WST Diaries - Eat, Pray, Love - Southern India & The Andamans

Southern India

After a really memorable time in MP, we rode the road to Gondia and crossed into Maharashtra. Here, we boarded the Jan Shatabdi Express, and after a nice ride through the sylvan beauty of Chattisgarh, we reached Raipur late in the evening. Within the hour, the LTT – VSKP superfast had come in, 20 minutes ahead of schedule. Finding our scattered berths was a clear nightmare. Once settled, it was fun. We reached Visakhapatnam early next morning.

The ride to the Naval Station was bumpy. Somebody here surely had a fetish for speed-bumps. Plus, a lot of roads were cobbled! We reached the officers’ mess of INS Circars – the station of the Eastern Naval Command HQ. The accommodation was very functional – very very functional. Luckily, our engagements for the day did not begin till lunch, so most slept. Post lunch, which was nothing to be celebrated, we met the Chief of Staff. The highlight of the day, however, was the visit to the vessels. INS Sahyadri was the latest stealth ship to be added to the arsenal of the navy, and it looked majestic, docked along with its sister ships – INS Satpura and INS Shivalik. We were given a round of the ship – the fore and the aft deck, the Operations room. We saw the weapons and control systems, and what made the stealth ship so stealthy. However, the most important thing was the state of the art automated kitchen. The cooking crew of 2-3 persons made meals for around 250 persons – 3 times a day. The dosa machine had a capacity of 450 dosas per hour! INS Sindhuvir was another story altogether. This old Soviet diesel sub appeared weathered. The entry hatch was too small – only skinny people can go around this place. Everything was really cramped and generated claustrophobia. Hats off to our submariners, who go out in these tough conditioner for weeks together, to defend the interests of the nation.

The second day was the ‘day at sea’. We boarded INS Rana – the most potent war machine of the ENC, and sailed into the high seas. It was a ship of much older vintage than the one we had seen the day before. That did not take anything away from it. We had many presentations on the technical parameters of the ship, on the operations done by the ship, and all that. We even witnessed a simulated gun boat attack and a simulated missile attack. Yet, the real thrill came from watching the ship zip through the water at high speeds, with the winds blowing and billowing one’s clothes and hair. The real thrill came from the view of the huge wake we left behind, the huge bow waves we created, and the churning that came with it. It also came from firing side arms over the helicopter deck, as well as from watching the school of dolphins – real, marine dolphins – playing around in the coastal sea! Most important was the feeling of being in the high seas – a citizen of the world.

The third day was for smaller, and pretty convoluted, visits. A visit to the Naval Air Station shown us the equipment the Navy flies, but once you have seen Air Force birds, Dorniers and Sea Kings really do not do it. The interesting thing was the Kamov helicopter. It has two main rotors, mounted one below the other, and they rotate counter to each other, thus cancelling the reaction torques on the fuselage, and thus doing away with the unwieldy and vulnerable tail rotor. The technology has been inimitable till now – and hence, a constant source of amazement for our American friends, and a steady paycheck for our Russian friends. However, the highpoint of the day was watching ‘Inkaar’ at the Beach INOX. It was a splendidly made movie, on a sensitive issue, without passing any judgement or such things. And boy, has Arjun Rampal matured as an actor!

The AC-3 ride on the Konark Express to Khammam was mired in confusion. Boarding an AC-3 coach, with the huge suitcases our group has, is a real pain – more for the co-passengers. Plus, this one stopped only for a minute. Some of us had to jump, with our bags, off the moving train. The bus ride to Bhadrachalam was picturesque. The guest house, however, took the cake. The rooms were expansive. The food was excellent. And, to top it all, we had a swimming pool. I got an opportunity to swim after months – and the horsing about in the pool was an excellent relaxation exercise. So we were rejuvenated for the tribal attachment to follow. After being briefed by the Project Officer of the Integrated Tribal Development Agency, we drove 50 kilometres into the hinterland. We saw the base settlement of Kondareddi tribes. These were the first of the few who had been ‘mainstreamed’ by the efforts of the ITDA – the rest still lived in the hills above – in the ways that they have been for thousands of years. Better minds have argued against bringing these people in contact with mainstream civilisation – for what the ‘preservation’ of the quaint old cultures. My view is that we should let them choose for themselves – and for that they should be aware of the choices. This government initiative does just that, and for that reason, it gets my full thumbs up. We also saw a river sand quarrying project, which is being run and managed by the tribal co-operatives – with considerable autonomy. The lion’s share of the revenue is ploughed back to the local institutions as well as the cooperatives. We saw a fair price shop, which, in addition to the PDS foodgrains also stocks and sells tribal minor forest produce and handmade items – and they do make really high class FMCG products, based on the sample we saw. A nice idea for grassroot marketing of a grassroot product.

The next day, we visited Edugarapalli, a border area with proximity to Chattisgarh and Orissa. As suggested by the location, it was a hub of LWE. We were witness to the works being done by the Tribal Agency in this area – under the assault of merciless weather (it was baking in mid January), and the Naxalites. We saw spanking new health centres – functional, but not appearing just functional. We saw an outpost of the CRPF and the Greyhounds – it was less elaborate than the one we had seen in MP, but still, it appeared formidable. We returned for lunch, which some of us skipped for another refreshing dip in the pool. It was good, and in the late afternoon we started towards Khammam HQ – on the way we saw small initiatives that were helping the tribals move on the way of entrepreneurship – a computer / vocational training centre, to help some of them leave the low paying primary sector occupations and join the tertiary sector, a soft loan dispensing centre, which was conditional on creation of income generating assets, an orchard running on drip irrigation – all these measures helping people move towards better realization of their potential. The next day, we met the man under whose overall supervision this all was happening – the DC of Khammam. In AP, the post of DC is given only after a substantial experience, and that was evident in the way this man worked.It is inspirational to see how much a single member of the Service can do – it is sad that most of the people in our socio economic group form our opinions about the Government based on the lopsided view of the sensationalist media houses. Such interactions reaffirm our faith in the job that we have chosen to do.

It took another hurried and confused train ride to get into Hyderabad city. We were put up at MCR HRD Institute – this is the training Academy of the AP State Services. By God – the whole thing looks space age, including the rooms and the hostels that they have been given. Contrast that with the pigeon holes the members of the ‘elite’ service have to put up with! In the morning, we met the State Head of UNICEF, and the heads of the NGO’s associated with them. It was pleasantly surprising that these jhollawala types were, for once, not lecturing us about what is wrong with us, and were instead concentrating on the job. Post that, we visited the Hyderabad Terminus station, where we interacted with the RPF on the methods they use to prevent trafficking of children through the city’s railway stations. We also got the opportunity to vist one of the NGO’s centre for the rescued kids – aptly known as Bal Niketan. We interacted with the girl kids there – they were mostly orphans, but some had parents, who were unable to support them, and one had both her parents in jail – sad, but these kids had accepted the rough life that had come their way, and were generally cheerful. They had high ambitions – two wanted to become Police Officers, three wanted to become Doctors, and one (‘smiling’) wanted to be a Collector. They were also pretty well informed. And almost all were big fans of Salman Khan – so we – the residents and our group – sang a lot of Sallu bhai’s hit movie songs together. It was a cheering experience.

In the evening, we met our Police batchmates at their Academy. Our chauffeur was really clueless about the location of the National Police Academy – however, he was too full of confidence to admit that. Ergo, we spent two hours zipping past Hyderabad’s spanking new and shining locations in the Hitech city, and the speedy outer ring road – the guy even took us to AP State Police Academy! We had to take the aid of GPS and passerby’s to get to the NPA. Once in, it was a joyous reunion – they are really being put through the grind – nothing less than what the Army cadets go through. However, the infrastructure at their disposal is awesome. The main gate was imposing, unlike that sorry shack of ours. The mess also looked brilliant. We returned late night. The next day was reserved for light sight-seeing, before boarding the Bangalore Rajdhani for Bangalore. After the rather cramped journeys of the past few days, this journey in the spacious 2 tiered LHB coach was a welcome break – especially the timings were much more comfortable. The Kumar Krupa Guest House of the Karnataka Government was impressive looking – quite impressive looking. However, the quality of food left much to be desired. For this reason, I joined a large part of our group in going out for the evening. However, instead of having a huge dinner, we ended up dancing at an upmarket discotheque. Well, to be honest, it was enjoyable way beyond my expectations. However, I still knew I’m not a discotheque person – so this one was like a bucket list item for me!

