A 111 Freak....

After The Earthquake: What the News Doesn't Show.

2012-01-29T20:02:00.003+05:30

"You've possibly read this one before. It's something I experienced first hand but did not have the means to promulgate. I can now."
   - Saurabh

         Devi, 25, is distraught. The earthquake of 18 September in North Sikkim is taking its toll. Her husband, who works for the GREF is nowhere to be heard of. He was last seen heading down towards Chungthang along with his work party. There is no phone in the area. The closest and only one is a satellite phone manned by the ITBP, 5 km away, across a land-slide prone remnant of a road. The quake has left her already rickety house in shambles. There is no place to store food. Ironic, as the only road leading up to this area is blocked and there is no way for rations to reach the shops.
            This is the case all over in North Sikkim, a place where a persons’ status is still measured in the number of yaks he owns. Where houses are constructed with yak dung and mud. Mobiles are not heard of here; there is no network coverage. Communication with the world outside is only when tourists visit and stop to take pictures of wooden houses and pagodas, or visit Lake Gurudongmar. There are only a few television sets in this village of a population of about a thousand. There’s a collective sigh when one of them mentions having heard the villages’ name on the news. Perhaps there’s still hope, they think that the rest of India knows they exist.
            The damage is hardly visible here. A few cracks here and there, some leaks. All easily repairable; in due time. The real story begins inside with men mourning the loss of yaks, their only source of livelihood. Falling rocks have crushed in the skulls of three as they stood tethered outside their homes. Others have been swept away by the flowing mud or scared away. The continuous rains make it impossible for the families to dispose of the bodies. All construction work in the area has stopped. All equipment diverted to clearing roads. The men have no work to do. No way to earn their bread. Prema is here all the way from Nepal for the working season. The tin-sheet-house he shares with 6 other men and women has already run out of food. He has no clue what to do and spends his time foraging the mountains for edible roots and shrubs. Here, at 14,000 feet, vegetation is scarce and the task dangerous. Without trees to anchor the soil, every slope is a potential deathtrap.
            The Army is helping out as best as it can. Temporary shelters and hot meals are being provided. Food, though, is turning out to be a dwindling resource. With roads cut off for 50-odd kilometers, there is no supply. Helicopters seem to be the only way to replenish this area. The helipad is teeming with collection parties every day, but the inclement weather and near-zero visibility is preventing any flights from being conducted north of Lachen. The ITBP is doing its bit too. Their sat phone is being used 24 hours. For the plethora of the Army personnel scattered here as well as the civilians, this is the only link with home. Most are rewarded with a couple of minutes of talk with loved ones back home, some turn back disappointed as the sat. phone does not connect with certain numbers.
            Television news loop clips of Govt personnel visiting the injured in Gangtok and Rangpo, the most accessible and fastest addressed places. The people wonder if anyone will glance in their direction, whether there will be any help forthcoming from their State Govt. They pray fervently for the Gods to deliver them from this disaster. A fresh bevy of prayer flags are placed all over the mountain sides to appease the Gods and prevent a land-slide from sweeping away their homes next.
            Any kind of deliverance, they still look towards the sky, be it helicopters bearing food and supplies or divine intervention.

Winning.

2012-01-27T20:11:00.001+05:30

By all counts, I should be happy. My team won the local championship by a landslide. Brushed the competition away like they mattered no more than a pesky fly. Not once in the forty minutes that the game lasted, could the competition, if they could qualify for the word, even come close. My team played like a dream, intercepting passes like ninjas, shooting in impossible baskets, blocking the most likely shots, but none went back happy. There were no revelry when they handed over the trophy to the Commanding Officer.
Reasons, you ask? The concept of a "fair game" was tossed out the window much like a piece of waste paper. The referees, in whom the organisation placed complete and utter trust to conduct a fair and balanced game did nothing of the sort. Four, I repeat, four of my best men, with years of experience behind them, were benched. For supposed fouls, violations and what not. Blatant fouls by the opponent being overlooked, or worse yet, awarded in reverse. In a game with five men on the field, benching four is criminal.
I'm still very proud of my team. Not one protest. They only played a cleaner game. Passing with ease, scoring at every free shot, and not a word of protest to the referee. Calm, silent killers on the court they were. As a team nothing could shake us. We were the best out there. We knew it. The referees knew it. The opposition knew it. The crowd cheering us on knew it.
All in all it was nothing but a pathetic attempt by the opposition to wrangle an impossible win. I know how this post is in conflict with my previous post, "Anything for a win." But then again, despite the stacked odds, we still won. And that's all that matters.

