"De-anchored at the Anchor Bar" - On the Lighter side of 'Olive Green' !!

                                               

Musings from a Recliner – ‘De-Anchored at the Anchor Bar’ – 0630 hrs 27 Oct 19 ~ Lally Virk.

On the Lighter side of ‘Olive Green’ – This, That & Everything !!

“De-Anchored at the Anchor Bar”.

The incident dates back to the mid-eighties. I was posted in this wonderful crack outfit of the Rocketeers. We were based in Delhi. Whenever, we could take some time off from the hectic regimental activities, this youngster and good friend of mine, Sidhu, and I would take off for the ‘Anchor’ bar at the DSOI, Dhaula Kuan, New Delhi.

I do not know about the present times, but in those days whenever one visited the ‘Anchor’ bar, one always came across this familiar bunch of very old, hardened, wizened Veterans, whom I would term as the ‘Chronic Regulars’ of the ‘Anchor’ bar. The ‘Anchor’ bar would be incomplete without them.

Having found a vacant table for ourselves, I looked for this ever smiling waiter of ours, I still remember his name ‘Chunni Lal’ – wonder if he’s still there, to order our hard earned whiskey’s.

We’d just about had a few thirsty sips when……..

“Yaar mainu pantaali saal ho gaye ne vyah nu, teh kal shaam nu mainu kendi, ‘Get out of the house’!!”. (Friend, it’s been 45 years since we’ve been married and last evening she tells me ‘Get out of the house’).

Sidhu looked at me. I looked at him. ‘Sidhu tu suniya’. (Sidhu did you hear). ‘Bilkul suniya Sir ji’ (Yes Sir, loud and clear). Both of us burst out laughing.

Discreetly, we turned to see these three very senior Veteran’s and from the way they were commiseratingly looking at this wiry ole Veteran – must be in his late seventies, we made out who had said that. Seeing his dead serious worried look, we couldn’t help but laugh even more.

Laughing, Sidhu looks at me and says, “Sir ji, zyaada na hasson, tuhada number aa raiya haiga jaldi’. (Sir, don’t laugh too much, your turn is coming shortly). ‘Oye Youngster, don’t you get cheeky with your seniors, ok’……and we laughed some more.

Being of marriageable age, my parents were pursuing me vigorously to get married. 

‘After hearing this, no way man”.

What I do remember after that incident was, both of us drinking ourselves silly and taking a pledge that we would surely remain bachelors forever.

I also do remember, having taken this major life changing decision, both of us slept like babies that night. 

No more night mares of getting hooked…….you see !!!!

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“Botli ka Dhakkan”

This dates back to the early eighties. I was serving in a Mountain Regiment based in the Assam hinterland in this obscure, quaint Cantonment known as Missamari.

Normally short of funds and yet wanting to give the best of everything to our troops, it was a normal practice…..yes, it was wrong…..followed by most units in that area, to go to the forest areas in the foothills and get firewood  for the battery langars (cook-houses) from the jungles, as we were invariably short of oil and gas for cooking.

There was a forest check-post manned by the Forest Rangers, specifically to prevent incidents like these, besides of course, the more serious ones of the rampant poaching of Ivory tusks happening in those days, since there were lots of elephants in that area.

Being a hard-core bachelor, I was staying in the Station Arty Mess - which was newly constructed and quite cut off from the rest of the Cantonment. It was the last built up structure en-route to the road that led to the foothills.

The practice was to send a Shakti-man (a big powerful army truck) at about 0300 hrs, with instructions to hit home by first light with the 'goodies'. This being a very ‘high risk mission’, the Senior JCO of the battery was generally given charge of this ‘mission’.

I was in ‘Q’ bty and my Senior JCO was a jaat from Mahendergarh, Sub Rajinder Singh – stocky, pot-bellied but a fit fellow. He was one of the most innocent, simple hard-working souls one could ever encounter…..actually un-corrupted by time.

Now, whenever, the ‘Q’ bty vehicle went for this ‘high risk mission’, invariably I would be woken up at 0430 hrs, to be told that my vehicle had been caught and I was to rush to the Forest check-post for damage control. Having cultivated the Forest Officer In-charge of that area….old Monk with some nice roast chicken, by our ‘spirited’ ;) waiter-cum cook Bishamber, always did the trick with most of these civilian officers in that area, I normally managed to extricate the vehicle, though, at times we had to unload the fire-wood and come back empty handed. Being such a sincere soul, I never had the heart to ever scold Sub Rajinder Singh for getting ‘caught’’ whenever, which as such was always, he went on these 'missions'.

