OUR ERSTWHILE GOLF FOURBALL

After settling down in Delhi post retirement from the Navy, I started playing golf at the Army Golf Club (AEPTA) Dhaula Kuan. I became part of a fourball which included PKG (Cmde PK Gupta), Arjan (Brig AS Narula) and PC (Col Puran Chand, not Personal Computer(!), Pande). 

It was a fun group with a lot of light banter and jokes. We never spoilt it by betting which unnecessarily gives rise to controversies such as strict adherence to rules, false handicap, etc. Play, enjoy the game and company, go home.

A golden rule with PC was that all good shots were attributable to his skills and the bad ones to his caddie. The latter was to be blamed for anything wrong with PC's game be it the choice of club, not keeping the head down, the swing, grip, stance, whatever. As soon as the shot went wrong, PC would begin chastising his caddie: 'why did you give me 7 iron and not the 5', 'why didn't you tell me to keep my head down', 'you should have told me my backswing was too high', 'why have you come when you don't know how to caddie- a caddie does not get paid for just carrying clubs, a caddie is supposed to advise and tell the player how to play', etc. etc. It was fun to hear PC's rant and the caddie would quietly listen, grin and bear it because he knew that it was just PC's way of letting out steam.

What would have us in splits of laughter were PC's funny remarks. Noticing that the management had started marking free drop areas with 'choona' (white limestone powder), PC said that was a wonderful idea, he would put some in his bag and whenever his ball would lie in a difficult position, he would quickly sprinkle some choona around it and claim a free drop!

Once while walking towards the10th tee, he saw a veteran practising on the driving range. PC, "Saala, Nigambodh Ghat jane ko taiyyar hai phir bhi practice mein time waste kar raha hai!" 

In the washroom, noticing the state of hand towels, "Yaar, these towels are so filthy that after wiping your hands with them, you need to wash your hands again." 

Another habit of his, squeezing buttered toast in his palm till the last drop of butter had been drained out. When I asked him why he didn't ask the waiter to put less or no butter, he said he wanted his toast soft and didn't like the taste of plain bread.

The four ball does not exist any more. PC departed from this world many years ago and Arjan quit sometime back due to illness and finally followed PC last year. PKG has given up because of bad knees. Pandemic kept me away for almost a year but I am trying to make a comeback and find new partners to make it at least a two or threeball instead of just oneball!

But whenever I see any 'choona' on the course, I will remember PC.

THEN THERE WAS JOHNNY MATHIS and......

While Nat King Cole had reached his prime in early ‘50s, another romantic singer made his entry in the musical charts in 1956, Johnny Mathis with a soft ‘velvet’ voice.

The first song of his that I loved was “The Twelfth of Never”, meaning the date of a future occurrence that will never come to pass. Its remarkably emotional lyrics include-                                                                     ‘You ask how long I’ll love you, I’ll tell you true….I’ll love you till the poets run out of rhyme,           Until the twelfth of never, and that’s a long long time.’

This was followed by “Chances Are” with hopeful lines,                                                                          'Guess you feel you’ll always be the one and only one for me                                                                         And if you think you could                                                                                                                           Well, chances are your chances are awfully good!’

And the compulsive “Misty”,                                                                                                                     ‘Don’t you know how hopelessly I’m lost, that’s why I’m following you….                                                  I’m too misty and too much in love.’

But the song most of us would be familiar with was the theme song from the movie “A Certain Smile” based on the French novel by Francoise Sagan who, as a teenager, hit the bestseller list with her first book, "Bonjour Tristesse". As some may recall, "A Certain Smile" is a story of a teenage girl who abandons her young boy friend for an older married man leading to the inevitable heartbreak. The older man was played by Rossano Brazzi and I have hated him ever since! Some of the haunting lyrics of the song....                                                                                                                                                          ‘You love awhile and when love goes,                                                                                                             You try to hide the tears inside with a cheerful pose,                                                                                          But in the hush of night….Comes that certain smile to haunt your heart again.’

That brings to mind another Francoise, Francoise Hardy, a French singer popular in the late ‘60s who also sang in English. My favourite,“Will you still love me tomorrow?”

Skipping many years and more romantic singers, let me bid adieu to this piece with the popular Demis Roussos song,                                                                                                                                                            ‘Goodbye my love goodbye….As long as you remember me I’ll never be too far,                                           Goodbye my love goodbye, I’ll always will be true,                                                                                           So hold me in your dreams till I come back to you.”

"UNFORGETTABLE" NAT KING COLE

 

This morning I remembered Nat King Cole. 

It was not the first time. For quite some time, he has been frequently in my thoughts.

I used to hear a lot of him on the radio in my school days. He was in his prime churning out hits after hits. I must admit he was not my top favourite. At that time, I considered his songs a bit mushy and preferred the powerful voice of Frankie Laine and the soft crooning of Bing Crosby. But lately, the simple and beautiful lyrics of good old Nat have been humming in my mind. Here are a few of them.

