Equitation Times

This is the story of one of the many mischievous pranks that I played at NDA and got away with... 

 

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed with the things you didn't do than the ones you did do: Mark Twain.

A few days after joining NDA, Sargent Carriappa (50/F) called me to his cabin “Don’t you want to wear the NDA uniform? he asked. “You need to go to the QM Fort and get kitted up, chop, chop!” For the first time I felt that here was a Foxie, who didn’t use the F-word. How cool can that be!

Since I was the last cadet in my course to join NDA, my other course mates had already been kitted out. I walked across alone to QM Fort, signed for my full kit and began leaving the premises with my hands full, when some seniors from another squadron waylaid me and relieved me of quite a few items. I was devastated by this act of piracy! Where were the 6^th termers of F-squadron, when you needed one?

Among the things I lost that day was my pith hat. Equitation classes became a nightmare for me. Imagine reporting for equitation without your pith hat. I spent most of the entire equitation period running with the horse alongside me, instead of sitting on it! My name figured on the permanent defaulter’s list of Equitation Lines and the Captain-in-Charge threatened to have me relegated if I didn’t turn up with proper riding rig the next time.  I felt like I was stranded by the receding tide of hopelessness on a pathway leading to certain doom.  My head used to permanently look downwards in geological reverence.

My course mates could only sympathize with me.  Seeing my plight, Bhandhal (54/F), who was a Sikh cadet, even offered to lend me his turban. I tried wearing it, but the thought of looking like a Cheeku Khalsa, with Delta squadron cadets prowling around, made me change my mind instantly. Some cadets in Delta squadron had gained notoriety of being more homo than sapien and there were galley rumors going around that cadets should stay indoors after dark or put on chastity belts.

The next equitation period I reported sick for loose motion. Clement Roberts (54/D) was there facing the same predicament – not loose motion, but loss of pith hat! Roberts suddenly came up with an old fashioned but highly dubious proposition “Yaar, raid karte hain.” “In the night we’ll go to Echo Squadron and pick up two pith hats and walk out”

There was no way I was going to agree with him. Our small predicament was overlaid by the larger strategic rivalries in the Academy. Problem was that in those days there was an incipient rivalry between Fox and Echo squadrons to notch up their position from 12^th spot to 11^th spot on the drill square. We were given secretive briefings by our 6^th termers that Fox would gradually work its way from 12^th to 11^th to 10^th, one step at a time till in about 10 to 20 years we would be the undisputed Kings of the Drill Square. Presently our position was 12^th and with E squadron playing spoilt sport our chances of making to 11^th spot was getting more difficult.   Although these plans were still in an embryonic stage, I didn’t want to add to the skeins of complexities arising from our machinations.

I shook my head and said “If E-squadron guys catch us they’ll beat the shit out of any F-squadron guy!”  After thinking for some time I suggested “Why don’t we raid the QM Fort instead?” I was suffering from foot-in-mouth disease and didn’t realize it! There was an impoverishment of genuine ideas between the two of us and I couldn’t think beyond robbing and cheating. I tried consoling myself that at least the scene of crime didn’t involve an innocent cadet and that the establishment was rich enough not to suffer the loss of two pith hats, which it had inadvertently robbed us off in the first place. Of course, the right and proper thing to do was to acquire a pith hat on payment basis. But whoever did right and proper things at NDA?

Roberts was quick to grab an opportunity!  He said “I’ll lend you my entire bunch of class notes if you can get two pith hats from QM Fort.”   He knew that I had joined NDA late and was in a desperate state to pass the Final exam of the first term, having created a record of sorts in my first and second phase tests. Roberts was undoubtedly very brilliant in academic. (He was a Vincentian too, who without telling me got his mark sheet from Pune University and joined the academy before me) Later as a Midshipman on INS Mysore, he had earned the sobriquet of ‘Boson’, because he knew more about knots, splices and seamanship than the ship’s Boson.

It is interesting to note that the term "Midshipmen" originally referred to the youngsters aboard British Navy vessels who were in training to become naval officers. Their primary duties included carrying orders from the officers, quartered in the stern, to the crew, quartered in the fo'c'sle. The repeated scampering through the middle part of the ship earned them the name "midshipmen". This term gradually acquired the status of a rank in the Royal Indian Navy and later into our own Navy.

The term Boson came about a little differently. As required by 17th century law, British ships-of-war carried three smaller boats -- the boat, the cock boat, and the skiff. The boat -- or gig -- was usually used by the captain to go ashore and was the larger of the three. The cock boat was a very small rowboat used as a ship's tender. The skiff was a lightweight all-purpose vessel. The suffix "swain" means keeper, thus the keepers of the boat, cock and skiff were called boatswain (or Boson), cockswain and skiffswain respectively. Until 1947, a boatswain's mate 3rd class in the Royal Indian Navy was called Cockswain. Gradually the Boson assumed Alpha position among the crew since he was the last word in any seamanship activity onboard, like tying a seaman’s knot, catting the anchor, splicing the Main sail and Swigging the Halyard.

Roberts knew his Baggywrinkles from his Bitter End. There was no question of it - he was the undisputed Boson of the ship! One night on board INS Mysore while Roberts was fast asleep, Ravi Malhan (54/K) borrowed the ship’s cutlass from the armoury and knighted Roberts in his sleep “I hereby knight three Sir Roberts and you shall hereinafter be known as Boson”. Roberts awoke to the rapturous laughter and clapping of his coursemates.

(Baggywrinkles: A soft covering for cables (or any other obstructions) that prevents sail chafing from occurring. Bitter end: The last part or loose end of a rope or anchor chain cable.)

Returning to our Main story….

