Confessions of an army daughter

Being the daughter of an army officer (father Gaeve is a brigadier, currently serving as commander faculty of transport management at the ASC Centre and College, Bangalore) I have had an enjoyable nomadic existence courtesy all the extensive traveling. The added bonus of getting up close and personal with diverse sections of society, their language, culture and cuisine has made the experience all the more enjoyable.

I have no recollection of my dad’s initial postings. But what I do remember is that for my first suntan experience Sri Ganga­nagar in Rajasthan was chosen. We used to live in a "Basha” which was a temporary dwelling with mud-splattered walls. Constant sandstorms ensured our flooring had its daily quota of sand on which I would merrily play. It was here that I received my first exposure to schooling. The attendance register consisted of precisely five names (mine included). The classroom was an open-air playground where we could breathe in fresh air, not confined within any walls.

The "school” wasn’t even a pathshala since no studies were undertaken. Mind you it was no playschool either. We had textbooks, which we never opened. Our only teacher encouraged us to observe how the sun changed its position, how the ants went about their daily busy routine (shaming us completely) and how the crows would come precisely at the time when we opened our tiffins. Come to think of it, it was the perfect school. We had no studies and all of us passed with flying colors thanks to our one and only devoted class teacher. She would always come late dressed in her Sunday best. One thing I surely learnt from her was how to carry a gaudy purse (bright pink, orange, magenta and green all in one). My teacher was well ahead of her times. Today these very colors are advocated by fashion gurus. Seeing all this my mother Nina was aghast.

Top: Dinshaw (second from left) with sister and cousins (below)

On the next posting, which was Bareilly in Uttar Pradesh I appeared for the entrance exam for admission to a girls convent. This exam was tough and I failed miserably. My mother was determined so she took me the next day and told the principal to give me another chance. My answer to his "what is 2x5?” was a confident "50.” You see I had never learnt any tables, courtesy my last school and said 50 because it sounded impressive. After being appraised about my last school the principal admitted me. At the end of the year I came third. Everyone was thrilled.

Our next halt was Wellington near Ooty in Tamil Nadu where I encountered my first major language barrier. When I was home alone a hefty looking man in army overalls rang the bell. "Meter checking,” he said or so I heard. I promptly led him to the back of the house and showed him the meter and told him to check it. He looked at the meter whilst giving me quizzical looks. It took me some time to understand that he was actually saying "Meat or chicken” and not "meter checking” as I had heard. He was the ration guy. In school my classmates would crack jokes in Tamil and what would I do? Grin like an idiot as if I understood every word of it. I have a feeling many times I was grinning at comments being passed about myself. Sign language came to my rescue when interacting with the locals.

From small towns, life took me to the metropolitan city of Delhi. The distances, culture shock and the fast life made me gape with wonder. The Loretto Convent here had Sanskrit as its compulsory subject complete with its shlokas, stories and translations. On the first day itself I had a test. I knew nothing and sat looking at everyone. A classmate actually felt sorry for me and told me one answer, which I spelt wrongly and hence got 0 on 10 in the test. This challenge of mastering Sanskrit drove me to get a distinction in my final exam. My education graph has included studying under the ICSE (Indian Certificate of Secondary Education), CBSE (Central Board of Secondary Education) and HSC (Higher Secondary Certificate) boards.

The reel movie Main Hoon Na where Shah Rukh Khan plays an army officer who goes back to college because he needs to find his brother and fulfill his father’s dying wish was one hit entertainer. But the reality of what happens when a defence officer goes back to college for his desired diploma/postgra­duation degree would make another story in itself. This happened in Delhi itself when my best friend came home to give us the news of her dad doing an extensive two-year course in her college itself. Preparations for D-day started well in advance. The colonel went and surveyed the college and its students. He got the necessary books from the library and studied every day.

One evening after his daily walk he returned home a physically changed man for he had dyed his hair and moustache jet black. As he sported it proudly my friend looked for places to hide. "My dad has completely lost it. At his age he wants to look like a 16-year-old. I am so embarrassed. His classmates will dub him Rajnikant after the South Indian movie star. When I first saw him I was shocked. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. And all this just because he wants to blend in,” she howled. Her mother meanwhile started going to the gym. She got paranoid that her husband would be the center of attention of all the PYT’s (pretty young things) out there. "They like a mature, sophisticated, army man,” she would say.

So while her husband looked 10 years younger, the lady of the house endeavored to get 10 kilos off her appearance. Caught between the two was my friend. When her friends came over they would remark how the colonel had camouflaged his grey streaks and was sporting a new wardrobe. His previous browns and greys were put into the storage cupboard and out came blue, green and maroon T-shirts. Father and daughter started going to college together while the wife would wave them off and then head for her workout. The delicious chana bhatura, rabri and pakodas I would get from their house also stopped. Instead I was treated to salads, buttermilk and khakras. "They are good for health and help to keep one in shape,” aunty would say. So how did this reality story end? Pretty well actually. The colonel adjusted quite well and made a lot of friends who dropped by often, much to the delight of my friend. She became known as the girl whose dad is in the army and is just too cool. And aunty, well having lost those kilos she looked younger and had a spring in her step as well.

The affinity that army families have for their pet dogs is a well-known fact. So Rambo, Prince and Shah Rukh would share the evening with Mallika, Queen and Jassi. Without baring flesh and making bold statements Mallika (without the Sherawat) was the hot favorite in Maj Sharma’s household. The lady of the house would bathe her, blow dry her hair and put pink clips and bows to go with her pink collar. The entire nation by now knows the serial Jassi jaisi koi nahin. We know another Jassi by the same name. She may not be the CEO at Gulmohur but the cute pomeranian is definitely the boss in Col Kakkar’s home. Her evening walks resulted in love at first sight with Dusty where the masculine bark floored the feminine woof. Their pups were the highlight of our colony and very much in demand.

And let me tell you about our dog show days briefly. Like parent teacher meetings on this day all other business is forgotten. The kadak (strict), uptight and disciplined officers and their families will cheer and encourage the favorite member of their household. The awards that he/she gets are prominently displayed in the living room next to the officer’s mementos.

When I look back at such instances, they bring a smile to my face. I also realize that it is such moments that give life its much needed excitement and spice. I could go on and on but there are places yet to visit, people still to befriend and hearts waiting to be won. So, till then…

A freelance writer based in Poona, Khursheed Dinshaw contributes on subjects like lifestyle, information technology, defence, property for The Times of India, Citadel, Femina, Society and Gurlz.