Let’s start with “Too Young” which is about young lovers. He sings, 

“They try to tell us we’re too young,

Too young to really be in love,

They say that love’s a word,

A word we only heard

But can’t begin to know the meaning of……

And yet, we’re not too young to know,

This love will last though years may go.

And then one day they may recall 

We were not too young at all.”

Touches one’s heart?

Then there is “Smile”, a song to lift your spirits:

“Smile, though your heart is aching,

Smile even though it’s breaking……

Smile, what’s the use of crying,

You’ll find that life is still worthwhile, 

If you just smile.”

Feel better already?

“Autumn Leaves” remembers a loved one while watching colourful leaves falling from trees. 

“The autumn leaves drift by my window,

The autumn leaves of red and gold…..

Since you went away the days grow long,

And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song

But I miss you most of all, my darling,

When autumn leaves start to fall.”

“You Will Never Grow Old” is about ageless love.

“You will never grow old

While there is love in your heart,

Time may silver your golden hair,

As you dream in an old rocking chair.

So keep my love in your heart, 

Remember the love tales we told,

For with my love in your heart, my darling,

You will never grow old.”

Long gone is Nat King Cole but his songs will linger forever. As one of his songs goes, he is “Unforgettable” and that is not "incredible."

THE OLD MAN AND THE GAME

 

After 11 months less a day, the old man, a super senior citizen with slightly drooping shoulders, was spotted on the Army Golf Course today. Amidst all the fears caused by lockdowns and ‘stay home’ advisories, the old man had been dithering about resuming golf and had not contacted anyone to join him. On arrival at the Club, he wondered if he should first head for the driving range and work on his swing for a while. But then he thought, what the hell, practice would be boring and he might as well chance his arm on the Course straightaway.

As he was alone and there were people on the first two holes, he headed for the third tee. In the middle of the third fairway, there used to be a tree which often caught a good drive. He noticed that the tree was gone, so he took that as a helpful sign. As he addressed the ball, the sheer joy of being back on the Course after such a long absence filled his heart with joy and his eyes with tears. Then doubts whether he would be able to swing properly entered his mind and his hands started shaking. He gritted his teeth and went for the drive. And lo and behold, it was not bad at all and was ahead of where the tree had been. An ordinary four iron for the second but the third was on the green and with two putts, the old man had scored a bogey, not a bad start after 11 months! 

The fourth hole, a par 3, had been kind to the old man in the past and he strode to the tee with more confidence. His drive was just off the green, the approach shot a tad too strong needing two putts for another bogey. As he had caught up with the foursome ahead, his caddie suggested he play the fourth again. This time the drive landed on the green and the ball stopped about 8 feet from the pin. A good putt for a birdie lipped the cup but he was quite happy with his first par on just the third hole of the day.

The old man now felt he had not really stayed away from golf for any length of time and with renewed confidence, breezed through a total of 15 holes with some more pars including a couple of birdie misses. A satisfying round at his age.

With the Course in good shape, adequate grass on the fairways and well-maintained greens, we should, God willing, see the old man returning to the Course regularly now.

APPOINTMENT IN NHQ - WHAT"S ITALY GOT TO DO WITH IT

 

After leaving Staff College, we made a short trip to Lucknow to attend the marriage of Mansi’s elder son, Sharad with Sushma. It was our first visit to the historical city but we didn’t get much time to go around, busy as we were with the wedding festivities and little Ruchir just eight months old!

I reported to Captain Pat Barron, Director Naval Signals (DNS) end December 1974. He was a real gentleman, mature and unassuming. I mention this as unfortunately Long Cs (Communications Specialists), generally had the reputation of being ‘Cutthroats’ in the Navy. A saying went that you should be very careful going near them as before you know, your neck would be severed and you would find your head in your hands! Being a Long C myself, I don’t quite agree as I met enough nice officers in this lot and certainly hope no one placed me in that category. But then there were others such as my first OIC in Signal School who might have justified the accusation.

Anyway, I was given the task of looking after Electronic Warfare (EW) and was happy with that allotment as EW was a nascent field then. We were at the stage of selecting and acquiring new EW equipment and there was much to learn and do. For immediate needs, we were looking at imports while finalizing specifications for equipment to be produced indigenously at the Defence Electronics Research Laboratories (DLRL), Hyderabad.

Meanwhile in June 1975, a state of emergency was declared in India and a large number of politicians and journalists were put in jail. An atmosphere of fear prevailed to the extent that if one of us said something even remotely critical of the government, he would be immediately hushed by the others. 

So I learnt to keep my mouth shut and kept myself busy with work and affairs at home. We were staying in one of the cabins converted from outhouses of Kota House and had a small bedroom, an even smaller sitting space in front which originally must have been a verandah, and a similar space at the rear to serve as a mini kitchen, and a bathroom. The food was from the Mess and cooking was confined to supplement the mess fare but more importantly, for Ruchir’s needs.  He was not yet walking on his own, so we got him a ‘walker’. He would spend hours on the walker running up and down as fast as he could crashing into one door to the other. 