The next day was our attachment with the TCS. Well, at the stroke of midnight, we had received a text message that read like – attire ‘business formals’, timing 0930 sharp, please note. We were really incensed with the timing and the tone of the message. It is a fact that an assault to a bureaucrat’s ego hurts him more than an assault to his groin – and this was just like that. How could they dictate dress codes to us? If we had to take orders from ‘software guys’, we could very well have stopped studying after getting into our Engineering courses! The whole journey to the campus in Whitefield was coloured with abuses hurled on ‘those guys’.

So, it was a pleasant surprise that the reception was really cordial and friendly. The presentations were long, but then, they were interesting – partly because of the content, but mostly because the persons at the dais were really good. We saw to the extent the company was involved with various IT projects within the government at various levels. We were shown a documentary on the lives of the Tata stalwarts – JN and JRD. However, for a foodie like me, the high point of the day was the excellent lunch these people had laid out in their top floor executive cafeteria – surely, the corporate sector guys have got class! On the whole, it was a nice experience, although it may stem from the fact that my expectations were really low – a sort of ‘base effect’! On the return, I saw what exactly is meant by a traffic nightmare. The roads were totally choked, and there was no road discipline at all – not in the Delhi sort of way, where people take short cuts without reason. Here, there were stretched with no clear lanes and driving protocols – it was everyman for himself. It took full two hours to get back, with a throbbing headache in the bargain. If this happened in a nice SUV, I shudder to think of the plight of someone doing this commute everyday on a bike.

The next day was the Republic Day – and it started in a comedy of errors. Many overslept, and had to rush about. Even our designated vehicles were AWOL – so we had to get autorickshaws – in full ceremonial dress! Oh, it did look so odd. Even odder was our placement at the stalls – the passes had been marked VVIP – so we had expected the company of the sort. However, we were seated with just anybody – ladies from the hinterland, kids in jeans and men in short slleves untucked shirts – just the crowd you would find on a Railway platform. The fact that we were seated there was not bad – the bad part was that we were seated in full ceremonial dresses and stuck out like sore thumbs! The parade itself was okay. The columns of jawaans and airmen marched splendidly, those of the paramilitary – not so much. The cultural program would have been much more appreciated had it been conducted in a known tongue. The only highlight of the day was the motorcycle dare-devilry displayed by the Military Police – it including crossing each other in scissor patterns at high speed, bursting through walls of bricks, and walls of glass, jumping over lying men, and, the most daredevil-ish of all, climbing a ladder mounted on the bike, while the bike moved! I gave up the movie outing for some siesta, and rightly so – as the viewers of Race 2 were not so thrilled anyway. In the evening we boarded the Yeshwantpur Howrah Express for Tirupaty.

We arrived at 0300 at the station – and after a lot of fiddling with the switches of the lift, we had to do the hard grind at the platforms’ ends to get to our bus. We halted at SP Guest House. As always, the Andharaites really know their mattresses, and it was a rejuvenating sleep before we broke fast and departed for the Tirumala Shrine.

It was a forty minute bus ride up the hills. Then on, the whole visit pans through a series of turnstiles and barricading – which accommodate kilometres of queues – which can take a full day to negotiate. One advantage of being on an official visit was the fact that we could short circuit it all. It reminded me of how, when the Rajdhani Express moves, all traffic nearby is suspended to give right of way. So, within the hour, we were able to get a glimpse of Lord Venkateshwara Balaji. However, the most interesting part of the visit was the show around of the Hundi – the centre for the collection of retail donations. Huge donation boxes, looking not unlike overgrown mailboxes, which were golden instead of red, were being wheeled into the place. There are two separate chambers – one for the collection of bullion, and another for the collection of cash. The former came closest to anyone’s imagination of the treasure cave of Monte Cristo or the Arabian Nights. The metal donations were being separated into gold and silver, being appraised and then being sown into gunnies. On an average day, they collect upto 2 kilograms of pure gold. The cash collection centre was more abuzz with activity. Currency notes were being sorted according to denominations, bundled, counted and stored. On an average day, cash is collected to the tune of Rs. 2 Crore. Both these were part of retail daan-patra donations. It excluded gate fees and high value gifts from tycoons and power bearers. No wonder it is the highest revenue earning shrine in the country. By the time we returned, it had grown pretty hot – so it was prudent to relax and recharge for another early start tomorrow.

The next morning, we got a chance to relive history by riding in an old style first class carriage from Tirupati to Chennai (Madras). The coach was not air conditioned, so it was good that we reached Chennai before noon – even by that time, Chennai was uncomfortably hot and humid. We boarded our Tempo Travellers and enjoyed a ride through a really good highway snaking through the hills, listening to good music. We arrived in the ex-French colony of Pondicherry by the evening. We took only an hour to get off to the old French area. The ‘beach’ was not much to write home about – it reminded me of the Carter Road Promenade – only dirtier. We had another mission for the day – check off the bucket list item of having French food. So we went to this sea side place called ‘Le Club’. On a four page menu booklet, it had only six items under the heading ‘Vegetarian’ – and out of those, only two items were not appended with the curse of ‘salad’ – so we ordered those. In return, we got a plateful of green leaves, with half a side of eggs, a few pieces of mushroom, and some cheese that tasted like rasmalai gone bad. Yet, a mission was a mission, and we completed it. We returned via the old French town – the roads were labelled as ‘Rue De La Yada Yada’, the police constables wore those funny French ‘De Gaulle’ hats, and the sign boards were in French. We also saw the magnificent archway in the Bharathi park.

The next day was for our official work in Pondicherry – attachment with the NGO ‘HOPE’. At breakfast, I broke one of my teeth fillings, all of a sudden. That kept me worried throughout the day. At HOPE, we could not catch most of the main presentation, because the person spoke at an impossibly low volume! However, from the looks of it, it was an over view of the NGO sector –similar to what we have had surfeit of at the Academy. After that, it was time for us to go out to one of the projects – where they had formed a federation of Women’s Self Help Groups. Most of the ladies were Tsunami affected, including many Tsumani widows. It was heartening to learn how the organization had helped these ladies regain their economic self-reliance and social stature in the aftermath of their unfortunate bereavement. Next, we went to Auroville – the ‘international city’ – I won’t tell what I actually think of that! However, the Matrimandir was truly a sight to behold – a huge golden golf ball structure glittering in the sunshine! It was really peaceful in the vicinity. The evening, after the return, was spent of getting my damaged tooth repaired. As Ogden Nash as put it – some pains are physical, and some are mental; one that is both, is dental. It was hard to find one clinic that would treat me – I walked around the town, hoping somebody will understand my English – it is a Tamil town, colonized by the French! When I found a dentist, I learnt how far damaged this tooth was – a millimetre from another RCT. Well, it was filled again in another torturous surgery – and we returned to the hotel.

The next morning, we took an early start and went off to the boat house to ride a ferry to the aptly named Paradise Island. It was really beautiful, had a clean beach full of nice rolling waves. We had a nice time swimming on them – it was our first beach hit of this WST – out of hopefully many more to come. After our brief return and quick lunch, we embarked on a hurriedly arranged calling on session. We met the Secretary (Revenue) to the Government of Puduchery, the Chief Secretary to the Government of Puduchery and His Excellency the Lieutenant Governor of Puduchery. The visit to His Excellency was certainly one of the highlights of the day. His residence used to be the residence of the French Governor in India, and it reflected the grandeur of Versailles. After the visits, we returned to get all packed and done for the night journey aboard the Nellai Superfast to Madurai.

