The Migratory Birds

Many of us moms feel that the smaller your child, the bigger the problem. But actually it is not so. The problems are there at every stage but differently poised. You are most often at the receiving end and the Shakuntala Devi to solve them all ,the best way you can. My son is 33 now .Born to me when I was 21 years old. He has been an excellent student and all rounder. Is a senior product manager with a US firm. We came to settle in Bangalore because of the children. People used to ask me how in this age two generations can live together so amicably ? In fact a lady doing a research on modern day joint families had a questionnaire for me too. First week of last month we got a jolt when he told us that he has been given an intra company transfer and promotion with a great package to California. Decision was theirs and they decided to go for the exposure etc, etc . I also told them to move on. But inside I could not accept it at all. I feel so down and out and cannot imagine a house without the lovely holidays, weekends, movies, discovering new eateries and above all the noise and the din. My husband brainwashes me every day. But not very effective. Now it is counting hours and the day after , my two most beautiful birds will migrate . I will wait for the next season impatiently when the same birds will fly back here for that short spell of migration. Friends console by saying , these days there is skype, they are just a call away and give me all the moral support. Yet a MOM will still remain a MOM. The touch and feel and din of your children can never be replaced. Instead of leaving you on a sordid note, I must tell you of the phrase my husband coined today ! He said " When he was born, he cried. Now when he flies to make a nest of his own, you cry " !

The 'Special' Train

Even during a long sojourn in the Army, we ladies have to be exceptionally lucky to embark on a journey on an 'Army Special'. When I got this unique opportunity in 1985, not a single lady in our Cantt seemed to have ventured into this unchartered territory. Hence they had nothing to contribute towards this subject. It was just another general question "When is the paltan moving? Are you families also travelling by the train? " Some soggy squid squelched "It is better you ladies go home first and join your husbands later. It would be too tough for you" To me, it was a pot of befuddlement which was on a constant boil! It was only my better half and the other officers and ladies of our Paltan who put my fears asunder and were emphatic that I must chug along on this  'Choo-Choo train' with my three year old son; a chance I may never get again.

My husband had not taken annual leave for a long time because of this impending move.The CO unexpectedly sanctioned leave and we left for home after packing our abstemious belongings in a jiffy with the help of Man Friday (the Sahayak) . After a 20 day break, we were journeying back to the paltan. The route was long with two trains to change - one at Allahabad and one at Cooch Behar. When we reached Jalpaiguri Station around 0700 hrs and I was still in my slumber, we suddenly saw our Batallion Jawans, at least 6 of them rush into our compartment. There was a quick exchange of words with the Major and soon I saw my child being carried out, bedsheets crumpled and taken out , followed by the luggage and me following in a flurry. With bewilderment, I was closely watching the proceedings. My husband then told me that the 'Special Train' was berthed here and was being loaded ahead of schedule, hence this disembarkation .

We were taken to the Army area, where each family was allotted a room. A rousing welcome awaited me. A senior Comapny Commander's wife, who was put up in the next room had already catered for boiled water and milk for my son. She went few miles further to keep two comforters for us, since she knew that ours would have been already packed.Those were the days of Company commanders of 16-18 years of seniority, with 11 bachelors to chew our brains out!

The ladies were given standing notice that once the loading was complete, we had to be ready to leave in two hours time approximately, and thereafter be the 'mehmaan' of the Indian Railways, till we reach the new destination. It was just not the Fauji, but his wife too, who is disciplined, to be in a state of readiness always and every time .Two to three days went by. Due to the proximity of the rooms, I would suddenly hear "Aaj jaana hai kya ? " A quick retort - "Batadenge". The men were never to be seen. It was a woman's world. No cooking , no washing - just eating off the mess with an odd whinge " Aaj khaana theek nahi bana Bhaiya! " "Samuel ( the chef extraordinaire) nahi hai kya?"

The ladies decided to surprise the officers at the Railway Station next evening, where the train was bunked. We wanted to have a first look-see of our ' Palace on Wheels ' .A surprise awaited us. After a hard day's toil, the officers were happily perched on chairs, with their fatigues still on ,right in the middle of the railway platform. Being a Gorkha Paltan, lot of yummy snacks and liquid assets were flowing by. We spent the rest of the evening with them and returned to our nests when the children started sniveling. That was our first group outing at Jalpaiguri. Next day, early morning, one of the senior most Company Commander's wives decided to approach the CO to request him for his 'blessings' to send us shopping. Those days, CO's were treated like Demi Gods. Not a whimper in his presence. He would walk around with a stiff upper lip ,most of the time with a suspicious look. To make things a little worse, the Gorkha Hat in our Regiment is worn with the strap coming upto the lower lip. The meaning was loud and clear - 'should be seen but not heard'!

