Akhila and I reached Vizag on 2nd April 1972, deliberately avoiding April Fool’s Day for our arrival. The naval camaraderie came to the fore with all my friends and their wives ready to do all that they could to help us settle down and make Akhila feel at home. Most importantly, Jack (JMS) Sodhi, who had gone to the USSR to fetch a submarine, left the keys of his Amzari Park flat for us so that we had a roof over our heads rightaway. The flat had two bedrooms one of which was locked with the Sodhis’ belongings, so we had just the one small bedroom which was cosy enough for the honeymooners.
Initially, our meals were all booked with friends’ invites but soon time came for Akhila to prepare lunch. As the Fleet office was quite close she asked me to come home during the break. We didn’t have gas and appropriate utensils but had among our wedding gifts an electric stove and a 5 litre pressure cooker. So Akhila put one katori of rice in the cooker and switched on the stove. She kept checking but the rice refused to be cooked as the heating was not enough. By the time I arrived, the poor girl was in tears. Cooking was aborted and we went to the Mess for our lunch.
That evening we arranged for gas and bought smaller utensils so that a meal for two could be cooked fast. We thought of employing a cook but I was dissuaded by my friend Satish Bindra who, over a drink, advised, “Do not get a cook, let Akhila set her hand at cooking for a few months. Then you can hire a cook.” Advice valued and taken!
Anyway, Akhila was quite adept at cooking having done a lot of it at home in Bijnor. Coming from the same community, both of us were vegetarians and the food taste and recipes were the same, the only point of contention being her partiality for ‘ghiya’ and mine for ‘aloo’. So it was back to Jaipur food for me and little adjustment was required. Just once the memory of Trishul days and Roly Lewin’s influence tempted me to take home a large can of bacon from a ship’s canteen and I asked Akhila to give me a piece for breakfast daily. She did that for a couple of days and then declared that the bacon was over. I was a little surprised at how it had run out so fast. It was much later that she confessed that she used to give me one piece and throw out two! She also requested me not to bring any more such stuff and with good home food, I saw no reason why I should not comply with her wish.
We had also been presented a baking oven and Akhila said she would try her hand at making cookies which she had learnt at a confectionery course a few years earlier during a visit to Bangalore where her brother, Subhash Mehrish, also a naval officer, was serving as ADC to the Governor of Karnataka. The oven was placed on the dining room table and on completion of baking, Akhila lifted the lid and placed it on a chair. Immediately, we heard a loud thud made by the lid falling on the floor. As the lid was hot, it had burnt the cane seating on the chair and fell through the resultant hole. Recovering from the shock, Akhila was checking for damages to the lid whereas I was more concerned by what the MES would charge me for repairing the chair. The cookies, though, were delicious.
Once we had settled, I thought of getting Lucky, my Pomeranian, back from Vijay Prasada in Cochin. We were very sad to learn that Lucky had succumbed to distemper some time ago. It was even more disconcerting because Lucky had been innoculated against the disease. But we were told these things happen.
On a weekend, Subodh Gupta and his wife Beenu who were staying in Waltair Uplands, suggested we come to their house early on Sunday morning and we would go out on a picnic somewhere. After preparations, we went to sleep on Saturday night. On getting up, we found our feet in ankle deep water which had flooded the flat and had the carpets floating. Apparently, water supply had stopped at night and the kitchen tap had been inadvertently left open. We had to abort the picnic plans and instead spent the Sunday clearing the water, drying the carpets and restoring order in the flat.
On another Sunday, Satish Bindra and Meena who had developed a good rapport with Akhila, proposed we spend the morning on a beach. After a pleasant outing, we headed back to the naval base at lunchtime. We were quite hungry and as we descended the Uplands hill on the way to the base, we saw a shack advertising ‘delicious’ food. We got out of our cars and sat down on the chairs provided. After some shouting from us, a bearer turned up. He gave us a menu and we eagerly made our choices. The bearer then informed us that food would take about an hour as ‘the cook has gone for lunch!’ We quickly got in our cars and rushed home to eat.
By summer, ships had completed their refits and maintenance and were ready to sail. The first time the Fleet was scheduled to spend a few nights out, we decided that rather than stay alone, Akhila would go to Calcutta to visit her sister where the latter’s husband, then Col RC Sharma, an eye specialist, was posted. After the sea trip, I got back home while Akhila took the night train to reach Vizag the next forenoon. During the night, a fierce cyclone hit the coast and in the morning when I inquired about the train’s arrival, the railway authorities said they were out of touch with the train and had no idea about its location and arrival time. I spent 12 hours of tremendous anxiety and Akhila had a torrid time in the train with howling winds and rain, zero visibility, and no food, water and information. It was an enormous relief when the train eventually arrived late in the evening. We then decided that there would be no such trips for Akhila just because I had to spend a few nights out at sea.
