The Price of Loyalty - THE INTERROGATION !!!

`Chaudhary sahib, who is he? What's this thing sitting in front of us? Doesn't he know how to wish? Ohe! You son of a pig, who’re your? And how dare you look at us with your dirty eyes.......?'

Ì request you humbly gentlemen to restrain your tongues and stop using any abusive language. And don't expect me to wish you after what I have been made to undergo in the last twenty-four hours... I say, after all what's this? Why's this murderous torture being given to me?’ I, who had suffered the humiliation and torture with restraint, asked in a tantrum charged with wounded emotions.

It was 10 P.M. on the day of my arrest. I was blindfolded and shifted to the interrogation centre. Being used to discipline, I felt terribly ashamed to see a guard on me on my arrest. I never dreamt that I'd be under a guard, but I was. I had forcibly pressed the outburst of tearing emotions.

In the interrogation centre, I was led to a room which, after a while, I knew to be a cell: eight by eight feet in size with only one sealed ventilator and a thick door, lined with rubber padding around its outer edges; to make it sound-proof. It had a circular peep-hole, four and a half feet above the floor. Then a person in civilian clothes came and removed the blindfold for a little while. The man had removed my badges of rank, despite my strong protest and had handcuffed me at the back. The blindfold was replaced and I was left to brood alone.

The slanting rays of the fiercely burning sun, while moving away from its axis in August, are like burning sticks in Central and in the northern part of India, at this time Delhi is generally at the pitch of a humid heat. It was during this time I was thrown into that enclosed cell, which was devoid of any passage for air. Hence, within minutes in the cell, I felt as if I was put into a burning pot and would surely die of suffocation. I felt thirsty; but no water was given to me. I shouted and asked for water, but none came to give me any. I found myself wasting my energy to no avail, and in exasperation I sat down. No sooner did I do that, I felt a strong tug at my shoulder and was instantly lifted up on my feet. I was repeated whenever I tried to sit.

I was forced to stand throughout the night and day, till confronted with two civilians, the next night. During this period I had sweated profusely due to heat of the cell. No water was given to me, except half a glass of salty water. I had gulped that with the avidity of a dog; only to feel thirstier. Though I was offered breakfast and lunch, I could not take anything under those humiliating circumstances. My whole body pained miserably due to sleeplessness and exhaustion; my whole energy consumed by excessive fatigue, had resulted in my fainting thrice. I was not allowed to remove my shoes and, as a result of standing for nearly twenty-four hours, the flesh of my feet had started showing over the shoes, due to swelling. I was fuming in anger over the indignities I was subjected to.

For some time, both gentlemen who had posed themselves as police officers from the Int Bureau found themselves at a loss for words. One of them, who later gave his name as Kanwar Shamsher Singh (KSS), got up, approached me and, asked me to get up and slapped me continuously across my face with force and said, `look you son of a pig, it is high time you started behaving, otherwise we know how to make people like you behave.'

Ì think you're very brave? Is it? Hitting a helpless person who can't even react: You sons of bravadoes just open my handcuffs and I'll send both of you to where you murderers should go to,' I was mad with anger. Saying that, I hurled the table with the force of my shoulder on to them. But they evaded the fall of the table with the dexterity of a monkey.

`Chotte Sahib! Chotte Sahib!!' KSS shouted at the top of his voice, and when the person called entered the room, he added, `Take this bastard to the hot room and squeeze out the last drop of blood before you bring him to us next time.'

I was blindfolded and this time led to a different cell called the `hot-room', which was similar in shape and size to the other one, except that it had a thousand watts bulb with red glass covering. That produced extra heat.

In the cell, I thought, `How dare these pernicious fellows manhandle me? Is that called a fucking' interrogation?... Alright let this be over. I'll teach them a lesson.' But how mistaken I was, unaware of the future atrocities which were hovering over me.

I was again made to stand in the same position, but with the addition of beating. Beating in the forms of kicks and slaps. Food was forced through my mouth. I was given water to drink. By the time I was led to the same pair the next night; I was drained out properly as per the directions, though I still tried to recoup the last bit of my energy.

Are you alright? Oh lover of your mother?' KSS enquired wickedly.

`Please I request you again not to abuse....'

`Shut up, you son of a bitch,' retorted KSS and hurled the filthiest abuses at me.

I found myself in a most bewildering position. The only thing which I could do was to abuse the unknown person responsible for my introduction to these scavengers called interrogators. And that I did.

Ì think you're okay now. Aren't you?' Asked KSS.

`Gentlemen.....'

`Say sirs, you bastard, not gentlemen.' Resorted KSS.

Àlright, sirs. I will call you s-a-a-r-s, if that makes you happy. And sirs, I'm okay so far, you murderous sirs. For the last two nights and two days I've not been allowed to sit down, let alone sleep..... Now, would you killers let me, know before I die, as to what I have done to deserve this treatment,' I said in a fit of anger.

`Chaudhary sahib looks at this Dracula! He's asking us!' said KSS and then looking at me continued Ohe! You son of a bitch, you tell us why have you come here?'

Ì think in spite of my humble requests to spare my parents, you're deliberately abusing and giving me the impression that you've no regards for your own mother who brought you to this world and your father who is responsible for your birth.... And listen, I know nothing as to what for I've been brought here. It's not me, who's come, but I've been brought; I thought for some sort of clarification in a proper way. And not definitely for getting mauled, the way I'm being. Do you, sirs, understand that?’ I concluded with a mouth twitching, due to anger.

Hearing me say that, KSS got up, took out his chappal and started beating me mercilessly with that, saying, Ì thought you'd come on the track.'

Àlright. Beat me as much you like, even to death, you bastard. That is what you intend doing to me.' I shouted at the top of my voice, mustering all my depleted strength.

At that, the second interrogator, referred to as Chaudhary, intervened. `Please KSS sahib leave him,' he said while pulling KSS back to the chair.

Chaudhary then turned to me and implored, `Bloody man why do you want to get killed? KSS is a man without mercy. If you keep on behaving like this, he'll kill you.' and then he asked me to sit down on a chair.

`KSS Sahib doesn’t be harsh. After all he is a man,' said Chaudhary and shouted fir Chotte Sahib, on whose arrival he asked them to remove one handcuff.

I felt terrible cramps in my arms. I moved my paining arms up and down for free circulation of blood. I felt great relief from the exhaustion caused due to continuous standing for forty-eight hours and enduring the intermittent beating.

`Look Rathaur, you know why you've been brought here.... You must have done something to warrant your arrest, for which you're here. Isn't that so? Otherwise, why has anybody else not been sent here?' Chaudhary asked sympathetically.

`Yes, sir. I know this much that I've been sent here for interrogation. But why and what interrogation, I don't know; unless you ask me how can I tell you the thing which you want.....'

`Bastard, it is you who is going to tell,' interrupted KSS

`Well, I thought you were interrogating me! So unless you don't ask me questions, how can I clarify my position....?’

`There's no question of clarifying: Your position is already clear to us. So you'd better start speaking.'

`That means you've already proved my case without even asking a single question! A case about which I don't even have the slightest idea. Eh?’ I replied contemptuously.

`Don't try to show us your knowledge. We're fully aware about you. It's you who will speak, and not we. Is that clear to you? Now tell us', retorted KSS.

In that case, I have nothing to tell you.'

`Please KSS sahib! Why are you annoying him?' Han. So we were talking about the causes which led to your arrest. I mean you've been arrested for spying: why?'

`Spying? Well sir, I have no knowledge about the cause. However I can only make a guess. Since I have operated sources while in the Intelligence, so it must be connected with one of them.'

`Do you know who your sources were?'

`Yes. I do remember some of them, Ì replied. Then I explained in detail about the particulars of my sources as per my memory adding, `but I'm unable to pinpoint who could have been a double agent.' Then seeking further information I said, unless you tell me about the whole matter, I'm not in a position to tell you anything.' I pleaded to show me the cause of my detention.

And, apart from your sources, do you suspect anyone?' Asked Chaudhary.

`No. I don't'

Thereafter, the interrogators subjected me to a cascade of questions. Questions such as : what is a captain-who is a source and why was I operating a source - who'd given me the authority; how can a General give me the authority to break international law - what was the name of the General, so on and so forth. The questions apparently, were irrelevant and stupid, serving no purpose. However, I replied to every question while keeping my balance of mind.

KSS demanded that I speak loudly, posing as deaf and that he couldn't hear. It was not difficult for me to guess the meaning of speaking loudly. My answers were being taped. But I didn't attach any importance to the jugglery played by the interrogators, as I'd nothing but the truth to tell. The questioning about finished and I was asked to narrate my life history. Include your ancestors,' commanded KSS.

