There’s a very good friend of mine who never tires of making fun of me and the level to which I will go to achieve something. And he’s generally referring to an episode more than a decade and a half back when I was a very fresh and young officer posted at Tezpur in Assam.
We were having our term break and we hadn’t expected to get any leave, but at the last moment the Chief Flying Instructor decided we could do with a break of about a fortnight. And so we all rushed off to Guawhati, the nearest rail head to catch a train back home which was Bangalore for me. The journey of 3000+ km from Guwahati to Bangalore was covered in 4 days and 3 nights and there was just one train a week. The other options were come via Madras (yes it was still Madras and Calcutta and Poona) or via Delhi and with no reservation I was going to have to travel unreserved all the way. I’ll try and explain to you how desperate a situation it put me in.
Even I wouldn’t believe it but those were the days of Indian Railways when the Tinsukhia Mail (running daily between New Delhi to Tinsukhia (Eastern tip of Assam) and taking three full days ) used to get cancelled regularly once a week because accumulating the delays over 6 days, the 6th day train would be a full day late!! Of course most people would also not have heard of the Naliya Queen, the only train which ran to Naliya, on the western tip of Kutch, Gujarat the route of which had innumerable unmanned railway crossings between Bhuj and Naliya. At each of these crossings the train driver would stop a few metres short, diligently walk, close the railway crossing, walk back, move the train ahead about 50 mts, stop, go open the railway crossing and then proceed ahead. If I remember right there were about a dozen such crossings I guess! And I don’t think the time schedule for the train had factored this in. and with no notice I had to travel unreserved for 4 days and 3 nights. So the great Indian Railways was my last option.
It was when I was faced with this situation that I remembered that the Naval Chief had come on a visit to Tezpur on the day before and he was to fly out of Guwahati the next day. Armed with this information and with all the guilelessness and innocence of a few months experience in the IAF, I convinced Awa my friend and course mate that we must try to get a lift on the Naval Chief’s aircraft whether to Delhi, Bombay or anywhere but out of Assam. So we worked our way to the Guwahati airfield. After an arduous effort, I found out that the Chief was scheduled to fly to Calcutta and then onto Vizag and then Bangalore!!! Yippee!! Perfect. So in 2 days I could be home, if only I could deal with the minor inconvenience of how to get onboard? Well, I put all my energies into it and came to know that the power of a Yes or a Sorry lay with the Chief’s Staff Officer. Awa was a little apprehensive, with us dealing with the Chief and all, especially with him from an Army background, but I managed to convince him. Well, the staff officer proved to be as elusive as the Chief himself and I just couldn’t get through to him. In the process, I let go of the direct train as well and frankly, was now desperate. I bugged the COO (Chief Operations Officer) of the base so much in trying to get to the chief / SO that finally he said “if you don’t get out of this base right now, I’ll personally put you in jail”. That to me sounded like the death knell on my hopes to fly down to Bangalore and a long and tiring train journey.
I am not sure where this ‘never give up-whatever the odds’ attitude stems from, but I have a sneaking feeling that it was due to the way I was brought up. I remember, I was in my 2nd std and I had been a fairly studious child vying for the top spot. It was one of the term exams and I had just got the report card. To my horror I found that I stood 12th in class. With a trembling heart I reached home and gave it to my mother. I don’t really recall my mother’s reaction but it was my father I was terrified of. Later in the evening when he came home and my report card was submitted to him, I don’t remember him having thrashed me, he was probably too shocked, but I remember being thrown out of the house. Well kind of, I was not allowed inside and had to sit on a chair outside the living room in the darkness. My mother opened the door to give me some food and it was later on in the night probably 9:30-10 p.m., when my father summoned me inside. I was terrified but lo and behold, when going through the report in detail as to where I had screwed up, it was found that the teacher had made a mistake in totalling. So the next day my father came along to the school and the matter was promptly rectified and I think I stood 2nd. I really don’t know if it had any visible impact on me, but ever since I have always tried to do my best at all times.
I have been fascinated by aeroplanes for a long long time, I guess I never grew out of my childhood phase!!! I was in my 5th Std in The Frank Anthony Junior School on Wellington Street near Richmond Circle. After school everyday, my brother Sanju and I would walk up to the Richmond Circle bus stop and board the BTS bus home. Enroute, in the same building as Casa Piccola was a book store I used to pass by everyday. Once I happened to go in and I saw the most beautiful book I had ever seen in my life. It was called “US Air power”. It was big and fat and heavy with millions and millions of glossy beautiful photographs of aeroplanes and rockets and stuff and cost a princely sum of 240 rupees. This was 1984 and that was a BIG sum for those days. Every day while passing by the shop, I would steal a few moments to see a few pages of the book and hurry home. The kind uncle at the shop never objected. I have never hesitated to ask for something I’ve wanted and didn’t this time either. To their credit, my parents didn’t refuse and only laid down a condition that I come 1st in the final exams. Thereafter I was a driven and a possessed boy. All I could dream of was that book. I think I really worked hard, more than I ever did and finally at the end of the year my parents got it for me. Today, when I see it, it just seems to be a just a lot of pictures of aeroplanes but then, it meant the world and probably put me on the path to me becoming a fighter pilot in the IAF.
