Kahan Woh Bachpan Ka Pyara Sapna - Childhood Memories

Whenever I think of my ‘bachpan’(childhood), some songs start playing in my mind. These include Hemant Kumar’s 1943 number ‘Bhala tha kitna apna bachpan’, Lata Mangeshkar and Shamshad Begum playing back for Nargis and Nimmi urging each other not to forget their childhood in ‘Bachpan ke din bhula na dena’ in the ’51 hit film ‘Deedar’, Lata Mangeshkar’s emotional rendering of ‘Bachpan ki mohabbat ko dil se na bhula dena’ for Meena Kumari in the ’52 hit ‘Baiju Bawra’ and Geeta Dutt and Asha Bhosle singing and humming while recalling ‘Bachpan ke din bhi kya din the’ for Shashikala and Nutan in ‘Sujata’ in 1959 though by that time my childhood was long over!

But the ‘bachpan’ song that is my number one favourite is ‘Kahan woh bachpan ka pyara sapna’ from the movie ‘Adhikar’ released in 1938, the year of my birth! Ever since I can remember, I used to play this 78 rpm disc on my HMV hand-wound gramophone. The song is begun by Pahadi Sanyal followed by some lines from Pankaj Mullick before Pahadi comes back with ‘ab woh din hain na prem ki raatein, yaad magar hain pyar ki baatein….’ Beautiful!

Here is an incident told to me by others and so pre-memory for me! My parents were staying off Chandni Chowk in Delhi when as a 2 year old I walked out of the house unnoticed on to the crowded main road. With trams operating in those days, this was particularly dangerous and I was picked up by a Sikh gentleman. Meanwhile, my absence was discovered at home and a search party of relatives set forth. Fortunately, one of them ran into the Sikh gentleman and brought me back home. Apparently the wanderlust was well ingrained in my genes and resulted in my joining the Navy eventually. Basically I am an outdoor man and am currently deeply disturbed that in the present lockdown, people over 65 are asked to stay home!

I have just one hazy memory of my father who I used to call Daddy- the two of us playing with a wooden toy train. This was when I was about three in our Alwar house. Daddy passed away when I was four and Mummy and I were taken home by her parents, Pitaji and Mataji, to Muttra (now Mathura). My grandparents and Mummy must have taken a very deliberate decision not to talk about the extremely painful incident and kept me occupied otherwise so that I would not think or inquire about Daddy.  In my mind, I must have quietly accepted what happened as I do not recall ever asking my grandparents and Mummy how Daddy passed away. Whatever information I picked up over the years came from other relations particularly Sarvesh Mamaji, Mataji’s brother’s son, who was the same age as Daddy and knew him well. As far as I was concerned, I now had three parents instead of two.

In Muttra, we stayed in a house called Brij Jiwan Nivas named after my Mansi’s grandfather-in-law, in Dampier Nagar. On the other side of the road was the house in which I was born, Ganga Bhawan, named after Mansi’s grandmother-in-law. A few years back, Akhila and I went to Mathura and visited Dampier Nagar. Brij Jiwan Niwas had given way to a multi-storey building but we were delighted to see Ganga Bhawan still standing and Akhila promptly clicked a photo of me standing in the house.

My learning process started in Muttra. I recall lying in bed and listening to a grandfather clock striking the hour and Mataji teaching me how to count. She used to tell me religious stories and my favourites were those of young lord Krishna stealing butter and frolicking with gopis on the banks of the Yamuna. Nearest my age was Vinnie Mama, nine years elder. One incident I remember is Vinnie Mama playing Holi with his friend, Kuldeep Mathur, who went on to become Chairman Railway Board, with the latter forcibly dousing Vinnie Mama with colours. I thought he was being beaten and started crying!

Our stay at Muttra ended in November 1943 with Pitaji’s appointment as a Judge in Bharatpur State High Court. My grandparents were quite nervous about the move as Pitaji was leaving a successful legal practice and taking on a job which was subject to Maharaja Brijendra Singh’s famous mercurial temper. That is when I made my prophetic statement “Abhi kya, abhi to pata nahin kahan kahan jayenge, Jaipur-Vaipur’. That earned me Mataji’s sharp rebuke, “Chup kar, mat kar kulachchni baat!” Seven years later, she would happily recount this story when Pitaji went to Jaipur as a Rajasthan High Court Judge.

In Bharatpur, we first moved into a two storey house called Balbir Bhawan on the outskirts of the city. With Mansi married and Mummy and my two Mamas off to hostels for studies, I was the lone kid with Pitaji and Mataji. Pitaji now became my teacher and used to give me a task every day. At night, while lying down in bed on the rooftop with lights off, he would ask me to tell him what I had learnt. Often, while answering his questions I would hear him snoring and pause thinking he had gone to sleep. But the moment I paused, he would wake up with a snort and ask why I had stopped! I soon learnt to ignore the snores and complete my answers.

Pitaji was very particular about haircuts and had a barber visit every Sunday. On one Sunday he asked me to have a haircut which I resisted. Angrily, he gave me a light slap which stunned me as that was the one and only time that he ever slapped me!

The Maharaja then decided that instead of Sundays, the state holiday would be on Tuesdays. This upset Pitaji enormously as he did not want to have a haircut on a Tuesday, Hanumanji’s day. He had to rise very early on Sundays in order to have a haircut and then go to court.

The Maharaja had many eccentricities. At Holi, he would hold a durbar at which all state officials had to be present. He had each chair wired so that at the press of a switch, the occupant would get a shock and jump out of his seat earning loud guffaws from the Maharaja. Pitaji was fond of Tennis and so was the Maharaja. If Pitaji was his partner, every point lost by Pitaji would earn a strong rebuke, “Khelna aata nahin aur aisi hi chale aate hain.” If Pitaji was his opponent and the Maharaja lost a point he would say, “You don’t realize I am injured.” If he won, he would remark, “Why are you not playing properly, are you making me win by design?” Damned if you do, damned if you don’t!

Net result was Pitaji gave up playing Tennis. He had a chronic wrist ailment because of which he would hold a pen with his thumb and middle finger leaving the forefinger in the air.  This ailment came in handy as an excuse for giving up Tennis.

A very conscientious and honest man, Pitaji warded attempts time and again by Maharaja’s associates to influence legal decisions. However, such efforts caused him a lot of tension and I remember many occasions when he came home in a disturbed frame of mind and told Mataji to be ready to pack up and leave Bharatpur. On top of it all, the grandparents were under a lot of financial strain with three of their children in hostels and a kid at home.

Meanwhile, I was learning new things growing up. In those days, the electrical supply was DC (Direct Current). I had heard that the difference between AC and DC was that if you touched an open source of AC, you would get stuck whereas the DC source would throw you away. To satisfy my curiosity, I touched a fuse in the meterbox which was accessible from about the fifth step of our staircase. I remember being flung by the shock down the five steps but landed safely on my feet and never mentioned the incident to anybody. Nor did I ever experiment with AC!