Towards the latter half of the year, Capt Barron was transferred and Cmde Kewal Krishen Nayyar took over as DNS. He was an ambitious officer but I got along with him quite well. He would not get into nitty-gritty of things and leave one to do one’s job but not suffer fools. In order to instill self-confidence in us, whenever the Deputy Chief of the Naval Staff (DCNS), our overall boss, had a query, he would send the Deputy Director (DD) concerned to face the DCNS unless he felt the matter was important enough to warrant his presence in which case he would accompany the DD.

In December, we shifted from Kota House to the SP Marg Officers’ (now called Battle Honours’) Mess. We had a proper bedroom, an equal size sitting room, a dressing room, bathroom and balcony. Still small but a big improvement on our previous cabin as it was a newer construction and on 3rd floor, open and sunny. The balcony faced Taj Mansingh Hotel. Presently there is a Café Coffee Day (CCD) on the boundary wall of the Mess.  CCD has therefore become our favourite coffee haunt so that we can sit and gaze at our old cabin to get a nostalgic fix. 

Cmde Nayyar’s stint was short as he was transferred in just a few months to take over as Director Naval Plans (DNP). We began the year 1976 with the new DNS, Captain Kailash Zadu, a truly remarkable officer. He was intelligent, cool and calm who would not lose his equanimity no matter how big the problem. Another unique quality was the way he dealt with senior officers; he would talk to them on the PAX (NHQ intercom) starting perhaps with a ‘sir’ but the rest of the conversation would be as if he was talking to a chum!

Meanwhile, some EW equipment we had ordered from Italy was nearing completion and the firm invited our reps to its plant in Rome to carry out its final testing and acceptance. Two officers, were required to go, one each from the DNS and the Directorate of Electrical Engineering (DEE). I was selected to go from DNS and Cdr Anil Vyas from DEE. We were also required to attend sea trials of equipment from another firm and our total trip was to be of six weeks.

To say that I was thrilled would be an understatement. From my school days, I had heard so much about Italy through movies and songs that I was in love with the country. Italy had, in fact, caught the global eye with a stream of  glamorous actresses led by the explosive Anna Magnani (a Sindhi name?!), beautiful Silvana Magnano dancing into our hearts with the catchy theme song of ‘Anna’, ravishing Gina Lollobrigida and perhaps the most famous,  dynamic Sophia Loren. Leading the actors was the charming Marcello Mastroianni, Italy’s biggest star of those days. I didn’t agree but didn’t mind one bit when Kailash Kohli used to say I looked like him!

Apart from Italian film stars, a number of Hollywood movies had brought Italy into limelight. People of my vintage would recall “Roman Holiday” in which a journalist played by Cary Grant takes a princess played by Audrey Hepburn around Rome. “Three Coins in the Fountain” with its theme song sung by the inimitable Frank Sinatra made us aware that throwing a coin in the Trevi Fountain and making a wish would make it come true and ensure a return trip to Rome. Another beautiful film on my list is “Lovers Must Learn”, also known as “Rome Adventure”. Something which keeps haunting me from the movie is the scene in which Troy Donahue and Suzanne Pleshette go to a restaurant and as they settle down, Emilio Pericoli launches into one of the best songs of all times, ‘Al Di La’. Mesmerised and gazing in Troy’s eyes, Suzanne asks him,  “What does ‘al di la’ mean?” and he whispers, “  …it’s hard to explain, it means far far away, beyond the beyond, beyond this world…”.

Was it just acting or something more? Well, Suzanne and Troy fell in love and married two years later. If I were a girl though, I would have fallen in love with the handsome singer, Emilio Pericoli!

That brings us to songs with Italian flavour. Dean Martin with his Italian heritage gave us one hit after another singing “Volare”, “That’s Amore” and “An Evening in Roma”. Luciano Pavarotti sang his heart out with Neapolitan songs like “O Sole Mio” and “Torna a Sorriento” converted into pop by Elvis Presley in “It’s Now Or Never” and “Surrender”. 

I hope this adequately sums up my joy at being deputed to Italy for 6 whole weeks!

Anil Vyas and I arrived at Leonardo da Vinci airport of Rome on the afternoon of 18 January 1976 and were received by the Indian Embassy staff. We were taken to Hotel Universo near the main railway station, Centrale Roma Termini. We were tired and went to sleep. I woke up at 2.30 at night and wondered why? It was my first experience with jet lag and I realized it was 7 am in Delhi.

In the morning, we went to the Indian Embassy and were handed over a huge wad of notes as our foreign allowance. Our feeling of being rich was quickly punctured when we learnt that the exchange rate at that time was, if my memory serves me right, around 60 lire to a rupee. We were advised to open a bank account as Rome is pretty famous for pickpockets and the embassy staff told us that a few weeks earlier, a Cdr Shekhawat, (later Chief of the Naval Staff in the 1990s), had been shorn of his passport and wallet!

