5 days ago
Gentleman cadet 14, Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw
It was a decade ago and more that we were invited to a passing out parade at the Indian Military Academy in Dehradun. But I recall it as if it were yesterday. From the moment we arrived, everything was precision and structure. A very very proper but suitably handsome young liaison officer attached himself firmly to our little party of four and shepherded us politely but unswervingly through a welcome cup of tea; quick bathe and change, and down to drinks. Well in time for the grand entrance of the chief guest. Dinner in the darkly handsome wood panelled hall had us all behind nameplates in correct pecking order with the high table at right angles to our own three benches. Liveried bearers entered, served, and cleared in unison. Dinner ended with toasts to the President, the Academy and the chief guest. Brandy and cigars done we retired early in readiness for the big day when the new batch of 600 gentlemen cadets would be passing out. Next morning, true to some invisible master clock, our military companion took us in hand, cast a gimlet eye over our attire, checked we were warmly clad, and settled us into carefully marked out seats. Before us the parade unfolded. PREMIUM Life had truly come full circle. It was, he said, kismet. (Getty Images)
The first dignitary drove himself up in a single horse buggy; the next arrived in a carriage and pair; and finally, the chief guest stepped out of a four horse carriage to take his place under the canopy to review the parade.
Fanfare, trumpets, the clip-clop of horse hoofs, the long calls of troupe leaders bringing men to order, the sharp tap of boots and gun butts crashing down together, the buglers at attention on the tower bloc behind, the Present Arms for the colour, the swords flashing in the sun, the dark green lines of cadets, the short inspirational speech and the march past all spoke of long honoured traditions and carefully preserved standards that the hurdy-gurdy of the outside world has been unable to sully.
For the new gentlemen cadets, life was just beginning. For the parents, who had watched the parade with awe, the best was yet to come. The pipping ceremony is a pleasure reserved specially for parents and guardians. They get to uncover their newly commissioned officer sons' shoulder pips that show their rank as shiny new second lieutenants. Smiles and tears, back slaps and feet touching pointed to the many years of effort that parents of often very modest means had made to bring their boys to this grand place. Each little family, siblings, aunts and uncles, cameras at the ready, took turns to pose beside their pride and joy. In this small moment of fulfilment, everything good and pure had come together in an uncomplicated way, unsmeared by all the compromise that life can force.
At tea, as the chief guest moved through the excited throng, a palpable sense of veneration preceded him. The young cadets, hesitant and shy, drew back along his pathway. At the old soldier's elbow, the commandant was protective, but knowing him, was careful not to be too forbidding. Salutes and respectful namastes punctuated their progress.
It wasn't long before a courageous few hesitantly broke through the formality. One stepped forward, seeking nothing more than a blessing for her son. Then another. Then another. Embolded, someone pressed a paper napkin into his hand for an autograph, frantically searching the while for a pen. With a quick smile and a lighthearted apology for having only a sword on hand rather than a pen, the old gent melted the reverence that had kept the crowd at bay.
A different energy began to stir, transforming the mood into one of warmth and easy connection. The crowd now drew closer, a thousand questions, comments, and handshakes competed for attention. He drew a shaky breath, looked around and sought a moment's liberty to reminisce. So much had happened, he said, in the decades since he himself had received his pips on this very ground. Wars had been fought, countries divided, new nations born. He'd been lucky to be a small part of it, he said.
Seventy years ago, it had been Field Marshal Chetwode who'd opened the Academy and taken the first salute. Now, seven decades later, another Field Marshal, taking that same salute, had once been gentleman cadet number 14. For him, life had truly come full circle. It was, he said, kismet.
Maja Daruwala is chief editor, India Justice Report. The views expressed are personal. Sam Manekshaw, former Chief of Army Staff, passed away on June 27, 2008.