After I had given a portion of it, they stopped further interrogation. I was sent back to the cell - this time to the original cell. I made a request for allowing me to sleep and to change my clothes after a bath. I had started stinking. The request was very harshly turned down. However, I was allowed to remove my shoes, since my feet were badly swollen.

In the cell I requested one of the staff personnel called `Chotte sahib' to remove, if not both, at least one handcuff as tying hands at the back had resulted in cramps and wound injuries to the wrists due to instinctive tugs to get some relief;? He removed the blindfold but not the handcuffs.

I was made to stand. It was now the third night without any rest. I felt completely tired and drained. I started questioning God. Why was I suffering this punishment? What had I done to deserve this treatment? And I implored him to save me from those brutes.

At that time, the Chotte sahib entered the cell and asked me, `Why’ve you not coming out with the truth? Unless you come out with the true facts, you will be tortured continuously,' then, looking away from me, added, `here we know how to bring out the truth.' He further informed that I was arrested with proofs in the forms of documentary evidence and photographs.

`Well, if you've so many proofs against me, then why the hell can't I be brought to trial, instead of being killed? And I wonder, what shit you is talking! Documentary proofs and photographs. Eh? I know I've done nothing illegal and there is no question of any fucking'evidence against me,' I replied, choked with anger.

The Chotte sahib, an aged person with white scraggly hair, round but sympathetic face, having heard my outburst and seeing my plight sympathized with me. He advised me to stick to the truth whatever that was; not to worry and remember God. Then he asked for a chair and allowed me to sit down, warning me at the same time not to sleep. The Chotte Sahib allowed me to sit on the chair against orders, which were to the extent of not to allow even bending and to shout numbers, starting from ten thousand, in a reverse order, till I had counted one and to repeat the process. But Chotte Sahib game me the option to recite religious hymns, or any story, instead of counting numbers.

I felt relieved and a bit encouraged at the soft behavior of the Chotte Sahib. I started reciting "Gayatri Mantra" the only hymn I remembered. But while reciting, I forgot that also and instead started narrating parts of "Ramayana". But I couldn't do that also and, because of the tremendous pressure of fatigue, fell asleep, only to find myself up again on my feet.

Despite my best efforts, I could not hold on to myself and slumped on to the ground; unconscious.

The Chotte Sahib took pity on my miserable condition. He opened the door of the cell, untied one handcuff and let me lie as I lay unconscious, while feeling the pulse for any sign of life in me. And of course there I was still alive.

I remained in that position for about two hours, till the Chotte Sahib woke me up and game me a glass of water, then asked me to stand up. He explained. I’m sorry to wake you up but I can't help that. My duty is about to be over.'

I’m grateful to you for the compassion shown to me,' I expressed my gratitude and added, `but sahib I'm feeling very weak.... If you cam, then kindly give me some tea..... so that I'm able to face the ordeal for some more time.

Chotte Sahib obliged.

After tea, I felt a bit better but not for long; I found myself hallucinating. I started seeing figures of men moving in and out of the cell and passing clear through the walls, with moving pictures and the pictures staring at me. Thereafter, I forget everything and found myself in a strange world. I remained in this state, except at times when I was beaten up mercilessly. I was broken - physically and mentally. Yet I continued the struggle hopelessly.

The beginning of torture is always the worst. Thereafter, it becomes a parabola of agony: a crescendo leading up to a peak and then the nerves are blunted and react progressively less. My spirit held out till the long free wheel - down to the final blackout, culminating in a wonderful period of warmth and languor, where pain turned to pleasure and where hatred and fear of the torturers turned to a masochistic infatuation.

It was the fourth day when I was allowed to creep back into the limits of this strange world, into reality, and asked to narrate once again the story of my life.

February 5, 1945. I was born to Shri Jai Singh at Rakkar a village in district Kangra of Himachal Pradesh. My father, a devout follower of Gandhi ji, had taken part in the freedom struggle and several times had exerted his influence to benefit the scheduled caste people of his area. Therefore, he was well-respected, liked and had a good reputation. My father was 44 years old when I was born and, under the guidance and influence of this main, I grew up. I passed my matric and entered the college in 1961. In the wake of the emergency, precipitated by the Chinese invasion of North India, I dropped my studies to join the army without consulting or informing my parents. I did this through sheer enthusiasm and instinctive love for this profession. After serving and fighting the war against Pakistan in the Dogra Regiment in 1965, I applied for a Commission and was selected to undergo training in the Army Cadet College, the following year.

 

After the Army Cadet College, I joined the Indian Military Academy and was commissioned into the Garhwal Rifles in December 1969.

Having put in four years service in my parent unit, I was posted on ERE with one of the Intelligence Companies. While serving with that Company, I had acquitted myself well and earned a number of appreciation letters from the senior army commanders, for acquiring information from across the border. After having served as an Intelligence Officer for over two years. I was posted back to my parent unit. There I was promoted to the rank of Major.

I served as Adjutant till June 1978. Since I wanted to appear for the Defense Services Staff College exam in November that year, I had requested and was allowed to relinquish the appointment. I also had to relinquish my rank for want of vacancies.

And, as described above, I was sent on temporary duty to the AHQs, where I was placed under close arrest on 24th August. I also apprised the interrogators of my prior suspicions of the real reasons why I had been brought to Delhi, which apparently went against me. For the interrogators probably thought, how that was possible, unless what they believed about me was correct; ignoring my explanation of the facts that had led me to my conclusions.

No explanation was, however, enough to satisfy the biased minds of immature interrogators. They appeared too sure of my involvement. Otherwise, there was no reason to subject an officer to such inhuman torture.

But how I to know what was was against me, who was the person instrumental in incriminating me and the manner in which I was implicated. I was in complete dark about the situation. The only thing I knew about was my innocence. That I had tried to establish but it was not acceptable to the interrogators. They continued their questioning and asked me to explain in detail about my stay, work, my friends and other associates while I served in Samba.

The Price of Loyalty - CLOSE ARREST !!!

While walking in the gallery, I read a name plate `Lieut Col B S BHANDARI, VSM', hung outside an office. I recollected that I had known the officer at Jammu. I thought and went in the office to meet Colonel Bhandare, who recognized me and showed his happiness at meeting me after an interval of more than two years. I had decided to meet and spend the evening with my friend, so I was in a hurry. But the Colonel would not let me go without tea. We talked about the happy days spent in close association and the occasions; I was instrumental in sorting out the squabbles between Colonel Bhandare and Colonel Grewal over their common sources. Both the Colonels knew me and my work of acquiring information. I thought to apprise Bhandare of my suspicion but decided against it. He may not know. It would be very disconcerting for him, I thought and took leave.

I returned to the Area Mess. After lunch I informed the Mess Havaldar about my dining out, came to the room, changed my dress and went to the bus stop.

During one of my visits to AHQs, I had met Major Jang from Intelligence. He had been a GSO 2 (Ops) in the formation when I was Int Officer. From Kang, I had known that major Midha, Officer Commanding 527 Int and Field Security Company, of which had been a member once, was posted to the Red Fort, as security officer.

While waiting at the bus stop, I thought of paying a courtesy call to major Midha. I took a bus and reached the Red Fort.

I remembered the area where I had spent about a year with my unit. I was a sepoy back in 1964, when my unit was stationed in the Red Fort. I did not find it difficult to orient myself to the surroundings, despite some major developments in the form of wide roads and some additional constructions that had since taken place.

After getting down from the bus, I walked inside the fort, near the portal which provided a guarded entry to the famous "Dewan Khas" and the Moti Masjid, the latter, built by Aurangzeb the last great Emperor of the Muslim dynasty, famous for his cruelties to other sects of religion. I asked a sentry and finding that he did not know my security officer by the name of Major Midha, walked to the Officers' Mess of the unit stationed in the Red Fort - a unit from the Kumaon Regiment. There just by a stroke of luck, I changed to look at the name plate hung outside the house in the alley, next to the Mess. I was relieved to discover that it was the house I was looking for. I pressed the buzzer and was very happy to find Havaldar Ram Sarup, once my subordinate, opening the door. Hearing us chat excitedly, Major Midha also came over, and seeing me, he happily led me to the drawing room; having enquired about the whereabouts of our pals I confidentially expressed my doubts to Major Midha. I asked him whether it was correct for me to go to the DDMI, if the next day also there was any dilly dallying. Major Midha expressed his amazement, saying it would be ridiculous if my suspicions turned out to be correct. How could aspersion be cast upon someone like me who had such a good record of acquiring highly valuable information, simply because a source I had operated had turned out to be a double agent? He advised me to speak to the DDMI or even the DMI.