We arrived early morning, and were driven to the Circuit House. The sheer grandeur of Madurai Circuit House needs to be experienced to be understood. We had less time to appreciate it all before we had to ready up to visit the famous Meenakshi Temple. We were running a little late, but the priests did delay the curtaining of the deity by a few minutes to accommodate us – maybe it was because the city of Madurai has hundreds of temples, and thus thousands of deities – but it has only one DC, whose guests we were! The temple is beautiful. It’s most beautiful part is the hall of a thousand pillars. It is simply breath-taking. We kept the evening for a visit to the City Palace – which was showcasing a light and sound show. However, the evening was too hot, and the place was too infested with mosquitos to allow one to endure a rather tepid narrative. We arrived early for our meeting with the DC. He was a good natured man, of rather recent vintage – and we discussed service and related issues over some really good cookery in really serene hilltop lawns.

The next morning we took an early start – the mission was to cover Rameswaram and Dhanushkodi. It was a big decision for me to sacrifice morning sleep time for visiting a place I had already been to, but, as it will be revealed further, it turned out to be a rather good one. The road was good, and the car did touch 110 kmph at times. We took three hours to get to Rameswaram. This time, we did it the whole way – taking the notional bath in all 22 holy waters surrounding the shrine, before visiting the main shrines. The temple was uncharacterisitically empty today, which was good for us, as we were able to do it all quickly, including the customary photographs in the long ornate corridors. Then, instead of going further to Dhanushkodi, surprisingly, we returned to Pamban Bridge and crossed into mainland India. It was told that we would be taking a ship to Dhanushkodi. Then we lost some time in figuring out our lunch – in a totally Catch -22 –esque fashion, it had been falsely spread across the communication channels that we were carrying packed lunches (when we were not!) But all the frustration with the food business was wiped out when we came to see the ‘ship’ we were to take. It was a Coast Guard Hovercraft! We were next to the Mandapam Coast Guard Station, from where we boarded the craft. Soon it was learn that the craft had to go on another mission – so we were to get just a half an hour joyride. However, even that was totally worth it – the lifting, the shifting from land to water with so much ease, and the breathtaking speed – this GRSE machine was capable of 55 knots! Once we returned from this unexpected and thrilling detour, we resumed our road journey to the Pamban island. After Rameswaram, we shifted to one of those specialised ‘sand vehicles’. I had visited the area as a part of the Railway Foundation Course tour, and we had gone as far as the point where the road ends in sand. We had felt that the expense on taking these sand vehicles was not justified – and we had had a hell of a time in the white sand beach. This time, we took the call to go on. We reached the spot where we had stopped the last time – the sand path seemed to end in dense bushes only hundred metres from there – it seemed we had hired the vehicle in vain – boy, were we wrong. It turned out that next to those bushes, the sand track continued – one or two feet from the lapping waves! And then, it took a very pleasantly surprising turn. The vehicles started going into the shallow waters – yes, we were driving through the shallow sea – for several hundreds of metres! We had thought that nothing could beat the Hovercraft experience of the day, but here we were, sitting in an amphibious vehicle of the primitive kind. It was really beautiful – blue green sea , with vehicles driving though, crossing each other and even overtaking! It took half an our to reach the ghost town of Dhanushkodi itself. Totally destroyed by a cyclone in the 1960’s, it is now home to some of the really tenacious people, eking out a very precarious living through fishing. We spent some time on the beach and with the ruins – it was eerie wandering around in a ghost town, posing for pictures with the old railway station, and the town hall – it was like disturbing a sea grave. After spending an hour, we returned – this time at speeds touching 120 too. We were having supper at Madurai by half past ten!

The next day we set out for the hill town of Kodaikanal. It was some 150 odd kilometres away, and it was a pleasure riding shotgun on one of the fast SUV’s of the TN government. We stayed in the PWD project rest house – which was really beautifully made. Sadly the maintenance left a lot to be desired. Yet, it did not take anything away from the charm of the place. We had a bonfire party planned, but sadly, firewood could not materialize, so we had a lounge party instead. The silent Fern Road reverberated with the deep sounds of our chorus as we sang and generally made merry till midnight. The next morning, we had a lazy wake-up, and a picnic brunch in the sunny lawns. After another snooze, we wandered about the town, and were back by the evening, for a real bonfire party. These people really knew how to build their fires. The flavour was added by the good folks at Dominos. It was nice end to one of the textbook “hill-station days” – lazy and joyous.

The descent to the plains took some time the next morning. Once we had touched the plains though, our driver suddenly discovered his hidden strengths, and drove us at speeds consistently above 100 kmph, mostly above 140, and even touching 145 at times. This was the fastest I’ve ever been on a surface vehicle (barring one ride in the Bhopal Shatabdi) – the irony was that the shot-gun seat belt was broken – and I was half scared of dying a violent death in case of any sudden interruption in our speed binge. We arrived at the Trichy Circuit House an hour before the other vehicles! As soon as everybody was here and settled, we sent off the crew from Dindigul (the district to which Kodaikanal belongs) and boarded the vehicles of Trichy to go off to Tanjore, for a visit to the famous Brihadeeshwara Temple. I had visited this place two years back, but this visit was special for many reasons – one, we had a view of the whole temple, without the restorative packs that had adorned the gopurams during my last visit. Secondly, we had a guide, who claimed an M.Sc and a B.Ed, and was quite dramatic. Plus, the evening lighting gave really good photo ops. After the visit we had a dinner with the officers of 2011 batch, Tamil Nadu cadre. They had with them the All India Topper of the last year. It was a strange moment – I realized that till less than a year ago, she was a celebrity for me – we had read her interviews and seen her pictures in the magazine, and now we were dining face to face. I realized what the new comers to the Indian Cricket Team must feel to share the dressing room with Sachin Tendulkar. Then another thought invariably creeped in – had one had one hundred marks or so less, even my own batchmates (that includes my dear roomie) would have remained distant celebrities for me – a very humbling thought! The ride back was quick, but we had a minor dampener, as some of our mates had to shift to the PWD bungalow to make way for some higher officials in the circuit house!

The next day was for our official work in Trichy – for looking at various projects of development being carried out by the administration. We visited a village some 40 km out of the city, where women were building mud dykes for the local rainwater storage tank. We interacted across language barriers using interpreters – I think I got some feel of how the ICS officers of yore might have felt – listening to the problems of their charges across linguistic boundaries and striving for their betterment. We also visited a State Government backed community funded sanitation project, that provided facilities to women within 2 km radius. We also saw a ‘green house’ – basically it was a house powered with solar panels and connected inverters. The visit ended with a nice traditional Tamil meal at the inspection bungalow. I used the free afternoon to call up an old friend from the Railway Stores – we met, and then we decided to call on another Railway friend, one of my RSC roomies. So we met in his chambers at the DRM office – it was nice to relive old Railway days and talk shop. We had a good South Indian supper and returned after a nice long drive through the city, looking for some ATM which would give me some cash – none did!

The next day was for some local visits, the prominent one being the famous supine-Vishnu shrine of Srirangam. It was again a second visit for me, but one was better able to appreciate the grandeur this time, since it was less crowded. In the evening, we packed up and left for Chennai by the Rockfort Express, to embark on the last, and, may I say, the most awaited part of the WST – the island attachment at the Andaman Islands.

