Little Star



Ankita, Adhir and Sanam as the Sheik and his two wives



My dearest friend Gauri's husband was posted out of Jamnagar and I was left feeling most bereft without her company. The bright spot in my life was little Munch who was quite the star of the Air Force Station.

There was a fancy dress party for the kids  and we, my friends Beenu and Deepshika, who had a daughter Ankita, and a son Adhir respectively, decided to send the children as sheik Dawood and his two wives. They were the cutest threesome and even though it was an individual event they won first prize and someone was hurriedly dispatched to pick up some extra chocolates for the little trio.

Ankita and Sanam opening the Diwali celebrations

A few months later Ankita and Munch were chosen to do the opening ceremony at the Diwali celebration. I was more nervous than anyone and gave my daughter strict instructions to do her thing and then aim for her father who was told to stand at a particular spot in the audience. The silly man moved his position at the last minute so there was a second of panic for the little girl who was desperately looking for him in the crowd as she marched off the stage.

The Torpedo

Sandip taught Munch how to swim after he discovered a book in the library written by a Russian author on how to systematically go about this task. I did not have the heart to watch but eventually plucked up the courage to see the progress made, once the crying stage was over and she had mastered the technique. Being so tiny she could not lift her head out of the water so the manoeuvres had to be carefully timed. Sandip would tell someone to launch her off while he stood a few feet away. She would paddle towards him like a little torpedo until he would lift her up before she ran out of breath a few seconds later. She grew to love swimming and we were surprised to know that people would come to the pool and stand around just to see her in action!

Sandip had decided to sit for the Staff College entrance examination which meant he had to get down to some serious study. It was my job to make reams of notes on current affairs which were duly circulated to all the others appearing for the same paper.
Then it was time to pack up house and home for the eleven month Staff College course which was held in Wellington, Tamil Nadu.

Travels From Jamnagar



Balachadi Beach

We would promise ourselves every time we got posted to a new place that we would make an effort to take in all the places of interest around us. Jamnagar was one of the few places we actually did this.

Driving out to the unexploited Balachadi beach was always an exciting time and we were usually the only ones walking along its rocky shore. It was rumoured that old temples built along the coast had been reclaimed by the sea many years ago and if one was lucky one could still find objects thrown up by the tide. I did find a marble Brahman bull with part of his face missing and a stone Ganesha, which I still have with me, though I could never verify if the stories of old temple ruins were true. 

When my mother came to visit we drove up to Dwarka, passing virgin beaches of golden sand on the way. Dwarka is the ancient kingdom of Lord Krishna and a holy pilgrimage site for Hindus. The Dwarkadeesh Temple was magnificent in architecture though I could have done without the kohl rimmed eyes of the young temple boys demanding to know what our cast and religion were.

The hair raising ferry shuttle to Beyt Dwarka

We took the ferry to the island of Beyt Dwarka which is believed to be the birthplace of Lord Krishna. Myth has us believe that the city of gold was swallowed by a massive flood when he left this world and if  one looks into the depths of the ocean one can still see the sacred township. The four kilometre boat ride was literally a hair raising experience as the sea was very choppy accompanied by a strong wind so we were actually quite nervous about making it one piece and not ending up as fish food.
 We spent a few days in Bhuj with our friends Lalima and Umesh Shashtri. This quaint town with its shops full of the most beautiful ethnic craft left an indelible impression on my mind. Unfortunately most of the town was devastated in the terrible earthquake of 2001. From here we ventured out to Mandvi beach but the only memory I have is of an angry sea with dead jelly fish like creatures washed up all along the shore.
We drove the 200 kilometers to Somnath and explored the sacred complex there. The principal temple is believed to have been built in gold by the moon god Soma, in silver by the sun god Ravi, in wood by Krishna and in stone by the later Rajputs.

Somnath

 

We spent a couple of the nights at the ITDC hotel in Gir Sanctuary where we hoped to catch a glimpse of the rare Asiatic lion. We saw plenty of deer and small fauna but the big cat eluded us completely. What made it worse was hearing a raucous bunch of tourists just behind us exclaiming how they had just seen "many many loins" crossing the road!

We also explored the Union Territory of Diu which is a place infused with Portuguese history. The old fort was an imposing edifice with well preserved old bronze cannons still manning the ramparts as they must have years ago. The churches we visited also exuded a sense of peace and calm with their quaint old baroque charm.



Diu

 



Back With A Crash

TACDE picnic at Sapra Dam, Jamnagar
Aru in the red head gear is the current Chief of Air Staff. His lovely wife Lily is in the yellow pants.