I taught here about one sepoy Ajit Singh a former member of my Company, who had been convicted and sentenced to 14 years rigorous imprisonment for espionage. Could it be Ajit? He was apprehended in 1976! If it were him, I would have been called much before.

Havaldar Ram Sarup, who had come to take some orders from Major Midha, would not let me go without tea, a small token of his gratitude for my kindness to him and his colleagues when they had served under me. I had commanded respect by looking after the welfare of my men and boosted up the work standards through my incessant efforts and organizational capabilities. I found it difficult to turn down the ardent wish to the NCO. So I went to take tea with the Havaldar, in the other ranks' lines.

During the talk with Ram Sarup, I found out that he was in the last year of his service. Thereafter, Ram Sarup would retire: oblivious of the impending disaster that would force him to retire not only from the army but from life itself. He appeared very contented with his posting at Delhi as his village was very near which made it possible for him to visit his aged parents and family on weekends to straighten up any domestic problems, while still in service.

I had to visit my old friends and for that I was getting late. So, I left the place, came out of the fort and took an auto-rickshaw. I shook hands with Ram Sarup who'd come to see me off - thanked him for his hospitality and expressed my gratitude once again for the unfaltering loyalty he and the men of the platoon had offered way back in Samba.

On the way, I wondered if anyone would recognize me after ten years. Ten years, I thought was big gap to reckon with. Great upheavals had since taken place, not only in socio-economic and physical appearance of the surroundings but also in the moods of people. How would my friend react? Would he recognize me? I thought. Even, I may find it difficult to recognize him. After all when we last parted, he was merely a lad of seventeen years. Now he must be a fully grown up person, married, and might even have a couple of kids.' But I dismissed any such apprehensions, saying, `Let me see it for myself.'

I got down at the Sabzimandi bus stop. It was s Sabzimandi only till such time the market had not been shifted during the days of the emergency. Now it was a place, I found completely changed - beautifully decorated, lit with moon light even while there was day-light. Looking at the changed picture of the area, I found it difficult to orient myself. I became uncertain of finding the house, as I did not know the address. Not knowing the address was the reason I could never write to Pasha, my friend, even though I wanted to. For some time I felt lost. `Whom should I ask, and for what, when I don't even know the name of the locality?' I questioned myself. Finally I thought to try and I was successful.

I pressed the buzzer on reaching the hose and was relieved to find that Pasha's mother, who opened the door, did recognize me. `Beera! You!!... We thought you've got lost, and will not come to meet us.'

I replied jokingly, `Well, I've a habit of surprising people by appearing out of the blue,' and enquired how everything and everyone was. `Where is the other?' I asked, seeing her alone at home.

She asked me to first relax and went into the kitchen. She brought a plateful of assorted sweets with a glass of milk and affectionately pressed me to take them.

She briefly described everything that had happened since my last visit. Pasha was married and had two daughters; now he was living separately and Papu, the younger brother of Pasha had passed B.Sc the same year. Papu was undecided whether to study further or to take up some job. And, as a rule, she left no stone unturned, criticizing, blasphemously attributing every small piece of bitterness to her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Pasha, while herself steering expertly clear from any behavioral defects. Then, breaking into tears, she said `but who is here to listen to my woes, when my own son has deserted me in collaboration with yesterday's damsel. He's disowned us; his parents! I'm very old now, as you see, a chronic patient of arthritis. `Tears now succeeded her sobs. She finally rounded up the criticism by giving it a touch of finality with an intense shower of curses. Then, she abruptly reversed the entire scene. Curbing her tears and smiling, she asked, `You tell me about yourself. How have you been all these years?'

I suddenly woke up from the trance to which I had been reduced while listening to the story. It was indeed a poignant sight; still I found it difficult to believe that the girl could alone be blameworthy. A single hand can't produce a clap. I marveled over the established custom of mud-slinging between "sas" and "bahu" I held her also guilty. But, outwardly I fibbed all my sympathies with her, and then told her about myself.

Thereafter, I went and met my friend Pasha at his new house and engaged in unending talk. I had my dinner there. It was 11 P.M.

I got leave from the couple only once I'd promised to meet them the following day. The place for meeting was fixed by Pasha.

We were to see a picture, have dinner in a restaurant and go to the Birla Temple. It was "Janam-ashtmi" the following night.

The next day, I got ready, had my breakfast and waited for my transport. It was 10 A.M. and the vehicle had not arrived. Since the club secretary wouldn't allow the use of his telephone, I borrowed the Mess Havaldar cycle and paddled to the Area Hqs Officers. I requested the GSO 2 to make arrangements for the transport as the one detailed for me had not reported. After having made sure, I cycled back to the Mess and again waited. One hour passed. Yet there was no vehicle, so I again went to the Area Hqs and complained about the transport and about the delay, this time to the GSO 3. The GSO 2 was absent from duty.

I remembered the two young officers complaining to Major Tandon. It was being repeated on me. I was very annoyed to see the way things moved in both the Hqs. In frenzy, I spoke aloud, and these people think themselves hell of smart. But in fact they are stupid and fool.'

Somehow I managed to reach the Army Hqs, but by then the time was 12:30 P.M. I explained about the delay when I was asked by Colonel Jain. Then, I was asked to go to Major Uppal's office and wait. The cards were ready, I was informed!

No sooner than I entered the office, I was called back. Jain informed me that there was a telephonic message for me from my CO and that the message was received by the Commandant, Raj Rif Centre. Colonel Jain asked me to go and receive the message there.

`Why my CO should say a message to the Raj Rif Centre and what was the emergency for such a message. Couldn't the message have been sent to you, if at all there was one?' I shot back.

`Well, I don't know that,' replied Jain.

`Why? Can't I receive that message here on the telephone, instead of going there and again coming back?', comprehending that the curtain was being lifted from the stage to enact a scene which had so far been rehearsed, I enquired.

Colonel Jain was hard-pressed to extend a satisfactory reply. Seeing him in that embarrassing situation, I came to his deliverance. I offered to go and receive the message, the contents of which I knew already!

When I was just about to leave, Major Uppal entered the room and requested Colonel Jain to allow him to go and see his ailing son in the hospital.

`But how will you go?' Colonel Jain enquired from Uppal, and then turning to me said, Ì believe you've got some transport?'

`Yes,' I replied briefly.

`Then, could you give a lift to Major Uppal till the hospital?'

`He's most welcome.'

I fully understood the drama that was being played. `Major Uppal is to guard me lest I run away before reaching the centre, where they will probably end up interrogating me,' I mused.

As was expected, Major Uppal never got down anywhere en route. On arrival, I went to the Adjutant's office and asked about the message. The Adjutant drew a blank.

`Kindly find out from the Commandant.' I asked him.

The Adjutant first talked to the Commandant on the intercom, and then went himself.

It was 2 P.M. I felt as if a gloom had descended over everybody's face. Seeing that, I also became tense with the thought that those people must be viewing me with suspicion.

Nothing about the message was told to me. I was led to the Officers' Mess by another officer, named Captain Sansar Chand and, after lunch, I found the Adjutant with the message.

I’m very sorry to have been called upon to perform this dirty job - but I can't help it. You're placed under close arrest,' the Adjutant declared.

`By whom and for which offence?' I enquired.

`By the Commandant, and I don't know for what offence,' the Adjutant replied.

`Well look, I suppose it is incumbent on the part of the Adjutant or the Commandant, to assign the reasons and show me the offence for which I'm being arrested.' I demanded my rights. But the Adjutant could tell me nothing and nothing was given to me in writing either.

My luggage had already been shifted from the Area Mess. I changed the dress and, smiling, lay on the bed ruminating over the entire drama from the star.

The Price of Loyalty - THE ARMY HQ !!!

10 O’clock the following morning, we arrived at the AHQs and handed over the documents in one of the offices, as indicated in the Move Order. But we were shuttled from one office to another and from one block to the next till we finally reached the required office in Sena Bhawan.

It was surprising to see the mesh of indiscipline at a place from where control over the entire army is exercised. No one cared for anyone, irrespective of rank. Everyone, barring a few, looked busy in himself. In some offices, the officers and the clerks were alike busy reading novels or writing personal letters, behind the piles of files lying on their tables. Some of them felt hurt by even indicating or giving directions to a stranger who, because of ignorance about the place, felt completely lost in the vastness of the huge set-up. It looked as if there was no concern by anyone for anyone. No fear of admonition, utter disregard for any check and control, if there was any and lack of manners necessary in human beings.