"There are no runners-up in war."

What is in a Game?

2012-01-26T20:40:00.002+05:30

Blood was spilled this morning. Abuses flowed across as fast and as smooth as a pair of well rehearsed ice skaters. The tension on the field was palpable. In the winter chill, 10 sweaty bodies stood heaving, no mercy in their eyes, purpose in their posture.
It was just another basketball match. The expected spectators and the mandatory cheers were all present. For the teams,that did not matter, inconsequential, they might as well not have been. The only thing that mattered at the end of those 40 minutes, was victory.Whatever the price.
I'm writing this post sitting on the sidelines, waiting for the second quarter to end so I can replace the officer playing. It's our routine. 4 fouls or half-time, whichever comes first. I can feel the pills kicking in, drawing away the soreness and pain till only a memory of the hurt remains. It's been two weeks that I haven't been able to button up my left sleeve; two weeks since the hockey stick crashed into my thumb, leaving a fractured thumb and rendering it temporarily vestigial. There's a bit of movement now, but the pain-killers make it better. Why do this? Why risk damaging it permanently? Rest is always an option, it never is.
I see one of my men stumble, a dangerous foul by the opponent sends him reeling, almost crashing into the post. He's lucky his head doesn't ram into the iron post. His knee isn't so lucky. With a sickening crunch that I can hear at the side-lines he falls; team-members rush to check whether he's okay. He limps out to the side and sits in the chair beside mine, the agony visible in his eyes. Yet, two minutes later, crepe bandage in place, he ran onto the field; and went ahead to score 19 more points for the team.
Exactly why. How can I expect my men to play against the odds, despite injuries or imminent loss, if I give up? "Lead by Example" is what they always taught us at the Academy. Isn't a game somewhat like war? Two opposing parties, striving for victory, arraying forces against one another, strategising, willing to go to the extreme for a win. Anything for a win.

That's what I love about a game. Anything, just about anything for a win. The throbbing in the thumb and the fore-finger is now down to a dull ache and it's almost time for me to get in. Anything for a win.

EX-NDA

2006-11-29T21:40:00.000+05:30

It's over.. At last, three years, of blood, sweat, toil and tears. Three years of an adventure, three years of torture,three years of close friends, three years of subdued enemities. The culmination of three years of rigorous trainingin PT, drill, equitation, computers, humanities, weapons, field and basic engineering, battle-field tactics of the lowest echelons, day and night navigation, first aid and basic combat, the 10 metre jump..
It's all over. I've pushed my body to the edge of the envelope, my mind, even further, all for it to boil down to a slow march beside the mast of a now defunct ship to the haunting tunes of "Auld Lang Syne", having been granted the title of "Safal Cadet", in a number of disciplines.
I'm not saying that I'll miss it, then again, I'd be hard put to forget it in a hurry. The rush for the cold coffee, the last piece of pastry, the innovative ways of extracting some much needed sleep in classes, rushing of to change for PT right after an exhausting 40 minutes of drill..
Just that.. something feels wrong.. incomplete. A voice that says, it's far from over..
IT'S JUST BEGUN..

Being IT

2006-10-22T15:37:00.000+05:30

So five things about Pune, huh? Tough one that.. It's just too small a number. Anyway, here goes..

1. Cycle rides through the city at 5am.. everything deserted.. no sound but the steady click-click of the cycle..
2. Sunrises at the top of FC tekdi.
3. Jogging at the track at the Univ in the rains.
4. Pani puri and Bhel at Sambhaji Baug with nani.
5. Playing in the old fountain at the University Circle.

Not really fair, Mals, there's simply more to go.. later then!

CRAWLING..

2006-08-20T19:35:00.000+05:30

Anger, red hot, all consuming anger flows through me.. I can feel it.. seething, ready to burst.. I'm afraid.. I don't know what to do.. I haven't been so angry ever.. I'm afraid I might hurt somebody.. physically... or worse.. It grows with every minute.. every incompetency remembered.. every act of irresponsibility, of promises not kept.. It seeks an outlet.. to burst out.. overwhelm me, then all around me.. like a living thing winding it's way through my veins.. I'm trying hard to maintain a facade of normalcy.. it's not working.. I need a release.. something that can divert this .. this thing, inside me.. A Mr Hyde lurks.. waiting to pounce.. help.. I'm fraid of me...

2006-08-11T14:51:00.000+05:30

Monday, August 7, 2006.

