SETTLING DOWN IN VIZAG AFTER MARRIAGE

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.

 

MY MARRIAGE STORY

 From the time I reached Vizag end-October 1971 and joined the Eastern Fleet Staff to the end of the war and minesweeping operations in Chittagong, the pace of life was hectic and days passed by in a flash. Back in Vizag early January 1972, the first few days were busy settling down in our new office, writing reports on the Fleet operations and working on mundane matters such as formulating the Eastern Fleet Standing Orders. Towards the end of the month, it was all done and one felt like taking a break and getting away from it all. There was to be no sailing for quite a while as most ships were under refit after the war. So I took a month’s leave and went to Jaipur.

Pitaji, Mataji (my Nana, Nani) and Mummy were anxiously awaiting my arrival and were very happy to see me. They wanted to know all about the operations and we spent a week or so talking about them. Around 10th February, Pitaji’s youngest brother Sushil Chacha’s second son Jagat, who was much younger than me, was getting married and all of us drove to Kota to attend the wedding. While Pitaji, Mataji and Mummy were busy meeting relatives and with the wedding ceremonies, I was at a loose end not knowing too many people. For some reason, perhaps brought on by the war, I was feeling very lonely. I started wondering where I was headed having reached the age of 33 ½! All my school friends, coursemates and relatives had got married and settled, the world was passing me by and here I was perhaps the last man standing! The feeling kept haunting me and I didn’t know what to do about it.

Back in Jaipur, Mummy mentioned that she had to go to Delhi to attend another wedding. Mummy’s very close friend from her Benares College days, Savitri Aunty, had invited her for the wedding of her niece, Bharti, with a certain Yogesh Deveshwar. (That's another story, 35 years later!). Mummy asked me to come along and I happily agreed as that would keep me busy. I would also get to meet Shashi Mama (Cdr PK Sharma) who after the war was posted in Delhi and we would be staying with him.

To attend the wedding, we went in the evening to Ishwar Nagar adjoining the Friends’ Colony. The Jaimala ceremony began and the bride slowly made her way to the stage. Looking around, I saw a very pretty girl standing tiptoe to get an unobstructed view of the ceremony. Her looks attracted me and I kept watching her. Shashi Mama appeared at my side and asked me where I was looking. I hesitated but then he pointedly asked me if I was looking at ‘that girl’. Caught, I had to say yes.

Shashi Mama, “Do you like her?”

Me, “Yes.”

Shashi Mama, “Do you recognize her?”

Me, “No.”

Shashi Mama, “ Well, she is Binno.”

I was stunned. The ground slipped under me. I needed to sit down but couldn’t move. Shashi Mama helped me to a chair.

Let’s start from the very beginning, a very good place to start.

In 1940, Kailash Nath Sharma and Kishen Chand Mehrish were studying in Agra University and staying in a hostel. Being members of a small Suryadhwaj Brahmin community and having common relatives, they became close friends. Both were married with Kailashji having a 2-year old son that is me, and Kishenji having a daughter and a son. When they got together after the summer vacation, Kishenji (Babuji) told Kailashji (Daddy) that the former’s wife was in the family way. Daddy said to him, “If you have a girl, we’ll get her married to Ravi.” But a boy arrived and the plan fell through. A year later, Daddy passed away.

In 1948, Pitaji and Mataji met Babuji and Amma (Babuji’s wife) at the wedding of Amma’s brother in Bharatpur. They saw an infant girl in Amma’s arms. Perhaps Mummy had told them about the 1940 idea for they immediately told Babuji to keep the girl for their grandson, me!

In 1961, I went on leave to Delhi where Pitaji was posted. Mummy asked Babuji to come to Delhi with his family. They came to Pitaji’s house on 1 Teenmurti Lane and had tea with us. Akhila (Binno) then was a lanky girl who had barely entered her teens and was in School. When they left, Mummy asked me how I liked her. I said she is fine but too young and should continue her education.

I got busy in the Navy with different appointments and transfers and whenever Mummy spoke about marriage, I said I was not ready. But both my folks and Akhila’s kept in touch and had mentally decided on the match. I, however, had my doubts about how Akhila, brought up in the orthodox and conservative background of Bijnor, would adapt to the liberal environment of the Navy. My folks kept applying pressure on me to marry which had an adverse effect on me. The stronger the pressure, the more I rebelled and opposed the match. In time, Mummy also appeared to have given up the idea and stopped writing in her letters or talking about it when we met. By February 1972, as far as I was concerned, the matter was closed.

