A Sailor Looks Back And Laughs
Navy conjures up an imagery of moody seas, men in whites wearing caps held by chin straps, heaving heavy ropes, pulling equally heavy puffs of tobacco, onboard the majestic lady – the ship - traversing thousands of miles in her life time, never dying, always giving birth to her namesake, always a she, any guesses why ? For she is elegant, manned by men who love her, can’t do without paint and lipstick and what’s more, it’s never the initial cost but the upkeep that kills !
Navy is a way of life.While it has all the essential ingredients that life is made of – toil, reward, punishment, joy, sorrow - it affords enormous laughter, both profound and ludicrous , but then as you laugh at situations, idiosyncrasies and at times even the absurd, one cannot escape being laughed at ! This is one peril no fellow is smart enough to evade completely. I have been fortunate to have relished the typical naval humour for almost three decades, earlier regularly, now occasionally.One has met truly comical and delectable people of all ranks and statures. I have found a Seaman II profoundly hilarious owing to his rural background, now caught up incongruently in a society steeped in anglicized modernity or an admiral who thinks he is comfortable speaking King’s English but the listeners are not !
There must be a definite reason for humour in uniform to manifest itself in our lives in the Armed Forces; infact it is a phenomenon world over.To my best comprehension, life in uniform is tough, at times even unpredictable, and therefore one needs to keep the lighter side alive to keep oneself going.
To describe navy’s sole hero, the sailor - quintessentially a mysterious person. . . . his swagger, so it is believed, is not so much the result of rolling and pitching but thanks to the good old Rum ! . . . he is mysterious for he suddenly disappears and reappears at a port or night club, depending on his ship’s sailing schedule . . . the girl he was with last time has moved on and he is now on the look out for a new one, and lo ! his disappointment does not last long and he finds company again . . . little wonder why they say, a sailor has a wife at every port !
A sailor exudes excitement, someone who has many stories to tell, of lands unknown, of fascinating folklore !
So here I go with some of my stories.
The Fresh Catch
The old guard of yesteryears were men who worked hard and played equally hard ! Their sense of fairplay and humour deserves our admiration.Former Governer of Himachal Pradesh, Vice Admiral RKS Ghandhi, more popularly known as Rusi, is a legend of that era who has always been charismatic and colorful, literally indeed; can anyone miss his red handkerchief, red socks and the ubiquitous canvas hat ?
Well, I was one of the three officers who were commissioned to do a book on naval etiquette meant for young wives.It was named ‘Welcome Young Lady’.We were told to meet the old naval wives for advice, who had even seen days of the Royal Indian Navy, and would therefore make a perfect past-present bridge.Two others and I formed the team and began with a rigorous schedule for the next few weeks to call on the senior ladies, first of all being Khorshed Ghandhi, fondly called Bubbles. The book had to be done within a month.
While we spent next few days with the lady during post lunch session, discussing the content of the book, the admiral would catch a wink and at sharp 5 pm, wake up, splash water on his face,a few sprays of an expensive cologne and off he would go for his evening walk but not before he asked us in his sonorous voice, “Ladies and Gentlemen, how about some tea, Darjeeling or Assam" ? and ofcourse his favourite Shrewsbury biscuits. Surprisingly, not only did he produce whichever tea we named, he could comment on what we discussed while he slept . Not that any of us knew one tea from the other, we simply named the tea which we hadn’t had the previous day.
The couple grew fond of us in four or five meetings and decided to invite us for cocktails on the second deck of the Naval Sailing Club, Colaba. Along with the invitation came the attraction of the evening – "you would do good to prepare your palates to savour the fresh fish caught by yours truly the same afternoon". Now that is some confidence as far as one’s angling skills go.
We didn’t know there would be many distinguished guests, not the type one sees on page 3 these days, but people of substance and standing.We felt honoured.
The setting was amazing – mild sea breeze,moon rising over the hills yonder pouring it’s molten silver on the harbour waters and the naval brass band in attendance – couldn’t have asked for more splendid ambience. Admiral and his lady went around saying hello to all the guests like perfect hosts.In addition to asking each one of us our drink, admiral made sure that we knew that he had managed to catch the fish as late as 5 pm, and that ‘ it is not only fresh, it is almost alive’ ! And soon the lady followed, losing no time to whisper in our ears , ‘ there was no fish till five in the evening, so I panicked and bought one from the market ’ !
Captain’s Rounds post Midnight !
Our Captain at the Naval Academy, Cochin, laid great emphasis on drill, turn-out and upkeep of living spaces. His frequent rounds were a common feature but the duration of rounds was a marathon exercise.
