CHENNAI RAILWAY STATION
It was a hot and humid afternoon. The overcrowded train pulled into the Chennai Central Railway Station. Restless passengers with their umpteen bags had already lined up at the train’s exit, preparing to step off as soon as the train came to a halt.
Checking her hair and dress in the tiny, rusty mirror hanging in the toilet, Billi prepared to jostle her way through the aisle. The long train journey, in the company of snoring men, bawling kids and gossiping women, not to mention the terrible music blaring out of a ruffian’s mobile, had been nothing short of a nightmare.
An aggressive porter insisted on taking charge of the black steel trunk lying under the seat. Grabbing it by the handle, he quoted an unrealistic amount for his services. Haggling was impossible, what with the language barrier between them, but Billi was not one to give up. What followed was a hilarious session of bargaining, with much gesticulating and sound effects, till the two of them settled on a price.
Squaring her shoulders, heartbeat accelerated, she readied herself to report to the reception committee, which was supposed to take charge of the cadets reporting for training at the Officers Training Academy.
The platform was a sea of human beings that morning. Tea vendors, newspaper sellers, toy sellers, fruit vendors and food trolleys jostled for space with rushing passengers. A cacophony of voices, punctuated by the rumble of passing trains assaulted the eardrums. Trains passed through the platforms spewing out weary passengers. Fetid air, thick with the smell of urine, stale food, cigarettes, perspiration and dirt circulated through the crowd.
The porter waited impatiently for her to take the lead, but Billi realized that she was clueless about the direction to take. There seemed to be too many platforms and foot overbridges. All around her, people were speaking an alien language, not a word of which she understood. They gesticulated or shrugged when she asked them for directions to the reception committee. The unfamiliar language made it difficult to converse with anyone. In any case, no one seemed to have the time to guide anyone. Exasperated with the situation, she looked around for help.
Just then, she spotted a smart young man striding confidently along the platform. He was accompanied by a porter carrying a black steel trunk exactly like the one she had been instructed to carry for her belongings. Confident that he was one of the cadets on his way to the Officers’ Training Academy, she hurried behind him with the porter in tow. Looking back, Billi spotted a couple of girls with similar black trunks following her and the young man now had a long tail. It was obvious that the black steel trunk had become their guiding light. Thankfully, the young man seemed to know where he was going.
A few minutes later, they joined a group of young girls and boys gathered near a couple of uniformed non-commissioned officers (NCOs) at the reception centre for cadets joining the OTA. Wearing a placid expression on his round face, one of them rifled through a sheaf of papers in an unhurried manner, ticking off the names of the cadets. From time to time, he paused to stroke his moustache in a contemplative manner.
His companion, however, seemed more impatient. After subjecting the cadets to a baleful look, he ordered them to form a queue.
There was excitement in the air, and soon a few girls in the queue began whispering to each other. The whispers turned into sotto voce, and soon the decibels began rising. The girls passed comments about the young men, and soon the ripple of their giggles reached the senior NCO’s ears.
‘Silence!’ he shouted. The order made the girls, who had closed up together for a session of note-sharing, scatter. They slithered back into the queue.
‘You are here to join the army. It is not a party,’ the NCO continued pompously.
By now, there were about 15 youngsters in the queue. There were more boys, of course. This was expected, since the number of Gentlemen Cadets (GCs) is about 160-200 while the intake of Lady Cadets (LCs) ranged between 35-45 per course.
‘The army is a disciplined organization. Those who don’t understand that, have no place in it.’ The NCO was in full josh by then.
The warning straightened all slouching backs and stilled shuffling feet. For a while, not a person moved, nor did a gaze stray. One by one, the NCO ticked off the names from his list and directed the cadets towards a bus waiting in the parking area.
Anxiety hit Billi, as she realized that Chennai was hundreds of kilometres away from home. There had been instances when she had to travel for football competitions, but she had never been alone. The journeys undertaken with the team had been immense fun. This time around, her family didn’t even know where she was.
It was her grandfather’s idea. ‘There is no need to tell them anything. Not until you have settled down at the academy. We don’t want your father to pull you out of the training. For the moment, let them assume that you are with me in Gurgaon.’
Although uneasy with the deception, she realized the truth of his words. Her father would take the first flight to Chennai if he learnt that she had joined the academy.
Billi threw a tentative smile at the smartly dressed girl standing in front of her and received a blank look in return.
Clad in a form-fitting pair of jeans and a striped T-shirt, the girl flaunted an unmistakable air of superiority. Billi’s eyes missed nothing; neither the butterfly tattoo on the back of her neck, nor her swept-up hairdo or the pale lipstick on her lips. A chunky silver bracelet clasped her right wrist, while a trendy necklace, made of beads, adorned her long neck. Her impeccable dress and accessories made the footballer aware of her own crumpled clothes and bedraggled appearance. A tad self-consciously, she smoothed the creases of her red T-shirt, which exhibited an oil stain as big as a tennis ball. The word ‘Captain’, printed at the back, made her cringe self-consciously. Back home, the T-shirt had earned everyone’s respect, but here, she wasn’t so sure.
