My four-and-a-half-decade-long journey in the army started in January 1961. I was all of fifteen years and three months old at that time, and like most others of my age, didn’t know where this journey would end. Along with my half-brother, I left home for the National Defence Academy (NDA), Khadakwasla, near Poona, to join the 25th Course. Mother prayed for us and did the ‘ardas’ before we left. I don’t know of any other case where two brothers joined the NDA in the same batch. Though my brother, S.J.S. Marwah (Satti to me), was elder to me by almost two years, we got through the NDA examination and the interview by the selection board together. I was fifteenth in the overall merit list from amongst a couple of thousand who sat for the entrance examination. In those days, the results used to be published in the national dailies. Sadly, it’s not the case any longer. Satti opted for the air force, while I chose the army, though I liked the navy too.
The NDA is a world-class training institution; importantly, it is one of the few tri-service academies of the world. It was the vision of Jawaharlal Nehru that resulted in the creation of such an outstanding academy. Today it is the cradle of our military leadership.
We travelled by train for a day-and-a-half from Ferozepur, where my father happened to be posted at that time, and reached Poona on the appointed day. There we were received by a team from the NDA. After an hour’s bus ride we reached the academy. I remember that moment so vividly even today.
The first view of the NDA from the main gate at the top of the hill was simply stunning. A straight and wide avenue led us to the heart of the academy. Having reached the cadets’ living area, we got down from the buses, identified our baggage and put name tags on them. We were told that our boxes would be sent to our rooms (called ‘cabins’ – a naval term), but a warm reception awaited us on the way. That was our first experience of ragging. We were expecting it, because everyone who knew about the NDA had warned us about it, but what we experienced was unbelievable. At times, it was cruel, sadistic and almost inhuman! We measured the distance to the cadets’ mess not by walking but by ‘front-rolling’, a term denoting a human ball rolling on the tarmac. We soon learnt how to fold our torso in a round configuration, perhaps a shade better than when we were in our mother’s womb. It did not take us time to realize that while riding our cycles we exposed ourselves to being saddled with a ‘golden necklace’. That meant continuing our journey carrying the cycle around our necks in case we failed to pay compliments to our seniors, were out of line or simply because we crossed the path of a mean son-of-a-bitch. The worst part of it was that the senior cadet who awarded the punishment generally vanished, without giving any orders about the termination of the punishment. For all it mattered, a sincere and disciplined first-termer could be on his haunches leaping like a frog, front-rolling or running around an ‘imaginary tree’ the whole night.
It wasn’t difficult to spot a first-termer as we were in civilian clothes till our uniforms and ‘mufti’ outfits were tailored and issued to us. Besides, our body language gave us away even when we had received our uniforms, later in the term. There appeared to be a stamp somewhere on our person which nailed us. The whole issue of ragging seemed bizarre and silly. In our squadron, we had a daily dose of ragging after dinner; the physical aches and pain made it difficult for us to laugh it off, and it was pointless crying. There was no one to comfort us. It was like the ‘death lane’ in the equestrian training area, where the rider and the horse were put in a barricaded enclosure with a series of jumps which the horse was trained to clear with or without the rider in the saddle. The latter eventuality was a frequent occurrence. So we learnt to get on with life by ourselves – graduating into manhood.
Since the NDA was designed to train cadets of all the three services, using the terminologies of the army, navy and air force was de rigueur in the academy. We found terms of the three services being used in a random mix. At first, it sounded a bit odd to learn that in the drill square there was a ‘quarter deck’. Our instructors were amongst the finest officers from the three services. It was common to have a squadron commander from the navy or a battalion commander from the air force. The army cadets were called ‘pongos’ and the hospital a ‘sick bay’! With my army background, I found the whole thing quite funny and confusing at times.
One Sunday morning I was in the barber shop, standing in the queue with a serious look on my face. A senior cadet present there found it very amusing – a Sikh cadet waiting for a haircut.
‘Bloody fool (the normal way a fresher was addressed), what are you doing here. Don’t you know this is a barber shop?’ he barked at me.
‘Yes, sir,’ said I.
‘Then get lost before I make a monkey out of you,’ he hissed like a king cobra.
‘But I can’t do that, sir. I am standing in for Vinod Sir,’ was my timid response.
‘Disappear immediately, will you? I will sort out your Vinod Sir as well!’
I ran from that area as fast as I could and sought the refuge of my cabin. After that day, I wasn’t ever asked by Cadet Vinod (name changed) to do anything stupid.
The daily routine at the academy was very tough. From 6 a.m., when the reveille was sounded, till 10 p.m., when it was lights out, we were kept so busy that we didn’t know whether we were coming or going. The day would generally start with PT, drill or equitation. Then, after breakfast, we had classes till lunch. Thereafter, we would have games, followed by a quick shower, and then getting into mess kit for dinner nights or civvies on certain days, and doing self-study before going to the mess for dinner. By the time we returned from the mess, we would be dog-tired and go off to sleep as soon as ‘lights out’ was announced. The academic curriculum was designed to give us an educational background upto graduation level, though in those days we never got any formal degrees.
The overall aim of training was character building, esprit de corps, mental and physical robustness, leadership and a sense of keen observation. Besides this one learnt inter-services aspects of the armed forces, developed interest in extracurricular activities, and inculcated the spirit of the ‘honour code’ as well as ethical and moral values. We were obliged to study a foreign language as an additional subject. The popular languages were French, German or Italian. However, I was allotted Arabic. By the end of our course, I had achieved a fairly good standard in this language and even passed the advanced diploma Part I exam. There were some clever guys who never passed their basic Hindi test and therefore, did not have to study a foreign language. They were losers in the long run, as I believe knowing another language is an asset in life.
