into the sea.

My colleagues saw this and with some of them knowing I did not know how to swim, started shouting but Bhaisahib being well forward did not realize what had happened and continued to accelerate. By the time he became aware of the incident and turned back, I could not be seen.

So far as I was concerned, it all happened so fast I had no time to think! I felt my body go down and down for a while and then felt myself bobbing up. The moment my head was out of water, I saw the whaler and grabbed at the gunwale. I hoisted myself onto the boat and sat down shaking the water off my body and uniform.

Meanwhile, there was panic on the FMB as everyone thought I would drown. Only when they came very close to the whaler did they see me and let out a big roar. The FMB came alongside and my colleagues pulled me on board. They hugged me and thanked God I was safe. As the thought of drowning had never occurred to me, I couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about!

I am often asked if I ever felt scared on a ship not knowing how to swim. Frankly, the thought of drowning never entered my mind as I always had faith in my ships staying afloat!

I Almost Didn't Join The Navy!

In January 1955, I appeared for the UPSC NDA entry exam and qualified. SSB interview in Bangalore (Bengaluru in modern geography) followed where too I was selected. Meanwhile, following my first division in Senior Cambridge, I had applied for BA Hons. (Economics) at St. Stephen's Delhi. I was waiting at home in Jaipur for the call to NDA but it hadn't come till mid-July. Meanwhile, I was called for interview at St. Stephen's on 17 July. I came to Delhi and attended the interview and was told that I could join the College and should pay the fee which along with the hostel charges amounted to Rs. 800 plus for the quarter which was a big amount in those days. I met the Principal and told him I was expecting a call to the NDA and asked what would happen if the call came subsequent to my paying the fee? He said the fee would not be refunded but I could, of course, leave the College whenever I wished. The Principal gave me an hour's time to decide.

Hoping for the best, I took the only course of action possible in the time frame. I went to the nearest PCO to call my Mausa who I used to call Masarji and who at that time was posted as Deputy Military Secretary in the Army Headquarters. Luckily I got through to him and explained the problem to him. He asked me to call back after half an hour which I did and again got through without any difficulty. He told me that a telegram had already been sent to Jaipur that I should report at Kharakvasla on 22 July. I went back to the Principal and said thank you very much but I was leaving for the NDA. I caught the train to Jaipur that night, reaching on 18th morning. On 19 July I left for the NDA reaching Kharakvasla on the 21st to report on 22 July.

Those of us who are familiar with the unreliable coin-operated PCO of those days which rarely worked will appreciate that the odds of two calls going through without a hitch were very low. And what if Masarji was not, as they say, 'on his seat'? What if he could not get the info needed? One thing I was quite clear about was that once the fee was paid, I would join St. Stephen's and say bye bye to my NDA plans.

So having made it by a hair's breadth, I joined the NDA only to be told that my service had yet to be allotted. I stated quite firmly to my Divisional Officer that I had opted only for the Navy and would not accept Army or Air Force. The uncertainty lasted for about a month before Navy was confirmed for me.

The first term in Fox squadron passed in a dervish whirl what with all the ragging, adjusting to  strange practices like showering naked in a common bathroom for a boy who had come out of the protected home environment for the first time, and the mad, crazy NDA routine which kept one running from pre-dawn to well after dusk. The welcome term break arrived not a day too soon and I spent a quiet holiday mustering determination to have a better time at the NDA from the next term.

However, when I returned to Fox after the break, I was told that I had been transferred to the newly formed King squadron. This upset me tremendously as it had taken me a full term to get adjusted to Fox and all the inmates and now I had to do it all over again in totally new surroundings. To add to my woes, the 15th course was late in reporting and we were again the juniormost for quite a while  and subjected to more vicious ragging. The squadron JCO, Harnam Singh who had the reputation of being a sadist, somehow took an instant dislike to me and awarded punishments left, right and centre. I soon came to the conclusion that the Services were no career for me and that I should leave the NDA.