One day, Pitaji learnt that Mahatma Gandhi would be passing through Bharatpur by the Frontier Mail. He took me to the railway station where through a large crowd we caught a glimpse of Gandhiji standing and waving at the door of his compartment during the train’s short stop.

Pitaji’s father, Chachaji, used to live in his own house in the city in a locality known as Gudri Ka Mohalla. Across the road was the shop of Roshan Halwai (sweet shop). He mainly sold fresh hot milk which was continuously being heated in a large kadhai. I used to watch with fascination the way he would take out a measure of boiling milk in a utensil with a handle from the kadhai, add sugar and pour it in a jug while stretching his hand from close to the jug to as far as the hand would rise, repeat the process with the other hand and do this a number of times till the sugar was completely mixed and the milk was full of froth. Not a drop of milk would be spilled. He would then add a generous helping of malai and offer the milk in a steel glass to the customer. I used to wonder if he was selling milk by length rather than weight!

An interesting feature at Chachaji’s house was a green parrot in its cage. On seeing a person, the parrot would start talking in clear, faultless tone, “Mithoo, mithoo, Chitrakoot ke ghat par, bhai santan ki bhir, Tulsidas chandan ghisen, tilak karen Raghubir.” The parrot used to be freed in the room for a while with doors closed. At times, if a door was left open, it would fly away always to return by itself except one fine day many years later, it flew away never to return.

We used to visit Chachaji on holidays and he used to come to Balbir Bhawan occasionally. He was fond of having a paan after meals. On one visit after lunch, Mataji, who had to eat separately because of purdah, asked me to take a paan to him. Chachaji said he had brought one with him and I could take it back. On the way, I decided to have it myself. Soon my head was in a spin. The paan contained tobacco which I was not aware of.

In the second half of 1944, we shifted to what was known as ‘Control house’ because previously the state excise department used to function from there. It was a large house with a large gate that would open to a parking area flanked on both sides by outhouses. Another small gate led to the main house with an ‘aangan’ surrounded by rooms. It was basically a single storey house with just a small room with a tin shed on the first floor. The tin shed was quite notorious though as many a time it was blown off by a storm and had to be retrieved and replaced.

Fortunately, the house was in quite an isolated spot but that meant I had no friends nearby to play with. So I invented some imaginary friends and can recall a few names like Pip, Peep and Beau. After early education in Agra, I imagined we had taken admission in Wellington University in New Zealand. The Wellington part came true 29 years later when I went to the Staff College in Wellington, India, not NZ. The latter was ticked off end- 2018 when Ruchir decided to take the family on a holiday to that country although this time we skipped Wellington!

I used to eagerly wait for the Allahabad University vacations which would bring Mummy, Shashi and Vinnie Mamas home. Vinnie Mama used to bring records which we could play on our hand-wound gramophone. Also, he would occasionally make a mini-newspaper for me with fictitious news about my friends and cartoons which he was very good at. Once he left his holdall in the train and drew a hilarious cartoon of the holdall looking for its master. Incidentally, the holdall did manage to find its way back to him!

In September  ’44, it was decided that my formal education should begin in Class II in a school which was located quite a distance away in the city area. One of our domestic staff would drop me on a bicycle and come back to pick me up. Some days after joining, a couple of my friends who lived near the school asked me to accompany them to their home. I lost track of time and in the meantime, the person who had come to pick me up raised an alarm and went around informing all and sundry that I was missing. I was soon traced and brought back home. Mummy was also home on vacation and what followed was a sound scolding and thrashing by her and Mataji with me running from room to room but not able to escape their tight slaps. The happy ending though was that it was decided not to send me to school that academic year! By the next year, the school luckily shifted out of the city area near our house. So in July 1945, I began schooling in Class III.

When we first arrived in Bharatpur, Pitaji used to cycle to Court till a fall made him shift to a tonga. Towards end-45, he bought a second-hand Ford with a collapsible canvas rooftop which served us for a number of years despite Vinnie Mama once attempting to climb a lamp post with it!

Sometime in 1946, I developed an interest in Cricket and eagerly followed the Indian team’s tour to England. That winter, I read in the newspapers of Gul Mohammad(319)-Vijay Hazare(288) world record partnership of 577 runs in the Ranji trophy. I became a fan of Vijay Hazare and was thrilled when next year on a tour to Australia, he scored 116 and 145 in the Adelaide test becoming the first Indian to score a century in both innings of a test. On that tour, he also got the great Don Bradman out for 15, a feat that he said meant even more to him than his centuries!

I also devised a method of playing Cricket on my own. In the ‘aangan’ I marked the wickets on one wall and would throw a tennis ball onto the opposite wall and play it on the rebound. Various spots were marked on the walls which when hit by the ball would account for runs scored.

Evenings were spent listening to music on my gramophone. Pankaj Mullick was my top favourite with ‘Piya milan ko jana’, ‘Maine aaj piya hoton ka pyala’ and ‘Yeh raatein yeh mausam’ for lyrics and melody, ‘Pran chahe nain na chahe’ for marching to its beat and ‘Madbhari rut jawani hai’ for brilliant orchestral accompaniment. KL Saigal with songs like ‘Do naina matware’ and Kanan Devi with ‘Toofan mail’ were on my list too. Some songs were recalled on appropriate occasions and I particularly remember coming home after a successful Maths exam and heading straight to play ‘Aaj apni mehnaton ka mujhko samra mil gaya’.

I fell ill with malaria quite often and that made me very weak. Mataji and Pitaji were strict vegetarians but the family doctor advised that I must be given eggs to boost my health. So overcoming all mental and religious resistance, Mataji used to mix eggs in my milk and make me drink it. Perhaps because of my sickness, I had very poor appetite and it was quite a task for my grandparents and Mummy to cajole me to drink milk. One day, Mummy took me with her to visit a friend of hers whose cook promptly brought a big steel glass of milk for me. Mummy was quick to intercept and asked the cook to take it back. Just then I said no, I will drink it, took the glass and swallowed it in a flash. For long after that, I was scolded by Mummy who felt that her friend must have thought that I was perhaps not given milk at home and was longing for it.

In the summer of 1947, I heard talk of India gaining independence. One day I heard a big rumble and went out to see what was happening. I saw a number of strange vehicles and was told they were tanks. Apparently they were sent by Sardar Patel to prevent any thought in the Maharaja’s mind not to accede to the Indian state and also for riot control. Riots did break out as Bharatpur had quite a large number of a Muslim sect called Mevs. We had heard stories of killings and once when I was returning from school, I saw a number of people on the road with spears. I got very scared and hid behind some bushes till they passed. God knows what would have happened if they had seen me hiding.

Having finished with her MA in English from Allahabad University, Mummy was back in Bharatpur and got a job as a teacher in the Girls’ School. Months passed and soon it was 1948. On the evening of 30th January, Mummy had gone to a friend’s house nearby. Pitaji had just come back from Court and he and Mataji were having tea while I was playing my solo Cricket. Suddenly Mummy came all flushed and flustered. She had heard of Gandhiji’s assassination on the radio at her friend’s place and breathlessly told us about it. In turn, we were all shell shocked and speechless. For quite some time, gloom descended everywhere.