Our first task was to go for sea trials of a recently developed equipment. We were flown to Brindisi airport from where we drove to the port of Taranto, way down south in the arch of the foot of Italy. Early next morning, we embarked an Italian naval ship and sailed in the Gulf of Taranto. The trials lasted a few hours after which we returned to harbour. We were due to return to Rome by an evening flight, so I asked our liaison officer if we could have a quick lunch and drive around town for a while. He agreed and took us to a restaurant. He placed the order in Italian which we didn’t follow. Dishes after dishes followed with our host relishing them while we were looking at our watches to see how much time we would have for sightseeing. I reminded our friend that we had requested for a quick lunch. He replied, “Thees is quick lunch. Faster not passeeble in Italy.” In the event, we drove straight to the airport without seeing much of Taranto or Brindisi.

Back in Rome, we went to the headquarters of the firm which was producing the equipment we had ordered. They told us that there was a glitch in the production and while they would brief us about its operation and other details, the actual inspection would not be possible for some time. I spoke to NHQ and it was decided that we would spend the next week learning whatever we could and return to India instead of wasting our time.

Weekend came which we spent sightseeing in Rome. Our first stop had to be Trevi Fountain where we duly tossed coins to ensure that we did come back.  Then we went around Central Rome stopping over to see the Colosseum, Roman Forum, Piazza Navona, Pantheum and the Spanish Steps. Next day we went to the Vatican City and walked up St. Peter’s Square on to St. Peter’s Cathedral. As we entered the Cathedral and looked at Michelangelo’s La Pieta, the organ started playing. The sound seemed to come from heaven and I stood transfixed with my eyes closed listening to the organ. I had goose pimples all over! Finally, I had to pinch myself to return to earth and proceed to the Sistine Chapel and see Michelangelo’s amazing frescoes on the ceiling.  

We found time to go to the well-known department store La Rinascente for some shopping and it was here that I first saw Lego sets which remain a craze with kids to this day. 

That Saturday evening, we decided to splurge and went for dinner at a popular restaurant with a band. Soon after, the singer began a superb song and though he sang in Italian, his vocalisation and movements conveyed the enormous passion of the song. We were told it was ‘Ne Me Quitte Pas’. It became my number one favourite in Rome and I would request it to be sung on all subsequent visits to a restaurant with a vocalist. You may be familiar with its English version ‘If You Go Away’ sung so well by Shirley Bassey. Two more songs enthralled me in Rome: ‘Il Mondo’ and ‘Grande, Grande, Grande’. The English version of the latter, ‘Never, Never, Never’ by Shirley Bassey may be more familiar to most.

Weekend over, the next few days were busy familiarizing with the equipment. Driving on the way to work, our liaison man would point to a studio with a large open area which was the location for Hollywood’s popular spaghetti westerns like “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” and “A Few Dollars More” with Clint Eastwood and Lee Van Cleef and the catchy music of Ennio Morricone.

At the end of the week, we took the flight back to Delhi. 

February passed by quickly. The firm informed us that the equipment was ready and in early March, Anil and I flew to Rome again. Thus the story of ensuring a return to Rome by throwing a coin in the Fountain was authenticated. 

Mondays to Fridays was work but we had the weekends all to ourselves.  As our breakfast was included in the room charges and the lunch was provided by the firm, we had only dinner to pay for. Delicious and inexpensive pizzas which we were eating for the first time were our usual fare. This left us with enough money to travel out of Rome. 

I planned our travel itinerary largely based on songs and on that weekend, we took the train to Naples (‘in Napoli where love is king …..That’s Amore’. From Naples we took a hydrofoil to Capri (‘Isle of Capri’). From Capri, another hydrofoil took us to Sorrento (‘Torna a Sorriento’). Then we caught a train to go back to Naples making a stopover at the ruins of Pompeii. The train ride overlooking the beautiful coastline and the Gulf of Naples was memorable and the sight of the active volcano Mount Vesuvius awesome. And then it was  ‘Buona sera, ….it’s time to say good night to Napoli’.

The following weekend, we visited Venice with its gondolas, St. Mark’s Square and Basilica and the Doge’ Palace. We went to the glass factory at Murano where we watched workers expertly shaping glass into complex figurines. We bought some that we could afford; they are expensive and exclusive.

On our final weekend, we did Florence and its landmark cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore with the famous Dome, Ufizi Gallery, Palazzo Pitti, Palazzo della Signoria distinguishing itself with Michelangelo’s David, and Ponte Vecchio spanning Arno river. From Florence to the Leaning Tower of Pisa and then the breathtaking train ride along the sea of Tuscan Archback to Civitavecchia and Rome.

We finished our work during the next week and finally it was time to sing ‘Arrividerci Roma’ but not before throwing another coin in the Trevi Fountain. Would the Fountain bless me again to return to Rome? A memorable six weeks but the irony was that in the world’s most romantic land, I had to go around without loving company!

Midway during our stay in Rome, I had got the good news of Akhila being in the family way with the baby due in October.

Back to work at NHQ pushing files and in time, we shifted to our allotted flat in SP Marg Officers’ Enclave just across the road. We had decided that we would go to Jaipur for the delivery and in early October I took leave and we went to Jaipur to my grandparents and Mummy. We had Akhila examined and the doctor said there were still a couple of weeks to go. I decided not to waste my leave and came back to Delhi. 