Imagine my shock when Shashi Mama told me that the girl I was looking at was Akhila! Shashi Mama narrated what had happened. Mummy had quietly planned the whole thing. She wrote to Babuji that we were going to attend a wedding in Delhi and asked them to come having taken Savitri Aunty into confidence and obtained an invitation for them. At first, Amma was reluctant as she saw no point in meeting us with no signs of my having changed my mind. Babuji, however, persuaded her to give it one final shot and confirmed to Mummy that they would be there.

Akhila was not told anything about all this and was just tempted with the chance of a trip to Delhi. Once there, Babuji asked her to accompany them to a wedding reception. She was quite upset as she said she had not come prepared for such a formal occasion. She had, however, brought a newly purchased silk sari to get a matching blouse stitched. She was taken to Janpath to buy a shawl which would cover the unmatching blouse! And that is how she appeared that evening, 17 February 1972, watching the Jaimala ceremony and me in turn watching her! 

Shashi Mama then asked me if he should take the matter further. I was hesitant and wondered what would be Akhila’s reaction after all my naysaying over the years. The shoe was now on the other foot and would she accept me or turn me down? Shashi Mama said if I was convinced, he would talk to Babuji and Amma and tell them ‘Ravi is willin’.’ With some trepidation, I asked him to go ahead.

Shashi Mama spoke to them and they said they would talk to Akhila at night. The next morning, 18th February, Babuji rang up to say they had managed to get Akhila to say yes. Shashi Mama invited them for lunch during which the engagement was firmed up. Mummy, Mamiji and I went to Connaught Place to buy a ring which was duly slipped by me on Akhila’s finger on our return. Roughly, the wedding was planned for summer. 

I asked if Akhila and I could go out the next day. And so we had our one and only date before marriage and went to see a movie called ‘April Fool’! Shashi Mama organized an engagement party that evening at the SP Marg Mess. It was well attended headed by Admiral Chatterji who gave his fatherly approval of my choice!

The following day, Babuji and family went back to Bijnor and I to Vizag. I told  Admiral Sarma, my boss, and the fleet staff about my engagement and they were all very happy for me. Back in my cabin, I thought that now that our minds have been made up, why wait till the summer. I spoke to the Admiral the next morning and asked him if I could go back and get married as the fleet was not likely to be active for quite some time yet. He readily said yes, I could take another month off.

I spoke to Pitaji and Mummy and asked them to arrange the wedding as soon as possible. They in turn got in touch with Babuji. Initially, there was resistance from Amma and Akhila who said they would need time for preparations. Babuji overcame that with one sentence, “For something that I have waited for so many years, I am not going to wait a day more than necessary.” The family Pandit was consulted who said the only auspicious date was 11 March which was agreed upon by both families.

On 7th March I flew to Delhi where my wedding outfit was completed with the addition of a suit stitched urgently and another purchased readymade. The wedding took place in Bijnor on the due date and all close relatives from both sides were able to attend despite the short notice with just one exception. Shashi Mama who had done so much spadework leading to the engagement was unable to come to Bijnor as his younger daughter developed fever.

We returned to Delhi on 12th March and proceeded to Jaipur and Ajmer, where Mummy was posted, for receptions. Akhila and I were back in Vizag early April.

Thus the script of our marriage story which was first thought of in 1940 remained a concept for 32 years but then took just 3 weeks to be written from engagement to marriage!

P.S. My apprehensions about Akhila settling down in the naval environment proved to be unfounded. She not only adjusted rapidly but knew instinctively what to get involved in and what to stay away from. 

P.P.S. We must end on a light note. Viji Malhotra, one of the few friends who attended the wedding, has this story over which we have laughed many a time. On its way back to Delhi, the ‘baraat’ bus made a short stop at Hapur. Most of the male members rushed to stand against the nearest wall. This offended Vinnie (Cmde VK Sharma) Mama’s sense of decency causing him to shake his head and, sitting in the bus, disparagingly remark, “Verry bad”.

Trini Lopez

 

Sad to hear the news of Trini Lopez passing away. He was 83 but his end was hastened by, what else, Covid-19!

Trini was not in my thoughts for many years. But this news took me straight back to the golden decade of the 60s when in every party, after a few drinks, we would get around to singing his songs “If I Had A Hammer” and “Lemon Tree” which ‘is very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet, but the fruit of the lemon is impossible to eat’. I don’t entirely agree with Trini for I am fond of eating lemon in its raw form! But I guess he was meaning it figuratively as the lyrics that follow show.