Riled with the girl’s attitude, Billi pursed her lips in displeasure. What the heck, we are not here for a catwalk. Bloody snob! The two of us are reporting for the same training and will soon be equals. I wonder how long her arrogance will last. She snorted derisively.
‘Did you say something?’ asked the supercilious girl.
‘I was just clearing my throat,’ Billi smirked. On second thought, she snorted once more.
‘Hi, I am Kiran from Aurangabad,’ whispered a voice from the back.
Billi turned and faced a pleasant-faced girl with curly hair.
‘Good morning, myself Bijli Bijarnia from Alakhpura, Bhiwani,’ Billi beamed, drawing herself to her full height of five feet six inches. Blurting out this introduction was easy, especially after the innumerable rehearsals in front of a mirror. As an afterthought, she added, ‘Before arriving to Chennai, I was the captain of Alakhpura Football Club. What about you? Any sport activities?’
The captaincy was the biggest achievement of Billi’s life, if one discounted the struggle for a degree in commerce. The only difference between the two achievements was that she enjoyed the former, while the latter had been the mother of all pains.
‘Wow! That’s nice,’ the girl said. ‘Unfortunately, I have not been a captain of any team. I play a bit of badminton and can swim, but nothing worth mentioning.’
Billi warmed up to the girl’s unassuming nature. ‘I can neither play badminton nor swim. We have one pond in the village, but it’s too dirty for swimming. Only the buffaloes swim in it,’ she giggled.
The two of them chatted quietly while the NCO continued to call out names on his list and directed the cadets to the vehicle that was to transport them to the academy.
‘Bijli Bijarnia?’ Her name, at last.
‘Yes, sir.’ She nodded at Kiran and moved forward.
‘You are Bijli Bijarnia?’ The NCO subjected her to a stern look.
‘Yes sir, myself Bijli…’ she paused, embarrassed. She had been engrossed in conversation with Kiran and had failed to hear him announce her name.
‘You may proceed to the bus,’ he said finally. ‘Next time, try to be alert.’
Heaving a sigh of relief, she joined the others who were making their way towards the bus. In the meantime, their signature black metal trunks had been loaded onto an army truck.
Clambering into the bus, Billi sank into the seat next to Kiran, who had extracted a big packet of potato chips from her bag and was munching busily.
‘I was feeling hungry,’ explained Kiran, extending the packet towards Billi, who grabbed a handful. It had been several hours since she had eaten. The food which had been served on the train had been terribly unappetizing, and after the first meal, she had survived on wafers and cold drinks.
‘So, you are from Alakhpura?
‘Yes, it is a small place. Not like Chennai.’
‘Well, I am from Jabalpur and it’s not a very big city either. But I love it.’
‘Alakhpura may be small, but it is famous. It has been written about in many newspapers and magazines.’
‘That’s very nice. What is it famous for?’
‘Haven’t you heard of the Alakhpura girls’ football team? Our football team has won two Subroto Cup titles. It is run with the support of the entire village, and many of the girls trained by the club have participated in the national football championship.’
‘That sounds very impressive. I am sure you will do well in the academy.’ There was genuine appreciation in Kiran’s voice.
Meanwhile, the bus began winding its way towards the academy and everyone began chattering loudly. The ice was broken, information was shared and friends were made. Some young men, keen on making friends with the girls, were going from one end of the bus to the other, introducing themselves.
Voices began rising with excitement, and soon the bus was buzzing like a fish market on wheels.
‘Has anyone in your family joined the army?’ Billi asked her companion. She was keen to take the budding friendship to a new level.
‘One of my uncles was in the army, but he retired a couple of years ago. What about you?’
‘My grandfather served in the army, but I am the first girl in our family to join the army,’ replied the Haryanvi girl, her eyes clouding with memories of the angry reactions at home.
‘Why can’t girls join the army?’ Billi had ranted.
‘We have broken all the rules to let you play football,’ said her mother. ‘But there is no question of your joining the army.’
‘All the girls in the village play football. It’s not like I am doing something against the social norm.’
‘Don’t argue,’ thundered her father.
They refused to listen to reason. Only Daddu stood by her.
He painted a rosy picture of a world where girls were brave enough to go to war with men. ‘Imagine fighting for the country, Billi,’ Daddu goaded. ‘You will be the pride of the town, and soon, other girls will follow your example.’
Till then, leading her team to victory in the India Women’s Football Championship had been Billi’s ultimate goal. That dream was suddenly replaced by a picture of herself decked in combat uniform, annihilating the enemy with a machine gun.
Now, as the bus raced towards its destination, she sighed with pleasure and sank deeper into the seat. It will be just as Daddu predicted. I will set an example for the Alakhpura girls.
Soon, the bus drew near the impressive portal of the academy. Engraved in shining brass letters on a black granite gateway were the words – Officers Training Academy.
The words struck a chord in everyone. Backs straightened, all chatter ceased and a feeling of pride made everyone’s chests swell. They were a step closer to their dreams.