The next morning, I went to work and in the evening, walked across to my friend Subodh Gupta’s place and we indulged in a good amount of our favourite rum. I came back late happy and promptly went to sleep. Early in the morning, the phone rang. It was Pitaji who said, “Congratulations”. I asked what for? He said Akhila had delivered a baby girl the previous evening and that he had rung up at night but the phone was not answered. I was stunned as I had just come back a day and a half ago but apparently, Akhila started having labour pains suddenly and the baby arrived a fortnight in advance on what was also Karva Chauth. In fact, Akhila almost delivered in the car on the way to the hospital!

I went to DNS and requested leave which was immediately granted and went back to Jaipur that evening. Everyone was in fine spirits and we named our baby daughter Shumita.

We got back to Delhi after 45 days and I resumed work. Soon after, I got a call from the Director of Personnel informing me that I had been appointed to take command of “Katchall”, a Petya class patrol vessel constructed in the USSR. This was another surprise as I thought there were people senior to me still awaiting their turn to command a ship. I then learnt that many had refused to take up this appointment for a reason. Katchall was equipped with gas turbines which needed special rubber mountings. The original mountings had worn out and the ship needed new ones. There was delay in procuring them from the USSR and the Navy was offered some indigenous ones which were approved for trials. Thus a risk was involved which worried some. I did not consider getting out of the command as one, I didn’t know how to wriggle out of an appointment and two, I thought I should not miss the challenge of a command that was offered to me early.

Officers of my vintage had been brought up on UK built ships and were unfamiliar with Russian equipment. For this reason, the Navy had established a Petya Training School, Satavahana, in Vishakhapatnam which conducted a course for officers appointed for command. We contacted OiC Satavahana who launched into a long complaint about his fight with NHQ to get more staff. He showed no keenness to conduct a course for me. Capt Zadu, who had commanded Katchall earlier, told me to forget Satavahana and said he would tell me all that I required to know in 45 minutes.

He said the most unique items on the ship were its two active rudders called ‘Povrots’. He proceeded to explain how to operate them for the next half an hour. Then he ran through other equipment, gas turbines et al, for the next 10 minutes. Finally he said that the thing which bothered him most on the ship was the fact that it had only one W.C. for officers. So he devised his own method to make sure it was available to him whenever he wanted. There was an alarm bell in the Captain’s cabin for sounding ‘action stations’ all over the ship. When Capt Zadu wanted to go to the loo, he would press the bell and everyone would close up at his station letting the Captain free to sit as long as he wanted. On one occasion while he was on the pot at which he used to sit with the door unlocked, a junior officer opened the door. Without getting up or displaying any embarrassment,  the Captain yelled, “What the hell are you doing here? Why aren’t you at your station?” According to Capt Zadu, the frightened officer never visited the W.C. for the rest of his stay on board.

Capt Zadu also said that the Captain must have an individual characteristic by which his men could easily distinguish him. So for the one year he was in command, he did not have a haircut! Only a bold person like Capt Zadu could carry that off without being ticked off by his seniors.

Finally, it was time to go to Vizag. I was on joining time and had despatched my luggage and car by train. I had a Vespa scooter which I had held back for essential use. On 11 February 1977, President Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed passed away. The next day, I needed to go to Connaught Place for some shopping but discovered all shops closed because of national mourning. I was driving slowly looking at the shops in the hope of finding an open one when suddenly a scooter rickshaw crossed my path from my right to take a link road to the left. The rickshaw’s rear wheel caught my front one and I went sprawling on the road. Fortunately I was wearing a helmet which was shattered but I had a deep gash on my head where the rim of the helmet had cut into my forehead which was bleeding heavily. I was completely shaken but managed to ask the rickshaw driver to take me to the MI Room on Dalhousie Road. After dropping me, the driver quickly disappeared. I rang up home and Akhila and the kids arrived soon while I was medically attended to. They were shaken to see my heavy bandage and blood-stained clothes but the helmet had saved my life.

We took it easy for the next few days while my wound healed. Luckily I had no other serious injury and we decided to stick to our programme which was for Akhila and the kids to go to Bijnor while I proceeded to Vizag to take over my ship and find a house to get the family over.

Tailpiece. Similarity with Marcello Mastroianni was a bit far-fetched but when I was young, people did say I resembled Dirk Bogarde. Also, I have often been told that I resemble Balraj Sahni. On a trip to New York, we went to a restaurant. The waiter attending on us was a Pakistani who told me he had taken a bet with the chef that I was related to Balraj Sahni. I was sad to disappoint him.

But the cake goes to this incident. We were having coffee at a Starbucks’ in New York when a lady came and asked me if I was an actor from Hollywood. I, of course, denied and said I was not an actor and was from India. She looked at me and said, “But you look like Robert de Niro!”

I am now old and resemble no one, not even myself!

REMEMBERING MUMMY AT 100

 

Today 03 February is Mummy’s birthday. Mummy was born in 1921 in the historical town of Bayana in the erstwhile state of Bharatpur, now a district in Rajasthan. She was the eldest child of her parents who we called Pitaji and Mataji. Pitaji in turn was the eldest child of his parents. Mummy was named Bimla.