I think these people are used to working in an emergency only,’ remarked Major Tandon while looking at the PA of Colonel Grewal. On our arrival, since the boss was not free, we were asked to wait. And, we had been waiting for the last twenty minutes. Seeing no scope still, for the intended permission, Major Tandon asked the PA to checkup.

The PA was busy reading some Hindi novel, probably Gulshan Nanda. He felt irritated at this unwanted interruption and with a contorted face pressed the intercom into service. Then replacing it, he told us to go in with a wave of his hand and picked up the story from where he had just left off.

Major Tandon asked me to wait outside while he himself went in. He introduced himself of Colonel Grewal and apprised him of our duties. Tandon also expressed the doubts that I had and sought clarification.

Grewal looked quite disturbed by these and explained, `your doubts are completely unfounded.’ He took from a pocket his laminated identity card and showing it to Major Tandon said, `This is a new type of card; haven’t you seen them before? You’ll be collecting these for the whole formation. `Then, he continued absurdly,’ but the cards are not ready as yet. I hope we shall have them ready by tomorrow or the day after the day after.’ He asked Major Tandon to come the next day. However, major Tandon sought further clarification about his duty. I.e. Chinese Interrogation. Colonel Grewal passed it off as mistake by the unit. The Army Hqs had asked the unit for two officers to collect and carry the cards of the formation, as it meant a job of great responsibility. Colonel Grewal happily gave permission to Major Tandon for staying with his parents, and assured further that by all means the cards would be handed over by Tuesday. But in case there was any delay, he would let Major Tandon go back. Major Tandon was supposed to be at Mhow by 26 August, for his `Senior command Course’.

In that case, `the Colonel replied, `we would make some alternative arrangements to provide an officer or a JCO to accompany Rathaur back to Kamp tee.’

After this assurance, Tandon happily left the office and came back to me.

`Let us go,’ he said, `we have to come tomorrow. The cards are not ready.’

`But why you? You’ve not come for the cards, your duty is different,’ I asked.

`No, that was a mistake. I’ll explain to you later.’

In that case, could I talk to Colonel Grewal? I know him.’

`No, I think you could do it tomorrow. I’ve to meet a friend of mine, Major Vasudeva of my former battalion.’

As we walked, Major Tandon explained everything they had transpired between him and Colonel Grewal. He apprised me about the permission to stay with his parents, and said, Ì told you? Your suspicious were wrong,’ and smiled exultantly. I kept pondering over the talk between Major Tandon and the Colonel.

Later we met Major Vasudeva and I was surprised to see it was the Vasudeva whom I had known well at Samba.

`How come you’re wearing our `Royal Rassi’ (Lanyard)? I thought you were with the Gurkhas?’ I enquired.

I took fancy to your regiment, ‘he replied cheerfully in his nasal accent. Major Vasu was always a vivacious officer with very charming manners: anyone meeting him for the first time would fall for his liveliness, which probably proved dangerous to many of the opposite sex and was a constant threat to his medico wife who herself was a Major in the Army Medical Corps, and a source of envy for many of his colleagues. Major Tandon asked how we knew each other. Vasu recounted our sweet association at Samba.

Vasu wanted to offer us a cup of tea but, despite his efforts, he failed to get it.

`Sorry, actually tea is served at a particular time;’ Vasu said, resignedly and added, and now it is lunch time.’

`Yes! Yes!! I know your lunch time starts the time when you enter the office, till you leave! I said mockingly and added,

`By the way I saw, wherever we have gone since morning, the same sad state. Now here also you’ve asked four different peons for tea but not one came back, let alone bringing any tea. I would be going back from here with the impression of "Free for All". Do people, tell me. come here for marking time? How do you survive here in this suffocating atmosphere?’, I asked sarcastically.

`My dear, who would call it Army Hqs, if such things don’t exist!... One must conform to the environment in order to survive.’ Perfect as Vasu was in twisting things, he smilingly changed the topic. He invited us to his residence for the evening. Nothing the address, we parted to meet later.

After dropping, Major Tandon at his home, I went back to the Area Mess. I took my lunch, changed into civvies, caught a local bus and came back to Major Tandon. Earlier, we had made a programme to see a movie. So we went to Chanakya and saw the picture, an English movie ; a story of a British Royal Fighter Squadron, commanded by an able Wing commander, during the second world war. Having lost all his ace pilots, the Wing Commander had to struggle and carried on with teenagers, some of whom had as little as 14 hours flying experience. The crux of story: It revealed the spirit of a nation which never gave in and ultimately, through perseverance, came out victorious. Quite inspiring.

After the movie we returned home. I reminded Major Tandon about the invitation, but he said he wouldn’t be able to go. `Kindly apologize on my behalf of Vasu, for not turning up;’ requested Tandon.

I took a taxi and reached the officers Mess at Dhaula Kuan. There, I enquired about Major Vasudeva residence and proceeded to a nearby multi-storey building. Vasu lived on the 5th floor.

Upon reaching the building, I found a lift near the entrance, which was unattended. Entering it, I realized that I didn’t know how to work it. In fact, I had seen an elevator, for the first time in my life that day at the Sena Bhawan; There I didn’t have to worry because other people, familiar with its operation, were using it. But now I was alone. So, for some time I stood in the lift perplexed, trying to decide whether it would be wise to climb the stairs or take a chance by pressing a button. Finally I decided to take a chance. I read the few instructions written on the front panel with lots of push-buttons and lights. Which one to press? All right, I need to go to the 5th floor. I should, therefore, press a button numbered 5.’ I looked around to see if there were some other switches to make the lift operative before pressing number 5, but found none, except two other black switches with the PU and PC markings. I pressed one of the two and was thrilled and surprised to see the door closing. I quickly pressed number 5 with an air of efficiency, and the lift moved. After some time I felt a slow jerk and the lift bounced to a stop. Thrilled at this unexpected success I stepped out. In the gallery I read the room numbers and was surprised to find myself in a different place. I was on the 7th floor. I wondered how I landed up there. It was because I had, in the confusion, pressed a wrong button. I took another try - pressed a button affixed to the wall.... This time, I was on the target, and I muttered that it was so easy. However, it, took a little time to find the room where the Major was waiting for us.

`Where’s Tandon?’, he enquired. I apologized for his inability to come. Vasu explained the setup of the buildings in general and gave a detailed account of the history of each of the items displayed in the room. During our conversation I learnt that Vasu had promised to visit one of his friends that evening but had cancelled the arrangements when he had invited Tandon and me to his flat. Realizing that the visit had been cancelled because of us, I insisted that Vasu should either inform his friend or he should go.

I wouldn’t like to spoil your visit.’ I said.

`Don’t be silly, your visit is more dear to me than the other,’ Vasu replied and laughingly he added, I could have informed about the cancellation of my visit, but I forgot to do so from the office. Here I don’t have a telephone, I mean the apparatus is here but it is not connected.’

`Well, it’s not a question of comparison,’ I said, `but one of principle. I would not like anyone to do such a thing to me’, I persisted that Vasudeva should inform his friend. `You have the apparatus; show me any telephone line around here, if there is one.’ Qualified in signals, I now had a proper opportunity to test my knowledge. Vasu showed me a line in the gallery. I asked for two pins which I inserted into the wires through the plastic insulation; connected each end of the cord to the pins - the telephone was functional. I asked Vasu to ring up the desired number while I held the ends close to pins with my hands. With a little effort Vasu got the number, spoke to his friend and jokingly told him how he was speaking. Ì can’t give you my number, yet I can talk to you anytime,’ he said and apologized for breaking the promise. Then, disconnecting the phone, he turned to me and said, `You’re great. Thanks for the discovery. I’ve found a way out for an emergency.

The entire officers’ enclave was deserted.

`You know it’s Delhi? in the evening, one doesn’t find anyone here, unless one is sick in bed. Whoever comes here becomes a professional hunter. Now also the people are out hunting,’ he looked quizzically at me, giving a meaningful smile and added, `let’s also leave this haunted place.’

