(NAMASKARAM) IDHAR UDHAR KI BAAT

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You also must have felt it sometimes, when you sort of float in the air. It is that type of elation of mind I felt yesterday while sitting in my Regimental Mandir with my eyes closed, listening to the Bhajan, 'Itni shakti hamein de tu data…….' Then the hawan for the Kumbabhishekam of the idols started.

I got further joy to see the Colonel of  the Regiment (a Sikh), my immediate senior in the unit, sitting on the hawan to perform the rituals. He along with his wife were dressed up in attire of the south called Mundu. In fact, this is the beauty of Regimentation. Your religion is what your troops follow. Some years ago, I saw a granthi(Sikh religious teacher) walking towards the Army Commander's office. I found that he is going to perform ardas (Sikh prayer) while the new Army Commander (a Hindu) takes over the command, because the new Army Commander is from Sikh Li Regiment. There are so many cases where the India soldiers go out of their way to perform rituals of the religion of other fellow soldiers. The Indian Army is great and the Regimentation makes it so. The Regimentation is the sum total of sacrifice, selfless service, brotherhood, commitment, leadership nurtured with blood & sweat, and imbibed by sharing tough times.


For me all the Regiments are excellent. But I feel it was a little extra privilege to join The Madras Regiment. Where the troops understand your instructions better and faster. Where they perform much better than your expectations. Where they take you to be demi-god the moment you prove your worth as an officer. Where you don't have to use expletives to convey your displeasure. 'Ennada' with a little raised voice is sufficient.   And seldom you go to the next level of calling out 'Maiyre'(pubic hair). 

More than two years post-retirement, I thought my regimental spirit would have faded during  all this time travelling in local buses or metros or e-rickshaws. Or the time I spent buying vegetables, or walking my dog, or having Gol Gappas on the stalls in public. But on coming back to the regimental center I felt the colour of my regimental spirit is fast and dark as ever.

At the wreath laying parade, I see an elderly veteran shaking a little and I fear that he may fall due to imbalance.  His respect for the martyrs and his regimental spirit  has made him stomp harder and swing his hand sharper for the salute than his body can handle.

Witnessing the sports climbing, PT display and martial art performances gives me another high. The performance of kalaripayattu on the beats of Chenda drums sends me on a trance. The food served on the banana leaves reminds me of so many  Pongals and Onams I enjoyed in the unit. The crunch of the aplam papad is soothing to the soul. 

By this time, I am full of nostalgia. I desperately want to tell someone of the times I spent in the Regiment.

In a gathering in the Officer's Mess, I gravitate towards a group of young bachelor officers. Barely had I started the conversation, that my wife moved by my side. As I started with the sentence, "When I was....". My wife with great stealth nudged my hand. My flight of gyanvarsha came to a screeching halt on the runway itself. I can see a sigh of relief on the faces of the youngsters. I can hear them saying in their minds, "Thank you Ma'am, for timely engaging the Brigadier’s  hand breaks. Ma’am certainly has great control over the old man." 

But I am amused by this and say in my mind, "Parwa illai Thambi (Don't worry brother), you are going to get married to much smarter girls of today. At my age, you will have to take permission from your wives to take off the tapes fixed on your lips by your wives."

"Namaskaram."

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