After completing M.A. in Economics and Ll.B. , Pitaji started practice as a lawyer in Muttra (now Mathura). Pitaji was very serious about education for his children, girl or boy, but there was no High School for girls in Muttra. So, as a special case, Mummy was permitted to join Kishori Raman College for boys. Mummy became the first girl in our community of Suryadwaj Brahmins to become a Matriculate in 1935. A match for her had already been fixed and immediately after her Matric exams, she was married to Kailash Nath Sharma, also from our community in Alwar.

On 15th September 1938, Mummy delivered a boy that is me, in Muttra at my grandparents’ house. I too was the eldest child of my generation in our community. My parents were then in Delhi and soon after, shifted to Alwar where my father took over as Manager, Government Press. Everything was proceeding smoothly till November 1942 when my father fell ill with typhoid. After a prolonged illness, he passed away on Diwali night at 1.30 am.

The shock that the family went through is vividly described in a couple of letters from Pitaji to Masarji  which my cousin Sharad discovered at his parents’ house in Lucknow a few years ago. Those letters are so moving that one cannot even imagine what the affected people would have gone through at that time. So I am just going to skip it now.

With the future looking completely dark for Mummy, Pitaji took an extraordinarily bold step for a 21-year old widow at that time. Within a month and a half of what happened, he took Mummy to Banares (now Varanasi) Hindu University for her to resume her studies. It took Mummy quite some time to settle down and she took some desperate steps like swallowing glass pieces a couple of times. But college provided the right diversion and eventually she was able to concentrate on her studies. She also made friends with a fellow student, Savitri Sharma, who had suffered a similar tragedy and was left with a little daughter. Their friendship developed into a lifelong one and would play a big part in Shumita marrying Gaurav Deveshwar, Savitriji’s grandnephew, 65 years later.

Mummy completed her B.A. from Benares and then shifted to Allahabad where her two younger brothers were studying, for her M.A. while I was taken care of by Pitaji and Mataji in Bharatpur. On completion of M.A., Mummy came back to Bharatpur and found employment as a teacher in a girls’ school. Thus started her very successful career in education. A few years later, she distinguished herself as Headmistress Maharaja’s Girls’ Higher Secondary School Jaipur, a post she held for 17 years in the 1950s-60s. As a result, she became a popular figure in Jaipur and is still well remembered there. Her services were recognised by her getting the President’s National Teachers’ Award.

She went on to become Inspectress Girls’ Schools and Deputy Director of Education and finally retired as Director of Sanskrit Education, Rajasthan.

Mummy kept herself fit by playing Badminton and sprinting. She won many gold medals in her age group in 100 metres at the national veterans level. In fact, she was selected to represent India at the Helsinki Veterans Olympics in 1990s, I forget the exact year, but due to some exigency, could not go. She was also very active in Boy Scouts and Girl Guides and went to Teheran to take part in an International Rally in 1979 when Capt Madan Saxena was the Naval Attaché there.

Mummy was very fond of travelling and had been all over India. She had also stayed with us in Singapore for almost a year. She was very keen on going to Europe and as I was working, Akhila, who had toured Europe with me in 1987, felt confident of repeating the tour with Mummy. Extensive arrangements were made and they went on an exciting trip to UK, France, Switzerland and Germany in 1991. On the tour, many people asked them if they were mother and daughter. They were quite surprised on being told, no, we are mother-in-law and daughter-in-law!

Then in 1997, Mansi took her to the US and Canada and Mummy’s foreign travel portfolio was complete. Hosting them graciously were my cousin Navin and his wife, Pamela.

Two court cases concerning Pitaji’s house in Jaipur kept her busy in the 1980s and ‘90s. She fought the cases single-handedly and it was due to her immense courage and indomitable spirit that both cases were won. She used to spend a lot of time with us and Ruchir and Shumita were very attached to her and she to them, but as soon as she would learn of the next court date, she would rush to Jaipur to be physically present.

Confident of winning in court, Mummy had already built her own house in the portion willed to her by Pitaji and lived there till the end. We tried to persuade her to live with us but she loved her independence and company in Jaipur and felt hemmed in by apartments that we had in Noida and Delhi. We too loved going to Jaipur often and spend as much time as we could with her.

Although she had a driver, his absence did not deter her from driving the car herself despite failing eyesight. She would attend a function if considered necessary with or without the driver. On one occasion Ruchir went to Jaipur to see a one-day international. Mummy decided to accompany him and drove the car herself. She did not see a rope barrier and went through it. A cop came upto her and on seeing Mummy, said, “Mataji, aapko abhi bhi match dekhne ka shawk hai?” Mummy angrily replied, “Aur kya, tum chahte ho ghar mein hee baithe rahen?” The cop smiled and politely waved her off!