Boson said “What’s the plan?”  My coroner artery was throbbing as it pumped more blood and oxygen into my head to come up with a viable plan.

QM Fort used to issue kit during the games period, which was very convenient for us. Naik Havildar Gurinder Singh was looking after the counter where the pith hats were stacked. The room was fusty and dark, without a window, and he was seated on a table at the entrance of the only door which led into the room. Gurinder was a jovial Khalsa with a jowly face and freshly coiffed and liveried uniform. Boson was Punjabi by origin and could speak fluent Punjabi.

Deceit and deploy is the oldest Principle of war. I replied, “You engage him with Punjabi conversation and steer him away from the door. I’ll pick up two pith hats and walk out of QM Fort”. Somehow I had a feeling that this simple subterfuge would work.

Boson said “That’s it?”  I replied “That’s the plan”. Boson said “Best of luck! But as Captain of the SS Carpethia, I can foretell that your SS Titanic is likely to hit an iceberg”

I was quick to add rather mordantly “if Titanic sinks, Carpethia will also sink, so steer well and watch the icebergs, Captain”.

They say “When desperation meets opportunity, principles have to bow out.” We made friends with the NH, spoke to him, made him laugh. I even did a Bhangra dance to the tune of Rhinestone cowboy and an Arabian belly dance to ‘Everybody wants Kung-Fu fighting’! But he wouldn’t budge one fathom from his seat. After three days of trying, Boson told me to give up the idea. I was not yet prepared to put the Genie back into the bottle.  I said “Be patient. One can’t rush these things”. Then opportunity came knocking on our door on the fourth day.

While we were talking to Gurinder Singh, a truck pulled up with a fresh stock of uniform supplies for QM Fort. I could see the twinkle in Boson’s eyes. We immediately offered to unload the uniforms into the rooms. For the first time Gurinder Singh got up and went inside the room to arrange it. I was inside the truck passing stuff to Boson, who was carrying it into the room and Gurinder was arranging the trappings inside the room.

Soon I found two pith hat boxes and nervously held on to them. For a couple of vicarious moments I thought of seizing the hats and making a dash for the gates, but good sense prevailed. My ‘Paul-on-the-road-to-Damascus’ moment came soon thereafter.

Now, the biblical Paul was actually born ‘Saul of Tarsus’ and became a Roman Legionnaire in the service of the mighty Roman Emperor Ceaser Tiberius. He was born a Jew and gained notoriety for slaughtering early Christians and making a spectacle out of them by feeding them to the Lions in the Great Circus of Rome. Paul being mentally handicapped (like the modern day F-classification types) thought that this was the way to fame and glory. However, on the road to Damascus, he fell on his head while riding his horse and suddenly woke up to the fact that if he propagated the newly formed religious movement he would attain greater glory. Unbelievably, 2000 years later, the seat of the Catholic Church, the Akal Takth and Golden Temple of Rome, the Shingeri Mathh Devasthanam of the Christian religiosity is named after the very man who fed early church goers to the lions, all because he paused for a moment and put the grey matter in his top story to good use. Today, St Paul’s Cathedral is the seat of the papal presidium and an honour to the man, who is considered one of the founding fathers of the church.

It was divine intervention in my case to pause and think for a moment. I immediately got the answer to the conundrum at hand.  Popping my head out of the truck I observed that the few men in uniform were busy going about their duty with messianic fervor and didn’t have the time to stop and stare at a bunch of first term delinquents on the verge of conducting a great train robbery. I took both the hats and threw them on the canopy of the truck. Very nonchalantly, I alighted from the truck and gave Boson a high-five, to celebrate the beguilement of QM Fort.

The truck soon pulled out and left QM Fort with our pith hats, safely ensconced on the roof, as we watched with wicked delight.  Gurinder insisted we have a cup of tea since we so sweetly had helped him. I was dying to retrieve the pith hats, but had to suffer the sweet milky concoction which he so kindly offered. We quickly quaffed the drink, said our thanks and ran out of QM Fort to the amazement of Gurinder, who was calling out in his lyrical Punjabi accent to help him the next day. “Kal jroor aana”, he waived out.

After getting rid of Gurinder, we raced on our cycles to MT pool. It was a tad dark by then. We sneaked into the premises, took our pith hats and came back to the squadron. That was the last we saw of Gurinder.  Boson lent me the complete set of his notes as promised, which ensured my passing the final term exam and safely securing a berth as a 2^nd Termer.

On equitation days, I usually had my stylist flown in from London and my make-up artist from Paris. But that morning I took a personal interest in my own physiognomy.  As luck would have it my pith hat turned out to be 3 sizes smaller than my head. It looked more like a skull cap which Laurel and Hardy used to wear. But I wasn’t ready to let go of it! There was a bit of Awful-Separation-Anxiety Syndrome involved with the pith hat.

Ajay Mehta (54/F) (Naval comrade in arms) was the first to compliment me on my visage “Kya baat hai? Badaa handsome lag rahaa hai!” I was grinning from ear to ear. The Riding Instructor was also very thrilled “Wah!” he said, “Lagtaa hai, aaj pahele baar Ghode par baithne ka iradha hai”  I raised my right hand in a Hitler salute and replied “Chota-dudki-lamba-sarpat”, to indicate my eagerness to start the canter, instead of bareback riding. This was the very first time in my life that I was sitting astride a horse. But horror of horrors, when I sat on my horse, the dumb creature took off and joined E-squadron Toli!

Looking back now after 38 years, I can say with equanimity and sobriety that breaking the jinx of sitting on a horse at Equitation Lines in NDA ….was the most exciting breakthrough, since the discovery of penicillin!