Later that year, we shifted to yet another house called Dev Kutir. This was a proper double storey residence with a front lawn and a huge area on the sides and rear where we could grow vegetables and fruit. One product I saw for the first time was white brinjals. My School was just across the road so that was very convenient for me.

Meanwhile, Vinnie Mama had joined the Navy as a Direct Entry officer and left for his training at the naval base Venduruthy, Cochin.

For holidays, we used to visit Alwar often. Mataji’s elder sister was married to Daddy’s chacha, Rameshwar Nathji, who was a Judge in Alwar state. Pitaji and he got on very well with each other and he was very fond of me. He had a big house just outside Tripolia Gate. The entry to the house was through an outer courtyard leading to an inner courtyard and then to the main two-storey building. Alwar had a purdah system much stricter than Bharatpur where it was sufficient for a lady to cover her face making a ghoongat(veil) with her sari. In Alwar, whenever the ladies had to step out, the domestic staff used to line up both sides of the courtyards with huge sheets right up to the tonga or car the insides of which were fully covered by curtains so that no one could catch a glimpse of the ladies!

In Alwar too, just outside the outer gate was a halwai shop which was famous for its delicious 'imartis' rather than 'lengthy' milk!

Chachaji, or Alwarwale Chachaji as I used to refer to him, loved to play practical jokes and I have written elsewhere how he found out that a lady visitor was wearing a borrowed petticoat and sent her son to tell her that the owner, her Bhabhi, who was not at the ladies’ gathering, wanted the petticoat back. I believe a lot of fireworks exploded when the lady furiously returned home.

Once there was an outbreak of mumps in Bharatpur. When the kids of the Chief Justice whose two sons used to play with me got it and we saw them suffering, Mataji decided to go to Alwar and keep me away from the infection. But the next day I was down with mumps. A Hakim was sent for who used to apply some black paste on my cheeks and throat a few times a day. Within three days I was completely cured without suffering any acute pain!

In November ’48, we visited Delhi and stayed with Mataji’s younger sister just off Chandni Chowk. The highlight of that visit was watching the first test between West Indies and India at the Ferozeshah Kotla ground. Batting first, West Indies amassed 631 runs with centuries from Walcott, Gomez, Weekes and Christiani.
Hemu Adhikari led India’s fightback with an unbeaten 114 with support from Ibrahim, Modi and Lala Amarnath. India totaled 454 which was still not enough to avoid follow-on which in those days was at 150 runs. India managed to save the match with another unbeaten knock from Adhikari and useful contribution from others. It was a privilege to meet Colonel Adhikari many years later when I joined the NDA and he was posted as an instructor.

In the spring of ’49, Vinnie Mama came on leave having completed his training in Cochin. He had a lot of stories to tell and showed me his photos in white naval uniform. The seeds were sown for me to join the Navy and I had myself photographed in whites with Vinnie Mama’s Sub Lt stripes and cap. The photo was with me all these years but I seem to have misplaced it lately.

In the summer of ’49, Mummy and I went to Dehradun where Masarji was commanding the 5th Gurkha Rifles.  We also visited Mussoorie and were having a nice time with Mansi and my cousins when we got the sad news of Alwarwale Chachaji’s sudden demise. He and Chachiji were in Bharatpur when he went down with a heatstroke and passed away on 26th June. Mummy and I caught the train to Alwar the next day cutting short our holiday.

I was back to School in July and after a month or so, Pitaji was appointed as a Judge in the newly formed Rajasthan High Court and transferred to Udaipur. We left Bharatpur in September and I guess that marked the end of my ‘bachpan’ only the memories of which now remain.

An Anti-Submarine Rocket Lands on Dockyard Chief's Rooftop

While there must be many more incidents of operations and exercises gone awry and no list can ever be complete, there is a remarkable one which I must add here. I know this to be true and Viji Malhotra reminded me of it as he was an eyewitness.

In the early ‘60s, Viji was on the minesweeper Cuddalore which was undergoing a refit in the Wet Basin of the Naval Dockyard, Bombay. Ahead on the adjoining wall was berthed the frigate Cauvery.

Viji was on duty as Officer of the Day (OOD) on a quiet, lazy Sunday morning and was on the upper deck enjoying fresh breeze when he observed a group of young, smart sea cadet girls approaching his ship. Bachelor that he was, he was excited by the prospect of receiving them on board and showing them around. To his dismay though, he found they bypassed his ship, did a Corpen 9 (naval signal for a 90* wheel to the right) and went up the gangway of Cauvery.

OOD Cauvery received them and started showing them around the ship. They started with the forecastle and its anchors and cables and went on to the big guns, the Bridge, boats, lifeboats etc. till they came to the anti-submarine mortars called ‘Hedgehog’, so named because the empty rows of the launcher spigots resembled spines of the beast. The OOD explained how on detecting an enemy submarine by sonar, the launcher was directed towards the target and fired mortars ahead of the ship by pressing a switch which was located on the launcher itself. Believing the launcher to be inactive and empty, he proceeded to press the switch.

There was shock and awe when with a rumbling noise and an eerie whoosh, they watched a mortar shoot off in the air. Fascinated, they followed its trajectory and watched it come down with a thud on the rooftop of the office of the head of the Dockyard, the Commodore Superintendent (CSD). Viji watched this from Cuddalore and wondered what was going on.

Apparently, unknown to the OOD, the electrical duty staff was carrying out maintenance on the Hedgehog system, switched on the power, and loaded a single dummy mortar inside the launcher. Fortunately, there was no explosive in the mortar and the CSD’s roof only suffered minor damage.

It took some time for all on board Cauvery to recover. The girls marveled at the amazing live demonstration of rocket firing and wondered if a gunfire demonstration was possible as well! The OOD regained outward composure and quickly brought the girls’ visit to an end.

The Commanding Officer of Cauvery, enjoying his holiday at home, was informed and rushed to the ship. Investigations began and higher authorities were informed. With no damage and it being a Sunday, there were few eyewitnesses and not much pandemonium.

The next day, CO Cauvery and the OOD were summoned in No. 2s (formal uniform) by Rear Admiral SG Karmarkar, Flag Officer Bombay (equivalent of FOC-in-C West of present day) and given a thorough dressing down. Viji Malhotra was also required to be present as the major independent eyewitness.

OOD Cauvery, Lieut VK Kapoor's name was immortalised as 'Hedgehog' Kapoor. Commodore Baswan, CSD, had the last word with the following signal to the Fleet Commander (FOCIF), “I will repair your ships free of charge but please tell your ships to stop firing at me!”