Then there was the evergreen “La Bamba” which Ritchie Valens had brought out in 1958 but Trini lent it his own charm and passion to make it to the top of the pops in 1966. It had Spanish lyrics but that didn’t stop us from humming along and shouting “arriba arriba’, ‘soy capitan’ and ‘Bam-ba Bamba’ which we could decipher ourselves. With its fascinating rhythm, we would all be on our feet, clapping and dancing well into the night. “La Bamba” would be familiar to younger generations as well with its revival in 1987 by Los Lobos and its inclusion in the Best Rock and Roll Songs of all time.

Trini is no more but his departure has revived memories of days full of fun and laughter. It is impossible not to get nostalgic and recall Mary Hopkin's unforgettable lyrics, ‘We’d live the life we choose, we’d fight and never lose, for we were young and sure to have our way.’ 

And now, ‘I saw a strange reflection, was that lonely sailor really me?......Oh, my friend, we're older but no wiser, for in our hearts the dreams are still the same."

Trini Lopez, RIP.

BRIEF CONVERSATIONS

 1. Me: “I am going mad.”

Akhila: “Why?”

Me: “I don’t know, I’m just going mad.”

Akhila: “But that you’ve always been.”

Thanks

2. Shumita is reading a book of quirky quotes to her 7-year old son, Raghav.

Raghav: “ I’ll give this book to Nanu.”

Shumita: “Why?”

Raghav: “Nanu is nutty.”

Et tu, Raghav!

3. I ask Shiven, my 11 year old grandson, “Do you think I am nuts?”

Shiven: “No, I think you are amazingly funny.”

Watch this boy. He is going to be a very successful diplomat.

4. Cmde Malia’s jam… sorry, gem.

A naval officer undergoing training in UK is dating a British girl. Since his pocket is not overly jangling with coins, he takes her to a pub where they should be serving free snacks. To make sure he asks, “Do you serve nuts?”

Bartender: “Yes, yes, we don’t care. We serve all alike, nuts or sane.”

I could go to that pub.

5. One for 'resuming golf' times. A course shares its boundary with a lunatic asylum. A golfer’s ball goes close to the fence where an asylum inmate is intently watching.

Inmate: “Excuse me sir, what are you doing?”

Golfer: “ I am playing golf.”

Inmate: “And pray, sir, what do you have to do?”

Golfer: “You see this ball. I am trying to put this in the hole on that yonder green.”

Inmate: “ Hmm, I see. Come in and join us. We are all like that only.”

I think I'll stick to Solitaire.

BRING UP MY MASHIE

Covid-19 has put golf off our calendars. After more than 55 years of an average twice a week golf barring seatime or inaccessibility to a course, my golf came to a stop on 19th March this year with the closing of clubs. Golf courses are opening up now though with a lot of constraints like compulsory prior booking, no caddies and catering facilities and the now normal conditions of face masks, social distancing etc. Add to that the mental resistance caused by 4 1/2 months of lockdowns and the 'unlock' process becomes harder to execute.

The itch to get back to golf is slowly developing and I hope I can soon return to the fairways and greens, not bunkers! To get in the mood, I picked up P.G.Wodehouse’s 'The Golf Omnibus' and some of my previous pieces on golf. Here are some musings which I have put together before I eventually make my way back to the golf course.

In the Preface of the 'Omnibus', I read PGW's lament about the vanishing  of  “the names of most golf clubs so dear to me”, something I have myself felt quite often. He wrote, “I believe one still drives with a driver nowadays, though at any moment we may have to start calling it the Number One wood, but where is the mashie now, where the cleek, the spoon and the baffy?”

Where indeed and why? Would it not be infinitely more romantic if we were to tee-off on a tight fairway with the brassie, pull out a mashie to put the shot in the hole and get an albatross rather than a soulless 2 wood and 5 iron to get a double eagle? What fun to send a ball soaring over trees with a spoon and lovingly coax it towards the hole with a niblick instead of the bland nos. 5 and 9! Wodehouse surmises it might have to do with ‘Progress’ but it was “a pity to cast away lovely names like mashie and baffy in favour of numbers.” 

Was Wodehouse trying to lay the blame of progress on the Americans? Undoubtedly, they are strong on numbers as seen by their fondness for marking streets and avenues in their cities. But this contrasts with their very imaginative naming of golf courses. They have courses named after alcohol such as the Bootleg, Rum River and Scotch Pines; after animals eg, Crumpin’ Fox, Kissing Camels, Rat River and Possum Trot; descriptive like Whispering Pines, Singing hills, Argue-ment and Useless Bay (perhaps named by someone driving a lot of balls in the sea); and tongue twisters like Ngaruawahia, Pauatahanui and Kaitangata. Good luck to golfers asking for directions to get there!