We came to the Mess. Vasu led me to the bar which was air-conditioned. In the sultry and humid climate outside, it felt very pleasant. Laid out with a wall-to-wall, thick and aristocratically designed carpet; thickly padded sponge rubber cushions, crescent shaped sofas, closed off by a bar which was covered by natural wood sun mica. The waiters wore white uniforms with red cummerbunds buckled by the brass insignia of Army Hqs, and peacock turbans. They moved briskly to and fro serving the members and their charming companions. The dim light gave the whole scene an air of mystic magnificence. Entering the bar, I gave the surroundings a cursory glance and, for a moment, felt a pang of nervousness at the unfamiliar surroundings. `Superb!’ I muttered, but aptly suppressed the feeling of awe which gripped me, almost knocking me over. I told myself with mixed feelings, `So, after nine years of service, I’ve discovered today what it is to be an army officer. I should consider myself one of those few lucky ones to taste this life, even though it’s for only a few hours, there are many who never see civilization - never know it. What they know, all through their service, are the snow-covered peaks, thick jungles of Naga hills and the like, the desert of Rajasthan, of course seeing various kinds of insects and reptiles which abound in nature....’ I would’ve continued this exploration further, if Vasu had not checked me.

`What would you prefer? And don’t ask for any such thing which, I am unable to procure - I mean no softs.’ Vasu asked.

It wasn’t that there were no soft’s drinks at the bar, rather a way to indicate that wouldn’t get soft’s. Getting his meaning, I said, In that case, I wouldn’t mind a glass of beer.’

We enjoyed the drinks at the bar for an hour, and then went to the dining hall. It was an extremely big and spacious hall, humming with numerous officers coming in and going out, stopping here and talking there, chatting to each other and some laughing at a crude joke. It buzzed as if one had entered a busy fish market, presenting a contrast to the snug and cool cozy bar.

After the dinner, Major Vasudeva dropped me at in the Area Mess. Here was another comparison; the Area Mess looked like a home for destitute in comparison to the Dhaula Kuan Officers Mess.

The following morning I got up early, packed my scarce belongings, paid the Mess dues and waited for the jeep. The jeep came and I drove to Major Tandon’s house, as directed the previous day, Major Tandon was waiting.

In the AHQs we found the cards were not ready. So Major Tandon collected his Move Order, back for the unit. I was to be provided with another officer or a JCO as an escort, to carry the documents. We left the AHQs. Tandon was dropped at his residence. I collected my suitcase and reported back to the Area Mess. I had left a message for my wife with Major Tandon that I would return in two days ‘time, unaware that fate was hovering over me like a dreaded dark cloud and would descend before that time was up.

Finding myself alone, I become said. So I decided to visit my sister. After a hurried lunch, I boarded a local bus and reached my sister’s home. Despite her insistence that I stay, after dinner I returned to the Area Mess. Back in the room, I changed and lay supine on the bed thinking about the whole affair in retrospect. I analyzed the conversation between Colonel Grewal and Major Tandon.

At first instance how can such a big mistake take place - between Chinese interrogation and collection of identity cards? Looks absurd. Then why should a colonel take out his own card and show it to a major; saying. "This type"!! After all hadn’t Major Tandon seen his own card at the time of filling in details and signing it? Except of course the sealed covering.... And then, even assuming it was a mistake, why call two officers in the first place and then send one of them back and why the people in the AHQs should turn so generous all of a sudden in providing a second escort? And if they were providing one, they could very well provide the second. Then why had they called the unit to send a collection party at all? And secondly, if the cards were for the entire formation to which I belong, then the directions should have been from that formation’s Hqs and not the AHQs. Then it is all the more preposterous to detail officers from a unit stationed so awkwardly at such a far off place as Kamp tee, instead of from a unit of the same formation which was stationed in Delhi itself? They why should the cards be taken to Kamp tee if they’re meant for the whole formation? Thus I concluded, `the whole affair is nothing but charged with doubts.’ Putting all bits together, from the start, I formed a clear and coherent picture boiling down to my calculations which were coming correct. But I bitterly ridiculed the Intelligence, for hatching a "Top Secret “plan, catering to the minutest possible detail to make it an Ünclassified"one. I mused over their secrecy! An open secrecy!! Then, I went to sleep saying,’ May God bless them.’

The following day I again went to the AHQs. This time, instead of Colonel Grewal, I was asked to report to Lieut Colonel Jain. In the office Colonel Jain offered me a chair and a little later a cup of tea. By then, I was absolutely clear about my "duty “but I did not show this in case it hurt their `secrecy’. Acting ignorant, I asked if the cards were ready.

`Well Rathaur I’ll find out a minute and let you know. Meanwhile I suggest you wait in my GSO 2’s office.’ Saying this, he left. I went to the directed office which was next door. There, Major Uppal the GSO 2, after customary introductions, invited me for lunch. While eating, Major Uppal asked me why I had come to Delhi. I explained about the identity cards. Hearing that, Major Uppal was surprised and said, `No! How can it be? We don’t issue identity cards! As far as I know the Identity Cards are prepared by the respective Commands’ Hqs. We have prepared such cards here in the Army Hqs, but only for its officers. And even here, not by our branch!!! I suggest you check up with Colonel Jain; surely there is some mistake somewhere.’

I was completely surprised, not so much that it was not the duty I had been sent for, but at the type of secrecy being maintained by this branch of the Intelligence Directorate, where a GSO 2 did not know what was happening in GSO 1’s office. Such security! When, with their close contact one officer did not know what the other was doing!!

`How would these people must be maintaining coordination that’s so vital for office functioning?’, I marveled and smilingly said,’ I will do that, sir.’ I finished the sandwich and quickly drank my tea. Then, thanking Major Uppal for having shared his lunch and for his tip about my duty, I walked out. I went to Colonel Jain, who’d returned to his office.

Are the cards ready, sir?’ I enquired from Jain.

`Not yet. Come tomorrow, about 1100 hrs.’ Colonel Jain replied.

I found myself in quite a predicament. Because of my impending exam, my time was precious. Yet, here I was wasting day after day, playing this silly game. I thought to put an end to that, and said sternly, `Now, sir, don’t play this hide and seek with me. I know, I’ve not been called for what’s being told to me. Therefore, I request you, whatever it may be, too kindly act and soon,’ and added in disgust, It’s nothing but a waste of everybody’s time and efforts.

Jain turned pale and avoided looking at me. I was staring at him, observing the fast-changing colors of his face. Colonel Jain appeared hurt; probably finding a sudden dent in the otherwise well nurtured secret plan! He asked almost in dead voice, `How do you know? Who told you? Then suddenly realizing that almost certainly he was about to lift the curtain prematurely, added, `No, No. You’re wrong....’

`Now sir, please! Are you trying to tell me that your GSO 2 doesn’t know that you issue cards?’, I commented sarcastically.

I would have almost added everything I had deduced so far but, thinking about something, I checked myself.

In fact, Colonel Jain was so astounded that he was lost for words. Seeing him bogged down, I felt very amused and thought, `you’d get a bigger shock if I revealed everything I’ve deduced from all the holes in your supposedly well-made plan’. But, I didn’t do that. Coming to Jain’s rescue I said, `Well, if it’s really only the cards I request, that they are definitely ready by tomorrow.’ Then I left.

The Price of Loyalty - THE RECEPTION !!!

The following morning the train arrived at New Delhi. We checked at the station, in case any vehicle had been sent to pick us up. Vehicles we found, but none were for us. I'm sure there was to be a vehicle for us,' I insisted when Major Tandon asked me to take a cab. `Let us wait for sometime; we'll then proceed as you are suggesting.' While we were waiting, a person in uniform approached, saluted and asked if we were to go to the Area Hqs. `No, we've to go to the AHQs. A vehicle was supposed to come. But we find no vehicle,' replied Major Tandon politely and asked, `why are you asking? Do you want to go to Area Hqs?' `No, sir. I'm a driver. I've been sent to receive two officers coming from Nagpur by this train. I'm looking for them.'

We looked at each other's face and smiled. Turning to the driver, Major Tandon said, `We are the officers. But we've to go to the AHQs; not the Area Hqs. `Well, sir, you're the ones I've been directed by the GSO 2 to take to the Area Mess. Your accommodation arrangements have been made there.... Kindly wait. I'll being the jeep.' Saying this, the driver left. We felt relieved, but for different reasons. Major Tandon was gay. He told me that had we not waited as suggested by me, we would have had to unnecessarily spend on the taxi fare.

The jeep arrived. We stowed our sparse luggage, an attache case each, in the jeep and seated ourselves. When the jeep set off Major Tandon said that he could have stayed withi his parents who lived at Malcha, a place near the AHQs. But, because of the CO's instructions for both of us to stay together, he could not do so. He said that he would make efforts to seek permission for staying under his own arrangements.

It was obvious that Major Tandon was completely ignorant of any suspicions held by me, based on his deductions. I was more caught up with my eerie feelings which had overcome me. I thought and, while doing so, an involuntary surge of feelings, as if caused by severe humiliation, gripped me. But rationalising the situation I checked them, pushing myself back to normal by sheer will - managing to joke and laugh, though the idea of my name being linked with interrogation kept nagging me.