Naval Operations and Exercises That Went Awry

In actual operations as well as peacetime exercises, things can go awry due to human errors or material defects despite due diligence. Occasionally, the errors can be serious with heavy damage and loss of life. In August 1959, shortly after we, the 14th Course midshipmen, were transferred from Mysore to smaller ships, the former collided with a Royal Navy destroyer, Hogue, during Commonwealth Joint Exercises (JET) off Trincomalee. This happened at night with ships completely darkened. One sailor from Hogue was killed and both ships were damaged with Hogue eventually having to be written off. I was on board Ranjit also participating in the same exercises and it was a scary sight to see both the damaged ships the next morning.

Then there was the Khukri-Betwa collision during fleet exercises early 1964. I was on Khukri till December ’63 and had served under Captain ‘Pat’ Telles who was still commanding the ship when the collision took place. Capt Telles was a fine officer and a gentleman and took the entire blame on himself exonerating the Navigating Officer who many felt was to blame. Captain Telles’ naval career thus came to an untimely end.

Enough of tragic stories. Let me now dwell on incidents where errors resulted in situations which were embarrassing at that time but can be laughed at now.

A story which I cannot guarantee the veracity of but many oldtimers have sworn by, dates back to the 50s when during an exercise, Gomati fired a shell which went through Godavari’s open starboard door close to the Captain’s cabin, through the alleyway and out the port door without causing any damage! This was during what is called a throw-off firing where the gun direction system seemingly points towards the target but the guns are 30* off. Apparently Gomati’s gunnery crew forgot to apply the throw-off but the target, Godavari, had a miraculous escape.

My friend Viji Malhotra tells me of two incidents which took place during the ’65 Indo-Pak war. Viji was on the flagship Mysore as Flag Lt to the Fleet Commander (FOCIF), Rear Adm ‘Chippy’ Samson. The fleet was at sea when Betwa mistook Mysore for Pak ship Babur and started firing at it. The shells fell close to Mysore and Viji says he first thought the splashes caused by shells falling into the sea were whale spouts. In true Moby Dick fashion, he was about to shout, “Thar she blows” when the Fleet Gunnery officer realized what was happening and desperate signals were made to Betwa to stop firing before the required correction was applied to hit the target!

In the second case, Mysore saw an aircraft and mistook it for a Pak surveillance one. Anti-aircraft guns were brought into action before the Fleet Aviation Officer, Cdr Tahiliani, screamed that it was an Air India plane and firing was ceased. Bad aim once again saved the day but the Air India crew apparently saw the shell bursts as FOCIF got an angry signal from the Naval Chief the next day.

In the 1971 war, the landing ship Magar made a crazy signal that delayed landing of troops at Cox’s Bazar by a couple of days. Preparations were afoot for the landing with a number of naval and merchant ships carrying army personnel proceeding to rendezvous (RV) off the landing site. In the midst of all this, Magar made a signal to the Fleet Commander, “Periscope sighted. Confirm friendly”. We knew that none of our submarines were in that area and if at all it was a Pak submarine, defenceless Magar would be toast! Magar took sometime to find that it had mistaken a fishing stake in tidal waters for a periscope and made a corrective signal but its first message was heard by everyone on the radio network and the merchant ships had immediately turned away and cleared the area at top speed. It took some time and a number of messages to convince them that there was no enemy submarine in the area and to get them to head again for the RV.

In early 1971 some ships of the fleet based in Bombay were to visit Cochin. An exercise was planned in which the fleet ships were to attack the Cochin naval base which was to be defended by a couple of ships based there. Captain RS Malia, Commanding Officer Venduruthy, was in-charge of the Cochin force ably assisted by Rolly Lewin of ND School and self of Signal School. Godavari was already at sea and since there was no time to recall her to Cochin, it was decided that she would be joined at sea by Ganga and Gomati and thereafter proceed to intercept the fleet ships.  Details of an RV position designated RR (phonetically ‘Romeo Romeo’) were transmitted by wireless to Godavari and given by hand to the other two ships before sailing.

The exercise commenced and soon Godavari signalled that she was at RR awaiting the other ships which in turn signalled that they were at RR looking for Godavari. Both units were asked to check and recheck their co-ordinates and both confirmed that they were correctly at RR as directed. While these units were searching for each other, the Bombay ships sneaked in and carried out their attack. All ships were told to return to harbor and it was only there that the two Cochin units finally met.

In the debrief that followed, it was discovered that an error had been made in the radio transmission of the position to Godavari and whereas the latter was in the correct position as received by her, the other two ships were in the right position as given to them on paper. East was east and west was west and never the twain would meet!

Early next morning, Capt Malia, Rolly Lewin and I were witnessing a basketball game when the Captain came out with a gem. He said that at night he was reading “Julius ‘Kaiser’” by Shakespeare  and visualizing Godavari, Ganga and Gomati searching for RR uttering Juliet’s immortal lines, “Romeo Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” We all had a mighty laugh and Rolly and I would often make fun of the Captain’s mispronouncing of Caesar and attributing Juliet’s quote to the wrong play. It was many years later that I came to know that Captain Malia was an MA in English and the errors were perhaps deliberate to provoke laughter! Incidentally, Capt Malia, a Sikh, spoke perfect English with no trace of Punjabi accent.

In 1973, when I was FCO (Fleet Communication Officer) on the staff of FOCEF (Flag Officer Commanding Eastern Fleet) Rear Admiral Ronnie Pereira, Some ships of the Western Fleet including the cruiser Delhi, the senior ship commanded by Captain Kewal Nayyar, were visiting Vishakhapatnam (Vizag). As usual, an exercise was scheduled wherein the Western force was to attack Vizag defended by Eastern fleet ships headed by Captain AC Malhotra commanding Kamorta. Capt Malhotra came up with a plan in which he would lead his force to intercept the Western ships well away from Vizag rather wait for them to approach the base for the attack. As it happened, he missed the Western ships completely allowing them to carry out their attack successfully. In the debrief that followed, he explained what his intention was and how it could have succeeded. Everyone including the C-in-C Vice Admiral Kulkarni and FOCEF listened intently, impressed by Capt Malhotra’s plan but unfortunate failure. Just then, Capt Nayyar got up and said, and I repeat his exact words, “Gentlemen, as Lord Fisher said, ’farting around the ocean is neither good strategy nor good tactics’”. There was a stunned silence for a while after which the debrief was declared closed. People were seen consulting each other on who Lord Fisher was and whether he could have said what was quoted. For those keen to know, Lord Fisher was the First Sea Lord, head of the Royal Navy, twice, from 1904-10 and again ’14-’15 when he resigned in the midst of the First World War due to differences with the naval minister, Winston Churchill. Extensive research to find the quote attributed to Lord Fisher is still a work in progress!