A lot of courses have a story behind their names. Frank Wisner, former US Ambassador to India, took me to a club a couple of hours' drive from New York City. The story goes that some golfers from NYC were looking for a place to swing a club and having driven a considerable distance, stopped to ask a Chinese how far the nearest course was. The answer, "Morefar" earned the club its present name, "Morefar Back O'Beyond". 

Then they have a club named "A Lil' bit a Heaven" which golfers could justifiably call any golf course in the world.

We have shown a singular lack of imagination in naming our golf courses which are mostly designated after the city of location. So we have Delhi Golf Club, DLF Golf Club, Royal Calcutta Golf Club, Bombay Presidency Golf Club, Noida Golf Course etc. We have numerous Army Golf Courses all over the country called just that! Surely, we can break out of the mould with some exotic names.

Indian caddies are more ingenuous. They have apt names for golfers in their club. I stumbled upon this fact in the Delhi Golf Club when I overheard a caddie tell another, “Kachua (tortoise) has arrived.” Not seeing any creature of that kind, I asked the caddie what he meant. It took some persuasion for him to tell me that he was referring to an individual famous for his slow play. 

Subsequently, I coaxed the caddies in the Army Golf Course to open up and give me some names.  They came up with “Putt-to-half” for one who never counted his strokes and made this declaration to his opponent on finally arriving at the green, “Mogambo” for a player who terrorised his caddie for not finding his ball in the rough, “Rahu-Ketu” for the duo that always played together but fought on every hole, 'Puch-puch' for one who always made a kissing sound when drawing his caddie's attention, and so on. 

The caddies do not spare there own tribe too. They have a Naagin and a Sapera addicted to drugs, a Ganapati fond of laddoos and a Dasehri for one very fond of mangoes!

No amount of coaxing would make them say if they had a name for me. I suspect, though, that they call me a ‘Javelin-thrower’ given my habit of often hurling my club like a javelin that would put Odin, the Norse god, to shame!

So bring up my mashie, niblick, spoon, some guttapercha balls and plus-fours and help me find my way to the golf course for auld lang syne.

 

An Anecdote to go with Long 'C' At Last

In our Course, we had a good student, G, and a bad student, B. B copied from G in an exam but when the results came out, G had very good marks and B much less. B went to the examiner and asked how his marks were lower than G's when their answers were identical. The examiner asked B how he knew the answers were identical. B beat a hasty retreat and let the matter rest there!

SIGNAL SCHOOL - For Worse Then Better

I joined Signal School at the naval base INS Venduruthy, Cochin, just before Christmas in 1969. This was to be a temporary assignment as I was standby to go to UK for a course for joining a Weapons Acceptance Testing and Trials (WATT) team for inspecting and accepting equipment for the Leander class frigates under construction at the Mazagon Docks, Bombay. However, in about a month we learnt that the Royal Navy had cancelled the Course presumably as the UK government was irked by India placing an order for buying ships from the Soviet Union. Consequently, my appointment at Cochin became permanent.

The Oic (Officer-in-charge) headed the School and I was third in seniority on the staff after the Chief Instructor (CI) and another officer. I was given the portfolio of W1 in the section for teaching Radio Organisation.  The then CI who had risen from the ranks and the next officer had reportedly fallen foul of the Oic and were soon eased out and the mantle of CI fell on my shoulders. Not that the Oic thought much of me but with his modus operandi of having one smart and intelligent person as his aide and confidant who he had already picked before I joined the School, someone was needed for the unglamorous daily grind that went with the job of the CI. Actually, the designation of CI was a bit of a misnomer; the CI was more of an administrative head rather than that of training.

At this point, let me say that the Oic was simply the worst officer I ever suffered under! There was something wrong with the man; he was tall but he only used his height to look down on people; he would have been handsome if only he wore a smile instead of a perpetual scowl which PG Wodehouse would have attributed to dyspepsia. I heard him laugh occasionally but the laughter was derisive and not joyous. He was always bitter and sarcastic and never seemed happy and content.