`Please take us to the office,' Major Tandon said to the driver on reaching the Area Hqs. Leaving our baggage in the jeep we went to the office. I'm Major Tandon. Could you please show me to GSO 2's office?', he asked an officer passing by. I'm Captain Shergil, the GSO 3,'the officer said, extending his hand for a shake. Pointing to one side he said, `that one is the desired office,'and left explaing,' excuse me, sir, I'm in a hurry.' I suggest you wait here. I'll go and find out about the next course.' Saying that Major Tandon left.

I waited in the verahdah thinking, Ì look like a fool standing in the way while the orderlies and the babus are frequently passing to and fro.' I moved aside - waited some time for Major Tandon to come out. Taking out a cigarette, I started smoking. I finished the cigarette but found no trace of major Tandon. `What the hell, let me also go in'. Muttering this, I moved in that direction. I had presumed, from my experiences, having served in Intelligence that they would take me straight. I fact while waiting I waited for the confirmation of my doubts. At the door, I hesitated for a second and walked in.

`Morning, sir. I'm Captain Rathaur,' I introduced myself to the GSO 2, shook hands and sat down in the chair offered to me. Major Tandon was frantically with the dial of the telephone, unable to get the wanted number. Exasperated, he put the handset on the cradle and looking at me saying, Àray! Here no one knows anything about us, though arrangements have been made for accommodating us in the Area Mess.' He look at GSO 2 and said, `kind courtesy the GSO 2.'

`Did you talk to anyone in the MI Dte?' I asked. `Yes I did. But the officer to whom I talked doesn't know anything though he asked me to try and find out on Monday - as today is a half day in the AHQs.' `Yes it is useless to rock your head and waste time. It is a mad outfit in the AHQs. Today being Saturday, there is practically no work done. Even if you try you wouldn't reach anywhere,'said the GSO 2. `Who were you trying to ring up when I came in?', I enquired. I was trying to contact Brigadier Pasricha - thinking he might be of some help.... I wanted to know if I could stay with my parents.' Saying this, Major Tandon once more tried to connect his number but failed.

We briefly discussed about the next programme and left the office. in the Mess we were astounted to find that the Mess Havildar showed his ignorance about our stay. He refused to allot any room unless instructed by the Mess Secretary. Major Tandon ordered the Mess Havildar to go and find out quickly, and turning to me, remarked, `This is the neight of profanity!'

While waiting for the Mess Havildar to check and allot the accommodation, we went to the ante room-cum-bar.

`Good morning, sir.' Two young Captains taking beer at the bar got up and wished us when we entered. One of the two asked, `Would you like some beer?' It was meant only for courtesy. The officer continued, `but here, you'll get introduced to an unheard system of buying coupons for stores or wine, you may wish to obtain from this Mess'and added with a bitter smile, `for it is not a Mess, nor a Bar but all in one, called Area Officers Mess.'

`No, thanks. How come you are....'

`We are on temporary duty and have been here for the last nine days.' One of the two officers interrupted Major Tandon and said, ìt is a different matter that we don't know anything about our duty. Till yesterday, we made frantic efforts to contact people in the Area Hqs, without results. It is all quiet on the Central Front.' They all smiled and the officer further explained, `Sir, this is Delhi, the capital of India, but things here move at their own pace; have you also come on temporary duty?.... If so, then take it as a permanent one - doing nothing - a duty without duties - you are a free bird go around and see Delhi and its historical places. Where would you get such an opportunity? Free of cost! All on the exchequer! No one bothers about others'time', and concluded sarcastically, `there is a fuckin'complete rot in this Hqs... but never mind, Sir, after all this is the Army!'

It appeared the officers were very annoyed. They had found Major Tandon to give vent to their pent up feelings.

Major Tandon and I looked at each other with amusement, when we heard the remarks passed by the two young officers, who were obviously upset.

I recalled the GSO2 blaming the functioning of AHQs. Here these officers were blaming the Area Hqs, and the GSO2 belonged to this HQ.

`Could things be in such a mess?' I quietly speculated. Work is sought to be done with precision, efficiency and quick speed at a Hqs from where control is exercised over the entire army and similarly at a Hqs which is next to the AHQs. No, that can't be true. There was something else to that. The comments passed should be the result of some personality conflict, I thought, while I heard Major Tandon commenting, `Yes, I tend to agree with you gentlemen. Bigger the Hqs, the more staleness you find. I also encountered, just on my arrival two such situations. One pertains to AHQs. There, no one seems interested in even picking up the telephone. Second, which seems rather interesting, we were directed to this Mess with an assurance that everything was arranged. But, to my surprise, I found that the Mess Havildar does not know anything and he is not prepared to believe that we are officers!' He shook his hands in disgust and added, Ì pray I don't have to wait like you're doing. Otherwise, my course would suffer lack of preparations.' Major Tandon told the officers about the duties for which he and I had come.

When the initial outburst of temper subsided, we fell into normal conversation.

Finding no interest in the normal army-style talks, I busied myself viewing the large and impressive paintings hung on the ante-room walls. Portraits of generals and soldiers of the past in their contemporary and glamorous uniforms. Hunting and battle scenes and one odd painting depicting a bridge session - all legacies of the Britishers. I was completely lost in the paintings that generated a rush of incoherent feelings.

The Less Havildar returned. He was unable to locate the secretary without whose sanction, he was unwilling to hand over the accommodation. Major Tandon was furious, but he thought it useless to waste evergy by explaining to the Havildar. So he took leave of those officers whom we never met later, and, along with me, went to the Mess office. The office appeared to be that of the secretary, from the name plate hung outside. A retired Lieut Colonel, on introduction, revealed he was the club secretary. The Mess and the Club, though functioning independently, were dependent on each other.

The secretary showed his helplessness in helping us in regard to accommodation and, when Tandon asked if he could make a call to the GSO 2, declared, `This is the only telephone; it can't be used by everybody. It's under my charge and I have got to account for each call. If I allow you to make a call, who'll pay for it?... Sorry I can't do that,'and then he got busy in his work. The work was calling various people on the phone... Residential numbers - talking to the ladies, telling them about the picture which was being screened that day!

One wonders who is going to pay for such unwanted and objectionable calls', Major Tandon remarked aloud.

In every Army Officers' Mess a telephone is installed for the convenience of its members, even if they are temporary, and from there an officer can make a local call. But here was a Mess where a secretary could make unwanted calls without inhibition but two officers who had come from out-station, were declined permission. However, Major Tandon who had sufficiently controlled himself, let the retired colonel have it, who after Tandon's outburst meekly conceded and went evern further to ring up the GSO 2 himself. Thereafter, things moved rather quickly!

A set of two rooms was allotted to us. It was in a most dilapidated condition, it looked as if no one had lived there. Piles of dust, broken cots, no furniture - bathroom in an unimaginable dirty condition - humming with mosquitoes which appeared to have bred unchecked. The mosquitoes were irritated with a sudden intrusion into their well established domain - the bathroom.

`Thank God', I said, seeing the fan working, At least something that we've found, is functional.'

With a little more firing by Major Tandon, the Mess Staff sprang into action! First the sweeper was traced and he came after an hour of intensive search. But there was no water in the taps. So what could the poor fellow do? Hense someone else was located who knew where the point for releasing the water was. This took another half hour. Thus, by the two of us, the set was brought near to a livable condition. By then it was lunch time. We found there was no lunch for us.

`No one told me about additional food,' informed the Mess Havildar.

I think Rathaur, if I stay with this lot for another day, I would go mad.' Saying this Major Tandon turned to the Mess Havildar and said,' When an officer comes to stay in a Mess, doesn't that mean he would dine, unless he informs otherwise? We've been here since ten-thiry and you've been with us. If you were doubtful as to whether we feel hungry, you should have clarified. Or do you people here consider the outsider some sort of junk...?'

`Leave it sir,' I interrupted, `We didn't even have breakfast and I can feel rates dancing inside my stomach.' I asked the Mess Havildar to prepare an omelette and send a couple of bread pieces for us, and suggested to Major Tandon, `Meanwhile we will quickly take a bath, change into civvies and have lunch outside.'

It surprised us when the Mess Havildar informed, `Sorry Sir, there are no eggs in the Mess, but I can send the bread.'

`Leave that also. You may need it for someone more needy!', I said in disgust.

`Malcha.' Major Tandon told the driver of the three-wheeler, who was looking back at us inquiringly.

After getting ready, we had taken a local bus upto Dhaula Kuan and waited for another bus which would have taken us to our destination. When the bus came, it was overloaded and we could not get on. Instead of waiting for the next bus, we took a three wheeler.