The Andamans

To begin with, it was my longest non stop, and most boring, flight. The travel time from Chennai to Port Blair is around 2 hours, and we landed sometime in midday, after observing a lot of pretty isles from the sky. As we came out of the door of the aircraft, a hot, humid gust hit our faces – welcome to the ‘Kala Pani’. It was a full 30 degree Celsius, and got knows how much humidity. We sweated all the way on the cabs to our place – the Circuit House near the South Point of the Island of South Andaman, after skirting a nice promenaded marine drive. Even the room air-conditioner was fighting an uphill battle trying to normalize the room temperature and humidity. We left soon for the ‘official’ business – our attachment with the forest department. We met the Principal Chief Conservator of Forests and his officers, and were told about the factoids related to the subject. It was known that out of the odd 8000 square kilometres of area the Union Territory has, some 7200 are covered by forests. A mere glance at various islands shows the same. We also got a brief on the flora and fauna on the region. What I was more interested in, for obvious reasons, was the marine fauna, particularly of the apex predator type. We learnt that shark attacks have never been heard of, but salt water crocodiles (salties) do infest waters around the islands, and have often come into conflict with humans, as the tsunami had really messed up the local geography and the crocs’ habitats. We also met the Chief Secretary of the Union Territory – it was a much more light hearted meeting. Finally, we saw the much discussed light-and-sound show at the Cellular Jail. While the tales of British atrocities on the prisoners here were definitely moving, one could help thinking that one had experienced something quite similar back at Oak Grove. It was simply a reminder that to be institutionalised, and to be a part any residential institution is almost a similar experience, the difference being just of the degrees. More on that in a full-fledged article later.

The next day we drove to the jetty to board a ferry to the North Bay Island. After half an hour of ferry, we covered the last few hundred metres on glass bottomed boats – which gave a clear view of the coastal corals and the multi-coloured fish in there. As we landed on the island, a large board, warning us about salties, appeared. It may have been the sheer feeling of ‘now or never’ that led us to the sea, nevertheless. We hit the aqua sports first – the coaster, the aqua jet, the banana ride and the speed boat. It was all a good appetizer for what was to come – scuba diving.

In full honesty, it was an assisted scuba diving – we all had one trained instructor with us all the time, who manned most of the controls related to plunging and rising. Still, it was an immense experience. First, we put on wet suits which were suited for the warm waters of the region. Next, we donned a mask, not unlike the swimming goggles we use in the pool – except for the fact that it had an additional place for the nose – the nose is effectively hermetically sealed, and it feels odd to breathe through the mouth. It takes some time to overcome the instinct to breath via the nose, and to avoid panicking – some were eventually overcome by panic and gave up. Next came the main jacket, which houses the air cylinders and the machinery. The air cylinder is the heart of the SCUBA. Not only is it used for breathing, the air is also used to fill the jackets when one need to raise one’s level. The same air is released when one wishes to descend. The breathing is done through a regulator, which is fitted in the mouth by biting on the anchors and sealing with the lips. The one way valve opens when one sucks, thus sending the air out to the mouth. When one breathes out, the valve closes, and thus one exhales into the water. We dove upto 8 metres (25 feet) in the bay, and observed a variety of marine flora and fauna – the corals being the main amongst them. They were mostly brown, but we also managed to see some really beautiful purple ones. And the variety of fish was astounding – shoals and shoals of little ones in all possible colours, shapes and sizes. As of now, I have seen the photographs we got clicked underwater, and we know that we have been short changed there – the pictures hardly do justice to the rich canvas down below. It was a truly a high point of the tour. Post surfacing, we set sails for Ross Islet, a small island just outside Port Blair. It is the site of ‘mint condition’ WW II battle ruins. It is a small island – one could walk leisurely from one shore to the opposite in hardly twenty minutes. It used to house a British base, which was bombed and occupied by the Japanese forces during the Second World War. The bombed out ruins of the church were really grand. The Ferrar Beach was a small beach at the opposite end, with very fine white sand and red coral rocks. The island is also host to a population of hundreds of deer and peacocks – who are not afraid of humans and come quite close to tourists. We saw two of the peacocks ‘dancing’ in full glory. With so much pack in such a small area, Ross Islet is an ideal one hour tour.  

The next morning started early, and we left for the Navigation Department jetty. The target was the famed Havelock Island. We boarded MV Rangat from the jetty, and started on the three hour long trip. The journey in the passenger cabin was dull and boring, so, after a few minutes, we went outside – first on the stern deck and then on the upper deck. The time was passed in observing the flying fish, as they escaped the plowing bow of the ship. They appeared out of sudden, as if levitating out, rose to about half a feet, an then moved horizontally, skipping a few times, for durations ranging from ten seconds to a full minutes. Usually they came single or in pairs, but we also saw groups as large as ten. Attempts to capture them on our cellphone cameras proved much futile. We finally docked at the Havelock jetty by around eight forty five, and drove off to the Dolphin Resorts – owned by the Tourism Department. Situated right next to its own private beach and reef, the place consists of duplex rooms made on stilts (to avoid flooding?). It was already too hot when one arrived – so the logical thing was to wait for the evening and sleep out the day in the air conditioned room. That was what I started, but luckily I had an epiphany within the hour and decided to go to the beach. The tide was out, so we had hundreds of metres of sea with depth of less than a feet! – the picturesque aquamarine coloured waters that belong to the world of picture postcards – all at our disposal. We went hundreds of metres in. The water was as clear as spring water, and the sandy seafloor was visible clearly as the sun shone on it. By the sunlight, one could see shadows of fish swimming – fish so small and transparent that it was only by their shadows that one could notice them. When one got tired of wading, one could lie down leisurely on the bench by the beachside – taking in the good sea breeze, the heavenly scenery, and good holiday-on-the-beach themed music (like ‘Our Last Summer’ – the Mamma Mia version). It was then that a puppy came and started licking my ears after getting its front paws on the bench – ah, if this was not heaven, it came pretty close to it! For lunch, we visited the ‘famous’ Manju Café. The menu card read all ‘famous-sy’, and the food, when it did arrive after aeons, was tasty. However, the order time, the service and the quantity of the food served left much to be desired. The delay in service almost made us miss our tryst with the famous Radhasagar beach. It was an eleven kilometre drive, through mountainous roads – and took close to forty minutes. The beach has been named the best in Asia by the Time Magazine (that is what Wikipedia says), and according to me, much of the reputation is deserved. For I’ve not seen sand any finer or any whiter, and a beach any flatter. It was evening, and we could hardly do much swimming – but we did go some fifty metres in, and it was hardly waist deep! And the waves were even and predictable – ideal for amateur horseplay. At sunset the waters turned into multiple hues and colours, and later, it was all golden. However, even this multi chrome explosion was not the high point of the day. That honour goes to the evening ‘beach party’ at the private beach at the resort. An assortment of snacks had been made by the good folks of the resort kitchen, and the supply of beverages was also arranged. It began as a music-filled revelry session with photographs and noisy chatting. Gradually, it converted into a quieter, more contemplative get-together (the turning off of the beach lights – intended to break our party -  did help) – we congratulated ourselves on the excellent tour we had. Many might have seen sunrises and sunsets at the beach – but there is something different about sitting on the beach and staring at the stars over the sea, wondering at the beauty of the constellations partially visible through the fronds of the coconut palm, chatting quietly with the people you have grown so fond of in the past two months. The sheer joy of those moments, which was shared by everybody in the gathering in those minutes near the midnight can never be described – it was not just the location, but the perfect group dynamics and harmony that led to it. In this way, it was an appropriate ending to the WST – we might not have got the most glamourous locations on our itinerary, but it was the quality of the group that led to such a wonderful tour.

The next morning, we rose early, clicked a few morning photographs, and had a nice breakfast – these folks at Havelock can teach the Port Blair guys a thing or two about cooking. Then we returned to the jetty, to board the famous MV Makruze. If the incoming ferry was any ordinary Express train, this one was a Rajdhani. Built on two boat hulls over which the whole passenger deck was built as a beam between two supports, the thing looked futuristic. And it took only an hour and a quarter to get us back to Port Blair – it moved like a speed boat – bobbing up and down and splashing back – a good ride for me – but not so much for some of our co-passengers, who got really sea sick. Back to our circuit house, it was time to have a lunch, rest a bit and then to go on to visit the famed Cellular Jail museum. We saw the gallows (all reconstructed – and very shoddily – with nylon ropes!), and the condemned cells (much better than the room at the Jwalamukhi Hostel at IIT Delhi).

The next day, we boarded the morning Air India flight to Kolkata, and this way, I finally visited the Airports of all the original ‘four metros’ of India. After setting up our luggage comfortably, we got an opportunity to visit the old Calcutta again – it was as beautiful as before. In the evening, we boarded the Calcutta Rajdhani Express to New Delhi – for our merger with the rest of the batch for the attachment with the National Security Guards, and finally, the block leave for visiting our homes. 