We, the cadets, arrived a month ahead of the technical Sub Lieutenants.That year the induction into the Navy was large and some old dilapidated accommodation had to be brought to a requisite level of habitability in ten days.Who could do this job better than the cadets ? Make no mistake, we were being groomed into becoming officers afterall. So we were pressed into this mammoth task of cutting three feet tall grass amidst pouring monsoon, as snakes and scorpians would come out in large numbers looking for their intruders.We, a sixty strong force, braved it all and scrubbed and cleaned and painted and made three blocks of ten barracks each, ready for the special ‘guests’ in just ten days. Inaamdar, Chief Petty Officer, a seaman every bit in body and mind, was our leader.While we found our new task unfair, particularly when someone else was going to be the occupant of the turned-around living quarters, it was Inaamdar, who by virtue of his funny nature, kept us amused and motivated. Infact, the profit of this whole excruciating exercise was that very soon many a joke took birth which came to be known as Inaamdar brand of joke ! For instance, his oft repeated remark while he oversaw our marching drill – ‘Bhartiya nausanik ka chati bahar aur pet under hona chahiye’ (the navyman should always walk with the chest out and stomach in), became the most celebrated joke in the Academy, for the underlying irony was that he had a huge potbelly that always stuck out in contrast to his chest.Inaamdar’s benevolence and joviality did serve as balm for our hurt.There was another foreseeable advantage of the new barracks; their proximity to the Malabar Gate made them ideally suited for escape, French Leave, as it is known ! But alas those Subis arrived and became proud occupants of the ‘officer like’ accommodation.We had to swallow the bitter pill.
Within the next few days an interesting development took place. It was Rakshabandhan time and my cabin-mate Parveen Chauhan received more than half a dozen rakhis ! I admired the man’s popularity with so many sisters.The festival over, the rakhis gathered dust. I sought his permission to use the gold part of these ornate wrist-bands ostensibly for some work of art !? An idea ran through my head – put the newly learnt rigging skills of seamanship training to practice - weave the golden strands in a series of ‘carrick bend’ knots – to make a golden braid for the naval peak-cap, like commanders and above had. Before long the cap was ready. When I donned it, I couldn’t believe the mirror; so many promotions in just one hour ! As I couldn’t manage the shoulder stripes, I wore a raincoat over the Red Sea Rig, it was monsoon time anyway, so it did not seem odd. I was advised to whiten my hair with powder and rehearse like our captain – his gait, speech and overall mannerism. Shiv Narania, who was a pastmaster at anything that was illegal, such as smulggling cigarettes or booze into the Academy or raid on coconuts and ofcourse the knowledge of all escape routes, remarked, “ You do look like our Captain, why not trick those bloody Subis ?” The rest ofcourse he whispered to me.
As the OOD’s rounds time approached that evening and since it was always plausible to expect even the Captain for surprise rounds, the dye was cast for a prank. ! The plan unfolded thus: I, the Captain naval Academy, would remain in partial darkness on the ground floor of the Khukri Block, while Chauhan spreads the word about Captain arriving for rounds. Sunil Sarin, a fellow cadet, was incredible in blowing pipe ‘still’ and attired in number 10s made himself look indeed very realistic. First, the trick was tried on our own fellow cadets, almost every man-jack was made to front–roll or bend-stretch, and it all worked ! Nobody suspected the Captain to be fake. Lieutenant Rajiv Kapur, a smart, flamboyant officer, who had endeared himself to all cadets, was the Officer of the Day. Most of us identified with him instantly, a quailty most pronounced in a good leader. Kaps, as he was affectionately known, was easy going and would normally not bother us with rounds, so we all assembled for dinner at the Cadets’ Mess.There was hushed silence at the mess table as the word had spread about Captain’s rounds.
A strategic meet was held after dinner in the Cadet’s Block and without much ado it was decided to put the Subis through the grill with the night rounds rigour. Decks were cleared for revenge.
Sarin in his greenish khaki (old No. 10s), with a cap without a badge led the rounds party as Quarter Master, an hour after pipe down. As I walked purposefully behind him, I enjoyed being saluted by a big bunch of executive Sub Lts who were returning from a night show.It also gave me assurance that our prank was working.The tech Subis were petrified to learn that Captain Naval Academy was on rounds.The quality of piping and word of command were so realistic that the victims didn’t for even a moment think that it could all be fake ! Let’s not forget, these university grads and post-grads had scarcely been there for a week when all hell broke loose !
‘Come on guys, this is how you live and dress up ? Atrocious . . . . you jokers . . . . on the double and fall-in right outside your verandahs,’ I yelled. ‘Looks like you chaps haven't learnt a sausage about the nautical way of life, I want every man-jack to be here and get going with sprucing up your living quarters . . .’ I further added.
The fellows simply put their heads down and started the laborious task. Now where on earth can one ever find people attired properly at midnight ? Obviously they were to be expected in lungis and pyjamas but pure bullshit is the hallmark of services, there wouldn’t be life without it !
