The Naval Dope

This is a story of everyday life of a cadet in the National Defence Academy

A man who has never gone to school may steal from a freight car. But if he has had a university education, he may steal the whole railroad - Theodore Roosevelt

An underpinning of military evolutionary psychology at NDA is that the smartest guys join the Army, the less smart ones join the AF and the absolute dopes become Naval officers. Naval guys are unfairly referred to as ‘Dopes’. In my mind’s eye I used to look at it this way- if you’re smart enough to look dopey and get your job done by the other guy who thinks he is smarter than you, then who’s the actual dope is a matter of conjecture. Got it? After all, it is said that there is only a fine line dividing genius and absolute idiot!

In my first term I was soldiering on in full earnest by serving morning tea on the trot to about eight 6th termers and carrying Obelisk (49/F) from cabin to bathroom on my back, every day. My popularity soared and I soon became the squadron’s favourite chaiwalla, messenger, announcer, punching bag, cycle spare parts supplier, white hanky provider, button polisher and floor waxer! I was becoming so good at these jobs that I had forgotten that I had joined NDA for a career in the Navy. I was working with obsessive fervour on a profession that would win me brownie points if i applied for permanent citizenship to Australia. (I had heard that they give preference to mechanics, plumbers and chaiwalas).

Making it in time for the morning fall-in was becoming increasingly difficult and Cacophonix (49/F), SCC, would wave his cane at me like a symphony conductor to indicate that I should lift up my cycle. Worse still, a few course mates (the ones who didn’t serve morning tea) would smile and shake their heads from side to side like chipkullis and would sing in unison “Tuk, Tuk, Tuk, Tuk ….” All this was fine with me as long I was the underling 1st Termer in the squadron. Amazingly, things became worse when I became a 2nd Termer!

In the rarefied universe of the National Defence Academy, Wednesday and Saturday evening cold coffee was Starship Enterprise – it went where no other coffee ever went before. Cold coffee at NDA still conjures an image that transcends time. Kaldi, the 9th-century Ethiopian goatherder who is credited with discovering coffee, would probably have never imagined what magical effect the brew was having in the remote confines of NDA and how it could possibly make the lives of the chaiwalas so difficult. Surprisingly, the daily chai provided by the cadets mess used to taste like dishwater and I don't know how the seniors trusted junior cadets to serve them bed tea, especially when there were rumours going around that chaiwalas would often spit into their tea before giving it to them.

I had barely managed to make it to the second term by the skin of my teeth, and I was beginning to revel in my newfound ecstasy, when a couple of 50th course guys, then 6th termers, barged into my cabin and demanded that I should continue with chaiwalla duties with the same messianic fervor that I had shown in my 1st term. The creeps had overlooked the fact that I was now a certified 2nd termer. This was most unfair, but since my reputation had preceded me, I had no choice but to oblige. With the 6th Termer worms came the opportunistic 5th Termer birds and two of them soon began demanding the same service. This really got my goat!

Here's what happened. One fine day Sargent Brutus (51/F) came by my cabin and said “From tomorrow, you will serve me bed tea and cold coffee on half days. And if you piss in it, spit in it, shit in it or shag in it ( I just made up the last two), I’ll chop off your balls!” I was devastated. Before I could say, “but, but, but…” he disappeared down the corridor and I distinctly heard an evil laughter “wuhahahaha”. On enquiry later in the evening my course mates would neither confirm it nor deny it!

Most of us are aware that Charles Darwin published his famous theory on the Origin of Species, in 1859, which is considered to be a work of scientific literature and the foundation of evolutionary biology. We also know that his paper was compiled on the second voyage of HMS Beagle over a period of 5 years from 1831 to 1836, under Captain Robert FitzRoy. Customarily the ship's surgeon took the position of naturalist, and the Beagle's surgeon Robert McCormick was a bully. It was rumoured that McCormick used to get Darwin to serve him bed tea and biscuits every morning in return for an ‘Attend C’ medical chit, whenever he wanted to escape morning PT fall-in conducted by the ship’s Captain. When they first met at the start of the voyage, Darwin had commented that "My friend [McCormick] is an ‘ASS’, but we jog on very amicably.” What did Charles Darwin mean by ‘ASS’?

Not many people know that Appendix-A of Chapter 10 of Darwin’s Laws of Natural Selection was lost during a storm in the Galapagos Islands, where he was researching his famous thesis and this section of his thesis never got published. In that it was written that some people suffer from an inherent genetic mutation called “Atypical Sadistic Syndrome” (ASS), which is classified as an ultra-rare disease. In secret NDA reports, lodged in the top shelves of the library, and compiled mostly by F-classification professors, it has been researched that ASS affects about 70% of cadets at NDA, but not the rest of the country, leaving only about 30% of the course to become natural chai-wallas, who carry tea and came late for fall-ins.