Conclusion

In the end, it was a very good tour – immensely enjoyable. Did we fulfil the purpose for which we were sent out? I am not sure. Certainly our enjoyment was not the objective of the Academy – for all that I know of the Academy, the fact that we enjoyed must really hurt them! Personally, I feel that the WST is a just reward for the toil one puts in for taking the examination and getting into the Service. One does see a lot of nice things, which one may want to emulate in one’s postings – the cash transfer systems in MP, the excellent roads in Tamil Nadu, the urban masterpiece that is Hyderabad. However, most importantly, it is the idea of India – so diverse and yet so similar – that is the most important take away from the Tour. People in Andamans speak so fluent Hindi, it is hard to believe one is 3000 kilometres away from the Hindi heartland, closer geographically to Indonesia and Thailand than to the mainland. The biriyani made in Dindigul can compete taste for taste with anything Lucknow has to offer – despite the total diametric separation. If one is able to assimilate that idea and make it figure in one’s style of working in one’s career, I feel that the higher purpose of the tour would have been achieved.

WST Diaries - MP Ajab Hai - IAF, HAL, BHEL, Pachmarhi, Kanha, Balaghat

The reception at Bareilly was chilly to begin with – we landed up at 4:15 – dog-eyed after an hour and half of waking and waiting. The train from New Delhi had left at the right time, but the fog seems to have delayed it. The rooms at IVRI were not fitted with too many amenities – but it boasted of being an ‘International Guest House’ – at that hour, we were not much of choosers. So went off to sleep promptly. Early morning, after a breakfast that was nothing to write home about, we got around to the driving off on a bumpy road to the Air Force Station.

Air Force hierarchy is a bit ‘flatter’ than the Army – there is Air HQ, followed by Commands, followed by Wings, and then Squadrons. Even the Wings are not in operational command of the squadrons, who get their directions from the Commands. Wings are simply administrative attachments. So this Air Force Station was the base of the 15 Wing, headed by an Air Commodore. It had two squadrons of Su-30 MKI’s and one of ALH Dhruv. After the 6PC, squadrons are not led by Squadron Leaders, but by Wing Commanders, who have ceded Wings to Group Captains / Air Commodores.

The visit was any engineer’s fantasy come true. We got to get up and close to one of the mightiest birds in the sky – amongst all Air Forces of the world – Sukhoi Su-30 MKI. We saw the whole airframe and the components, and we were given a tour of the cockpits (there are two) and the associated controls. Unfortunately, we did not get to fly in them! But it was attempted tp be made up by giving us flying time in the Su-30 MKI simulator – which did not even come close to the real thing. I remembered my own ‘F-16 Aggressor’ game, which was much similar. We did get to see two of them take off – the noise they made was deafening – felt pity for the guys nearer to the runway.

The next day, we saw the Tactics, Weapons and Command Centre – basically the thing one sees in movies – like a war room. Yes, such places do exist, with wall sized maps of our adversaries and their offensive and defensive capabilities. But, the highlight of the day was climbing atop the wings and the back of a Su-30 MKI with the maintenance engineers – I got the same feeling of rush as I had on my first visit to a Diesel Shed in 2006! We saw the massive jet engines from above, with the panels removed. The skinnier ones got the opportunity to climb up the air intakes of these beasties.  The visit to the ALH squadron was also enlightening – firstly, my idea of Advanced Light Helicopter was some twig and strings thing – this one looked pretty sturdy and impressive. And we got to sit on the copilot’s controls – though on the grounds only. The real surprise came later, when the pilot, a Flight Lieutenant, who was instructing us happened to be a close senior from Oak Grove!

We left Bareilly early in the evening to avoid the morning fog and to get rested before our attachment at Lucknow – how wrong could one be. Murphy had a field day with us – the vehicle in which we were to leave was deemed road-unworthy by the driver at the time when we were about to leave. The first replacement got banged up on the way. The second replacement arrived one and half hours past our scheduled departure time – it had no leg room, but we weren’t choosers here either. As soon as we cleared Bareilly precincts, we encountered a 10 kn long jam – so had to take a detour. By the time we were scheduled to arrive in Lucknow, we were not even at Shahjehanpur (50 minutes by train). We made the mistake of going for supper! By the time we finished, fog had come in a big way, and it kept on worsening. The driver was adamant on continuing, and after much deliberations, we let him go on. The cold wind kept leaking in through blind eyelets in the window glasses, and it got really chilly. Woollens were pulled out hastily out of whatever bags were accessible. Road conditions improved as we hit Sitapur at 4:00 am, and finally, we pulled up, cold and bedraggled, at Civil Services Institute, Lucknow at 6:30 am. The journey that was to be completed in four hours according to Academy manuals was completed in fourteen! It gave us a good insight into what a cold wave really means for someone on the road, all homeless.

Lucknow was a short stop to begin with, and the long sleepless journey led to further curtailment. The official work was an attachment with Hindustan Aeronautical Limited (HAL). Well, it was good – but it was not at the scale which we were expecting. It was an accessories plant – so all the work was of subassembly level – good from engineering point of view, but too technical and trivial for a lay mind. The social do with the Commissioner and the District Magistrate was enjoyable – good experience sharing was done, and I got some idea about the cadre I am supposed to be joining. The visit to the Ambedkar Memorial near Hazratganj was a revelation – whatever the political connotations of it, the thing looks mighty impressive – reminds one of the famous seated Lincoln statue in Hollywood movies. I had always found Lucknow to be a beautiful city, and all these beautification efforts had definitely added to the charm. It was nice to notice batch-mates from other states wondering at the shimmering city lights, the beautiful monuments and the sheer grandeur of the Hazratgunj market.

We boarded the Pratapgarh Bhopal Express from Lucknow in a totally freezing sort of climate. Next day, much delayed, we stepped out sweating in the city of Bhopal. We had our attachment at Bharat Heavy Electricals Limited (BHEL) – and the rest houses of this PSU were really impressive. Again, a social do with the administrative brass of Bhopal, along with many top Police officials. The venue was especially impressive – a hotel of MP tourism, overlooking the beautiful serene Bhopal lake – all lit up, with live music, and really excellent food. No state has done better at marketing its tourism potential as MP, and it was indeed an honour to meet the MD of MP tourism, a 1997 batch IAS officer.   

The next two days were earmarked for our official attachment with BHEL. The liaison officer was a senior executive who took pains to remember everybody’s name – and he was witty. The first day was mainly about electrical equipment – huge switches – filled with toxic gases to be used as an insulator, huge transformers – that generated coronas strong enough to require globe size shielding, factory sheds that rose 40 metres high. It was impressive, but not stimulating. For stimulation, I had to wait for the second day – when we visited the turbines section – and we saw mammoth machines – butterfly valves the size of a mini truck, Kaplan turbines with human sized blades, chucks the size of dance floors, milling machines with 27 metre long beds. However, the main attraction was the steam turbine section, where the HoD took a very detailed class about the theory, and later showed us around the shed – where we saw all sorts of steam turbines with their blading exposed. For an engineer-who-could-be, this was a dreamland.

The real fun, however, was outside. The Museum of Man – sounded tricky at first – was a revelation. They had excellent life size replicas of various tribal dwelling units – informative, as well as good for photo-ops! And a cruise on the Bhopal lake was amazing – a nice good boat, very nice music – and the water looked so beautiful. Bhopal authorities have really got the lake front right – all marine-drived – may be they did not have to deal with those pesky ‘environmentalists’. It appeared really beautiful. MP really lived up to the hype around it – even though Bhopal is scarcely mentioned in those advertisements.