I wrote back home to convey my thoughts. I met my Divisional Officer, Lt Bhargava of the Navy and apprised him of my decision. He was, of course, shocked and tried to convince me to change my mind but I was determined. Meanwhile, Pitaji asked my two Mamas who were in the Navy to find out what was happening. Then Lts PK and VK Sharma duly visited Kharakvasla and counselled me without success. They also spoke to Lt Bhargava who they knew well and the latter told them that there did not seem to be any valid reason as otherwise I was doing quite well. They went back convinced that I would come around soon. For the next month or so, it became a ritual for me to be called by Lt Bhargava to his office every evening during the Study Period to lecture me for an hour on the virtues of the Services and the fine, noble, patriotic career. He also told me that it would cost my guardians a pretty penny as the NDA would recover the cost of hosting me for more than six months. At the end of each session, he would ask me if he had convinced me to change my mind and my answer was always no, I still wanted to leave! At the home front, a lot of correspondence was taking place within the family. My two Mamas who were largely sympathetic but not in agreement with my decision to leave. Masarji though was quite blunt that my request should be summarily rejected  as otherwise I would bring a bad name to the family which would be known as one of "quitters".

In mid- February, Shashi Mama came again to finally resolve the issue. Lt Bhargava repeated his findings that there was no cause but I was just being needlessly adamant. I reiterated that I had absolutely made up my mind to leave. Shashi Mama went back.

Soon I received a thick envelope from Pitaji. It consisted of three letters. The first was from him to me saying that he, Mataji and Mummy would be fully supportive of whatever decision I took, money was not a factor, he had already spoken to St. Stephen's to admit me in the next academic year and, by the way, he was enclosing a letter from Shashi Mama to him which I could go through. The second letter was from Pitaji to the Commandant requesting to release me from the NDA and as my guardian, Pitaji would bear all expenses.

The letter from Shashi Mama was 26 pages long. It was a masterpiece from one who was an MA in English from Allahabad University and an LL.B! The letter argued in simple but flowing language that there was nothing wrong with either the NDA or me except that I was being utterly stupid, unreasonable and obstinate. He said that he and Lt Bhargava had spoken to me extensively and could not find a single cogent reason why I wanted to leave. All this was elaborated beautifully in the 26 pages!

With these letters in my hand, I sat back stunned for a while but then miraculously saw the light! I tore Pitaji's letter to the Commandant and went to Lt Bhargava to convey my decision to stay. If he was surprised at the sudden turn of events, he hid it well but congratulated me on the 'right' decision. I wrote to Pitaji and my Mamas about my decision to continue with the NDA and thanked them for their loving support.

Two and a half years later I passed out of the NDA and joined the Navy.

Shashi Mama's letter was treasured by me all these years but in packing up after leaving the Navy, I seem to have lost it. Fittingly perhaps, for it had served its purpose of seeing me through all my years in the Navy!

Down Memory Lane I -Fourteenth Course Tir Days

In July 1958 we, the naval cadets of the 14th NDA course, embarked  INS Kistna at Madras (now Chennai) for Trincomalee where we were to join our training ship, Tir. It was the first time we proudly put on naval uniform provided by the leading Bombay (Mumbai) naval outfitters of those days, M/s FX Fernandes. We were provided with 2 caps, one to be preserved for Ceremonials and one for daily wear. On the very first morning at sea, I was violently seasick and rushed to the shipside to let it all out. Flying into the sea went my new cap leaving me with only one all purpose cap till we got back to Bombay two months later.

Seasickness aside, Trincomalee was extremely welcome as by landing there, I proved wrong a palmist’s prediction that I would never go abroad. We transferred to Tir and sailed across the Bay of Bengal on a cruise to Singapore, still a part of Malaya (later Malaysia), other Malayan ports and Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City). The seas were very rough and quite a few of us were seasick. How much I deeply regretted joining the Navy against the advice of my mother and grandparents! Many of us would put our food away. Bobby Bhandoola, God bless his soul, was sick too but that did not deter him from grabbing our share of breakfast!

This was our first trip to foreign lands and all of us had novel experiences from being swindled by money changers, shopkeepers and bar girls, to being pickpocketed. On the plus side, one highlight was a trip from Saigon to the Vietnam naval academy at Nha Trang by air which for most of us was a maiden flying experience.

By the time we sailed back to Bombay, we had more or less found our sealegs and begun to see the lighter side of sealife. Magoo Nehra (named after the cartoon character who was very short-sighted and wore thick glasses) was the 'Course jester’.  At the time of falling in for entering/leaving harbor, he would drive our bos’n  Mr. Chowgle, named 'joggle shackle' by us, nuts by imitating the ring of the sound-powered telephone from the Bridge. Mr. Chowgle would shout at us to man the phone but no one would move and finally he would angrily pick up the phone himself.  Mr. Chowgle couldn’t figure out why the phone kept ringing or why we wouldn’t attend to it and would punish us in frustration but no one seemed to mind!

