Part I
Military matters are extremely confidential and hence I’ll just adumbrate on the trivial stuff. All what you’ll get to know is that there was a secret exercise (can’t disclose the nature of operation) going on in a beach area in a place called…umm…’Timbuktu’. And that me and my boys were a small part of it. But one thing I’ll tell you the mangoes in Kakkinada are real scrumptious.
Why was I there? Because the Navy runs on 3 things : 1) Low Sulphur High Speed Diesel to keep the vessels propelling 2) Porn to keep the men going ( the tough ones) and 3) Screw ( for the faint hearted) So essentially I was playing the role of the Screwdriver. Not that I am a man of great rhetoric or a task manager or anything, just that I like yelling and when they think they can stand me no more, they get their asses moving.
And yeah, Amphibious operations are one thing you should see. The Giant mother ships coming, pregnant with the smaller ones, which are exact miniature replicas and they are delivered when the old man on the helm of the mother ship thinks its time to deliver. And then the li’l ones, not so cute, delivered its li’l ones which happen to be monster army trucks who bullied their way into the shore. Tell you what, It looks good in the movies, being a part of it is less fun. And condoms had to wait, It was bad luck day for the love birds who had premeditated their spots amongst the dense acacia trees which were planted by some saint on both sides of the beach . The vast stretch of acacia trees were parted in the middle and steel tracks were spread out to make way for the military trucks. The men in fatigues saturated the picnic spot and the whole damn place looked like a war ridden zone. Tell you what, that was a secret motive of our mission: Operation Bhagao public, Besiege the beach!!!
We were supposed to deter and bully away the local public and fishermen who had enjoyed the serenity of this beach and made it a part of their living. Now the Navy owned this land and tell you what , now it looked much better. Grey three tonner trucks, Olive green tents, Shining Barbed wires to fend off the ..umm..crabs? ‘cos the beach folks disappeared the moment they saw friendly armed sentries. There were confidential reports fed in from the military intelligence( I know the two words don’t go well together) that the villagers used this beach as a i) picnic spot ii) cemetery iii) Parking place for rickshaws. Now you tell me dude, can men in uniform stand that kinda nonsense.
The tents were pitched meticulously amidst the acacia tress and the evening was quite balmy. But by nightfall we felt like we overstayed our welcome. There was a 2 dimensional attack from the natural forces: We could hear sailors screaming their guts out ‘cos of devious crabs (the army) wrenching their asses and the men were turned into hijdas by a potent force of mosquitoes (the air force) which saturated the tents. The bitches were ruthless, but I was prepared. I had spread odomos in layers all over my exposed areas and my ears plugged with cotton to indicate that I could sleep without their lullaby. However the friggin li’l monsters had the last laugh, I had my unodomised rear punctured in a million spots whilst I operated the emergency lever and answered nature’s call in the most natural way ‘cos we had forgotten to carry toilet tents. Had to sit dippin my bottom in the sea till daybreak to get some calm. It’d look odd if I’d scratch my butt when I was yellin at them sailors. And so , the message was clear, they didn’t like us there.
I didn’t sleep a minute, so didn’t wake up at all. Only thing which made me realize the arrival of the new day was the exquisite beauty of sunrise. Man, I used to belch at flowery words of poets but this one was worth it. Would have given it a shot if I were any good. Sea gulls further gave confirmation of dawn and haggard lookin sailor boys plunged themselves into the new duties of the day with a splash from the seawater. They kept scratching their asses throughout the day. Chuckles, so I wasn’t the only one attacked from behind. Another set of hopeful couples, hawkers and naked boys wielding cycle tyre tubes and dandas went away in dismay seeing the militarized beach. Our team of PR party had already rushed to the overwhelmed village sarpanch and with much difficulty assured him that the war was not coming. Helicopters disturbed the tranquility of the whole scene but by evening when the operation was over, peace restored.
That was the last night of camps and all pooped out souls looked forward to concelebrate, the wassail that had to religiously follow any fauji activity, which meant unimpeded flow of Om Pani (a fauji concoction essentially containing OMR-Old Monk Rum and pani) which followed the campfire to rejuvenate themselves. The only noises were from the humming of the generator and sailor boys mirthfully singing desh bhakti songs and drumming their dholaks from inside the tents. They were preparing for a nice nautanki show for the campfire in order to propitiate the camp commandant which could probably earn them a Casual leave after return. The thing about these funny acacia trees were that their tops were always bent in one direction, like obedient cadets with oiled hair parted to one side and a crew cut. They bent for the wind, for its happiness, obeisant trees these were. When the wind bent them more, despite their gigantic size, they bent and made flutelike songs, didn’t whine. I liked them . The black sky silhouetted against the white crosses in the cemetery besides the beach, some of them were half fallen and some of them broken. The night was less cloudier than the last one ,The silver orb on top lent us a bountiful share of its crystal pure, opalescent light which made the white sand glow. It was enough and more light, So I ordered to turn off the generator, and soon it was even more magnificent. The stillness swept over like a blanket, I could feel my hair standing on its end when a cool breeze caressed me as if a reward for my thoughtful action. The crab soldiers couldn’t operate in stealth mode now ‘cos their shiny red armors glinted as they furtively warded their beach country. And the sand made a billowy bed for my tired back, I was snoring in no time. My sexy dream was abruptly terminated by the wretched whistle. Wait a minute, what whistle was that..Damn, I was late for the night rounds of the campsite and beach area. So I embarked my white gypsy and sped away splitting apart the stillness of the night. Damn! She looked like a princess, her nut brown skin against the white glistening sand. I cursed the whistle, didn’t even reach second base.