The next morning, we packed up for Pachmarhi – a hill station in the Satpura range. The journey had many stops – the first one was Bhimbetka – the sight of the prehistoric rock paintings. This was one place I was really eager to see, and I was not disappointed. The sun was all ablaze, and hence, we were without woollens – good for photography! The paintings were just there in the open –totally unguarded. It felt as if we were intruding into the homes of those cave-men – it was just so matter-of-fact-ly out in the open. I wondered if nobody had thought about dangers to these paintings from vandals. Then I realized that these paintings had survived through ages that had lesser regards for historical artefacts, and hence, they are good for now. Next stop was a forest guest house at Hoshangabad, where, amidst nice refreshment, we met the Chief Conservator of Forest, the Inspector General of Police (and his Deputy), followed by the District Magistrate. It is to his credit that the District has won a number of accolades in various schemes of the Central Government. In continuation with this, we visited the factory of Prakrit – a silk mill – where we saw the production process of silk. The cocoons were being unloaded and sifted outside. Then they were boiled – to kill the pupae and to soften the yarn, whose strands were then pulled through a spinning jenny to get the thread. Of course, we had to learn to breathe through the overpowering stench of the boiling cocoons before we could see that. From then on, we took the NH 69 and SH19 to reach Pipariya, quite late. We had a good lunch, and the spice in some of the dishes really burnt our guts out – not that it prevented us from devouring it all. Finally, weary and exhausted, we reach Pachmarhi by the evening. Finding our place of stay – the oddly named Old Hotel Guest house, was another hour spent. But the accommodation was huge and old style. We enjoyed a nice bonfire outside – both in a mixed polite company, and later in a men-only no-holds-barred style.

The morning began according to plans – late rising, huge breakfast, and just sitting in the sun – with my battered library copy of ‘Catch-22’. Others had gone looking at churches and waterfalls, but my philosophy is, once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen all. Few more shared these sentiments, but being more active types, they explored the Pachmarhi roads, and came across – Para Sailing! They were generous enough to spread the news back to the Old Hotel, and two of us went – it was basically an expansive grassland, a kilometre from our rest house. We were padded up and loaded in an open gypsy and taken a kilometre further. We were strapped in and instructed to run with the jeep as we took off! Luckily, the ‘running’ was just for a couple of  steps, before we were airborne – this was my first shot at parasailing – and, by God, it was an unforgettably delightful experience. Hardly a couple of minutes, but the feeling of being flown like a kite was awesome. Plus, as you might have guessed it, extremely nice pics and vids were shot – these were used to torment our fellow travellers who returned later from their churches and their falls! Talk about misplaced priorities – the parasailing (and trampolining – as we learnt later) were hardly sold to us – they were busy showing us waterfalls and old buildings!

It was a delightful road trip from Pachmarhi to Kanha National Park – smooth road, snaking through the undulating plains and plateaus, tea halts at twilight – watching the burning headlamps and sipping the tea, friendly banter on the speeding Traveller – nice food at ‘official’ halts. We arrived at Kanha at 2330 – bursting from a delightfully tasty and heavy dinner. It was painful to set the alarm for 0500 – and still more painful to get up at that hour. I had visited Kanha once earlier, in 2006, and had been content with few glimpses of bisons. So, as we rode out on the safari Gypsies at 0645 in the morning, my only thought was to grin and bear the cold and the monotony. I did that for around forty minutes.

And then, suddenly, at a T-junction on the dirt track, appeared a huge tiger. We were speeding along the stem of the T towards the junction, when it came at a brisk pace from the left branch of the T, also towards the junction. I feared we might collide. Indeed, it stopped and stared at us – I had a fearful thought – what if it charged us – it was hardly 15 feet from us. Mercifully, it continued on the right branch of the T, and we started following some 15-20 feet behind. Three more Gypsies joined us – including one of our own. We followed it for close to five minutes. The beast was huge – we were later told it was a 12 year old male named ‘Munna’. It did not bother much about us – though it gave us many disdainful glances now and then. It walked along the road – marking its territory at its convenience. When the crowd and the noise became too much, it slunk away in the dense vegetation, leaving us waiting for a reappearance. That never came, but this long, full head-on encounter really made the day and the trip – few are lucky enough to even get to look at a tiger in the wild. Most who do notice it far away in a shrub. Fewer still have the good fortune of getting to follow the beast for so long. Again, good pictures and videos were shot, to tease the group that missed!

In the afternoon, we packed up and left for another nice road trip, this time along the famous Jabalpur – Balaghat Narrow Gauge railway. Fast SUV, nice music, good road, fine weather – what else do we need for a good ride? We reached Balaghat by late evening, and were shown into smaller accommodation units. This was our Insurgency Affected Area Attachment. Balaghat is a border tri-junction district – it touches Maharashtra, and most importantly, Chattisgarh. The district had seen extensive Left Wing Extremist (LWE) violence in early 2000’s – and, to date remains known for extensive movements by the dalams – given its peculiar location.

It is a cliché that the LWE problem needs to be addressed through a ‘two pronged strategy’ – security measures and developmental measures. The day one was for the latter. We were briefed by the Collector, the Superintendent of Police and the Divisional Forest Officer. We learnt how the State has gone an extra mile, forgoing its (by that logic, the rest of the country’s) economic rights, so that the locals shed their grievances. The forest produce revenues are being ploughed back into the local area, to the extent of 100 %. We also learnt the way IT and high quality human resource are being used to ensure last mile gap-closing on the governance front. Two Prime Minister’s Rural Development Fellows were present in the District, and they had designed an automated system for payment of state subsidies / wages to the beneficiaries directly. After the presentation, and the lunch, we drove off to a few nearby villages, in a 30 km radius from the District HQ. The cash was being disbursed through banking correspondents, who carried battery and GPRS enabled hand held banking devices. The device offered the services as any rudimentary ATM would. Instead of PIN, it used the impression of any of the ten fingers. The cash was handled by the BC, and the machine also read out the whole transaction in Hindi! More than the simplicity and ingenuity of it all, it was the enthusiasm of the lower functionaries that was encouraging. For the first time in my various interactions with the government offices, I saw genuinely motivated staff. Everyone of them had a distinct pride in their work.

Day two, we studied the security aspects – by visiting one of the erroneously named Offensive Forward Post. We drove through 160 kilometres of very smooth and picturesque road – to get to one. Well, to put simply, it was fort. Layers and layers of concertina razor wires fenced the camp. Any vehicle (including ours) was greeted with a high alert, with at least 30 Kalashnikov barrels pointing towards the gate! The main building was designed on the pattern of the famous ‘Greyhounds’ force of the Andhra Pradesh police. It had narrow openings with sloping ledges above -  to avoid ingress of grenades – the walls were blast proof. The design was circular to enable coverage of all directions both visually and by fire. All walls had secure gun positions. And the design of the place inside was like a maze. Even if a wretch managed to get inside, he was sure to get lost and gunned down. The whole thing was awe inspiring. More than the infrastructure, it was the quality of personnel deployed here that was great. They looked like Army-men, and behaved liked Army-men. Even the weaponry was modern. If I were an LWE idiot, I would surely avoid even venturing near this place.

On day three, we visited the Managanese Ore mine of MOIL. Not sure how it fitted in the whole LWE picture – may be because mining companies are frequently painted as villains in the whole LWE debate – even in movies like Chakravyuh. Well, this one was a PSU, and not the lapdog of some heartless tycoon. The high point was that we got to visit the mine – 300 metres below the surface of the earth – that’s my personal record that I’m sure would not be bettered. We did not go far from the inlet, but whatever we saw gave us a good idea on the hardships the miners face – it as steamy only 10 metres far from the vent! As a railway enthusiast, I was very much interested by the mini railway that carried the ore. They had wee little wagons, wee little locomotives, and even an underground Loco Shed! It was all Enid Blyton come alive! Late that evening, we had the worst 3 hours in MP – we watched ‘Matru ki Bijlee ka Mandola’ – I may have come across shittier movies, but I never sat through whole of any worse.

That brought an end to our sojourn in Madhya Pradesh – the heart of India. It would take a bus and two train rides to get us to Vizag – for the next leg of our WST. 