1020 hrs.
"How're we supposed to get accross that?"
"It isn't too deep, let's just link hands and get to the other side. It's hardly 5 metres across!"
"Hey! This isn't so bad. Hold it, you guys, I'm taking a picture.."

1220 hrs.
"This rain is a killer. Is it nevre going to stop?"
"Shut up, dude. It's hard enough trying to get to the Check Point. I seriously do not need the whining."
"That's it, people, I'm switching on the radio, perhaps ther're others near by.. we don't need to contact the CP."
"...we're near the red house.. how much further? over.."
"CP-3 for Delta Red. A kilometer upstream of the red house. stick to the banks.. over"
"That's it, just keep looking for the red house. We saw it from across the stream.."
"Shh! Guys, something's up.."
"..Foxtrot Blue for SP. Two cadets have flown off in the stream. We need help.."
"SP for Foxtrot Blue... give us your location.. which cadets?..."
"Foxtrot Blue... two Golfies.. we heard a scream.. the water's too fast..."

..Blasted nail!!

2006-08-06T19:24:00.000+05:30

For want of a nail, the shoe was lost,
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost…
… a kingdom was lost,
All for the want of a nail!..

..For want of a spirit, the boy was lost,
For want of a boy, the trophy was lost.

This is a sad, sad day in my life.

Pune, 05 Aug 06.

Once Upon A Time In The Future..

2006-07-22T14:50:00.000+05:30

... then the little boy asked, "Daddy, do tell me what love is." Daddy looked up at Mommy and said, "You know son, I don't quite know. You see, I keep discovering new meanings to the word just about every day!"
And Mommy smiled back at Daddy. A sweet smile. Remniscent of a thousand words, unsaid, yet heard.

Missing..

2006-06-05T09:11:00.000+05:30

Ever worn a hat for a long hot day, all day long? Then when you get back home, change and settle down with a cool glass of lemonade. Reach up and take of the hat that you think is still perched on top of your head. You know, the pseudo-hat syndrome.
Then think of it the same way, except, instead of the hat you miss a body,a friend, a soulmate, nestled in your arms. Think about it.

2006-05-03T13:50:00.000+05:30

THEN AND NOW...

This is no-mans' land, rather, no-cadets' land. Strictly out of bounds. There's no way I could escape punishments if I'm caught right now. I could get into BIG trouble if somebody realises that the khaki-clad youth on the roof isn't the security.
I'll still take my chances though. I don't think anyone'll notice me in the first place, simply because nobody expects anybody up here. Anybody except the DSC, that is...
Ever seen a fire snuffed out 'cause somebody was dumb enough to toss in a fire-cracker? Glowing embers all over the place, suffused with a life of their own. No specific colours, just varyiing degrees of brightness, yet not potent enough to light up the surroundings. That's what the view from up here looks like, from 150 feet up, just varying degrees of brightness. Each speck, a life, a family, a home, hope...
So near, yet, so far. I believe I can clasp one of them, be part of one of them. Yet, when I try, the nearness is merely an illusion, the lights still winking, taunting.
I've just realised something, for the first time, I'm caompletely and absolutly alone. No junior requesting for PT shoes or drill instructors barking at me to move "on the double". This is something I've been seeking since I've joined the Academy. Yet, now, I long for company, a friend, a soulmate. I don't like this, this Being Alone.
"We meet to part, and part to meet." I hope so. From the bottom of my heart, form the depths of my soul. I've changed.I never imagined I'd buy flowers for no reason. That I'd go to any lenghts to see a smile on somebodys' face. A pretty smile on a special somebodys' face.I'd never realised how happy that smile could make me.
I guess I left Neverland. I guess I've grown.

Thank You.

2005-12-27T11:49:00.000+05:30

GOODBYE, FOR NOW...

This is it, fellow bloggers, today I return, I go back to being what I'm meant to be, "A 111 Freak"!
Parting, is certainly not as sweet as some would have me believe...
It's not really necessary for long words and coplicated sentences, you know...sometimes, a simple "bye!" and a warm hug can do just that and much more...Thanks.
Here's my favouritest verse ever,(it's very apt, so to speak),

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go, before I sleep,
And miles to to, before I sleep...

Love ya!

2005-12-26T10:56:00.001+05:30

It Feels Like...

...like falling in love with your best friend...with a long lost part of yourself...