In those days, it was a ritual for all regimental officers to meet up in the central tea room at the Regt HQ at 1100 hrs. It was, in fact, a wonderful ritual where we as youngsters, got to eat a wide variety of snacks served ceremoniously, since the CO also generally came in to brief all officers. The CO would normally leave early after his cuppa, followed by the 2 I/C who would hold centre stage briefly after the CO’s departure – he had to also throw his weight around no!!

Once the ‘biggies’ left, the atmosphere would generally become cooler in the tea-room and it was a good time to exchange notes between the officers, which also helped in inter-battery co-ordination. Seeing my sleep deprived eyes, I was asked by the ‘P’ bty BK, Capt Chauhan, what had happened since he had also heard the loud knocking on my door early morning….or was it mid-night ?!!! :)

I told him what had happened. ‘Strange’, says he, ‘cause even our vehicle had gone but came back in one piece, fully loaded’.

Back in my office, I inquired which JCO had accompanied the ‘P’ bty vehicle on this ‘mission’. I was told it was their Senior JCO, Sub Om Prakash. Om Prakash was a tall looping, seasoned and a very genial JCO, once again a jaat from Mahendergarh, who had this impish toothless grin forever pasted on his face – his front two teeth having ‘worn out’.

Curiosity having got the better of me. I summoned Sub Om Prakash to my office. Half an hour later, Sub Om Prakash hurried into my shared office. Salutes over, for a change a very serious, grim Om Prakash stood in front of me, not knowing the reasons for his summons.

Maintaining that serious look on my face, I asked him, ‘Saab, kal raat ko ‘P’ bty ki gaadi gayi aur ‘Q’ bty ki gaadi gayi lakdi laane. Aapki gaadi hamesha sahi salaamat langar mein aur hamari gaadi hamesha check-post pe pakdi jaati hai. Kya jaadu karte ho aap?’. (Saab last night my battery vehicle and your battery vehicle went to get firewood. Your vehicle always comes back in one piece whereas my battery vehicle always gets caught. What magic wand do you have?)

Om Prakash at once relaxed, impish grin back in place. “Sahib ji, 200 meter paella gaddi rokun. Runner ke haath botli ka dhakkan bhejun. Runner ja kae bollé, Saab gaddi mein, isska neeche ka hissa gaddi paar karne ke baad”. “Runner check-post se ishaara karé. Mein gaddi paar kar ke 100 metre aggé gaddi rokun. Botli ka neeché ka hissa check-post sentry ko aur gaddi bhagah ke siddé langar’. (Sir, 200 metres short of the check-post I stop my vehicle. I take out the cork of a Hercules xxx and send it to the check-post through my runner. Runner tells the sentry at the check-post, Saab is sitting in the vehicle. Here is the cork…..the lower part will be handed over once you permit the vehicle to cross the check-post. The runner signals the vehicle. We cross the check-post and I go and hand over the cork less Hercules xxx to the sentry and rush back to the battery cook-house).

The way he described it to me, I couldn’t control my guffaw. I looked at him through my laughter, signaling him to leave.

Just before he left, in passing he tells me, naughty look back in his old narrowed eyes and yes, a more pronounced toothless grin, “Sahib ji, je kaddi check-post pé sentry kadak baitha sé, toh do botli ke dhakkan bhejun. Pher susra chai bhi pilaavé.” (Sir, at times knowing that this sentry at the check-post is one of those strict kinds, I send two corks instead of one. Then this guy offers me tea also). :)

I burst out laughing even louder, as he was ushered out.

That evening during our games, I called my simpleton, Sub Rajinder Singh and gave this precious ‘rahasya’ (secret). I could see Rajinder Singh’s mind racing, enacting what he had to do on his next ‘high risk mission’.

Thankfully, or should I say thanks to Om Prakash, the rude ‘mid-night’ dreaded knocks…..as I would term them, on my door stopped for the rest of our tenure in Missamari. ‘Q’ bty Shakti-man never got caught again, barring a random incident when my simpleton, Sub Rajinder Singh tried to save some bty funds by sending a ‘single botli ka dhakkan’ when the sentry at the check-post was a ‘kadak’ and he should have sent ‘two dhakkans’.

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