We could not sleep that night . Cups and saucers, dragon soup bowls and the Pink Lady dinner sets were playing merry hell .We collected all the notes, change what ever else jingled in our bags . Coerced our husbands to donate wholeheartedly, which they did with a heavy heart. We got into two cycle rickshaws and were off on this obscure trip sitting one on top of another to the Siliguri Market. We just about spared the rickshaw puller, by not sitting on the handle bar! Unfortunately our lucky planets were not in the right conjunction that day - Rahu and Ketu seemed to have emerged from nowhere. There was a shopkeeper's Bandh! But no doubting the Army man and his wife's tenacity .No Shani, no Rahu , no Ketu !

We found a shopkeeper sitting outside his shop with the shutters downed ,sipping a cup of chai. We forced him hammer and tongs to take us to his dingy godown. That turned out to be a hattrick! The grubby backstreets led us to a piled up, dimly lit stockpile - a potpourri of all kinds of articles, which seemed to be waiting to fall on our heads anytime. Finally we collected our ware in a scurry and hurried back this  time with an extra cycle rickshaw ! A sight to behold -  Tea sets, Crystal ,Soup bowls,  slippers etc stacked on everybody's laps. It seemed we were in a rickshaw with an invisible puller! When we reached, the CO was standing right in the middle of the road, with his arms on his hips giving one of those contemptuous looks. He almost snarled that we are too late and he made the gravest mistake to send us on this spree! No time to pack our ware and show it off to our husbands .They were already giving dirty looks and nudging us. Some were hisssing like reptiles into their wives' ears. All said and done, our ' Operation Shopaholic' was a super success. No casualties reported except for the COs high blood pressure -  a win - win situation!

We were hurried to the railway platform and jostled into our bogies. There were 3 coupes in our compartment. One extremely private and special for the CO and his family with those two scary alphabets CO stuck on the door. But the dispirited moment came when we were told that we were in the next coupe, with an 'OC Train' tag on our door. All the fun and frolic we had planned came shattering on our faces, with strict instructions from the husbands that noise pollution was a strict NO, NO  in a VIP compartment. Also applicable to our ' bacchas ' !

I did not know what this 'OC Train ' was all about. Soon, our friends explained that it was an honor bestowed on my husband! ! At that inexperienced age, every occurrence was either euphoric or a revelation. The train finally left and slowly it unfolded to me that this supposedly honorous task was going to be our headache for the next 10 days!  The JCO from the engine room seemed to have become my husband's soulmate from a previous  ' Janam'. His queries were never ending. the husband's phone would ring incessantly. An hour before the next halt, the OC was intimated about the impending stop and I would see my husband jump into his uniform. My mind's eye started working overtime - Was this the Gemini Circus? Or was it that my husband had taken over as the  guard temporarily ? I could almost see him flagging the train off !

The first halt next morning was for breakfast. We were told that the train would halt for three hours. Three hours at one station? Never ever heard of it! Every day was a new beginning with a box of surprises. The train would halt on secluded platforms, the buglers would come out and start playing their bugles and at the same time the riflemen would jump out to cordon our train. We walked on the platform  and saw feverish activity in the pantry car. Soon the Mess Havaldar in his regalia announced to the PMC "Bhojan taiyyar cha Srimaan! " We would make a disciplined single file, not according to height as in school, but according to our husband's seniority! Food on the train was not in the least gourmet, with Philadelphia cheesecake but was tasty and fresh. The exhaustion of the journey poured in more digestive juices into our stomachs for a sumptuous meal.  It seemed to be like the 'Recipes from the Royal Kitchen'! 

The other couple in our coupe was the just married variety. Wonder who thought of this combo? A starry eyed couple and us, with this OC getting up at all unearthly hours passing messages or receiving them. To add to it, our bachha had to be accompanied for his nature's calls, with his little unhappy whimpers. I had advised the couple that this was not the ideal honeymoon suite. But destiny seemed to prevail on them. Now we became their permanent 'kabab mein haddi' . 