Getting the direction, the driver started off.

`So Rathaur do you still hold on to your suspicion regarding the duty?', asked Major Tandon

`Well, sir, I'm rather confused....'

Major Tandon looked at me and said that he also tended to share the suspision, but not then, if it was interrogation, they would not have been so casual. `We both or you alone would've been taken for questioning soon after our arrival', Major Tandon explained in detail about the casual reception.

`Where exactly do you want to go?,' slowing down, the driver asked. That put a sudden break to Major Tandon's speech.

`Have we come?' He asked himself - looked out and after confirmation said, `Yes, we have.' He directed the scooter to his house.

In the house there was none except Major Tandon's father. The others were away visiting friends or relations. Hungry as we were, we raided the kitchen and helped each other in preparing an omelette and slicing the bread awkwardly. Neither knew the art of cooking, but were able to make "bhujia" or some sort of vegetable, which was neither an omelette nor a bhujia. Meanwhile, Major Tandon explained about our sudden visit to his surprised father. After the meal we relaxed for some time and went out to Connaught Place. We took our dinner at a restaurant and left for the Mess.

The next day we did a little shopping. I bought a pair of shoes and tooth brush which was necessary because my orderly had failed to pack one in my travelling toilet kit and I failed to notice it.

Despite the heat it was a wonderful day. We wanted to see a move but were unable to procure tickets, due to a system of advance booking. There was however, no dearth of tickets at exorbitant prices in the black market. Both of us were opposed to buying anything in black market,a system so deeply ingrained in the lift of an Indian.

`Nothing remains unaffected from this social disease. It's become part and parcel of our lives, surreptitiously eroding the moral values established by our predecessors and it is leading us nowhere', Major Tandon commented and looked at me to see the effect of his short speech.

`Sir, then what do you suggest as a cure?'

`Well it percolates from top to the bottom. By top here, I mean our politicians, the base of our society, who apparently have established a level of organised corruption, large scale financial fiddling, moral depravity and gangsterism,' looking at me, he sighed and added, `nothing can protect the crops which are threatened by its fence.'

`Till this point I'm with you, but there has to be some alternative to solve this problem.'

`Well, sometimes a problem is allowed to advance to the point of no return, and that's my answer.'

`Sir, I agree that this problem has badly infected our lives, but to call it point of no return, is a rather weak statement. There has never been a problem which ever reached a point of no return. There are always ways out that will bring us to the starting point, though it may take long to traverse such a route.'

`That's a route, not a solution - not even an alternative....'

`Yes, the route is the alternative. I put it this way.... Come to think why this disease spreads. The time this word corruption came in existence was probably when God created the world. That is the story of Adam and eve - and Satan, who coaxed Eve to eat the Apple. This was the start of corruption. It was started by Satan, the rival of God. It always flourished thereafter, though in a checked form. It has reached its astronomical dimensions in the present period of human civilisation. The quck spread of this disease can safely be attributed to an individualised personality and the lack of self restraint laid down in the books of all religions. Instead, curelties are committed in the name of religion. A person of moral character, whose neighbour, relation or associate is corrupt, slowly but surely comes under the bad influence of the latter. Initially, he criticizes the corrupt person but over a time he himself becomes one. He thinks, if others can indulge in corruption with pride, why can't he? He finds no satisfactory answer to this and, without hesitation, takes a plunge into the morass of this flourishing social evil; adding yet more to its number. This is what then, I think has caused the spread - to take a menacing form.'

`But this is the cause not a solution,... and, by the way, may be one of the many causes like socio-economic, ethical, ethnic and educational background of a person.'

`No sir, it is not. I think the cause I suggested is the main cause. The others are only secondary. However, while those are clearly apparent the main cause remains hidden.'

`Then what about...'

`The alternatives. Well it is simple. Don't bother what others do. See only about yourself. Decide firmly to follow a straight path, unmindful of others. Don't question why they are treading wrong path - instead question why should I do immoral things but, mind you, such a person will encounter many obstacles. Once you are determined, you have eradicated half the corruption. If everyone starts thinking this way, we have found a way out.'

`But who'll think that way?' Asked major Tandon.

`Sir, you've asked the same question - the cause of the spread. I say, why not start from you?', I looked quizzically at Major Tandon, who smiled in resignation.

We were so engrossed in our discussion that neither of us noticed when we got on to the bus, when that bus reached the stop where was should've alighted. It was only when we were interrupted by the bus conductor who was asking us to show our tickets which we had failed to buy. Tandon asked for two tickets. At that the conductor rebuked us, saying, `God knows what sypes of people we've got to encounter. Now these gentlemen never bothered to buy tickets when I was shouting all the time; and when I ask them to show the tickets, one of them turns up and says `give us tickets to a place which the bus had already passed!'

At that, almost all passengers either smiled or laughed - some even murmured a few comments. Both of us felt humiliated, but the fault was ours. We apologised and the conductor looked bloated over his victory. At the next stop, we got down, took a returning bus and reached the Area Mess.

`While trying to purge society, we were almost dubbed as corrupt,' Major Tandon said jokingly and added, `sometimes one pays much more than one can imagine for one's little mistake. In any case, it is always wise to admit one's mistakes and amend for the future. Lesson learnt: never take up discussions at wrong place;' Thus, both of us laughed away the sting of humiliation we had to suffer because of carelessness.

The Price of Loyalty - THE TRAIN JOURNEY !!!

I picked up Major Tandon. On arrival at the railway station, to our dismay we found the train was late by two hours. We regretted not checking up about the timings. Bad planning. But it was too late for amendments for regrets. I exchanged the warrants for tickets and we went to the waiting room.

The train arrived. There was no reservation for us. But we were lucky to find two berths which were to be available from Bhopal.

`Now, this is called murder of time, bad planning and the limit of carelessness,’ remarked Major Tandon.

`What’s happened to warrant such remarks, sir?’

`Happened? Damn it we waited solid two hours, doing nothing at the station; at least we could have found out about the reservation.’

Ùnnm..., to an extent, yes. But let us presume we did. So?

What could we have done? The fact remains; no reservation! No reservation!! In no way would it have been better to check than not to check. I would say sometimes such carelessness indirectly pays and helps in controlling the rate of heart attacks, so common these days. If we’d checked and had found that there was no reservation, we would’ve been brooding over it for two hours with mounting tension in varying degrees of hope - causing unnecessary and increased fluctuation in the blood pressure.’ I said and looked at Major Tandon with a grin.

Major Tandon saw his carelessly made statement being torn to shreds by a person much junior in age, service and knowledge. It hurt him. So to drive home the point and prove his statement, he sat erect, thought for a minute and said.

`You sound like a fatalist. Right? But I believe in timely action and proper planning. It leads to happy endings and results. Believing in and waiting for miracles to happen, in fact, is a domain of weaklings. In my opinion it is the cause for what you have said and many other ailments of the mind. Your argument is also stupid, in that, the blood pressure which was disturbed and shot up all of a sudden could be more dangerous than the slow tension,’ he continued, `Do you understand this Captain Rathaur?’

I, looking quite amused, paused for some time and then countered Major Tandon. `Yes, sir, I understand, - but I am not convinced with your self-contradictory argument....’

`Wait, sir, let me explain it first, and if you still want to improve upon what you said, you’re welcome to do so’, I said and continued, `First let me put it straight. I never denied and disagreed that there shout not be or there is no requirement of timely action and planning as you’ve said. Rather I hold that belief and till this point fully agree with you. Still, planning may not always bear fruit. Otherwise Alexander, Changez Khan and Hitler would have ruled the world. Sometimes even timely action and intelligent planning prove most disactrous. History is witness to such failure of the most-worked out plans - which, historians and intellectuals later came out with their comments that the plan was faulty because of this or that. If that had been worked out accordingly, history would have been different... Yes history would’ve been different if the reasons put forward later were adhered to.... But the word Ïf"is a big factor. Without this word everything would’ve been different. And alas! The work Ïf"exists and takes significance. It creates a belief in divine creation of the universe - without denial of revelation.

You may call it miracles.... otherwise persons of the caliber of Napoleon, Hitler, Churchill, Nehru and so on, would never have gone wrong with their superb intelligence and penchant to cater for the minutest possible details while planning the future... If that be so then it manifests that even while planning there’s some unknown force at work which influences each action without making its presence felt; taking one towards success or failure. You may term this force anything. It means the same.’ I paused for breath and added; `Now the same analogy can easily be implied in the routine life of a common man. Anything which is bound to happen will happen, despite any amount of good and intelligent planning. Hence, a fatalist will never allow his blood pressure to shoot up in the face of failure such as that we were about to experience a short while ago.’ I stopped abruptly, looked at the face of Major Tandon for any sign then continued, and I am sorry to say that a staunch believer in planning, like you, has failed to plan our move.... But I say once again, even if you had resorted to detailed planning, we would’ve achieved nothing, except for staying two more hours more with the children. As for reservation, I still think we are better off without planning it.’