And so it went on till the end. In December 2010, we had come back to Delhi after spending a month with her. On 16th  evening, we got a call from her maid that she had fallen in the bathroom and was not speaking. We flew to Jaipur early the next morning and though she was conscious and recognized us, we were advised by my friend, Dr. Suresh Pareek, a neighbour who had attended to her the previous evening, that we should take her to the hospital. We did that and after a few days, they put her in ICU. There she was distinctly uncomfortable and the doctors said there was nothing they could do. After consultations with doctors, we decided to bring her home on 21st December.  Immediately, she gained consciousness, recognized us and said a few words. We hoped for a miracle but on the morning of Christmas Day, 25 December, she breathed her last, just over a month short of her 90th birthday for which plans were being made eagerly.

Mummy, you would have been 100 today. As we celebrate the day today, we want you to know that our love for you will never die, we love to go to Jaipur, stay in your house which, but for some furniture, is the same as you left it, and remember you all the time. 

You can rest in peace.

 

MEMORIES OF CRICKET IN JAIPUR

 

The lockdown may have eased but the government advice of ‘Stay Home’ for 65+ remains. This provides plenty of time for an old fogey to dig into archives and refresh old memories. With the cricketing season on and India acquitting valiantly to save the Sydney test against Australia, I found a piece I had written 25 years ago which I thought deserved a revival.

On 04 March 1996, I happened to be in Jaipur when West Indies was playing Australia in a World Cup group match. A dear friend and fellow member of St Xavier’s Cricket team in our schooldays, Yadu Sahai, and I went to watch the match. Yadu was then the Director City Palace Museum and very knowledgable on the history of Jaipur. During the match, he educated me a lot on the Cricket aspect of it.

The first record of a Cricket match in Jaipur dates back to 01 March 1821, well before the city became ‘pink’. A match was played at what was then Maji Ka Bagh, where now stands Sujan Raj Mahal Palace Hotel. The teams included Capt J Stewart, the resident British doctor, British officers and various ADCs. “A few native khidmatgars were posted in the deep to retrieve the ball”. High tea after the match was provided by Mrs Stewart on the Sahen Ka Chabutra, opposite the ancient baradari which the Maharaja had converted into a bedroom.

Cricket remained confined to the ‘gora sahibs’ till the great famine of 1867 when the sport-loving Maharaja Sawai Ram Singh II embarked on a massive relief programme with Major Swinton Jacob, Chief Engineer of Jeypore (the British spelling of the name of the city) Public Works Department.

This gave birth to the famous Ram Niwas Gardens which included cricket and football fields, croquet grounds and a gymnasium. A Jeypore Cricket Club, one of the oldest in India, was founded in 1873 and a clubhouse-cum-pavilion built in 1875, the walls of which were adorned with records of notable performances by local boys. 

Cricket equipment was imported from Henry S. King and Co., 65 Sornhill and 45 Pall Mall, London, and consisted of ‘Patent or Single re-percussive cane handle bats which would not jar the hand or break in the handle, has a beautiful spring and will drive the ball much farther than any other bat made, superior cricket stumps, tubular India rubber gloves and leg guards, stuffed with the best cotton for the batsmen, wicket-keeping gauntlets made from the very best white buckskin and yellow doe leather, and best match balls for a mere seven and a half shillings’.

The first international team to come to Jaipur was the Silver Jubilee Overseas Cricket team (SJOC) on a tour to India on the invitation of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) celebrating its silver jubilee. The persistent efforts of Maharaja Sawai Man Singh II, who was then the Rajpramukh of Rajasthan, resulted in Jaipur being included in the itinerary. The match was played on the lush polo ground of the Jaipur Club with the greenest grass I have ever seen. On a visit to Jaipur just a few years later after I had joined the NDA, I went on a search to feast my eyes on the verdant grass only to find that it had given way to a concrete, unimaginative housing colony! 

The SJOC was drawn from Commonwealth countries and included famous players like Frank Worrell, Sonny Ramadhin and Roy Marshall from West Indies, Sam Loxton from Australia and Peter Loader and Reg Simpson from England. Our team was named Rajpramukh XI and had a few Maharajas and members of royal families but more importantly, some of our cricket idols like Vijay Hazare, Vinoo Mankad and Polly Umrigar. 

Imagine our surprise when due to the influence of our well-connected cricket coach, Father Mackessack, the three great Indians came to our school ground for practice and even asked us to bowl to them. It was a delight to see from close quarters the cover drives of Hazare and the legside glances of Umrigar. For once we didn’t mind chasing balls all the way to the boundary or, when invited to bat, getting bowled by the vicious spin of Mankad. But the icing on the cake was provided by our very own pacer Shamsher Khan clean bowling Mankad!

On the appointed day, Yadu Sahai, Krishen Bhargava and I went to watch the match. Security was negligible at that time when compared to the fortress-like atmosphere of present times and there were just a few policemen stopping us from getting close to the players. However, we observed that photograhers were being allowed to do their job. A strategy was planned to overcome this hurdle. Rummaging through junk in his attic at home, Krishen found and brought a camera branded Donald Duck, one generation after the first pin-hole one! On the second day as the players went to and from the pavilion, Krishen, holding aloft his camera, charged to photograph the players while Yadu and I slipped past to get their autographs. Needless to say, the camera would have yielded no photos even if it had a film!