One hilarious incident I must narrate - Once during the wee hours of the morning, the train stopped suddenly , with a jerk - an unscheduled stop. My dear husband after downing 'few' was fast asleep, dreaming in Army land. After a little while, from the upper berth, the newly wed officer called out " Sir, Gaadi ruk gayi hai! " By then we saw a familiar face at the window - one of our most humourous officers. He was knocking feverishly at the window saying " Gaadi kabka bandh ho gaya. Hum pohonch gaye kya ?" The CO with his cane was hitting the wall of our coupe from his side. I was so scared that my son would wake and join this melee. Altogether sheer pandemonium. Finally the OC got up to find out what went wrong and to sort it out. Even today, when we all get to gether, we have a hearty laugh on this !

I was overwhelmed to see the length of the train pulled by two engines. The unique compartments - Yorkshire pigs in one, the stray dogs who had become the property of each company - Jhumki, Hitler et all in the other. We had our families, the shaktimaans, jeeps and jongaas, the LMGs, mortars, the quarterguard in tow. These days we speak of 'Haute Couture' . Our officers then suddenly seemed to become very fashionable, wearing shorts and T shirts. Denim jeans were not even heard of in the uniformed forces those days. This was high fashion for us. Many of them could not even be recognized!  Every evening , an ' all OK report' had to be given to my husband who would then transmit it to the CO. Suddenly one evening, it was reported that one 'Sungur' ( pig ) had run away. There was no question of continuing our expedition ! There was a dragnet thrown to catch the 'runaway'. More time at the same place and a little more chaos. Finally, a panting Jawan ran to say that 'the piggy on the railway was picking up stones' and securely brought back to the fold !

The usage of bath facilities was also as per seniority. If the CO was in and there was an emergency (which thankfully there wasnt), maybe we would have had to hang on to the Chain! Hot water would be brought for each saab by the sahayak and a 'safaiwaala' would clean the bathroom after each visit. I suppose this was the privileged comparment. The soiled clothes were sent to the dhobi. At the next stop, it would be washed and hung in bright sunshine. By evening, the ironed clothes would be back. So in case you travel, do get a new wardrobe for yourself to show off your clothes which will distinctly stand out !

The long breaks would see a total transformation of an ordinary railway platform. Dining tables set up with damask sheets, Bridge tables set up, nets put up for throwball, ladies and officers bursting into Antakshari, it was indeed an excursion of 10 days - A saga of unforgettable lifetime memories. Beautiful sun rises would give way to brilliant sunsets. The frangrance of fresh breeze, wet earth and the hint of the warm winter sun were mesmeric. Scenes changed like a kaleidoscope. The most masaaledaar stories would make the rounds from one bogie to another. I had carried along a few books to read, but did not even open them. I was going through one of the most ecstatic phases of my life. Here is where I saw the true zest for life. The Army fought hard, worked hard and played hard. A lesson for everybody. It was a luxe life with sweet indulgences.

Finally we reached our destination. We were told to be ready semi formally, three hours prior itself, to meet the Battalion  who was coming to receive us at the station. The band played the welcome tune, bouquets were exchanged, and we strutted off, feeling a bit disoriented and light headed. It was the beginning of yet another tenure, a new life, in a different part of our country. Now if anybody asks me if I have ever travelled on the Palace on Wheels, my answer is an emphatic YES!. Our trip was nothing short of it. If you ever get a chance, dont miss it for dear life!

"The adventures that seem the most difficult and scariest

 are usually the ones that you will look back on, 

 smile and remember forever"

                                                - Craig Guillote

Written by Mrs Sarah Koshy Johnson

GLOSSARY OF TERMS

CO - Commanding Officer

OC Train - Officer Commanding Train

Mehemaan - Guest

Aaj jaana hai kya - Do we leave today

Bata denge - Will inform

Officers Mess - Where the Officers dine

Aaj khana theek nahi bana bhaiya - The food is not very well made today

Cook Samuel nahi hai kya ? - Isnt the cook Samuel there?

Paltan - Hindi word for batallion

Bandh - A strike

Chaai - tea

Janam - Birth

PMC - President Mess Committee

Bhojan taiyaar cha Srimaan - Food is ready, sir

Kabab mein haddi - instrusive element

saab - sir

Sungur - pig, in Nepali

masaledaar - spiced up

Gaadi ruk gayi hai - The train has stopped

Hum pohonch gaye kya - have we reached already?