2005-12-24T13:37:00.000+05:30

Lean across a parked bike in the middle of the street, plant a kiss on a loved ones’ lips. Watch a sun-set across a lake. Marvel at the colours fanning the sky.
No matter how busy you are, a lapwing screaming “did you do it?” can always evoke a little smile.
Meet up underneath the stars, clasp hands, stare across a lake. Spend the night, tossing and turning, sleep evading, memories ‘a haunting. Rush to her the next morning…on a long drive. By the same lake…hold hands and watch the sun rise, reflecting on the rippling, shimmering diamond encrusted manna.
Black ducks on the surface, herons gliding by, two hearts falling in love, underneath the sky…

2005-12-21T16:15:00.000+05:30

Lessons.. Part II

Spare a moment, 886 seconds, actually. Take a walk, plug in to the Moonlight Sonata. Wander beneath the stars, stare at the Moon.
Have you ever had a moment of pure clarity, a complex thought, inexplicably made simple? Have you ever seen a symphony? Followed the twists and turns, sudden appearances and unexpected disappearances? Tried to hold on…and watched it vanish? Tried to lead it and failed miserably? Surrendered your will to it and felt the music carry you away, heart and soul inc.?
Spend a night with a loved one, gaze into each others’ eyes and hold hands. Wrap your arms around each other and feel the magic, within each other, the spirit of the night, inhabiting the other…and then, fall asleep, together. Dream, of places to visit together, far, far away. Share a warm hug, experience the others’ warmth, and treasure it forever!
May the Force be with you!

2005-12-19T20:41:00.000+05:30

Lessons learn't ...and how??

What does the piercing cry of an eagle mean to you?
The sight of a lone majesty framed by an azure sky?
Watching, silent, biding its time…
I can find no better symbolism for freedom, independence, free will, me.
I learned a lot last night – that the city lights seen through the trees are a veritable Christmas tree, that the moon looks b-e-a-utiful when she rises trough a lightly misty sky, shyly peeking over a hilltop, that an hour with a loved one is more like a minute and a minute with spear grass is more like an hour, thank you, Albert.
That though speech is silver, silence is golden, that loud, crass music, though normally a switch-off-aroo, can actually be appropriate, in a perverse sort of way! ;-)
That a little sacrifice at just the right time can make a large difference to someone very special. That there is a right time for everything and what has to be will be, when it is time and not a minute sooner, or later, for that matter. That though a cell phone is very versatile, it can ring at the most inopportune moments, that chocolate, though a treat, just needs that special something...
All in all, a very enjoyable evening, but the truth still evades me: What came first, the chicken or the egg??

2005-12-18T15:04:00.000+05:30

…because I choose to…

Boil any situation down to its essence and it comes to the fundamental truth of choice. I am different because of the choices I make, not dictated by what is “to be done just because”. I am the only master of my will and nothing you or anyone else says or does can thwart me from my choices. I am the prodigal son, the black sheep, the dark horse, all according to your perspective. Time bound traditions hold no meaning for me. I rebel because that’s the way I am. Each and every time. I’m not the stereotype engineer/doctor/lawyer, I don’t make friends because there are people.
I am at the center of the crowd yet away from them all. A lonely pinnacle I inhabit. I make my own roads; the beaten path is for mathematicians and leeches. Yet I am not alone. Other peaks surround my own. The ones’ I respect, the entities, the ones’ who dared to be different, the outcasts, the ones’ who chose not to run the rat race ‘cause at the end of it, you’re still a rat.

So, when was the last time you did something for the first time?? Think about it…

2005-12-13T15:05:00.000+05:30

I’m 20, that’s like grown up, you know, responsibilities and a certain behaviour code. “you’re 20, not 10! You’re just not supposed to do that!!!”
Who made the rules? I don’t believe the Constitution prevents me from watching Tom ‘n Jerry all day long…or picking up a Tinkle Digest and spending long hours with it...
Barry got it right, Peter Pan ranks as my all time favourite fictional work. I would so love to be 10 again and stay 10 forever and ever. It’s the innocence that comes with the age, a time when dreams are unfettered by reason and logic, when lollypops were cool and only the number of ice-creams you’ve had made your day. Bedtime stories were the only means of getting you to bed, yes, I too read myself to sleep, but Ayn Rand could hardly match "The BFG" read out to you while tucked up in a nice’ warm bed!!
The magic of waiting for the Tooth Fairy and never having to know that Santa did not live at the North Pole and my letters never got further than the local post office…that there was really a Man in the Moon and that the Bogey Man would come and get me if I did not finish the spinach.
A time when Sunday mornings meant Popeye and Mickey Mouse and evenings, a long drive out with the family, dinner with the latest movie the idiot box has to offer and back again to Dr. Seuss or Dahl and back to untroubled dreams of Neverland…