We were also kept amused by the Gunner, Mr. Nooruddin, who had the habit of adding an ‘s’ to most words. A titter or two in consequence would also result in punishment but we were unrepentant!

There were a few attempts at ‘murder’ but thankfully none succeeded. On one occasion in harbor, Jai Misra, coxn of a motor boat, was having a tough day with endless trips. Finally, he got a little time off and was lying down to rest when Magoo, the duty Quartermaster, gave the call on the bosun’s pipe for another trip. Jai did not move despite a number of calls. Finally, Magoo blew the pipe and shouted “Away motor boat alongside” right into Jai’s ears.. This infuriated Jai who picked up the hand lead and line lying nearby and started chasing Magoo all over the ship. The pair made quite a sight with Magoo running for life being followed by Jai swinging the lead over his head. The tough man of our course, BB Singh, caught Jai and managed to calm him down!

On another occasion, PK Roy was teasing Vishnu Bhagwat with the nickname LSM (short for Long Tall Streak of Misery) we had given the latter because of his height, build and serious nature. Eventually, it got Vishnu’s goat and he grabbed PK by the throat and started throttling him! BB came to the rescue again by disengaging Vishnu’s vicelike grip before any permanent damage was suffered by PK.

Vishnu was involved in a few other incidents. In one of them, he was cleaning the shipside on a stretcher when Magoo lowered one end without the other being attended. Vishnu lost his balance and fell into the sea amid all the muck floating in the water. Then there was the time when due to miscommunication Vishnu, the bowman, did not let go the boathook of the FMB from the shipside while the Cox’n went astern. This left Vishnu hanging by the boathook till he plunged into the briny! Luckily, unlike me, Vishnu is a good swimmer.

We had a nightly ritual of Jasmel Gill (also called Jesus Christ because of his looks) and Minna (sometimes called Machchar because of his tiny size) Achreja fighting for a sleeping place. Somehow, Minna would always claim the spot where Jasmel spread his bedding, as his! He would keep pushing Jasmel till the latter reacted with a violent shove which would send Minna flying to the bulkhead. Minna would recover and the ritual would be played again and again till an arbritrator intervened to pacify both!

We had two Nigerians with us, Bekele Tilahoun and Lakew Berhane. The former was fun-loving  while the latter took life very seriously but had a difficulty with English language. On one occasion, we were being shown around the ship. Lakew was at the rear, and not catching the name of the compartment asked Mel Kendall, “Vath room is this?” to which Mel, never one to let go of an opportunity to pull someone’s leg, replied, “This is not ‘bathroom.”
Lakew, “ I did not say bathroom. I said ‘Vath’ room is this?”
Mel, “ I told you this is not bathroom.”
This exchange went on for sometime in increasingly angrier tones till they were at each other’s throat. Fortunately, both were equally strong and eventually separated but Lakew never got the answer from Mel!

Thus the seeds were sown for the blossoming forth of a future CNS,  CinC,  shipowner and other distinguished gentlemen!

A Memorable Historic Document

Rajasthan High Court celebrated its 70th anniversary on 29 August this year. My cousin Rahul sent me a copy of an historic document forwarded to him by another cousin, Puneet 'William' Sharma, a practising lawyer in the High Court at Jaipur, describing the inauguration ceremony in 1949. For me, it is a memorable document because it records my grandfather (Nanaji addressed by me as Pitaji), taking the oath of office that day.

It is a six page document in Hindi recording the events of the day. The ceremony was held on the chowk outside the Jodhpur High Court under a well-decorated pandal. It was presided over by Sawai Man Singh, Maharaja of Jaipur, in his capacity as Rajpramukh, the forerunner of Governor in Rajasthan. Around 500 distinguished guests including the Chief Minister of Rajasthan were invited. The function began at 11.30 a.m. and oath of office administered to the Chief Justice and 11 Judges which included my grandfather, Shri Kumar Krishna Sharma. It was followed by an evening reception by the Jodhpur Bar Association held at Umaid Park, Jodhpur, at 4 p.m. with the Rajpramukh and the Chief Minister as the chief guests.