ASSes are smart, intelligent, ambitious, always shouting marching orders in the bathrooms to fake soldiers on fake battlefields! Brutus was definitely an ASS! If you check my blog of 1976, I had even called for Brutus to be publicly flogged, but only partly in mischievous satire! Privately I could see that one day Brutus would become a great General, leading all his chai-wallas into battle.

My timing for the morning fall-in became worse than the First Termers and the new Band-Master, SCC 50/F, issue a fatwa that the whole course would have to lift up their cycles if I came late again. That’s when my sympathetic course mate Getafix (54/F) came to my rescue.

Getafix saw me grieving silently and said “You are a naval dope! You need instant help in this matter”. I moaned despondently, “Whatever you do, I don’t want to get into further trouble”. He said convincingly “Just call me when you’re serving tea to Brutus tomorrow morning”.

The next morning, with Getafix two steps behind, I took the mug of tea to Brutus’s cabin, knocked on the door, entered, wished him cheerily “Good Morning Sir, its six O’Clock, Here’s your bed tea. Have a good day Sir”. When I turned around Getafix had disappeared. I found him down the corridor near the bathroom door.

“So you chickened out”, I said sarcastically. He shook his head and said “Remember what we did to Fulliautomatix? I did the same to Brutus”. I was horrified!

A few weeks ago, Fulliautomatix (48 to 50/F), ex-AF, had rejoined NDA for change of branch to Navy. One hot sunny afternoon, I was stewing in my own juices in my cabin, in a semi-comatose state, lying on my bed with bedbugs sucking the blood out of me, when Sargent Unhygienix (51/F) came to my cabin and began shouting “ Get the f** up, you f**, pick the f** bag and take it to f** room no 305”. (He used a lot of F-words in his otherwise immaculate language!) I dropped out of bed in the thick of sleep apnea and facing the opposite wall said “Sir, Yes Sir!” “Over here you Nutcase”, he laughed.

My coursemate Getafix was standing in the GFC lobby waiting for me. Fulliautomatix was shaking hands with the 50th course 6th termers. We picked up his bags and took them to his cabin. Getafix then said “Don’t you think Fulliautomatix needs to pay us for our services?” Before I could say “Foxtrot squadron Uber Alles”, he took out a bottle of after-shave from the zipper bag and threw it into the battalion area. I was in a daze. Then he surreptitiously steered me out of the cabin and down the stairs. We waited for a couple of days for the sky to fall on our heads, but nothing happened. I concluded that Fulliautomatix was definitely in the 30% category of us chaiwallas!

A few minutes after leaving Brutus’s cabin I trundled back to my own cabin. Brutus walked in and hissed “Where is my f*** silver-plated shaving razor?”

If he had, I would’ve, but since he hadn’t, I didn’t!

If he had asked me nicely “May I have my razor back please. And forget about bringing my bed tea from tomorrow.” I would’ve obliged by searching for it in the Battalion area. But since he hadn’t asked politely, I didn’t return the courtesy!

I made my best bid “What razor? You are welcome to have mine, if you want.” He was heaving long breaths and spewed out venom “You’re offering me your pink coloured plastic razor with pubic hair and froth on it in exchange for my silver plated antique and very expensive, limited edition razor?” I shook my head vigorously “No Sir, it’s free of charge, no exchange offer, it’s all yours”. Brutus stroked his stubble thoughtfully and said “Report to me in games rig after classes – I’m going to f** the shit out of you!”

When he left my cabin there were ominous manifestations in my demeanor. My blood cells started breaking, my platelets were disappearing and my nephrons (building blocks of my kidneys) were failing – in short, I was feeling like peeing badly!

That was the first day at NDA, when I remained awake for all 7 periods. By lunch time the adrenalin had kicked in and I was ready in games rig waiting to be slaughtered. I asked Brutus in a shaky voice “Sir, are you going to make me map the Battalion Area in the hot sun?” he weighed my words carefully and said condescendingly “No, I’ll do something worse than that - I’m going to make you roll up and down the staircase till your back breaks!” I was relieved. I said “Sir, Yes Sir” very ecstatically.

As it turned out, Brutus was kind hearted after all! He didn’t deserve all the bad things I had to say about him! After a bit of rolling on the staircase and a bit of punching on my stomach, and a bit of abusing, and a bit of gesturing, and a bit of grousing and grumbling, and a bit of …, he searched my cabin and then finally absolved me saying “Don’t come anywhere near my cabin”. That was the end of Customer no 1, I thought to myself.

Very soon the other recalcitrant 6th termers faced the same treatment. Band Master 50th SCC made me eat my tie. Melodramatix made me do 200 sit-ups and so on and so forth. In two weeks the Battalion area had become a veritable treasure trove of toothpaste, toothbrush, riding putties, notebooks, pens, library books, bathroom chappals, NDA tie, OG socks, etc. My course mates soon found me coming in time for morning parade. Gatafix was treated to a Biryani at Dorabjee’s in Pune. At the table that supper-nite, Getafix and I solemnly raised a toast “More power to the Naval Dope!”

Although a small period of 38 years has interrupted the tedium, I still say 'Amen' to that!