As a parting message I informed them that they should continue with work till I returned for re-rounds. Now that was a mistake, a tactical one at that.Ideally, I should not have resorted to over-kill and gone back satisfied with the sadistic pleasure derived thus far.But discretion is not something a cadet can ever have or exercise, not collectively atleast ! Hungry for more fun the entire cadet lot was lurking in the shadows and sidelines, enjoying every bit of the spectacle.And each one hailed my decision to go back and harass them more !
While all this went on, a silent counter conspiracy was at work about which we were completely oblivious.The members of the fine-arts club, RK and Thakur, both cadets, were working late night on a project which Kaps had assigned them, being the Officer-Incharge of this club, but what a coincidence that he was also the OOD on the same day ! As the news of Captain having visited the Academy spread, these two secured( packed up) quickly and proceeded to the Admin block to return the keys of the club.There they see Inamdaar, relaxing on the chair with his cap on his face, snoring. He was the Duty Chief of the Day.They informed him that the Captain was on prowl and that all techis were assigned major cleanship job of their barracks. Inamdaar swung into action and reported the matter to the OOD, Lt Rajiv Kapur. A ‘cool guy’ that he was, he never stayed in the OOD Room at night when on duty. He liked his own cabin, which was well done up and often resonated of ‘Water of Love’ by Dire Straits.Midnight past, Kaps changed to Red Sea Rig; never in the weirdest of his dreams he would have imagined doing that at that hour ! His mind started ticking; he told Inamdaar to call up NT Pool to find out if Captain had asked for the car. As the reply was in the negative, it only meant that there was some ‘game’ being played in the Academy.He instructed Inaamdar to convey discretely to the ‘flock at work’ to stop working and not to follow any orders of the ‘Captain’ when he came back the second time.
Merrily after an hour or so, the entourage moved again – louder still pipe , smarter drill and the Captain yelling four letter expletives on finding not a single joker at work.‘Come on you f’ing fellows, fall-in outside, chop chop,’ I shouted.They all came out of their barracks and continued walking towards us, the Rounds Party. ‘ Will you guys stop ,’ I roared.They continued their march. Sarin looked back and said, ‘Chandy it’s time to run’. He had barely finished saying this,when I took to heels like a centre forward charging towards an empty goal. So did others - the spectators.Germans would have been jealous of our blitzkrieg ! In no time we all vanished.
Massive man-hunt was carried out, each cabin door knocked at but who would open ? Events to follow confirmed one thing for sure – the establishment somehow always manages to get the truth out - and I have never forgotten this lesson. It happened like this: there were two cadets amongst us who were repeating the term. Any further f-up by them would mean boarding out.Kaps sent for these two.Narania, one of the two cadets, a man of all seasons, came to me and said, “ Chandy, hope you understand, I cannot help naming you both.” I understood his problem, so we told him to go ahead and speak the truth.Within the next ten minutes the expected call came for Sarin and I. We reached the OOD Room. It was all dark and we were not sure if it was appropriate to knock. Chief Petty Officer Inamdaar prompted us to do so.Pat came the voice –‘Yes, who is there ?’
‘Sir, Cadet Rajiv Chandoke and cadet Sunil Sarin . . .’
‘Come in Captain’
I was unnerved but stepped inside.Sarin followed me.
‘Switch on the lights please’.
As the room was lit, we saw Kaps coming out of the mosquito net, smiling .
‘Well done guys, you really put the whole Academy on alert’, he said.
‘I appreciate such tricks, they are the life of our service, and look even I
got to see the OOD Room finally, courtesy you guys !’ he added.
‘Sir infact we thought. . .’ I tried to explain.
‘ Don’t give any explanation, I say it’s a healthy joke . . . but I have to say that it was
difficult to imagine that a Captain of the Indian Navy could run faster than the young Quartermaster!’
‘Good night gentlemen’.
The Fisherman Captain
Navy allows families and friends of officers and sailors to sail onboard ships for about five to six hours,one day in a year, popularly known as the Families Day at Sea. My Captain’s grandmother,eighty something, was the seniormost person onboard, hence the guest of honour.She proudly occupied her grandson’s chair on the bridge and I being the navigator of the ship naturally became her ‘liaison officer’. Bridge is a second home to a navigator.
The Fleet sailed on a bright Sunday morning with perfect visibility.The old lady was quite alert for her age and was keen to understand the goings-on as the ships enthralled the spectators with manoeuveres, carrier deck take offs and landings,gunfire and search and rescue of a man fallen overboard by a helicopter and so on.
There was a barrage of questions from the old lady and I was giving a running commentary, so to say. A nice meal, some gifts and fun; there could not be a better way to spend a Sunday. On return to the harbour, late afternoon, there was some difficulty in getting a berth alongside.Consequently, there was a signal to the effect that we should proceed to anchor berth so and so and the Boat Pool will run a boat routine to bring guests and ship’s company ashore.The Captain announced, “Pilot, let’s prepare to drop hook.”The old lady never lost any time, turned to the Captain and asked, “Son, are we going to start fishing now ?”