Part II
I took swift turns whenever the gypsy came around a corner to avoid the tyres from getting sunk in the loose sand. You have to be fast enough in veering, but not too fast either or you’ll skid, its an art, like driving hummers in a desert safari . While negotiating one such turn, I saw it. I didn’t break or accelerate, jus winced a li’l, but kept my hands steady and the pedal suitably pressed. I couldn’t help my eyes from caroming at the crosses on the other side, they just look as still. I kept driving and met the sentry at the check point, now I had to return, through the same friggin path. Part of me was brave… emboldened by curiosity and part of me was afraid ‘cos of the guilt. But why guilt? After all , it was our place, the Navy had bought it long ago. I pored the sight intensely in my mind. It sat there by the foot of one of those acacia trees, as if resting after a day of work. Was he a sailor? A Blue skinned sailor? Probably one who died when the Pakistani submarine Ghazni sunk off Vizag coast in the ’71 war. Horse shit!! I totally disbelieved in such crap, like a good fauji.
I should trust my logic and inspect the scene like a good fauji should. Did I have cold feet? All of a sudden, the obedient acacia trees appeared not so friendly and the happy flute songs sounded melancholic. The sad song before the macabre? They just wanted us to go? Why the hell did the Navy want to camp on a beach, with a cemetery right in the middle of it? 3rd Dimension of attack? I was dwindling into a helpless vulnerable creature…What shit am I thinking? I had to just shut my friggin mind and keep driving, and so did I.I couldn’t help taking a glimpse at the rear view mirror, man you never know. I hated mirrors on such occasions, they make you want to look at em, so I shove em in, shifted from 4 wheel drive to 2 wheel drive and roared past the spooky cluster of monstrous acacia trees in top gear. I knew that I was approaching the area where I thought I sighted the apparition or whatever thing it was. I thought I didn’t give a damn and decided that I am just not looking. The turn was too sharp and I was too fast, tyres were about to skid , and I had to apply sudden breaks. The damn thing stopped, and I could almost hear my heart beats ‘cos all of a sudden it was eerie silence. Not even the flute songs, just the heavy lapping of voluptuous waves on the beach. All I could gather was that The sea heaved and it sounded like a dragon lived within. I hit my face with my beret, and came to senses. Mustering all the spunks in my balls, I got out of the damn contraption and inspected the tyres, It dug deep, Damn, Blast it!!
I blared the horn like crazy and hollered and whistled for the sentry, I blew so hard that even a friggin ghost in the vicinity would go deaf. I could see 2 flash lights in the distance making conical yellow rays , brightening up the dusty dense air of the woods, running towards me. It was so reassuring, damn good to have trained men with ya, Its bloody worth the yelling. I stood with my back towards where I thought I saw it and the gypsy for a shield.
“Jai hind Sir, Sir, tyres?” they asked saluting.
“You assholes need so much time to come doubling up, now push the damn thing out” I said, in the most raucous tone I could make.
I took the torch and INSAS rifle from one of the boys and slung it around my shoulders. I couldn’t sleep if I were so disconcerted. I checked the magazine, loaded it back and told the boys to try and remove the vehicle from the sand pit. I acted as damn cool as possible, didn’t want them to know the state I was in, though I was profusely sweating. Then I took steady marching steps towards where I thought I saw it. Didn’t switch on the flash light, didn’t want him/her/whatever it was to be prepared. Random thoughts started scorching my head again while my eyes tried to figure out the form and my legs got me closer to it. As I advanced, there were crunching noises every now and then, some crabs were getting crunched beneath my jungle boots. A soldierly death , I thought, damn respectful than getting their shells cracked on the plates of some fine hotel. My head swung back to the object of my fear…What the? It was standing up now, on its feet, but wasn’t too tall, kinda podgy! Maybe the beach belonged to those who inhabited it? Wasn’t there such a rule in our country? Did they know it? A cemetery deserves some respect and peace and retired souls don’t want military trucks parading around em. No military might can challenge the .. The what? I bloody well had to find that out. I was close enough, close enough to do the drill and I was trained for attack. So, I stuck to the rudimentary principles, approached from the rear, three steps, one bloody shout, Splayed my legs ,Raised the butt of the rifle and clobbered it with all my pluck right at the centre. The bloody thing broke into myriad pieces and shattered all over the place. Sentries came running and flashed their torches on the scene of destruction. Concrete dust rose in the air, they coughed.
“ Aap thik to ho Saab ji”
I didn’t speak , didn’t want to flounder in front of them. I stood still and feigned a grim look like a fauji should in front of his subordinates; despite the tumult , waiting for it to die down. They hunched around it and examined the thing I destroyed. Steel rods stuck out of its elbows, whose cement fleshed hands I had smashed away. The head was unaffected though, It lay there disintegrated from the rest of the body, yet smiling and the un smashed hand blessed. Lord Krishna in all his splendor and glory, though the paint had come off and it was beheaded. I looked around, on the very next tree it was sitting, yet another idol , this one was of a goddess. The villagers had a belief that it was sacrilegious to throw away idols, even though it got old and worn out, one of the sentries explained. So they placed them at the fot of these trees with due deference to objects once worshipped. I was delirious with relief but still felt contrite.
“ Saab ji, Campfire ka time ho raha hai, Gaadi nikal diya hai, Chaabi..” I took the keys and walked towards my gypsy.
“Negative” , I said . “ No campfire. Unpitch tents, we are leaving tonight. Exercise terminated.” Droplets of sweat dropped down my chin. Lord, forgive me. I totally believed in them, like a good man.