 On our arrival in Jamnagar we were duly ensconced in  the usual temporary accommodation for the next few months. These barrack like rooms were known as the Honeymoon Block, and were  rumoured to have originally been the royal stables for the old Jaam Sahib's horses! This was a story I could never verify though we were quite comfortable in our makeshift lodgings. My husband Sandip was the youngest officer posted  into the prestigious TACDE and was kept extremely busy by the various courses that were conducted there.

 One of the first people I met was Squadron Leader Rajan Bhasin and his glamorous wife Gauri. This friendship has stood the test of time and Gauri is and will always be my soul mate. Thirty years down the line we are still there for each other through "sick and sin". 

The air force station  itself was self sufficient and well organised and though I did not make any particularly good friends in the unit I was quite happy with just Gauri for company. Her younger son Tanvir and Munch were the same age, which was most convenient since they would happily play together while we sipped our morning cups of tea and chatted for hours.
Sanam was growing up fast and when she would see  the children walk past our house every morning on their way to school with their bags and water bottles, she could barely contain her excitement. She was longing to join them so I promised her if she was a good girl I would seriously consider letting her go! When the time came for her to actually join Bachpan, the play school, she was so thrilled that she did not even look over her shoulder to wave goodbye or see me wipe a sentimental tear from  the corner of my eye. Mrs Gertie Assey was her first teacher and Munch adored her and generally loved the whole school experience unlike some kids who puked and cried their way through the first few months.

Class of 91

 

Jamnagar in itself was quite devoid of entertainment. There was only one restaurant which served non vegetarian food so we mostly ended up eating at Rasik Bhai's famous "pao bhaji" dhaba. We had our first experience of cable TV and never missed an episode of The Bold and the Beautiful. The Gulf War was sat through in the privacy of our drawing rooms and the shock of Rajiv Gandhi's assassination reverberated through the campus. We could also sometimes catch PTV and many a time I watched Benazir Bhutto raving and ranting in her fiery anti India tirades. This was our first exposure to the power of the media which was something none of us had gone through before.
Social events were limited to squadron parties and the dreaded surprise "bouncing" by the youngsters. One of the incidents that I vividly remember was when Cawas and his friend Cherry caused great excitement by driving full pelt into the front gate of the Air Officer Commanding (AOC).  I recently asked Cherry to recount that day as he remembered it and this is what he said -

" I was back in Jamnagar for flying after doing the  FIS course before my posting to Hakimpet. The world cup foot ball was on and 29 Squadron got together at Raji and Veena's (our commanding officer and his wife) place to watch a match over dinner and drinks -  not necessarily in that order. After the match yours truly volunteered to drop Sujata Mukund home, since her husband was out on detachment. The only vehicle easily accessible was the CO's gypsy, so happy bachelors Cawas, Nikhil  (late) and I set off with me at the wheel. All went well till we said our byes to Sujata after which I foolishly wanted to test ride the vehicle to its limit. I ended up skidding into Group Captain Trevor Osman's (the AOC) front gate and slamming into it at full speed, just missing the guard who was on duty. Cawas managed to get out and bravely rang the door bell. He had a broken jaw, where it had made contact with the dash board and was dripping blood. Nikhil had a whip lash injury of his neck and  I was jammed behind the drivers seat. Within minutes the doctors were on the scene. To get me out they had to break the wind shield as I  was kind of stuck behind the wheel. In the process and with much effort they finally yanked me out but since my ankle was crushed between the brake and the accelerator, which they  had no way of knowing , my knee twisted around itself. We were rushed to the Military Hospital - Cawas with a broken jaw, Nikhil with sore back and me with broken right arm, paralysed hand. smashed ankle and twisted knee. Quite a happy bunch of idiots."

Off to Jamnagar

Goodbye to Saraya friends

It took us a  couple of weeks to pack up house in Pune and then mum, Munch and I made our way back to Saraya while Sandip moved on to Jamnagar. It was decided that we wait for him to give us the go ahead to join him when accommodation became available.

A few months later it was time for  baby and me to finally make the trip. It was the first time I would be travelling alone with my little girl and I realised that I had accumulated a whole lot of extra stuff - pram, walker, baby things, as well as my own belongings.We did the usual journey to Delhi by train from where we were to catch a connecting flight to Ahmadabad. Sandip would be there to receive us for the further three hundred kilometre drive to Jamnagar.

I arrived at the airport with baby on one arm, bags in the other and grossly overweight luggage, so I thought up a devious plot to save on excess baggage charges. I knew there were people who travelled to Ahmadabad just for a days business, so decided to latch on to one of them and request that we check in together to avoid the excess penalty.