Socially, there was a lot of informality those days and we used to drop in each others’ house without prior notice. One day, we walked in a friend’s house with me still in uniform. Our friend’s son informed us that his parents were not at home and he would tell them that we had come. I asked him if he knew my name and he said, “Ravi Sharma.” Happy that I was popular, I asked him how he remembered me. He said, “I can read your name tally.” Smart kid!
Movies were our main source of entertainment. Rajesh Khanna was on top with Aradhana, Kati Patang and Anand which also brought to the fore Amitabh Bachchan. Jaya Bhaduri was lovable in Guddi, Uphaar and Piya Ka Ghar. Kishore Kumar’s songs were immensely popular. My friend Doc NP Mukherjee told us that he saw Kati Patang every evening while it was running in the base cinema just to listen to ‘Yeh Jo Mohabbat hai” and ‘Yeh Shaam Mastani’.
There was one picture hall in town, Jagdamba, which we visited frequently. It also had a small restaurant in the complex where we would dine after a movie until the night we were served an ice cream with a cockroach embedded in a scoop.
Days were passing in a predictable manner. I was nearing a year as Fleet Communication Officer and the most obvious move was for me to go for the 1973 Staff College course. The list came out and my name was missing! While most of my colleagues had been selected, there were some unlikely names. I recall a rare remark made by Capt KK Nayyar, perhaps exclusive to him, which makes me laugh even now. On being told of a particular name, he said, “How is his name there? He is….. off the rake.” For non-naval readers, a rake, similar to the garden tool, is a device with which to assess the accuracy of gunfire. A wild shot would be completely ‘off the rake’!
To pour salt on the wound, my two colleagues on the staff, Bikash Ghosh, the Torpedo Anti-submarine Officer and Mohan Chandy, the Gunnery Officer, were selected to undergo staff courses abroad, Bikash in USSR and Mohan in UK, whereas I was not even in the local Wellington list. I could only conjecture that the 1970 lukewarm report of OIC Signal School was responsible for my omission. I was angry and deeply hurt and saw Admiral Sarma and told him I wanted to make a representation. He told me to go ahead and he would back me up. The representation was sent to NHQ and that was the last I heard of it.
Jack Sodhi was now due to come back and I was still on waiting list for accommodation. We decided that I would take my remaining leave and Akhila would remain in Jaipur till some accommodation was available. Meanwhile, I got a letter from Mummy that my Mansi and Masarji wanted to come to Vizag with their elder daughter Manjula, and Mummy would accompany them. Masarji, who was in the Army, had been posted in Vizag in early 40s when Manjula as an infant had been very sick. They had made a ‘sankalp’ that if she regained good health they would come to Vizag to pay obeisance to Lord Simhachalam at Vizag’s most revered temple. We were now in a quandary- for such an auspicious task, we did not want to say no to them but we had no accommodation!
One evening, Akhila was sitting on the lawns of the Mess looking quite morose while waiting for me when Commodore MS Grewal, Chief of Staff (COS), came over and started talking to her. He noticed that she looked glum and preoccupied and said, “My girl, is something bothering you?” Innocently, Akhila poured her heart out and told Cmde Grewal of our dilemma. The latter said, “No problem, we are going on leave and you can have my house for a month.”
When I met Akhila, she was bubbling with joy and told me what had happened. I could not believe my ears and thought the COS must be joking. How could a junior Lt Cdr stay in an earmarked, independent house of the COS? But on meeting Cmde Grewal, the offer was repeated and my hesitancy brushed aside.
Unbelievably, we moved from our 1-bedroom abode to a two-storey independent house with front and rear lawns. Cmde Grewal’s staff was also at our disposal and we were able to host Masarji and family very comfortably.
On completion of their visit, I took leave and we headed to Jaipur. While I returned to Vizag, Akhila stayed back till we were allotted a rented flat in Waltair Uplands in January 1973.
Shortly after we moved in, Akhila had a miscarriage and had to be hospitalized. While all of us were anxious and worried, Pitaji saw the bright side and remarked, “Chalo, koi baat nahin. Inke bacche toh hongay!”
In March, Admiral Sarma was transferred and all staff members took turns hosting farewell meals for him and Mrs Sarma. We first thought of organizing a dinner in the Mess as we were not very confident that we would be able to cope up at home with a VIP guest and several others. But we decided to bite the bullet and hosted a lunch at home that went off well with everyone appreciative of Akhila’s ‘Kadhi chawal’ and her signature ‘gobhi aloo’. There was no ‘ghiya’ though!
We were now all eagerly awaiting Rear Admiral Ronnie Pereira’s arrival as the Fleet Commander.
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