Right upto late 1960s, Jaipur had no proper cricket stadium. A lot of matches including Ranji Trophy ones were played at the Maharaja’s College grounds just a stone’s throw from our home. The Rajasthan team of the 60s was very strong and repeatedly reached the Ranji finals where, sadly, it could not conquer the mighty Bombay. If I was in Jaipur during a match, I would walk up to the College and watch Rajasthan greats like Hanumant Singh, Salim Durrani, Raj Singh Dungarpur and Kailash Gattani. Even Vinoo Mankad, Vijay Manjrekar and Subhash Gupte played for Rajasthan off and on.  

On one occasion, I was on leave when Bombay was playing a Ranji Trophy match with Rajasthan in Jaipur. A schoolmate, an ardent fan and a proficient cricketer himself, Vinode Pareek, who was then working for Indian Oil in Bombay, was also in town. He was friendly with a number of Bombay players and invited them for a drink in the staff quarters at St. Xavier’s. He was kind enough to think of me too and I cherish the memory of splitting beer with Farokh Engineer and other Bombay players. 

It was again Maharaja Sawai Man Singh who decided to correct the deficiency of a cricket stadium in Jaipur. He donated land opposite the Rambagh Palace and got Pandit Nehru to lay the foundation stone for a stadium in 1963. Finally Jaipur had a cricketing venue of modern design with the picturesque Moti Dungri fort keeping a watchful eye over it from one end. Since then, the stadium has regularly hosted international fixtures including World Cup One Day Internationals and Day and Night T-2Os. Perhaps the most famous match was the February 1987 Test between India and Pakistan with the latter’s President General Zia-Ul-Haq flying to Jaipur to watch it. 

To the credit of the administrators, improvements and additions have been constantly made to keep the stadium updated. For the March 1996 ODI, two giant scoreboards were installed just in time.

The match was keenly contested. Ricky Ponting scored a century but impressive fast bowling by Curtly Ambrose and Courtney Walsh kept Australia in check. A cool, calm and well-paced partnership between Richie Richardson and Brian Lara helped the Windies to a comfortable win and kept them going in the World Cup.

That match was played exactly 175 years after the first recorded match in Jaipur.

Now it is 200 years!

I remember:

Playing solo cricket at the age of 8-9 in our Bharatpur house courtyard by bouncing a tennis ball on a wall and batting on the rebound.

In a match between two neighbourhood teams, Seniors v/s Juniors, Vinode Pareek, Captain of the Seniors, struck a ball with full force. Fielding at deep mid-on for the Juniors, I saw the ball flying low to the boundary and instinctively extended my hand towards the ball. Amazingly, the ball stuck to my palm and Vinode was out. We had got their star player and went on to win the match. The hand hurt a lot though and I can still feel the sting even as I write this! 

In an intra-school match at St. Xavier’s, I was captaining one side. I had the pretense of being a batsman and seldom bowled. On a hunch, I opened the bowling for my side. I must have surprised the batsmen for I got two wickets in the maiden over. I knew I should not push my luck and brought on the regular bowlers. The opposing side never recovered from the early shock and lost the match.

Our School team was invited by officials of a cement factory in Lakheri, a small town between Kota and Sawai Madhopur. Batting at number five, the first ball I faced was a flighted one and I charged down the pitch and missed it completely. As I turned to regain the crease, the wicket-keeper whipped off the bails. The Umpire, who in such matches was usually from the batting side, started raising his finger but quickly brought his hand down dismissing the appeal. I regained my composure and went on to score useful runs and we won the match. The Lakheri side muttered complaints during the lunch that followed but as Diego Maradona said, it was the ‘hand of God’, or perhaps ‘the moving finger’ in this case, that prevailed.

In the NDA, I often indulged in book cricket during boring academic classes. I was never caught as to the teacher, it would appear as if I was making copious notes.

Not being a bowler or an extraordinary batsman, I started keeping wickets in order to secure my place in a team. While doing the Gunnery Course as Sub Lts, I was performing that task when with my right thumb sticking out of a torn glove. I was hit by a ball and fractured my thumb. I felt I was not in a position to continue and consulted our Course Officer who agreed. I had to come back to Cochin next year to do it with the 16th Course but at that time, it gave me wicked pleasure to see my coursemates running around parading and sweating while I sat in the classroom reading a novel and relaxing!

Shortly after that, for about 25 years I played no cricket apart from occasionally joining Ruchir and Shumita and some neighbours’ kids on the lawns of Chatsworth Court, our house in Singapore. In 1987, a match was scheduled between Commonwealth diplomats and a Singapore XI at the Singapore Cricket Club. Despite the long hiatus and my nearing 50 years, I volunteered to keep wickets for the diplomats' side. I would have thought twice if I had known that our side would consist of a few pace bowlers of English County standard. But it was too late and I had to face the music or more appropriately, the fast swinging red sphere. In the event, I did not fare too badly. The Tiger beer that followed never tasted sweeter.