To Conclude

To begin with, MP was just a huge landmass that we were supposed to cross to get from the earlier fun to the later fun. Once we entered the state, however, we were simply floored by the richness of the experience. From the bright lights and sunny lakes of Bhopal, to the chilly tracks of Kanha, we got much more than we had ever expected. We found excitement in the most unexpected of places. And we saw various entrenched beliefs about the state breaking down. The roads, which were once butts of jokes, were now comparable to the best in the country. It may have been a BIMARU state, and may still be underdeveloped, but if what we have seen budding here was in any way representative of the state, it is surely going to see much better days in the future. And then people shall wonder and say – “MP ajab hai; sabsey gazab hai.” 

WST Diaries - A Sojourn with the Sentinels - the Army

We started on a chilly Mussoorie night, with a short bus ride to Dehradun. The AC Express pulled out soon after we had boarded, and we woke up in New Delhi the next morning. It was a heart warming reunion with our diplomat friends, and then we went off to the airport, to fly straight into the Vale of Kashmir. 

Run through           

The presence of the Army is written all over Kashmir, and it was evident when it was announced that photography is forbidden from the aeroplane windows near the Srinagar airport. Once we landed up, 3 hours late, we were met by our Liaison Officer, a young, cheerful Major with the Grenadiers Regiment. We were bundled in a bus and driven off. The windows were shaded with heavy blue curtains, to prevent the terrorists out there from knowing the location and number of passengers, thus preventing chances of a headshot! We reached 216 Transit Camp, a unit directly under 15 Corps, Srinagar. We had a nice chat with the camp in-charge, a Lt. Colonel with the Jat Regiment. After the tea, we were shown into our rooms. To call them rooms would be an understatement. They were complete suites, with a parlour, a dresser and a big bedroom – all well furnished. It was not much time before we got back for the dinner, with the Commandant of the Camp – a Colonel with a long experience. To be truthful, we could not talk much – the seniority – in rank, but much more so in age, left us largely tongue tied.

The next morning was the start of our attachment proper. Waking up, at 6, in the freezing cold, was a big pain. The beautiful gardens outside were all really frosted over and the wooden structure of the camp housing made the whole thing look like a fairy-tale setting. After the breakfast, the real fun began. We were handed over our sets of ECC Clothing (Extreme Climatic Condition) – consisting of one multi-layered down jacket, one set of leggings, one set of snow goggles, and one pair each of snow gloves, snow boots and woollen stockings. Most importantly, we got a set each of Bullet Proof Jacket (BPJ) and Bullet Proof Patka (BPP) – the latter is simply a band of bullet proof material running around one’s head. Putting the BPP and BPJ on, for the first time, was really stifling. And the rest of the material was hastily put in the polythene in which the great coat came – and it became another set of luggage to be lugged around – and, because of the similarity of all the packages, a major source of confusion. However, the utility of it all was never in doubt, and it all came handy, as seen later.

We drove off to Kupwara, a district that borders the LoC, via Baramulla. It was a 4 hour long drive, and was made easy by chatting and music. At Kupwara, we visited a Military Hospital, and were given a round of the facilities by a nice young Captain. We were briefed by the Colonel who was the Commandant of the hospital. Then we visited the Workshop of the Electronics and Mechanical Engineers Corps. It was in many ways similar to any of our Railway workshops. However, the contrast between the two had to be seen. Unlike the Railway shops, which are mostly littered with oil, nuts and bolts, and scrap metal pieces, this one was spic and span. Soft music was playing along from many of the speakers mounted on poles along the campus. We had our lunch there, and then we moved on the Divisional Ordnance Unit of the area. They procure, stock and supply General Stores as well as Ordnance for the whole division. Being an ex Stores Officer myself, I wanted to get an idea of the scale. The answers were just mind boggling. While I had my hands totally full with some 350 odd items at Mahalaxmi, these guys were handling 40000 s.k.u. !!  That was excluding the Ordnance items! We spent the night in the Brigade HQ at Drugmulla, where we were hosted by the Brigade Commander at the dinner.

The next day, we dressed up in our ECC outfits, for the trip to the outposts. However, the first stop was the HQ of the 28^th Division – The Vajras. For the uninitiated, the Army is divided into 7 commands (headed by an Army Commander – a Lt. General). Each command has 2-3 Corps (again, under Lt. Generals) under it. Each Corps has 3-4 Divisions (commanded by Major Generals), each division has 3-4 Brigades (under Brigadiers), each Brigade has 3-4 Battalions (under a Colonel), each Battalion has 4-6 Companies (under a Company Commander – a Major or a Captain), and each company is further divided into Platoons (under Lieutenants / JCO’s). The personnel below officer ranks are recruited from a given ethnic base into largely ethnicity based regiments, and trained at regimental centres – Jats, Mahar, Gurkha. Each regiment may have 20-30 battallions – like 1 Punjab, 2 Punjab etc. These battalions are immutable units, and they are posted under various brigades as one, i.e. usually individual companies and lower formations are not transferred separately. The Vajra, or the 28^th Division, was a Division, HQ-ed as Zangird in Kupwara, under the 15^th Corp (HQ-ed at Srinagar), under the Northern Command (HQ-ed at Udhampur). This visit was straight out of somebody’s old time war movies fantasy – there was a room sized sand model of the Area of Responsibility (AOR) of the Division. In our front was the replica of the mid western J&K – covering the valley and the Himalayas beyond. At the call of the briefing Colonel, the LoC, the LoC fence, the Kishanganga river, and the posts and passes flashed in bright lights on the model. It was good, and the address by the GoC of the Division was really rousing.

The journey ahead is better seen in pictures than described. As we ascended from Kupwara, the snow patches on the ground kept getting larger and larger. Finally, as we reached Chowkibal, we had a lot of snow all around. The road further did not permit heavy vehicles, so we changed from the bus to Gypsies. The tyres of the Gypsies were rimmed with chains – to keep up the traction in the snow and ice. It was a slow, shaky and tiring ascent to the NC pass, and it included half a kilometre of trek in between, to avoid the skidding of the vehicles near the aptly named Khooni Nala. The journey was made worth it by the breath taking scenery of ice and snow, which gave us plenty of photo-ops. The NC (Nushta Chun) pass was named after a cut nose, which was the shape of the geographical feature. However, it was more famous as Sadhana pass – for the reason that the actress Sadhana Shivdasani had visited this post in 1972, in the wake of then recent Indo-Pak war, to boost the morale of the troops. The post featured a nice LoC observation deck, nice facilities and a life size portrait of the actress, in which the painter had taken a lot of ‘artistic liberties’, again something to be seen rather than described. There on, it was a descent into the Tangdhar area, where we were to be hosted at the base of Punjab Regiment. The base was headed by a major, with whom we had a long chat, and a wonderful dinner.

The next day we set off to one of the border posts along the LoC. The Black Rock post was said to be named after the colour of the substrata. But then, there were other stories, about how it was named after one of the horses of some departed Major. We saw the LoC – which is really nebulous, unlike the Wagah border. It’s just a mutually accepted line – running along this thicket here, that brook there. We could clearly see the posts of the Pakistan Army, roughly parallel to ours. There were villages in the middle – parted in Indian and Pakistani halves – it would have been comic if it were not so tragic! We also visited a nearby post of the BSF, where we saw the dry run of a mortar launch. Back at the Infantry post, we had a demo of various common weapons – the Multi Grenade Launcher, the Rocket Launcher, the Light Machine Gun, the Dragonoff. We had a good lunch with the Major of the company and the Lieutenant in charge of the post. In the evening, we visited the Baghbela firing range of 1 JAK RIF. The snow covered range looked very beautiful. We got to fire 5 rounds each of INSAS and AK 47 – I got all 5 on target with the INSAS, including 3 headshots. Due to the creeping evening, we could not inspect the damage we did with the Kalashnikov – but the sheer roar and the kick of it made me realize what Mao had meant about power flowing from the barrel of a gun, and it was another thing checked off my bucket list!