I stared at the line of passengers and spotted an elderly man carrying only a brief case, who was just the sort of victim I was looking for. I went up to him and told him what my problem was, and he without a moments hesitation, said it would be perfectly fine for us to check in together. I gratefully thanked him and we preceded to go through the pre-flight formalities without any problem.

We stood together chatting for a while and I politely asked the kind gentleman if he was going to Ahmadabad on business or pleasure. He looked at me as if I had gone completely mad and stuttered that he was not going to Ahmadabad at all but Calcutta! I realised with equal horror that he had been standing in the wrong queue, which the stupid girl behind the counter had not realised before issuing him a boarding pass.

He immediately grabbed my arm and marched me back to where it had all begun, where he proceeded to bellow at the ground staff that they had checked him onto the wrong flight. They apologised profusely and hastened to rectify their mistake, then patiently waited for me to hand over my ticket as well. The harassed gentleman quickly declared that I was a complete stranger and that he was just helping me out with overweight baggage. I was glared at  disapprovingly, then made to weigh all my suitcases again. While handing over the slip for the amount to be paid,  the lady made me listen to a long lecture on how what I had done was illegal and could get me into a lot of trouble!

On landing at Ahmadabad I was indignantly telling Sandip the whole story, and he had such a hearty laugh at my amazing luck. That I would carefully choose the one idiot who was standing in the wrong queue, that the same moron would be checked in by an inexperienced counter girl and that I would eventually get caught, so would have to sheepishly pay the whole amount anyway. That's what happens when one thinks one is over smart was all he smugly said!

A Perilous Journey

Mum, Munch (that was what Sanam was now affectionately called) and I left for Pune to pack up house for the posting to Jamnagar. We travelled from Gorakhpur to Delhi by train where my father-in-law was at the station to pick us up. He took us home to Sheikh Sarai to freshen up and say a quick hello to the rest of the family before dropping us to the airport. We unexpectedly bumped into Sandip's young cousin Akash, who was also on his way to Pune to join a college there and who turned out to be booked on the very same flight.
We checked in our baggage and were just hanging around waiting for further announcements when we heard our flight number being called as cancelled! There was an immediate mad rush of humanity towards the counter, all demanding explanations or refunds. I tried to elbow my way through the hysterical throng to get some clarity on the situation, but was quite unsuccessful so beat a dishevelled retreat with a wailing baby in my arms.

In all this confusion we found we had another attachment to our group in the shape of a Mona who was newly pregnant and joining her army husband to give him the good news. She was travelling alone, so nervously asked if she could tag along with us to which suggestion we readily and happily agreed.

After about fifteen minutes of chaos it was announced that those without checked in luggage could board another flight en route to Bombay. I made fluttery eyes at the hassled young man who was waving his arms around, frantically trying to get the attention of  irate passengers, and begged him to let me board as I was alone with my baby. He looked at me sympathetically and told me to quickly identify my baggage and go for security check. He was astounded when I looked over my shoulder and shrieked for Mum, Akash and Mona to quickly join up and we marched past a now glaring attendant to board the aircraft and plonk ourselves into our seats. We had no idea if our luggage had been loaded or not and none of us were familiar with Bombay so were nervous about landing there late at night, but when we finally deplaned we were relieved to see all our bags bobbing along on the conveyor belt. 

The people behind the help desk at the airport advised us to make our way to Dadar from where we would get a taxi to take us the rest of the way to Pune. We trundled off into the night and got a cab without any trouble so settled back for the next leg of the journey.

As soon as the last of the twinkling city lights faded into the distance our driver suddenly pulled over to the side of the road saying we had a puncture. Within minutes another cab pulled up behind us which made Mum and I stare at each other in frozen terror as  thoughts of rape, robbery and murder played havoc in our minds. Our chap quickly reassured us that it was just a friend from the same taxi stand who would help change the wheel. The task at hand was quickly attended to and without further delay we continued on our way.
Our sighs of relief were short lived because as soon as we drove into the winding hill roads of the Western Ghats we found ourselves stuck in the middle of a dreadful traffic jam. We were immobile for over an hour with the truck parked alongside blaring the latest Bollywood music. My little Munch decided to stand up in my lap and dance in time to the cacophony much to the amusement of the scruffy looking men in the vehicle.
Once we started to move again we realised much to our exasperation that our good driver was pulling off the road again, this time to help his mate whom we had met earlier, whose taxi  was now the one with a flat.
By this time we were quite numbed with exhaustion so when the cabbie said he would like to stop at a roadside 'dhabba' for a quick cup of tea we readily agreed. As he swaggered into the dimly lit shack we heard him bellowing at someone in the darkness to bring him some 'afeem'. Mum goggled at me in shock and horror and whispered that we had been travelling all this way with an opium addict. I just told her that he had bought us this far so it would most probably be alright, and in any case there was not much we could do about the crazy situation we were in.