`No, but that means you don’t attach any importance to planning.’

Ì never said that. Rather I believe and value it the most. But only where it makes difference or is likely to, on my anticipation and expectation over certain problematic situations. I put every effort and stretch my imagination as far as the tissues of my brain allow.’

`What if you’re planning fails?’

Ì try and work out alternatives, depending upon the situation.’

And if it still.......’

`Fails. Then it fails. Haven’t I said, sometimes the best of plans fail?’

`But you said you plan where you see impact.’

`Yes, that’s correct.’

`Do I take impact here means success or failure that can make you happy or miserable?’

`So it is.’

Okay, if that is right then won’t you consider a night train journey without reservation as miserable?’

Ì do.’

In that case, I’ve proved my point. We would’ve planned our move and made efforts while at the station - and not wasted the time,’ said Major Tandon looking triumphantly at me.

I laughed and said, `Sir, you’ve come to square one. You’ve proved a point which is uncontested.’

`What do you mean?’

`Right. I’ll make myself clear this way - there are two things one is a plan and the other is spontaneous reaction to a situation. A plan involves number of factors. First is substance; i.e. the AIM, around which the whole plan revolves. For instance you wish to construct a house. Thus construction of house becomes your aim. The various factors to make your plan successful, are acquiring knowledge of houses, the material, its cost and the availability of labor, both skilled and unskilled - the time by which the house is required and, finally, the time available. Each of these factors is directly and proportionately responsible for the success for failure of the plan, in this case the house construction. Of these, time is the most important factor. Now let us go back a bit. Why do you require a house at all? The answer is to make you comfortable, to seek protection from the weather and in some cases from wild animals and reptiles. But one may question, couldn’t house providing the basic necessity of shelter be constructed without the plan? Yes, it can be. But it would not be a house of your choice - it would lack the desired amenities and may cost even more than one property planned and constructed according to one’s choice. The planned house definitely has an edge over the unplanned. And Sir, this is planning and its advantage’ after a pause I continued, Ì shall now come to the other aspect of our discussion.... Supposing we’d gone hunting in a dense jungle, planning to return before nightfall. But something happened and we lost our way and could not do so. Here we are confronted with an unexpected situation. It’s too late for planning. Immediate action is required. This action could also be termed as an alternative which in this case are two: either to continue the search in the darkness or to spend the night with little make - do arrangements. How we react at this stage depends upon our state of mind and ingenuity. Here we can’t plan. We simply have to make one of the two choices: Either we continue trying to find a home in the darkness or we rest in the jungle until daybreak. At this stage, no amount of worrying or planning would help. You’ve to take the situation at face value, relying on instinct. We were also put under similar conditions, by the circumstances in respect to our rail reservation. Miracles do take place but they are fragile and take a long time coming. No one gets reservation in a short a period as for days, when the choice is limited. A plan may succeed, but not always....’

`What do you mean, choice is limited?’, interrupted Major Tandon.

`The only choice we’d was to travel by the Grand Trunk... on 18th. Wasn’t that so?’ I replied.

`Hmmmm..........’

If that was so ‘I continued, `then no amount of planning and enquiries would’ve been of any use, except being an exercise in futility. On the other hand, without worrying and disturbing our minds we are better off now than we would have been, had we made a plan in detail’, concluding, I looked at Major Tandon.

Ì think I have got to agree with you. As we were lucky to get berths so you’ve scored a point. Eh? How do you say TIME is the most important factor of all? What if you don’t get labor or material?’

Ì didn’t say the other factors were not important, but that their importance is judged in relation to time. This then makes TIME as the most important,’ I explained.

`You mean the importance of factors varies?’

Exactly. Surely you know that?’

If I say I don’t?’

`Then, sir, I shall explain. But before that let me order tea for us’, I said, seeing the waiter passing and ordered two teas.

`Would you like anything with tea?’

`Nothing’, said Tandon.

At that I nodded to the waiter, then turning to Major Tandon said, `this was a must, ‘and smilingly continued, `Well sir, I will come back to the topic. If you have labor and no material then the latter becomes important and vice versa....’

`Then what of time?’

`The importance of time remains supreme: for, you can procure the material and labor from anywhere, if you have the means, but you can’t procure TIME; not at any price.’

`But supposing you don’t find labor and the material anywhere, then?’

`Then I am sorry to say - you may be called a pessimist,’ I replied laughingly, and with a view to easing tension I abruptly changed the topic, asking, Òh! Sir, by the way did you enquire from the CO about the true nature of our assigned duty?’

Major Tandon sensed the change in topic. Being an intelligent man he was aware of the weakness of the subject he was defending and looked wilted - picking up an argument which he himself was opposed to.

More often than not, a person takes up a topic carelessly, merely to establish his superiority over his opponent, even though his own ideas may coincide with those of his opponent. Same was the case with Major Tandon. Thus, he quickly availed himself of the opportunity to change the topic.

`Yes, I talked to him after the party in the JCO’s Mess,’ replied Major Tandon.

And what did him....’

`He said, he was not aware, ‘interrupted Major Tandon and added, Ì think your doubts are unfounded. Rathaur, this is the first time that a new type of cards was issued. We don’t know which branch of the Intelligence set-up, deals with them.’

Ì hope so, ‘I said and turned my face to glance through the window.

Outside, because of the train’s motion, it appeared that stationary objects like trees and shrubs were possessed with a life that was their own and raced past the train window. I mused how the earth, because of the relative motion appeared to be trying to outflank the train faster immediately outside the window, gradually slowing towards a standstill on the horizon. A grove of kikar trees intruded upon the scene. The nests of bavas hanging down majestically, swinging to and fro in the gentle breeze of the sultry evening - rays of the dying sun percolating through the kikars scraggy branches - bayas winging through the trees; all silhouetted against the spectrum of the waning sun. I became totally immersed in this soothing tableau as the train moved on. As if in a trance I muttered, All Illusion’, as if prompted by some deeper recognition. Major Tandon’s voice intruded and dispelled my ruminations. `What is this illusion?’

I, straightened myself, thought for a while and said, everything is an illusion in this world. I mean what the eyes see may not be so - looking at the same object with the same set of eyes from a different angle at different times gives an entirely different view. Everything changes with the change of circumstances and environments... I was enjoying these spectra of illusion - looking at the Earth, at the horizon, moving in a circle with the speed of the train. Eyes are watching the movement of Earth, but factually it’s the train which is moving and not the Earth. This is what I called as illusion....’

`Then what do you mean by all illusion?’ Asked major Tandon.

`Right. This means, life of a person is nothing but an illusion in a wider ter.’

`Sir, you’re becoming a philosopher!’ quipped Major Tandon.

At that time the train was steaming into the station. There was great hustle and bustle inside the train and on the platform outside. The train jerked to a shaky halt. There were instant shouts for coolies - a jumble of voices - all incoherent, yet piercing to the ears; people running in and out of the train, some collecting their luggage, others counting and yet others searching and shouting for their lost kids who were actually standing beside their parents holding their hands, probably forgetting even themselves in the collective anxiety - running ahead of each other - pushing here and kicking there, as if to avoid some impending calamity. After some time, everything looked calm as if nothing had happened! Passengers were buying fruits, reading papers; sipping tea, some even searching for a water tap, but this time, all too patiently, faces beaming with joy at having overcome the crucial battle of securing a seat or a place for themselves in the train or some were even enjoying the spectacle of those less fortunate who were unable to secure a place.

I watched with intent each spectacular sign of this mad, mad world, where everyone is concerned only about himself and himself alive!! There was a spate of uncontrollable feelings which I myself was not in a mood to analyze, or couldn’t, due to a sudden overwhelming rush of feelings.

It was Bhopal. A conductor came and, after some enquiry about the entraining station, allotted two side-berths to us. The berths were vacated by a couple. The remaining occupants of the compartment were two persons, one and old man, looking like a manager of some concern and the other a young man, probably an executive or a travelling agent of some reputed firm. I found out after some courteous conversation that both of them were our travelling companions till the destination.

Here, dinner was served. After the meal, I fell asleep while turning the pages of INDIA TODAY a magazine I had bought at Bhopal.

The night journey was nice and peaceful.