‘It will make you tough, it will teach you to be a leader, you will learn to take decisions on your feet’, they said. My uncle also said that it will be easier to get into the defence forces and even get additional points if you wrote for the NDA. I had no such illusions when I joined, I owe it largely to Mr. N, our NCC Officer and maths teacher. It was like drafting for the army. He would send circulars to every section in the seventh standard just as one entered ‘high school’. The transition from shorts to khaki trousers, from the horizontally striped ties to the oblique stripes would just be setting in when he would go on the prowl. The only way out was if your parents came and asked for exemption or if you got a medical certificate stating that you cannot participate in strenous activities.
I had no excuse, I didn’t want to risk a lecture on the Navy from dad and mom had not the least concern for my recent step cut. So there I was a part of 10 Kar Battalion C, going to the NCC headquarters to pick up my kit. There were musty mounds of shirts, shorts, shoes, etc. and we had to quickly pick our stuff, ‘this is the NCC you have to be quick’, the Officer quipped. As soon as I reached home, I tried them on despite the smell. The shorts looked like a skirt and the shirt like a frock and the belt went around like a cummerband. There were others in the same quandry, so off a gaggle of us went to the ‘gujli’ market past Russel Market. This is is our version of the ‘chor bazaars in other cities. It was a pleasure shopping here, no hurry, no pressure and such a treasure trove. I can’t even begin to describe it. And there we found uniforms that fit better.
Saturday was our NCC day, we started at 8 am, marching in those shorts with the biting fingers of the cold air moving up the exposed parts. ‘Saaavdhan, bheeshram’ I still remember the jarring that went up from the sole of those hard leather shoes up the spine. I must have really looked funny in those voluminous shorts, S my tamilian mate called me, ‘dai, koli kaal’. They taught us how to pull apart and assemble ‘three jero three’ rifles and fire them. (I wont be surprised if the 303’s are still used by our soldiers, not for us the modernist AK’s that even the ultras use). We also went for a camp away from the city, where we truly understood the classical Indian euphemism, ‘answering nature’s call’.
And why am I writing about my NCC days? Well, I saw this TV ad recently where a tiny tot is tipped by an old lady for helping her, he takes it to his dad who is in a meeting. He hands it over and says, ‘my first salary’. Well I got a crispy green fiver as laundry allowance which was my ‘first salary’. And as true mallus we have to stick to tradition, so off I had to go to dad’s older brother (he was the accepted patriarch) and handed it over to him asking him to bless me and my first salary. What P, my neighbour, and I did later with that note was definitely not solemn. He was insistent that we derive as much entertainment out of this as possible. So we tied the note to a thread and cast it in front of my house while we hid by the window. We fooled several people as they stooped to pick up the unexpected bounty and pulled it away. We roared in laughter as they scrambled after the note.
I guess, I can be called irreverent, but it was fun.