Next day, we set off back for Kupwara – the snowclad route appeared even more beautiful in the morning sunshine – but the ice on the road was even more treacherous this early. We changed transport again at the Chowkibal grounds, and then we were sent to the Kupwara town HQ of 41 Rashtriya Rifles. Here, we were divided into pairs, and I, along with my room-mate, was attached to the A-Company. We drove off with the Company Commander, a young Captain, to his company observation base.

In the late evening, we were briefed that we were to accompany an area dominance ambush team into the mountains. We dressed up to the maximum, because it was freezing outside. The operation was led by the senior JCO of the company. There were a dozen of us, and we trekked along the frosted path, and up the slippery slopes of the hill, to sit and observe the possible infiltration route from the dominating position. We did not encounter any intruders – ambush parties rarely make contact, but then, it gave us an idea into the tough daily lives of our soldiers. 2 hours of this was tiring enough for us, and an average soldier may have to do upto 96 hours of this! It was a valuable lesson, and the night’s sleep was much appreciated.

Next morning, we drove off to Sharifabad, the HQ of Kilo Force – it is actually a Division modified for mainly counter insurgency duty in the hinterland, beyond the LoC, in the urban and rural reception areas for the intruders. Over two days, we had a number of briefings – at Force HQ, at a sector HQ (akin to a brigade), at a Company Base. We also had a visit to the Water Wing of the CRPF at the Dal Lake – we got to patrol the waters in one of their fast cutters.

The last day was with the HQ 15 Corps, or, as it is dubbed – the Chinaar Corps – the saviours of Kashmir. The briefing was a totally formal affair, and we looked resplendent in our jodhpuri suits, to match the olive green of the Army brass. The address on the origin and implications of the Kashmir Issue by one of the HQ Colonels was great – we had seen many presentations on this issue, but the way this one was put up was great. The address by the Chief of Staff and the General Officer Commanding was inspiring. On a personal front, I met one of my cousins, who is now a Major, posted at the Corp HQ – it was nice catching up. The afternoon was spent sightseeing and shopping within the garrison. The New Year’s eve party had been cancelled in solidarity with the victim of the Delhi tragedy. A more subdued get together was organised, more as a farewell.

The next day, we left for what had been referred to us as ‘mainland India’ – the term may make you cringe – but that is the reality in many ways. We left 3 hours prior to our flight – and for good reasons. Boarding at Srinagar airport is not like boarding at Delhi or Mumbai. We underwent 7 rounds of security checks, with seemingly interminable queues all over. 2 of those were detailed pat down checks – down every nook and cranny – many of us felt violated! The hand baggage check was threadbare. It may be necessary, but it definitely was a nuisance. So, on the afternoon of the first day of 2013, we flew over the snow speckled Pir Panjal once more, so as to get to Delhi – for the rest of our Winter Study Tour – the arrivals terminal at Delhi was really impressive (this being my first airborne arrival into Delhi) 

Life in the fatigues

Whatever one may read about the tough life of the jawans on the Kashmir frontiers, it really takes experience to appreciate how tough it actually is. For numbers cannot always give one a clear picture. -15 degree Celsius is not simply 17-18 degrees lower than our own cold wave, it is a whole different world. Being up at 0430 to move in a convoy at 0600, at these temperatures, is totally different from rising for a morning walk at the same time back home. Even basic life functions are painful in these places. This was for someone who stayed in star-level facilities even in those extreme locations. It was not possible to imagine the life of those who were in the tents and temporary structures outside, doing all it takes to keep these bases going – even harder to imagine the life of those who were sitting, at that very moment, at elevations about 3000-7000 feet higher, manning their posts, keeping a vigil against intruders. It’s not just the weather which is an adversary here. The job itself is very painful. We accompanied an ambush party – they have to move fast, and without making much noise. They are in groups, and yet they cannot speak to one another – one of the main ways we relieved ourselves on those Himalayan trudges was thus denied to them. This trudging must go on extreme slopes, against obstacles – natural – mud, ice, snow, or man made – barbed wire fences – I lost a pair of jeans (and luckily nothing else) negotiating one of those with them. We walked for only 90 minutes in all, and we were dog tired. Their patrols can last for as much as 96 hours at a stretch! Secondly, many of us in the cities with cantonments nearby often think that the top brass of the Army lives in splendour, and it’s only for the junior officers to man the borders – at least I used to think so. Nothing could be more wrong. Officers upto the level of Major are right there at the frontline, in command of companies – laying ambush and leading patrols. Brigade HQ’s were there in quite inhospitable places – so we had Colonels and Brigadiers serving at places where none of us would like to stay for more than a couple of days. Even starred Generals move along these locations at a frequent basis – it is no picnic out there. It is very hard, and that is the bitter truth we must acknowledge, before we even begin to appreciate the work of our Army.

The ‘Civil Military’ conflict

One of the things we were set thinking about before we set out for this attachment was our ‘ranking’ vis-à-vis the army brass. Since Army is a very hierarchical organization, we were really worried whom we had to treat with how much protocol. A google search had muddied the water further - most forums on which the issue of Civil Services – Defence Services order of precedence was discussed had many defence personnel using derogatory language for our kind, with babus, clerks and similar epithets being heaped upon us. I had made up my mind to reply in kind.

Nothing could have been farther from the truth. The army officers were courteous and polite to a fault. Very senior officers treated us with all the respect they accord to any guest of theirs – it was embarrassing for us to be treated thus by people so senior both in age and rank. Sometimes, in their address, the issue of the ‘bureaucratic insensitivity’ did come up – but it was usually backed with suggestions for solutions, and not plain ‘activist’ type rantings. And we all played safe – both sides ‘sirred’ each other – I guess they were equally confused.

The splendour

One thing that was striking was the splendour of the Officers’ Area – even in far flung battalion bases in Tangdhar – where we had full portraits, and silverware, and liveried bearers, and unlimited supply of booze. It was hard to believe that the ramshackle looking tin shed housed such heavenly enclaves within. Similar was the situation of the accommodation provided to us – all looked really tumbledown from the outside – but inside, it was well furnished, well heated, well plumbed, with hot water supply, running water, electricity, telephone and satellite television! It was all truly unbelievable.

Conclusion

It cannot be said that the country has forsaken its Army. On an average, an Indian has a soft corner for the armed forces, somewhere in the corners of his mind. The trouble is, that soft corner has been kept confined to the minds alone. The reason is the manner in which we put the forces and their personnel on a pedestal, and then simply shut them out of our minds. In our hearts and minds, they are mighty supermen, guarding us against the external threats. Much blame is to be apportioned to the popular culture, which has given us jingoistic Army songs and movies. In the process, we tend to forget that they are as human as the rest of us, and have similar wants, needs, aspirations and desires. In the course of our conversation with one Major on a forward post, we were heaping outpourings of the nation’s collective gratitude on him and the Army – and to our surprise, he said that they are not doing anything special – just doing their jobs.  It was then that this realization hit me – how lightly many of us in the civilian world take ‘just doing our jobs’. We may procrastinate, we may cut corners, we may ‘let just this one go’. They, on the other hand, can never let a moment slip by in dawdling – any actionable input needs to be responded to immediately. They can never do it the easy way – the sheer job of counter-insurgency is tedious – when one is faced with brain-washed lunatics with a single purpose and no care in the world, one has to be meticulous and thorough. It’s a battle of wills – one side is willed on by religious lunacy, but the other side carries the burden of a normal, middle class Indian hopes and aspirations, and it takes a tremendous amount of willpower to put them on the stake. It must be the endeavour of each one of us to ensure that this willpower never flags. This week-long exposure has given one many insights into the various ways in which one might help – and it is not in the higher echelons of the governance, but in the lowest ones that most of these solutions lie. The likes of us in the Service can help by giving due attention to the folk-town problems of these men. Similarly, any and all of us can do our bit by extending all possible help, on a priority basis, in areas of our own work and expertise, whenever a guy in fatigues comes to face us. It’s important to remember that they are handling one of our collective responsibilities for us – and they have given up what most of us take for granted, and hence, it is our collective duty to ameliorate their lives.