Low and Slow
Our first day at the School for Naval Aviation was spent in introduction between staff and students.The best was the Rotor Wing Instructor:
‘ Gentlemen, I am Commander Thomas. I belong to this very city, Cochin. Being the only child of my parents, my entire family was against my joining Aviation. I don’t blame them, for they had seen my reckless mobike riding, with half a dozen fractures under my belt ! But I exactly knew how to capitalise the single child weekness of my folks. Finally they all gave in to my burning desire of flying.On the day of my departure for training, having said goodbye to all, last in line was my grandmother. She was visibly emotional as she said, ‘ Darling, I’m all for your flying; infact I was the one who advocated your case with the huge opposition.But I have a small request; when you fly, for godsake, fly low and slow.’
I knew I had to respect my granny’s words, so I joined the helicopters !
PS: Then-on during any debate on helo-tactics, as long as we remembered that helicopters flew low and slow, our calculations in any exercise involving their deployment never went wrong.
Who’s Bed is it Anyway
If there was a dungeon in this world, it was the Cabin No.1 onboard the Petya class of ships.I have seen 14 officers live out of 7’ X 7’ space with two bunks to serve as beds, file rack and dumping ground for dhobi wash.Nobody knew exactly whose clothes we wore, as long as we wore something. The civilian bearer, Vijayan deserves a medal for making sure that there was some method in madness. I was used to the SNF, particularly the brand new acquisition in the early eighties. No warship is a luxury and nor should it be but honestly, Petya shocked me.
Within a few days I was made the Navigating Officer of my ship – Kadmatt –a Petya.Along with the job came the Chart House, in addition to some more part-of-ship. Upon visiting it, I could not contain my joy within as the cushioned sofa fitted onto the bulkhead(wall) made the most pleasing sight.Tired of sleeping on the open decks, sponsons, gun-patforms; the hangover of Mysore days a couple of years before the Petya, when she was mechanically immovable, and when rats would gorge on the dead skin of our toes – a godsent pedicure of sorts – there seemed a great relief in that divine sofa.I rolled up all charts, in the order of priorty of usage and not in the Admirality pattern of folios and hung them from the deck-head(celing).I shoved all my uniforms in the chart drawers and lo ! my small living pad was ready.The AC was negligible so all one needed was a fan for a decent sleep. In the profession of Arms, life is Spartan and there is nothing wrong with it. But what has remained inexplicable to me is that our senior officers always chose to remain insulated from the hardships of the crew but talked endlessly of ‘welfare measures’ in their speeches almost like politicians. One can’t imagine the plight of the sailors, particularly in relation to the living spaces and toilets, on most class of ships during those years.
I slept well for about ten days and then one night while in sleep, I felt something moving over me.I brushed it away with my hands in case it was a rat or a jumbo cockroach but a slight murmur of human voice shook me up.
“ Who’s there?” I asked.
“ Who are you?” came the counter-question. I was relieved that it was another man . I got up and switched the lighton.There I see a dark guy, of medium built, bloodshot eyes, not able to stand without a sway, reeking of alcohol.
“ I am the new navigating officer of the ship; who are you and what are you doing here ? I asked firmly.
“ Sorry Sir, I’m Sea I Michael, your nav yeo Sir. I was on leave and I am now back.
All chart corrections are uptodate Sir.Michael’s work is always….” “ Report to me in the morning and tell me everything then,”I cut him short, switched off the lights and went back to sleep. After a coupe of hours, say two in the morning, I woke up again feeling hot as I found myself floating in sweat. I switch on the light and what do I see? Michael snoring on the chart table with the fan turned fully towards him !
Afloat Mobile Bar
I was the Officer of the Day on my ship and an officer friend from a neighbouring ship dropped in for a chat. Night rounds had just been piped and I told the steward, who was a new recruit, to ask the guest his drink and serve me the same.We are not supposed to drink while on duty, not atleast before the night rounds are done ! So I wanted to finish my job for the day first.
My friend asked me if I had some music tapes in my cabin which could be played in the Wardroom while we drank and chatted. I replied in the affirmative and recommended ghazals.
I proceeded on rounds and after about twenty minutes came to the same spot where we started and ordered ‘ pipe carry on’, took the salute, broke the rounds party and as I turned towards the alleyway leading to the Wardroom, to my utter shock, saw the new recruit, standing there with two glasses of whisky in a tray !
‘ Why are you here with the drinks ?’ I asked angrily.He was dumbfounded.What can you expect a raw recruit to say ?
The duty Petty Officer revealed to me, ‘ Sir, he did not find your guest in the Wardroom, so he followed us - the round party - with the tray throughout the round route !’