Ten years down the line, Kewal Nayyar, then Vice Admiral commanding the Western Fleet (FOCWF), was to be at the receiving end. I was his Fleet Operations OfficerFOO). In an exercise, ships were divided into two forces, one headed by Admiral Nayyar embarked on his flagship, Rajput, and the other by Captain ‘Baby’ Anand, CO Vindhyagiri. Rather than operate as a composite force, the Admiral’s plan was to disperse our missile-armed ships so that there was a greater chance of finding the other force and attack with missiles. In the ‘fog of war’ friendly Rana reported detecting an enemy ship and fired its missiles. The exercise was being controlled personally by the CNS, Admiral Stan Dawson, not on best terms with Admiral Nayyar.  The CNS ruled that Rana had actually fired at Rajput which was declared sunk. We were removed from the exercise and ordered to return to harbour which was a big snub to FOCWF.

Six months later, Naval Headquarters scheduled an Anti-submarine Warfare (ASW) exercise with an aim to check the sonar capability of ships in monsoon. With the weather particularly bad during the exercise, over 90% personnel were badly seasick and ships were going all helter skelter. CNS Admiral Dawson was himself on board the flagship and I was still FOO. I remembered a story my father-in-law had told me a number of times which went something like this- at a musical conference, a particularly bad group was on stage. The audience was restive and started hooting when a Pathan climbed up on stage brandishing a sword. The frightened group started getting up and scurrying away from the stage. Pathan calmly said to them, “Where are you people going? You please keep performing, I have nothing against you. I am looking for the person who invited you in the first place.” In the Operations Room, I recounted this to the CNS’s Naval Assistant and said, “Don’t blame the ships, let them do whatever they are doing. Let us look for the person who scheduled the exercise.” The message must have been conveyed to the CNS as for the rest of the time on board, he gave me askance looks whenever he saw me.

To conclude, here is a story which is neither about an operation nor an exercise but is very interesting nevertheless. It was told to me by my good friend Satish Bindra, God bless his soul, who vouched for its veracity and it involves the landing ship Magar again. In the early ‘50s after commissioning in UK, the ship was on its maiden voyage to Bombay with Satish on board. After the ship came through the Suez Canal and entered the Arabian Sea, real rough weather hit them as the south-west monsoon was in full fury. With no satellites and radio aids, navigation was completely dependent on landmarks of which there were none in mid-ocean, and heavenly bodies, the sun, the moon and the stars, which to be of any use, had to be visible. This they were not in those conditions.

So after a couple of days away from land and nothing in sight, the Captain, dependent as the ship was on just a compass, felt distinctly uneasy. Ships at sea drift with wind and current and can actually be quite away from the estimated position as determined by course, speed and any known tidal streams. While the Captain and the Navigating Officer (NO) were pondering over this predicament, a merchant ship was sighted coming from the opposite direction. As per tradition at sea, Magar flashed a signal by light to the merchant ship, “What ship, whither bound?” Came the reply, “Indian ship Sabarmati, bound from London to Bombay. And you?” To which Magar’s signalman replied, “Warship Magar, proceeding to Bombay”.

Now the Captain and the NO quickly conferred and concluded that their compass must have drifted and decided to follow Sabarmati since it was also headed for Bombay. Orders were given to the helmsman to turn around and get into Sabarmati’s wake. Soon however, they were astounded to see Sabarmati also turning around and trying to get in Magar’s wake! Obviously, it was a case of blind leading blind with Sabarmati as unsure of her position as Magar.

It must have been quite a sight to see two ships going round and round in circles for some length of time! Just as desperation was setting in, a fishing trawler was sighted. Magar went close to it and asked the fishermen over a loud hailer in which direction did Bombay lay. Fortunately, the trawler had come from Bombay and gave accurate directions which the good ship Magar followed with Sabarmati following close behind.

Navigating Betwa

From NDC I moved to Betwa in January ’67.  For the first and only time, NHQ personnel branch offered me a choice of ships - Brahmaputra or Betwa. The  attraction of the former was that it was slated to go to Montreal for EXPO ‘67 but since it was the senior ship of the 16th Frigate Squadron, it had specialists heading all departments and I would at best be someone’s deputy. Betwa, equipped with the latest Gun Direction system of that time, the FPS5, had only Gunnery headed by a specialist officer in Lt HKL Sachar. So I opted for Betwa hoping I would be the Signal Communications Officer (SCO) and gain some experience before going for my Long C course. Meanwhile, my friend and NDA coursemate, Suresh ‘Bobby’ Bhandoola, who too had been selected for the Long C course, also got appointed to Betwa. Bobby and I reported on board together wondering which one of us would be given the job of SCO by the Captain of the ship, Cdr RH Tahiliani. We hadn’t reckoned how smart the Captain was- he allotted TAS (Torpedo and Anti-submarine) to Bobby and Navigation to me! SCO went to young Sub Lt Vijay Shivdasani on his first appointment after earning the Watchkeeping certificate. Incidentally, he was also selected for Long C a few years down the line!

I was happy though as navigating the ship under an intelligent and competent Captain was a rich and rewarding experience which stood me in good stead for my own command of ships later. Simple pieces of advice, like when entering the not too well-marked Okha channel with only a lone starboard-hand buoy to guide, Cdr Tahiliani asked me to go close to the buoy rather than the centre of the channel because he said, “Always safer to go close to a known danger”.

Betwa was fully operational and we spent a lot of time sailing independently and as part of the Indian Fleet. We generally performed well and I recall just one incident when we could have been in trouble. We entered Cochin harbor and were trying to secure head and stern to buoys but foul monsoon weather, unfavourable tidal conditions and strong winds prevented us from doing so despite repeated attempts. Finally tugs were called to help secure the ship. We feared we had gone over the buoys and might have damaged our propellers and reported the incident to higher authorities. Thereafter we sent divers to examine the propellers and were relieved to find they were undamaged. As the incident had been reported, a board of inquiry was appointed which too cleared the ship of any damage and the Captain and Navigating Officer of any blame.

A constant source of concern was our gyro compass which often went ‘hunting’ and was unreliable. During a fleet exercise, the Captain told the yeoman on duty to make a signal to the fleet commander (FOCIF), “My gyro erratic”. Something went wrong between transmission and reception of the signal as during the debrief of the exercises, FOCIF, Rear Adm SM Nanda, asked Cdr Tahiliani to give details of the gyro that could go “erotic”. This remained Cdr Tahiliani’s one and only favourite story which I heard him recount dozens of times as he progressed from Commander to Admiral!

Our wardroom was lively and fun. Apart from Bobby Bhandoola, we had another coursemate, Virendra ‘Magoo’ Nehra who was the Supply Officer. Lt Sachar, ‘Guns’ as he was known, had a good sense of humour and kept us in high spirits. In our free time we used to play a game called ‘Liar Dice’ which was a shortened version of poker played with two dice instead of cards. The loser had to pay a penalty and a favourite one after a few drinks was to ask him to jump out of the porthole. Nobody actually could but the efforts were great to earn a riot of laughs!

With Magoo Nehra fond of western pop, music was the other pastime. Apart from the Beatles, the Rolling Stones were hitting the top of pop charts and my favourite number which I used to listen to and sing was “I can get no satisfaction” with Bobby Bhandoola always showing mock sympathy and  asking me why!