When I was in NDA, I was from a civilian background, struggling to cope up with the gruelling physical standards required at that place. I was from a civilian background not having played anything other than gully cricket before. So the swimming, the PT, drill and Cross country I found really tough. In X country though, I found myself to be a better than average runner, coming in the 3rd enclosure in my 2nd term. In my 3rd term, during the Sqn practices, I was consistently in the 2nd enclosure and on the day before the race, one of the sergeants from my Sqn , a Khalsa (Sikh gentleman) threatened to make my life miserable for the next year if I didn’t come in the 2nd enclosure on the final day. For all those people from NDA, you would know that a threat from your Sergeant is not something to be taken lightly. But on the other hand, a Sqn run and the final day is a whole different ball game. In the Sqn runs you are hardly 70-80 people, but with the entire academy it’s about 1000-1200 cadets in one go. I ran like my arse was on fire, literally, and when I ran into the enclosure and fell down retching, one of the PT Saabs came and thrust a token in my hand which said 17. I was a little confused. Didn’t only the top 15 get medals or had they increased it this time around and I didn’t know about it? I looked around and realized. HOLY COW I was in the 1st enclosure. My joy knew no bounds, I think I ran like how Tom runs when chased by the dog in Tom and Jerry!! Anyways, I didn’t get a medal, it was only for the top 15. I tried every term hence and ran my heart out but only came 19, 20 & 22nd but never got a medal. But I never gave up.
In 2003, I was detailed to undergo the Flying Instructors Course at Tambaram, Madras. This was a course where you learn and train to be a flying instructor and teach cadets (the young entrants into the IAF) how to fly. This was a course which had a number of my coursemates and a smattering of juniors and a few seniors. I really wanted to prove myself in this course and the competition was quite tough. Finally when the battle lines were drawn and the competition progressed in right earnest, there were just two of us who Rohit Beri, a coursemate and a good friend who slugged it out for the top spot. And the competition was intense, especially in academics. This was because at the end of every test we knew everybody’s performance and where each stood unlike in flying where you are only told if you’ve passed or failed. So by the mid-term it was neck to neck, a see-saw battle between the two of us and Rohit was a very sharp and exceptionally hard working chap. Slowly but surely, like how you feel it in a tug of war when you are the weaker side, as you claw and cling and heave desperately yet feel the ground slipping beneath you, he pulled away, point by precious point in each exam. I managed to upstage him a few times but like a juggernaut, he rolled on and when the curtain was drawn on our performance after 6 months, he was the clear winner by about 10-12 points out of 1200. But, even in the last exam, when there was no hope that I could level or best him, I still gave it my best shot.
I don’t know if I should even be writing this, coz there has been many a slip between the cup and the lip in my life, but what the hell…. I recently relocated to Bangalore and after I joined at work found that a scuba diving camp at Andamans was going to be conducted for free a few months later. I had missed enrolling for the course by just a few days but I didn’t let that deter me. I went ahead and applied anyways. A month down the line and the list of people were announced. I was S’by No. 1. That meant that I would get a chance to go only if someone dropped out and fat chance of that happening. People had been waiting for a year for this course, it was literally like a paid holiday and nobody would drop out. After finalization, KP (my colleague who happened to be S’By No. 2) and I went to the office and found that only the main list people were going and the sports guys were actually giving back a fat sum of money but weren’t letting us go. This only galvanised us into action and we both dug our heels in, ferreted out the name of the civil official who had the power to let us join too, met her, charmed and convinced her and well would you believe it!! KP has already been there done the course, promised himself that he’s gonna go again… and I am waiting for the end of the month when I’ll become a convert too.. Insha Allah
There are so many more instances that I have but some are too personal and some too official for me to narrate here. And believe me there are so many instances of a colleague of mine Brij, which are so heart rending it could be an inspirational story to the youth of the nation, like the time he had to wrestle in school in a competition so that he could win the prize money to pay for his tiffin carrier and many many more. In most instances in my life, inspite of my whole hearted efforts I ve only come second best and watched the winner walk away with the laurels and like they say everybody loves a winner and nobody remembers who came second . Except the chap who came second himself. But its only kept me going, because I’ve read somewhere, only if you aim for the moon you will at least land up on top of the fence….
So stay hungry and stay foolish..