The base at Cochin had two major establishments, Venduruthy and Garuda. While the former consisted of various schools for training, Garuda was the naval air station. Off working hours, the personnel at Cochin were kept busy with sports and cultural activities. Tournaments and competitions were held with Venduruthy fielding a team for each school and Garuda as one unit. This was quite unfair as it put the schools at a disadvantage firstly because of sheer numbers and secondly, the schools had a floating population with trainees coming and going while Garuda staff was stable. Garuda, therefore, used to win most of the competitions. Our Oic saw this as an opportunity to make his mark. He told Cmde RS Malia, CO Venduruthy, that Signal School would break Garuda’s monopoly. Thereafter, our entire effort was to build teams that would beat Garuda. I was tasked to get the best signals sportsmen from the Navy on our staff, if necessary on temporary duty for the duration of an event, and put them under intensive training and special diet for each competition.

As a result, the events became exclusively Garuda vs Signal School affairs. Competition was intense which would have been fine except that it often took a dirty turn with unfair practices and protests gaining priority over sportsmanship. ‘Win at any cost’ became the motto for Signal School and consequently for Garuda. A loss would incur the Oic’s wrath for long after the event while a win would be treated as routine.

On one occasion after a tense final, I went to the US Club to bask in the glory of a victory and have a drink. The Oic and his confidant were already in the bar. The former asked me in a taunting tone, “What are YOU celebrating?” as if the School win should be anathema to me !

I used to look forward to weekend golf at Bolghatti to unwind. I would drive in my Standard Herald to Ernakulam and catch a ferry to the island. To begin with, I was the only golfer from the Navy and my co-players were largely from the Cochin tea community. Later, Rear Admiral Vasu Kamath took over as Flag Officer Commanding Southern Naval Area (FOCSOUTH). He was a keen golfer and asked me to join him. The bonus was a ride in the Admiral’s barge to and fro instead of the earlier car and ferry routine.

Cdr L Ramdas was Oic Naval Academy. Adm Katari, his father-in-law and the first Indian naval chief, used to visit Cochin occasionally. He was also a golfer and we had many games together including one in which both the Admiral and Cdr Ramdas hit a British tea planter on the leg with their drives one after the other. Sure had the guy hopping mad!

Apart from golf, I had my pet Pomeranian Lucky to keep me occupied in my spare time and give me company at home - my cabin. Lucky’s popularity among children of the base earned me the sobriquet of ‘Lucky Uncle’! There was music, of course, and friends naval and teawallahs. I used to meet the latter quite often and remember Timmy Thimaiyya who used to sing Pankaj Mullick songs beautifully. Then there was Jani Uthup who bagged Usha Iyer!

Having learnt to tolerate Oic’s ways and with the School coming on top in most activities, I thought things were reasonably under control. Then came ACR (annual confidential report) time and Cdr Kewal Gulati, Secretary to FOCSOUTH rang me up and asked me what was going on between the Oic and me? I was taken aback by the question and he continued by saying that the Oic had given me a stinker of a report which totally surprised Adm Kamath. The latter had got to know me well and told Cdr Gulati that even if I had some professional shortcomings which the Oic could perhaps be the best judge of, overall I could not be as bad as made out in the report. He asked Cdr Gulati to return the report and have it rewritten. This was done and the report was considerably mellowed! I guess a lot of damage was averted although I feel that my non-selection of Staff College in 1973 was a consequence of this.

Mercifully, we had a change of Oic at the end of the year and Cdr SD ‘Clinker’ Karve took over. What an enormous relief it was. Clinker Karve was a cool, relaxed, pipe smoking officer, always smiling. He was a thorough professional who expected the best but gave a free hand for one to do the job and would not interfere unless absolutely necessary. Extra curricular activities remained important but not at the expense of professionalism and sporting spirit.

Life now proceeded smoothly and happily. Visits of ships from Bombay were looked forward to for meeting friends. These visits were also utilized for operational exercises. It was on one such visit that prompted Cmde Malia to come out with his ‘Romeo Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?’ quote which I have written about in my earlier post “Naval Operations And Exercises That Went Awry”.

In October 1971, I went to Bombay to take part in the Navy Golf Championship. On my return, I found a message from Cdr Karve to contact him immediately. I rang him up and he told me that I had been appointed Fleet Communication Officer of the newly formed Eastern Fleet and should leave for Vishakhapatnam the very next day. One had to change trains at Madras and en route I should check if Vikrant was in port in which case I was to board it there itself.

Fortunately, as a bachelor my worldly possessions were scant. I put everything in a box and a bedding and left behind my car, music system and golf set with a friend to be transported later. There were many contenders for Lucky who was finally whisked off by Vijay Prasada.

Next afternoon, I was 'beered' out by Cdr Ravi Sawhney and Kailash Kohli in the US Club and deposited in the train.