The Long C course was finally scheduled for September ’67 and my Betwa spell came to an end after just 8 months.

At the NDC- June 1965-December 1966

I left NDA soon after the passing out parade of 28th course held in the shadow of Pandit Nehru’s death and reported at the National Defence College, New Delhi, early June 1965, to take over as Flag Lt (ADC) to the Commandant, VADM AK CHatterji. The College including the Commandant, senior staff and students, was on a foreign tour which was part of the curriculum. I had plenty of time to learn about the new job from my predecessor Rajnish Tandon. One advice he gave me was to be careful of Admiral and Mrs Chatterji’s temper which he said could be on the short side!

On return of officers from the tour, the College resumed its normal routine. My day started with receiving the Admiral at the porch.  He used to drive his personal Fiat to office and back. Apparently, government rules were that the staff car should not be used from residence to office and back. The Admiral strictly followed that.

After briefing the Admiral on the day’s appointments and ascertaining his requirements, I would go back to my office while the day’s activities progressed. These would usually begin with a lecture by some prominent personality followed by lunch at the College dining room. The lunch was compulsory for all including the Commandant and self. After lunch, the students would go back to their syndicate work or studies till closing time.

The Commandant’s office suite included a bedroom and the Admiral was fond of a short siesta. On getting up, he would walk barefoot to the attached bathroom to freshen up. One afternoon soon after my joining, I heard the Admiral screaming loudly. Apparently, he had gone to the bathroom and sensed dirt under his feet. I ran to get the sweeper to wipe the floor but it took quite a while for the Admiral to calm down. Back in my office, I recalled Rajnish’s warning and pondered how long I would last with this temper and why I had left the comfort of the NDA where I had 35 cadets under me, for the NDC where I was the juniormost officer by far!

My fears were unfounded. After that incident, I cannot recall any incident when the Admiral or Mrs Chatterji lost his or her cool. Of course, the bathroom cleaning was personally supervised by me from that day on!

It took sometime for me to adjust to the atmosphere at the NDC with its peculiar staff setup. There was the Commandant with the rank of Vice Admiral, four Senior Directing Staff, one each from the Army, Navy and Air Force and a civilian, of the rank of Rear Admiral and equivalent, one GSO I from the Army and two Junior Directing Staff, one each from Navy and Air Force, of the rank of Commander and equivalent, and self, a Lieutenant. The students were mostly of the rank of Brigadier and equivalent with a few Colonels. So there was a 10-year gap between me and the next officer with no colleagues! To their credit and kindness, I must say that all of them made me feel at ease and I never felt out of place because of my juniority. In fact the two JDS, Cdr MS Grewal and Wing Cdr Suchanti, were like friends and the GSO I, Lt Col Pyara Lal, later promoted to a full Colonel, an extremely kind and gentle soul. The last named was singlehandedly responsible for getting the College up and running right from its inception, setting the curriculum, getting the best speakers Indians and foreigners, writing their biodata and introductory speeches for the Commandant, laying out individual and syndicate tasks for the students and almost everything else. I have never seen a person for whom work was his entire life and the Colonel was up every night till late and often slept in his office.

With other gentle people like Maj Gen Pandit, RAdm Heble and most students, I was well into a comfort zone. To an extent, I was used to a similar environment right from my childhood as I was brought up by my Nana and Nani with just the three of us at home and imaginary friends to give me company!  All this took away any awe of seniors and taught me to be at ease with them. Indeed, I found that Brigadiers in their own circle actually behaved like cadets!

I soon started attending lectures whenever I could. That was indeed a great learning process with famous personalities talking on diverse subjects. I recall Smt Indira Gandhi as Information and Broadcasting Minister addressing the College. She seemed shy and halting and not too impressive. What a change there was when she came next year as Prime Minister and talked unhesitatingly with supreme confidence!

The Indo-Pak war in September ’65 saw some of the students leaving and joining their battalions. On the personal front, Vinnie Mama was in NHQ and was transferred overnight to take over as Commander (second-in-command) of the Indian Fleet flagship, the cruiser Mysore. Pitaji (Nana) was in Delhi as Chairman Company Law Advisory Commission after retiring from Rajasthan High Court. I was staying with him in 1 Teenmurti Lane sharing a boundary wall with the PM on 1 Teenmurti Marg. The authorities had dug a couple of bunkers on our lawn and I remember herding Pitaji and reluctant Mataji (Nani) into the bunkers on some nights when the air raid warning went off!

Adm Chatterji made a number of trips to NHQ to see Adm BS Soman, the CNS, advising him to convince the PM and the government to let the Navy play an aggressive role in the war. Every time, he returned dejected as the CNS would tell him that the government wouldn’t listen as it thought Navy’s inclusion would escalate the war.

The war ended and normalcy returned. Soon after, we went on a forward area tour and visited Adampur and Halwara, two air bases in Punjab from where air strikes were carried out on Pakistan. Thereafter, we went to the eastern sector and landed at Bagdogra.  After a briefing at the Corps HQ at Siliguri, we drove up to the MES Inspection Bungalow in Darjeeling. I accompanied the Admiral to his suite where we saw a bottle of scotch on the bedside table. The Admiral felt embarrassed and said we should return the bottle. We discussed the matter and thought that might offend the hosts. Finally it was decided to tell all students to get together in the evening and finish the bottle before dinner.

Next stop was Gangtok where we called on and carried out the traditional scarf exchange ceremony with the Ruler of Sikkim, the Chogyal and his attractive American wife, Hope Cooke, the Gyalmo. We then drove to Nathu La and made eye to eye contact with the Chinese. A number of them came out of their bunkers and it was a great photo op for both sides. From there to Kalimpong and finally by helicopter back to Bagdogra marking the end of the tour.

On return, I got busy with preparations for the marriage of Admiral’s elder daughter Purobi popularly known as Bula, with Deb Mukharji, IFS. The wedding ceremony was held at the Admiral’s residence on 27 Tughlak Road followed by a wedding reception on the vast lawns of the College the next day.

The 1965 Course ended in the last week of November. Pitaji had also come to the end of his tenure and had to vacate his official residence and planned to go back to Jaipur. Meanwhile, my cousin Manjula’s wedding was fixed for early-January ’66 in Delhi. As the whole of Raksha Bhavan, residence for NDC students, was lying vacant awaiting the arrival of the ’66 batch, I got a 3-bedroom apartment allotted to me and moved in with Pitaji and Mataji and my dog, Lucky. After the wedding, my grandparents went back to Jaipur and I had to find accommodation for self and Lucky. There were 3 suites in the right wing of the College with one being used as a guest room for visitors and the other 2 vacant. Rather than go to a Mess, I suggested to the Admiral that I move into one of the suites. The Admiral readily agreed as there were many cases of indiscipline among the Class IV staff staying in the outhouses of the College and I could keep an eye on them. So I shifted into Suite no.2 with the whole vast estate mine after working hours! Young Verghese, a bearer staying in the outhouses, became my majordomo as well as cook for breakfast and dinner. Some years later, he was employed as a waiter in the South Block Café and it was a pleasure to see him on my visits to NHQ.

