Survivor Tale 2 - Dismissal from Navy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Pet Lucky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Almost Didn't Join The Navy!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Down Memory Lane I -Fourteenth Course Tir Days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Memorable Historic Document

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Magic of ABBA

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

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

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

Chiquitita

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

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

You will have no time for grieving.”

I Have A Dream

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

You can take the future even if you fail,

……

And my destination makes it worth the while,

Pushing through the darkness still another mile,

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for all the joy they’re bringing,

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

What would life be,

Without a song or dance what are we,

So I thank you for the music

For giving it to me.”

Thank you ABBA.

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