Memories of those eventful years are fresh in my mind. With his family roots in Bharatpur, Pitaji was practising law in Mathura. His father who we called Chachaji, was also a lawyer in Bharatpur. In 1943, Mr. KPS Menon, ICS, later the first Foreign Secretary of independent India, was the Dewan in Bharatpur state and knew Chachaji well. He was looking for a young Judge for the state high court and offered the job to Pitaji, 44, who, aware of the mercurial and temperamental character of the Raja of Bharatpur, was hesitant but Chachaji's wish to get him back to his home town prevailed. And so we moved to Bharatpur in the winter of 1943.

There is a small story here. Mataji, my Nani, was explaining to 5 year old me about the move and wondering what the future held for us. I apparently said, "Arre abhi kya, abhi to Jaipur Vaipur pata nahin kahan kahan jayenge." Mataji, nervous and worried as she was about Pitaji having to work under the unpredictable Raja and not having any idea of the turn of events in the coming years, hushed me up asking me not to say "kulachhne"things! Years down the line, she would fondly tell friends and relatives how prophetic her grandson was!

Independence came in 1947 and in March 1948, the Government of India decided to form the United State of Matsya merging the states of Dholpur, Karauli, Alwar and Bharatpur, and Pitaji was appointed a Judge in the Matsya High Court. Another year later, Matsya itself was merged with the Greater Rajasthan which finally became just Rajasthan on 26 January 1950.

In 1949 at its inauguration, the Rajasthan High Court had a third bench in Udaipur apart from Jodhpur and Jaipur and we moved to Udaipur (the 'Vaipur' of my prophecy!) from Bharatpur in September 1949. So began my 2-year schooling at Vidya Bhawan, a school much ahead of its time. A brain child of the famous educationist Shri Mohan Singh Mehta, father of Shri JS Mehta, erstwhile Foreign Secretary, Government of India, it was a co-educational institution which was exceptional in the 40s in as conservative a city as Udaipur. The school routine was unique too; we used to go to school in a tonga filled with 7-8 kids at 7 am. On arrival, we had Physical Training followed by breakfast. Academic classes were conducted in till lunch which we used to carry. Then there was a compulsory lie down for an hour in the sprawling verandahs on our individual bedrolls deposited with the school. Hobbies in the afternoon and games in the evening before returning home in the tongas at 7 pm. What a wholesome routine!

The Udaipur bench was wound up within a year and Pitaji was transferred to the Jaipur bench in the summer of 1950. Meanwhile, my mother who was teaching in a girls' school in Bharatpur was nominated to undergo the B.Ed. course in a sister institution of Vidya Bhawan in Udaipur. So it was decided that I would continue my studies at Vidya Bhawan. As Mummy had to stay in the College hostel which was for women only, special permission was obtained for me to stay with Mummy in the otherwise exclusive women's hostel! That was in the academic year 1950-51 till Mummy finished her B.Ed. and was transferred to Jaipur. And so Pitaji, Mataji, Mummy and I were reunited and I joined St. Xavier's in Jaipur. My 'prophecy' had come true fully and Jaipur became our permanent home.

The Magic of ABBA

Late on the night of 16 August, I saw an ad for a concert ‘A tribute to ABBA’ scheduled for the next day by some group called Name of the Game. Who doesn’t know ABBA and it is a favourite group of our family who has been enjoying their music since the mid-70s. But with the short notice and non-familiarity with the performing group, I was inclined to ignore the event. Starting with ABBA the Movie which we saw in 1981 in Chanakya, Delhi, on my birthday, Mamma Mia the musical which we saw on Broadway, the movie with the same name and its sequel Mamma Mia Here We Go Again which we saw just last year, a visit to the ABBA Museum in Stockholm in June 2016, we had done it all. But Ruchir persuaded us to go for the show and so we went.

It was a fascinating concert. The group about which we knew nothing did extremely well to replicate ABBA. They even looked like ABBA and, of course, were dressed like them. They sang all the well-known hits with the joie de vivre associated with ABBA. There was Waterloo, Fernando, Mamma Mia, SOS, Money Money Money, Take A Chance On Me, The Winner Takes All and much more. The audience was mesmerized and by the time the performance came towards the end with Dancing Queen, every one was on the floor singing and dancing.  Young and old, the magic of ABBA had cast its spell on everyone. And that is the beauty of ABBA- their music is for all ages and their popularity eternal.