In the meantime, Admiral Chatterji was appointed as the Chief of the Naval Staff to take over from Admiral Soman. Air Marshal R Rajaram, then AOC-in-C Western Air Command, was appointed the next Commandant. I had already been selected to undergo a specialization course in Communications (Long C) mid-66. I requested the Admiral if I could stay on in the College for a couple of months. The Admiral talked to Air Marshal Rajaram and the latter agreed. A temporary arrangement was worked out with his existing Air Force Staff Officer working at the NDC but remaining on the books of WAC.

The start of the ’66 Course was marked by the sudden death of Shri Lal Bahadur Shastri at Tashkent in January. Smt Indira Gandhi took over as PM.  The ’66 Course gradually got in full gear and with two aides instead of one, I had enough time to attend lectures and syndicate discussions and spend hours at the excellent College library.

In the evenings, there were plenty of naval and College parties to attend. In the College parties, Mrs Suchanti was urged by all to sing and dance to “Bareilly ke bazar mein jhumka gira re”- just this one line but she did it superbly! Delhi also provided me ample opportunities to attend classical music concerts with legendary names like Ravi Shankar, Ali Akbar Khan, Bismillah Khan and Allah Rakha in their prime and the next generation performers Amjad Ali Khan and  Zakir Hussain appearing on the scene.

Weekends were spent playing golf. Tiger Talwar was a regular partner before he went to Russia to bring a submarine. Tiger, also a bachelor then, used to stay in Kotah House. One summer evening, I invited him to come to NDC and we sat on the lawn and drank our whisky. Early next morning, I went to Kotah House to pick him up for golf and found him still in bed. He said he had a massive hangover and asked me what whisky I had given him. I told him it was Black Knight, a standard fare in those days which both of us had in equal amounts and I had no ill effects. On return, I had a look at my liquor stock and found that a bottle of gin was empty. Apparently, Tiger had been pouring gin instead of water in his whisky!

Mid ‘66 I met Flt Lt Nanda Cariappa who was ADC to the Air Chief, ACM Arjan Singh.  Nanda’s aircraft was shot down over Pakistan during the war and he was taken prisoner. The story goes that President Ayub Khan who had served under General Cariappa, Nanda's father, in pre-indepenent India, rang up the latter saying he could release Nanda as a special case. Gen Cariappa told President Ayub that Nanda was to be treated as a regular POW and no extra consideration needed to be shown to him. Back in Delhi after his regular release and on taking over as ADC, Nanda became a regular golfer and we had many games together at the DGC. I also had the privilege of meeting General Cariappa, later Field Marshal, at Nanda’s house in Jodhpur Hostel, Delhi.

Meanwhile, I was told by NHQ that my Long C course was postponed to the next year. I apprised the Air Marshal of the fact and he surprised me by saying, “Why don’t you stay on in the College?” He was taken up by the idea of having a naval aide and sent his IAF Staff Officer back to the WAC! So began my deep association with the Air Marshal and his very kind wife and both of them treated me like a son. I was frequently invited to their residence on King George’s Avenue for Sunday lunches where we sat on the lawn sipping beer before delicious South Indian food. After the Air Marshal’s sudden and shocking passing away due to leukemia a couple of years later, I always made it a point to visit Mrs Rajaram at her residence in Vasant Vihar whenever I visited Delhi and we would spend hours reminiscing the good old days.

The College routine kept one busy and days were flying by. Lucky had got used to staying alone while I was at work but once in a while got naughty or angry locked up in my room. One day, I came from work and was horrified to see Lucky, a white Pomeranian, had turned brown. I was at my wit’s end till I saw that the wall in my dressing room was brown too. It transpired that Lucky had torn through a bag of brown suede shoe polish powder and had been flinging it around spraying the powder all over himself and the wall. It took a lot of scrubbing to make Lucky white again!

Come September and my friend and coursemate, Premvir Das, decided to get married and insisted on my coming to Kanpur to attend his wedding. Premvir had been Flag Lt to Admiral Chatterji when the latter was Flag Officer Commanding Indian Fleet before taking over as Commandant NDC. The Admiral had agreed to go for the wedding combining it with some official functions in Kanpur and was taking an Air Force aircraft for the trip. Some official work was found for me in Kanpur and Lt Cdr Avinash Bhatia, Flag Lt Cdr to CNS, got the Admiral’s consent to take me in his aircraft and off we flew reaching Kanpur late afternoon. At the airport, we were received by Army liaison officers who quickly escorted us to our respective cars for the long drive through the city’s disorderly traffic to Kamla Retreat where we were being put up. We were shown to our rooms and waited for our baggage truck to arrive.

But the truck was not arriving! We asked the liaison officers and they had no clue about the delay as they had no contact with the truck. The Admiral rang up Avinash a number of times beginning to lose his cool but Avinash could only give a spiel about the bad traffic and level crossings.  Finally the truck arrived without the baggage. The driver said he did not know anything about the baggage and had only tried to follow us as best as he could. With some difficulty we got through to the ATC who informed us that the aircraft had gone back to Delhi! They had no idea about any baggage and we could only surmise that it was still in the aircraft.

There was total panic. Avinash was worried about his job and how to tell the Admiral who was already late for an evening appointment. I was cursing Premvir for unnecessarily getting me into this mess when I could be relaxing with a drink in my room in the NDC. Avinash was bracing up to give the news to the Admiral when his steward, Inder Lal, who we had forgotten about, turned up fuming at all of us. Inder was left behind in the aircraft and was told by the pilot that the aircraft had to return to Delhi. The worthy steward got the luggage out and somehow managed to inform the Army authorities by phone about the situation. Another truck was sent by the Army to bring Inder and the baggage to Kamla Retreat. Relieved beyond words, we would have given Inder a Very Distinguished Service Medal right on the spot if we could!

I don’t think the Admiral ever got to hear this story!

Marriage ceremony attended and celebrated, we returned to Delhi. The next major event was the forward area tour. I was hoping to visit the Western sector but Air Marshal Rajaram wished to go east and so the tour was a repeat of the previous year with an airlift to Bagdogra and by car to Darjeeling. The Air Marshal and I arrived at the MES Inspection Bungalow and waited for all students to come. However, one car which was in the middle of the convoy was missing and nobody recalled seeing it. A search party was sent and found the Ambassador car stuck in bushes some 50 metres below the road. Lying nearby were the two students who were travelling in the car, Cmde BR Kapoor, IN, and Capt Coleman of the Royal Navy, and the driver. It had rained earlier and apparently the car went too close to the edge and rolled down the slope. Fortunately, the ground was soft and the dense vegetation prevented loss of life. The injured were rushed to the Military Hospital and it was found that Cmde Kapoor had a neck fracture and Capt Coleman’s right little finger had to be amputated. The driver escaped with a few bruises. Arrangements were made to repatriate the officers back to Delhi and the tour resumed thankfully without any further mishap.

