Preparng for Departure

The news that we were posted to 28 Squadron, a Mig-21 unit of the Indian Air Force in Tezpur, Assam, sent shivers of dread down my spine, but I was trying hard to mentally prepare myself for the move. Large tin trunks were bought for linen, curtains and kitchen items and the local carpenter was employed to measure and manufacture a crate for the refrigerator.

I had never packed a whole household before, so mum would arrive every morning and meticulously put away all our worldly goods. I just lolled around drinking tea and feeling depressed. Every time Sud would make a suggestion of how things should be done, he was glared at and told to go have a beer at the mess or do it himself! This switched off attitude of mine caused plenty of problems once we reached our destination since I had no idea of where mother had put what.  From this experience I did learn that one had to stow stuff in a very organised manner since accommodation was always temporary before getting what was known as a 'status' house. Things that were essential should be easily accessible while the frills that could be done without were put away accordingly.

The couple of months before the move to this remote part of the country found mum and me bursting into tears whenever we met, and both father and Sud would try and keep out of the way of all this high emotional drama. When the day of departure dawned it was Dad who came to see us off at the Gorakhpur station as Mum has never been good at goodbyes.

In 1984 the east was connected to the rest of the country by a meter gauge railway line and we were lucky enough to have a coupe into which I miserably settled after a last outburst of tears when I hugged father one last time.

The journey was painful for Sud as I snuffled and sniffled all the way. At one point he quietly admonished that I was not going to the gallows, just on a posting, which remark did nothing to ease my anguish.

We chugged along for more than twenty four hours to cover the over one thousand kilometres up to Rangiya junction from where we had to change to another train which finally took us to Tezpur.



Meter gauge railway line to Tezpur



Air Force Station - Gorakhpur

The next few months found Sud and me happily playing at house-house. We were allotted a small Flying Officer's accommodation, which I had done up beautifully with all the stuff that we had spent months shopping for. New curtains from Fab India, fancy kitchen appliances and crisp  sheets exquisitely embroidered by the Swedish missionaries in Chauri Chaura, all made our little flat very cosy and welcoming. A part time maid was hired who took care of the boring daily chores which made life even more comfortable. That she stole and wore my sexy lingerie I only found out much later and decided to ignore!

In 1984, a gas connection had a waiting period of over two years so we had invested in a Nutan stove. At home we had always used an electric hot plate and oven so figuring out this strange apparatus was a unique experience in itself. I was fumbling and bumbling in the kitchen anyway, so whenever I got wind of a squadron 'bounce' I would ring up mum who would send the cook by the next bus to prepare a decent meal!

'Bouncing' is an Air Force tradition which always made my heart sink with dismay. A group of youngsters, mostly bachelors, would show up at the door unannounced in the wee hours of the morning demanding food. The lady of the house would have to rustle up sustenance for ravenous mouths, no matter how unreasonable the time! Not being a proficient cook, I would struggle to put together something and would serve whatever I had manufactured with a loaf of bread since I had not mastered the art of rice and 'roti'.

Mum would regularly drive down from Saraya with delicious cakes, bakes and bunches of fresh flowers from the garden and whenever the  lads found out she had come by, they would innocently turn up knowing there would be something special to eat.

When the squadron would go out on detachment, Malini, the flight commander Harish Masand's wife and I would go back to Saraya for the days the men would be away. This ended up causing much resentment with the other ladies, since I was a new comer and she a senior officer's wife, but we shared a close friendship so never ever let the pettiness bother us.

The easy familiarity between the Masands and us has stood the test of time, and we have seen each other through personal and professional ups and downs over the last thirty years. In fact rumours of a torrid affair between Harish and me were the source of much speculation in Air Force circles, and our so called romance is something the four of us and our children have had many a hearty laugh about.
Six months after we were married, we got the news that Sud was posted to Tezpur, in Assam. I was shell shocked, since the idea of being away from my family was too awful to bear and I had conveniently tucked the thoughts of a transfer completely out of my mind. I was terrified of the unknown territory I was heading towards and had many a weep session with mum, while Sud looked on in puzzlement at my extreme reaction to the move.