Dear Sir thanks Brig lakshman
Some more BLs
Our first introduction to Regimental duties was an assignment as orderly officer of the day. Pran, the senior most, had the honour of being the first; he borrowed the motor cycle, the only one with the course, from Anand and roared off in the tea -break to the office of Capt Rawat, the Adjutant to collect the form and instructions for the day. He zoomed in and stopped with a flourish in front of the Commandants office. Col ID Verma, the Comdt probably had never heard of a motor cycle roaring in to the HQ compound, the holiest of the holy spot in School of Signals. He did come out in amazement to investigate the strange phenomena. Pran, even though must have given him the smartest ‘Under Officer’ salute, returned down-cast with seven extra duties to his credit.
Our glee for Pran’s discomfort was rather short lived. For missing the games parade a few days later all of us were also rewarded with seven extra duties each, thankfully relieving the permanent staff from this boring duty for the next six months of our stay in the School. In addition we were also ‘Gated’ till further orders, despite this on the very first evening itself we were all sitting in the Dress Circle of the Orpheum for the late night show. Lo and behold, when the lights came on during the interval there was Capt George Paisley, our Group Office with a few others with their girlfriends, sitting in a class lower than where they should have been.
The consequence of our outing was that after dinner nights we were now required to be doing private study in the Low Power Lab under supervision of a permanent staff. First night in the lab, we asked permission of Capt Seth to smoke, promptly came out Cigars in everyone’s hands including Cheema the only Sikh on the course, the smoke screen thrown by our combined effort failed to hide the annoyance on the face of Capt Seth.
We were required to call on the permanent staff, as per the army traditions, leaving our calling cards, one for the lady of the house and one for the unmarried daughter in addition to the one we were supposed to leave in any case. Being unsure of ourselves we were avoiding this onerous duty till we were reminded of the same rather forcefully. On the designated calling day, dressed in our best summer suits and with a fist -full of calling cards all 21 of us mounted our cycles and came on the road. Going round and round, circling the bungalows of the Comdt and other permanent staff, in smaller and larger groups crossing and re-crossing each other while exchanging sheepish grins. Not being able to muster courage enough to enter the Comdt’s House, No 2 the Middlesex Road, as also not being sure as to from where to start the calling process, after some more futile cycling we were back in our room; mission unaccomplished.
This was not the end of the story, next day we were once again in the Wing Commanders office, this time with an entreaty to be kind to the staff and not to keep them on tenterhooks.
It so happened that my room located at the extreme end of the barrack where-in we the YO’s were lodged, faced the Church across the road.
The Church that Came to’ Life’ on Sundays
Sundays mornings the spectacle of the, pretty Mhow girls, dressed in their finery streaming in for the Service and later emerging, at times even lingering at the entrance gate acted as a magnet to the course-mates.
With easy chairs pulled up, they would take vantage positions, with me as the unwilling host, Manikam, my bearer, serving Tea and Pakoras to the excited and chattering young fellows.
Was the lingering of the girls, at the gate, deliberate, intentional and naturally irresistible, with so many admirers opposite, is a question I still ponder upon?
PS