Back in Delhi, we learnt of the Air Marshal’s appointment as Vice Chief of the Air Staff. He had to leave immediately on completion of the course end November ’66 and was relieved by Lt Gen MM Khanna. The latter also liked the idea of a naval aide and asked me to continue. But by then I felt that I should get back to the Navy before NHQ forgot about me and I about the Navy and requested the General to please arrange for his own staff officer. I spent a month with General Khanna before Capt Vipin Khanna relieved me.

I have often wondered whether there is any other case of a naval officer, nay, any service officer, being an aide to all three Army, Navy and Air Force flag officers!

GOLF-UNCERTAINTIES GALORE

Cricket fans go in raptures talking about the game being full of uncertainties. They obviously don’t know golf. The uncertainties of this game are common affairs in almost every tournament. A course which regularly produces surprise endings is Carnoustie in Scotland where the British Open is often played. In the 2007 Open, Sergio Garcia started the day with a 3-shot lead hopeful of winning his first major. The lead had reduced to just one when he came to the final hole. He saw his par putt bouncing out after lipping the cup and went for a playoff with Padraig Harrington which Sergio duly lost! But the ‘mother of all’ surprising finishes was the 1999 Open where the frenchman Jean Van de Velde lost his 3-shot lead on the 18th to result in a playoff which he lost to Britain’s Paul Lawrie. No wonder Carnoustie is referred to as ‘Carnasty’ by professional golfers!

True, similar endings happen in Cricket as well.  In the T-20 series played earlier this year, in at least 2 matches New Zealand went into the final over sure of victory with just a few runs required and plenty of wickets in hand but contrived to tie and go to the death over eventually losing to India. But where golf is really unique is in the strange and peculiar situations that occur in the game routinely which would be considered fictional if there were no witnesses. To top it all, they have actually laid down rules to cover such situations!

Take the final round of the Bridgestone Invitational at Firestone Country Club, Akron, USA, a few years ago. On the 9th hole, Tiger Woods hit his second shot into the trees left of the green. The ball dropped on the arm of a 58-year old lady who pulled it close to her body so the ball wouldn’t fall to the ground till Tiger came along. He was allowed a free drop and went on to get his par. Rule 9.1(a) Playing ball from where it came to rest and Rule 11.1 Ball in Motion Accidentally Hits Person Exception 1 are relevant!

More strange was the case of the LPGA pro Elaine Johnson. In a tournament, she hit a tree and the ball bounced back into her bra. Ever the professional, the lady said, “I’ll take a two-shot penalty but I refuse to play the ball where it lies!”

Golfers are constantly scoring birdies figuratively but a few years back, in a celebrity game, Rob Lowe hit a goldfinch in mid-flight bringing down the bird 150 feet short of the green. “That’s my birdie,” quipped Lowe.

Not part of a game but on a golf course was this incident which the great Jack Nicklaus described as the most embarrassing moment in his life. At a tournament of which he was the director, he asked for a portable toilet cabin to be shifted. As soon as the cabin was lifted by the crane, a partially dressed young lady poked her head out of the door furiously screaming her head off complaining that she was not even allowed to pee in peace!

I have had some personal experiences myself. At the Army course at Dhaula Kuan, New Delhi, the 11th and 14th holes run parallel but in opposite directions. Playing the 14th, my ball hit the ball of another golfer on the 11th in mid-flight! The balls were played 'as it lies'.

At Bolghatti, Cochin, I hit a palm tree on a Saturday evening only to find that the ball had got stuck high up and could not be retrieved. I took a penalty for lost ball and continued my game with another ball. Playing again next morning, I hit the tree again and to my utter surprise and delight, two balls dropped! Unfortunately, I could not claim to waive off my penalty of the previous day as the rules permit only 5 minutes to search for a lost ball!

For those interested in even more weird and bizarre incidents, I recommend a book I picked up sometime back. It is called “Golf Nuts Book of Amazing Feats & Records”. It describes golf’s most unbelievable shots, astounding feats, silly mishaps and outrageous miscellaneous records by big names such as Lee Trevino, Greg Norman, Sam Snead and Gary Player and, of course, lesser mortals! For those who are frustrated with their game and wish to recoup from the golf bug before throwing away their golf set, there is another book, "How to Quit Golf." And finally, for habitual bettors who hate to lose money, I recommend "How to Win at Golf Without Actually Playing Well".
A small example - on the first tee, ask your opponent casually when he is about to drive, "Do you shank?" If he doesn't, he will!

Did you know that golf can actually produce music? Dr. Robert Grober, a physics professor at Yale University, New Haven, USA, has planted an electronic sensor into a club that transmits an immediate response to a golf swing. A smooth rhythmic swing  produces a sweet sound while a mistimed one results in a wail. A Musical Instrument Digital Interface combining instruments such as a pipe organ, piccolo, oboe and French horn transmits an audio interpretation of the swing to the player through a wireless headset.

Me, I am waiting for a CD of a Tiger Woods concerto, a Sergio Symphony or a Mickelson minuet.

An Odd Indo-Pak Naval Get-Together

Way back in the 1950s and 60s, our Navy used to participate in the annual joint exercises (JET) conducted for Commonwealth navies. The exercises were held off the east coast of Sri Lanka with Trincomalee as the base. Pakistan Navy (PN) also used to participate in JET.

In 1959, I was an officer-under-training with the rank of midshipman, known in the navy as the lowest form of animal life, on board the destroyer Ranjit. Our ship arrived at Trincomalee and secured to a buoy. A big natural harbour, Trinco had a long row of buoys and each destroyer-size ship fastened its head to a buoy with the stern free to swing with the tide and wind. The distance between two buoys was just a little more than the length of the ships.

All was well in normal circumstances when the ships swung in the same direction and the same speed. There were times, however, when due to unpredictable tidal currents, the ships swung in different directions.

One afternoon, our officers were invited for pre-lunch drinks on board a PN ship which was next in line. All our officers including the Captain and the Executive Officer took the ship's boat to go across leaving only the duty personnel, including me, behind. Soon after, our ship started swinging fast in one direction and the Pakistani ship slowly in another, heading for a collision. All the duty personnel were summoned and both ships tried to reduce the force of the impact by throwing out fenders and physically bearing off the other ship by means of oars and wooden spars. Our Captain and officers along with their hosts came on the upper deck of the PN ship watching the unexpected proceedings anxiously but helplessly.

We did succeed in minimising the damage but not in preventing the ships coming together with our heads and sterns in opposite directions! With the ships united head to toe and vice versa, drinks on board the PN ship resumed and extended to lunch. Later, a gangway was put across the ships for our officers who were happy to just walk back instead of having to take a boat. Finally, a tug arrived to separate the ships and put them back in line to restore order.

Back on board, the well-fed officers slept through from around 5 p.m. till the next morning. Vague mutterings were heard suggesting that the drinks had been spiked. Or was it just great Pak hospitality!