As the outskirts of Pune emerged in the early light of dawn we dropped Mona off at the army base and then Akash was deposited at the bus stand to further make his way to college. We drove into Lohegaon Air Force Station at five o'clock in the morning and had to ring the doorbell vigorously for a few minutes before a sleepy Sandip came doddering out to let us in.

I stared at him in indignation and  demanded to know how he could sleep when for all intents and purposes we had disappeared off the face of the earth. He calmly said he had telephoned Pa when he heard the flight was cancelled and was informed that we had been safely dropped off at the airport. When there was no more  news he assumed we were making our way home and was not worried since he knew I would manage everything one way or another.

Hello Daddy

Hello Daddy

And then it was time for Sandip to come home and meet Sanam for the very first time. She was prettied up in a beautiful pink smocked dress which her Nani had embroidered, and then we excitedly waited for daddy to walk through the door.

When he finally arrived we held our breaths in anticipation, waiting to see his reactions and expressions as he first set eyes on his beautiful little girl. It was such an emotional moment and hard to describe with so much joy, pride, curiosity and amazement flitting across his countenance. We tearfully gazed at father and daughter as he held her close and kissed her all over her little face.

He spent a week in Saraya before we travelled back to Pune with mum in tow. She stayed for a month to help me settle in comfortably, and I was miserable to see her leave since I had become very dependent on her support. Luckily my maid Sabira was a gem which made things a bit easier, but as I was a hands on mum I wanted to do everything on my own, as a result of which I found myself in a perpetual state of exhaustion.
Sandip got back to his busy routine so was not around to help out. I remember feeling a lot of resentment at the time, but then had to quickly come to terms with the harsh fact that real life is quite different to expectations. I had imagined us sharing baby duties and doing things together, but that is one thing the air force did not ever give us the luxury of experiencing. Unfortunately he ended up missing a lot of her early years due to service constraints but I must take credit for adjusting positively to his absence once I got over the initial grumpiness of him not being there.
The next few months sped by and then it was December again which was the time I traditionally went home to be with family. I travelled back with Sanam and we were having a wonderfully relaxed holiday celebrating her first birthday and introducing her to the joys of Christmas, when Sandip called with the news that we were posted to TACDE in Jamnagar. It was decided that mum, baby and I would journey back to Pune to pack up house and then make our way back to Saraya, as there was no accommodation available in Jamnagar at that point of time.

First Birthday and Happy Christmas

A New Routine

Dadi and Dada

The next couple of months flew by in a haze of exhaustion, struggling  to cope with my new routine. Bottles had to be sterilised, feeds given, nappies changed and sleepless nights walked through trying to soothe a crying infant. Sanam had the appetite of a little bird and preferred to drink a couple of ounces of milk at a time, so naturally had to be feed that much more frequently. I seemed to drift around in an aura of the odour of baby puke no matter how many times I changed my clothes. I always thought motherhood was a mantle which would fall over me naturally once my child was born, but in reality I discovered I was tired, crabby and at my wits end most of the time!

A few months earlier I had read a gruesome article about a woman in the UK who had micro-waved her new born because she could not bear the noise of its crying. On one particularly difficult night when Sanam would just not go to sleep, I gave her a little shake and tiredly thumped her back into her cot, which just made her shriek all the louder. I felt such a wave of panic that maybe I had murderous tendencies hidden somewhere deep inside, so rushed to wake up mother and confess to what I had done. My good old mum was quick to reassure me that it was quite natural to feel impatient once in a while and advised me to curl up in her bed and have a good nights sleep while she took over for a while. That was all the medicine and therapy I needed to feel absolutely fine the next morning.

When Sanam was about two months old I found everything getting easier, or maybe I was just more attuned to all the life changes I was going through. One of the most looked forward to moments in the day was after she would have a bath, when I would bury my nose into her neck and breathe in the amazing smell of fresh baby! My favourite pastime was simply kissing her tiny feet that had as yet never touched the ground. I adored this tiny bundle and found myself gazing at her in complete amazement, still sometimes not believing that she was really and truly all mine.

Sandip's parents made their first trip to Saraya to meet their granddaughter and were completely smitten, more so because she was the first little girl born into the Sud family for a long time. Unfortunately it was also at this time that I noticed that my sweet mother-in-law was getting unnaturally absent minded. When I mentioned it to Pa he said she was just getting older and these things happened. It was a year later that she was diagnosed with the dreaded Alzheimer's disease, which was the most tragic thing that could happen to someone who was the epitome of gentle kindness.

Nana and Nani