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bls31
November 29th, 2013, 09:29 AM
BACK TO FUTURE

Remembering Cadet Days


Extract from my book ‘ A Soldier’s Journey through Life with Two Wives’


If I could look ahead, that day after the POP, in the future, I would have had
a different view of the dreaded Drill Square, where our days of torture, had begun
ten months earlier, with first faltering steps and where from we now were marching
smartly. As we climbed the steps of Chetwode building, transforming from Gentlemen
Cadets to Young Officers, we had no idea as to what the future held in store for us. At
that moment I had no aspirations or destinations in my mind nor was worried about
what destiny held for me in the future. I had made it so far and hoped to continue
accordingly in the near future, I was in no way looking beyond the next crest

How could I have had imagined that day that some times in distant future I would be
received by the Commandant IMA with all the honour and courtesy in his office in the
Chetwode building.

It was in Jun 2004 that I had once again driven towards Dehradun little realising that
it was the same month in1955 when I had emerged from the gates of IMA, shoulders
heavy with the solitary Pip of a self-conscious 2nd Lieutenant.

In the last ten months at IMA I had been transformed progressively from a civilian to a Gentleman Cadet and finally a YO duly commissioned in The Corps of Signals. From a simple Lakshman

I had now Tags and Numbers attached to my name- GC T 395 followed by IC 7537 F,
2 Lt, Lt , Capt and so on stopping short at Brig.

Earlier in the month I had written to Lt Gen G S Negi, PVSM, AVSM, and Ba,r
VSM, the then Commandant IMA, seeking him to spare some of his precious time to
indulge in the desire of the former Cadet, to present the book ‘Letters From The
Border and Other Less Told Stories’ authored by him to the present Commandant;
a unique occasion, at least in my view.

The Commandant was more than gracious and had instructed his staff to lay the red carpet for me. As I approached the imposing gate of IMA I was greeted by the sight of couple of heavily armed and menacing looking soldiers dissuading any potential terrorist threat to the unarmed GC’s; a drastic change from the earlier days when one could just walk through without any check.

Though it had started to rain, I decided to drive towards the Kingsley Block wondering if I could identify the room occupied by me in the final term. It was exercise with nostalgia but proved to be futile with the rows and rows of identical rooms staring back at me.
Back to Chetwode building covering miles and miles of corridors and innumerable queries for directions later, I was at last at the door of the holy of the holiest the most dreaded place in the eyes of a cadet, the Commandant’s Office.

I was overwhelmed by the courtesy extended by the Commandant. He came from
behind the imposing desk and offered a firm hand with a welcoming smile. There
were two identical chairs with a centre table, placed at one side in the office, even the
scribbling pads and pens on the side tables looked the same. It was difficult to guess
his favourite chair; possibly it was his gracious way of treating the visitor to his office
as equal.

After some hesitation and on prodding by him I took the chair facing the
picture window overlooking the ‘Drill-Square’.It was a different perspective and it did not look the same Drill-Square where we had banged our feet till our brains became dull and the theory of ‘Relativity’ lost its relativity while the ‘Hyzenburg Principle of Uncertainty’ became more uncertain. It was at the same Drill-Square where the attitudes were broken and new ones to guide one in later life formed.

After the coffee and some very interesting anecdotes of GC Negi’s own encounter
with the then Commandant Lt Gen Negi was kind enough to receive the book from me
and unwrap the same in a ceremonial manner.

Looking out from the window of the air-condition comfort and security of the
Commandant’s office the Drill Square did not look so formidable, now while holding
the cup of hot coffee in my hand instead of the 303 Le Enfield rifle mounted with the
bayonet then carried as a cadet, at all possible and some not so possible as commanded
by the drill-staff.

IMA converted me in to a soldier, starting the process in July 1954 when I entered
it’s gates, now having travelled the long, long road as I came out of from portals of
Sena Bhawan with a feeling of satisfaction and a bit of pride for a job well done on
30th July 1985, still a few hours away from shedding the uniform. I flew my flag and
displayed the Star plate for the last time as I drove out of the Signals Mess after the
formal dining-out. It was 30 years long and eventful journey no doubt made possible
by the training at IMA which began with first step the left followed by the right taken
on the ‘Drill Squqre

DrRajpalSingh
November 29th, 2013, 02:38 PM
Beautiful description.

Thanks for sharing !