When I joined the NDA, I was nominated to the Alpha squadron, but on rejoining after the first-term break, I was astonished to learn that my squadron had been changed to Juliet. This was a new squadron and cadets had to be transferred from all other squadrons to make it full strength. Being a new squadron, we had to forge ourselves into a team and soon we began to make a mark by excelling in various inter-squadron competitions. By the end of my stay in the NDA, we were amongst the best squadrons of the academy. As of now, there have been many two- and three-star generals, air marshals and admirals from the Juliet squadron, though I have been the only cadet to become a chief.
For relaxation, we used to look forward to the weekly movie. On occasions there was a dose of ragging and punishment at the end of the cinema show, if any of us misbehaved, whistled or jeered during it. We also used to have end-of-the-term social evenings, which were a cause of much amusement. We were permitted to go on an outing to Poona on Sundays or holidays and this was referred to as ‘liberty’. Many of us got into serious problems getting back to the academy on time. Stopping of liberty was a very effective punishment. Studies were taken very seriously and we had to report back earlier for a retest in case we failed in two or more subjects. Only once during my stay of three years in the NDA did I have to take the re-examination. As a tradition in the final term, the passing-out cadets became the juniormost for a day or two. It was fun to see them being ragged by everyone. Generally, those who were very harsh or strict with their juniors were singled out for special treatment. When I was graduating, very few of the juniors came looking for me, and I got away lightly.
The Sino-Indian war took place during October-November 1962. This war over disputed borders came as a rude shock. I was in the fourth term at that time. All of us volunteered to go and fight for the defence of the motherland. I vividly recall that our deputy commandant, Brigadier Hoshiar Singh, a gallant soldier and an experienced war leader, was nominated to command a brigade under 4 Infantry Division in NEFA (now Arunachal Pradesh) and moved posthaste to the northeast. That brigade was tasked to occupy a defensive position at the formidable Se La pass.
We had great faith and confidence that his brigade would stall the Chinese advance and stem the tide. Unfortunately, the 4th Division withdrew from Se La without giving much of a fight. During this phase of the war, Brigadier Hoshiar Singh died in action against the Chinese. We as cadets felt very sad to lose such a fine officer, and it would be hard to forget those days. As a result of this debacle, quite a few heads rolled in the army, and the overall responsibility had to be accepted by the then defence minister, V.K. Krishna Menon, and the army chief, General P.N. Thapar. In a way, this setback to the image of India affected the stature of our first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. He felt stabbed in the back by the Chinese. He never recovered from this catastrophic event and died due to a heart attack in 1964.
After their traumatic defeat in 1962, there was a large-scale expansion of the armed forces. To make up for the shortfall of officers, emergency commissions were given to a few thousand young men from 1963–65. They were given training at the academies for only six months instead of two years. At the same time, our one-year training period at the Indian Military Academy (IMA), Dehradun, was compressed to seven months, and we got commissioned as second lieutenants in August 1964. It was a hectic period for hundreds of us milling around in Premnagar and Clement Town areas of IMA, Dehradun. There was a lot of ad hocism and curtailing of the training schedules being resorted to. Further, due to the increased numbers, there was an unavoidable dilution of standards of the living conditions of the cadets, particularly in the Clement Town area where I was undergoing training. We were made to live in barracks made during the Second World War to house Italian prisoners of war! My memories of that seven-month period are quite lacklustre. Except for the passing-out parade and our commissioning, I do not recall any other event. During those days, we always appeared to be in a big rush, doing one thing after another.
However, I do remember vividly the bashing up I got in the semifinals of the boxing championship. Being from the NDA, it was assumed that I was a boxer. Every cadet had to participate in the novices boxing competition in the NDA. But that did not mean we became good pugilists. Without so much as asking my concurrence, I was fielded in the bantamweight category of the IMA Inter Company Championship. I somehow managed to do well in the preliminary bouts. Being a ‘southpaw’ had its advantages. In the semis I had to face an adversary who happened to be a university champion and was from the emergency commission cadets’ stream. In the first two rounds, I fared reasonably well. I gave him a few punches and one odd left hook, even though he had landed many solid knocks on my face, which, by then, was badly bruised. In the third round, he showed his true colours and went for me. I didn’t give up. Flinging my arms about wildly and missing the target most of the time, I took a lot of beating. Barely able to stand in my corner, all that I remember was that the referee announced ‘well fought red, green is the winner’. The multicoloured stars that we saw in comics as kids were all that I could see wherever I turned my eyes, and my head was pounding. Then I passed out and had to be admitted in the military hospital, where I was kept under observation for two days. Fortunately, there was no ‘brain damage’, or so I assume, but I had to go around with a black eye for many days. My company commander happened to watch this fight. I suppose he must have raised my ranking in the order of merit a couple of notches higher, for displaying grit and determination and taking the bashing in a manly way. That was the last time that I boxed.
My father came to attend my passing-out parade and the pipping ceremony on 2 August 1964. He put on a single star on each of my shoulders and embraced me. He had tears in his eyes as he recalled his own commissioning at this very same IMA parade ground in 1943. This was the dawn of a third-generation soldier of the Indian Army. To celebrate, my father offered me my first glass of beer, and we clinked our glasses as we said cheers. Then my father said that henceforth, we shall be ‘brother officers’ first, and father and son later. It was one of the happiest days of my life. How I wished that my mother was also there to bless me and share this moment of joy. But she couldn’t come as she was supervising the construction of our house in Defence Colony in Delhi.