The beat, the rhythm, the style, the emotion, the smooth flow with which they sang, everything contributes to their winning appeal. And the lyrics which are full of hope, joy and optimism, tug at one’s heartstrings. I shall quote 3 of my favourites which were also part of the evening’s fare.

Chiquitita

 “…..How the heartaches come and they go and the scars they are leaving,

You’ll be dancing once again and the pain will end

You will have no time for grieving.”

I Have A Dream

“….If you see the wonder of a fairy tale,

You can take the future even if you fail,

……

And my destination makes it worth the while,

Pushing through the darkness still another mile,

I believe in angels, something good in everything I see,

I believe in angels, when I know the time is right for me,

I’ll cross the stream, I have a dream.”

Thank You For The Music (which was rightly sung as an encore to end the concert)

“….Thank you for the music, the songs I’m singing,

Thanks for all the joy they’re bringing,

Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty,

What would life be,

Without a song or dance what are we,

So I thank you for the music

For giving it to me.”

Thank you ABBA.

Footnote- ABBA is not yet done. After 35 years of breaking up, they are working on 3 songs which are likely to be out this year!

Musical Bombay of the 60s

Sometime ago I chanced upon a coffee table book, “Taj Mahal Foxtrot – the Story of Bombay’s Jazz Age” by Naresh Fernandes. Glancing through it and finding familiar names transported me to my happy days in Bombay of the 60s and brought back sweet memories of my favourite haunts from Kalaghoda to Churchgate.

 Near Kalaghoda was a restaurant called ‘La Bella’ where I spent many evenings   requesting the band to play one particular song they did fabulously and of which I just could not get enough, “All of Me”.  Strangely enough, I never heard any other band play that superb number!

Moving near Flora Fountain, there was Volga with the famous Hecke Kingdom casting a spell with his saxophone. I also remember Volga for my favourite dish, Vegetable Petrograd, which was mouth-watering croquettes filled with butter. Nearby was Bistro which I preferred for coffee and morning jam sessions.

My favourites for jam sessions and cabarets though were Venice and The Little Hut at Churchgate. Many a time one had to return disappointed as getting a table there was extremely difficult unless one lined up early enough. My memory may be playing tricks but I am willing to bet my boots that a charming teenager, Pam Crain, started singing at one of these restaurants before moving to Calcutta. One particular cabaret dancer those days was a ravishing girl I would have liked to know better but for the fact that she was always escorted by a companion considerably bigger than me!

From Churchgate to Marine Drive, restaurants with great bands abounded on both sides of the road bearing famous names such as Gaylord, Berry’s and Bombelli’s. Towards the waterfront was Napoli’s, a smaller place suitable for tea/coffee, which had the novelty of a jukebox so you could play all your favourite numbers if you carried a sufficient number of 25p coins!

Later in the 60s, on the waterfront the other side of Napoli, a restaurant called The Talk of The Town came up. I had not heard of it till one evening my friend Aku Roy and I happened to notice it and decided to go inside. We were waiting for our order when a band including a modest, conservative-looking lady in a sari took the stage. We thought we were in for some run-of-the-mill Hindi film songs but were thunderstruck when the lady belted out ‘Be-Bop-A-Lula’ and other rock numbers in the most enthralling way. On inquiry, we were told she was Usha Iyer.  Soon after, I was transferred to Cochin and was dumbfounded when I bumped into her in company of my tea-planter friend, Jani Uthup, who she had married in the meantime! As we all know, she soon became a top singer in Bollywood.

Around that time Bombay’s first discotheque, Blow Up, started functioning at the Taj with the sound of music going up many decibels accompanied by mind-blowing psychedelic lighting making one dizzy. Those were the days of Beatles’ “Ob-la-di Ob-la-da” and Sam the Sham’s “Wooly Bully”.

A top favourite band for occasions like the New Year Dance and the Navy Ball was that of Goody Seervai.  He would have an entire crowd on the lawns of the National Sports Club of India or the United Services Club at Colaba swinging and dancing with everyone accompanying him throatily as he sang his signature tune, “Goody Goody”.

Yes, those were the days!