A TALE OF TWO RIVALS
By Colonel C Mani
In Happier
Times – Girish and Radhika helping me remove a shuttle from the Roof Top
The Mahabharata is replete with stories of human
foibles, daring and endeavour. But my
favourite story was the one that my friend, Girish Purandare, often recounted
to me during the heady days when we did the Young Officer’s Course at
Mhow. Girish was a strapping young lad of physically immense
proportions but with a heart of gold. Now for the story. Dharmaraj Yudhishtra
and his brothers are making the long arduous trek to heaven, and one by one his
brothers fall. Finally, only Yudhishtra
and his dog reach the gates of heaven.
While the dog is allowed entry Dharmaraj has to see hell for a day for having
told a truth with bad intent that caused the death of Dronacharya. During his
brief sojourn in hell, he finds all his brothers including Krishna’s
favourite Arjuna undergoing the torments of hell. When he finally enters
heaven, who should he find there but his arch enemy Duryodhana. A nonplussed
Dharmaraj is told by Yama, the God of Death that Arjuna could not get over the
failing of pride over his prowess as an archer.
And Duryodhana? Simple, he died on the battlefield fighting for his
motherland. Having divine sanction for our sinful actions as young officers we
willfully entered into an orgy of pleasure, wining dining and wooing in Mhow.
Given the hostile neighborhood of India our chances of doing a Duryodhana –
Houdini escape act was rather bright.
We were again
together during the three year long degree engineering course at Pune and Mhow.
After the dusty UP towns where our regiments had been stationed, Pune was like heaven
on earth. We were virile energetic young bachelors packing in as much action as
we could into every minute of the day. The Course itself was academically
demanding and it was an exciting time to
be in the field of telecommunications. The possibilities of telecommunications and computers converging
into cyber space was close to becoming a reality. We were the best of friends
playing squash, wining and dining together, but it soon became clear that we would both be vying for the top honours.
For a while, it seemed that I would give
him a good run for his money until he went and fell in love with a tall
beautiful engineering student Radhika,
from a local College. Before, you
could blink your eyes he was married and well settled while I continued on my
philandering ways. After that there was no contest and he was cantering away. By
the time I got hitched to Jayanthi in the final semester at Mhow it was too late
and I had to settle for second spot while Girish walked away with the Gold
Medal. Jayanthi, of course always made me choose ‘the harder right instead of
the easier wrong’ but that is another story. I had the minor satisfaction of
giving him a good hiding in the squash finals and to his eternal mortification our
names as winner and runners up for 1988 still stands in the MCTE Squash Courts.
We were both nominated for Post graduation studies at the IITs. Again he chose the more
difficult field of computer sciences while I settled for telecommunications.
Meanwhile, we had both been blessed with lovely daughters quickly followed by a strapping boy each. Life was
full of promise.
The first hint of
our rivalry not going the full distance came when it was time to appear for the
prestigious Staff College Entrance examinations. I opted only for the Technical
Staff course while he duly got selected for the Staff College.
He scolded me,’ I thought we would fight to the finish, and you did not even
turn up at the start line’. After the course, we went our respective ways, he
to the troubled Kashmir
Valley and me to Shimla.
He again distinguished himself when
leading an ad hoc operation by knocking off three terrorists. Fate
willed that we be brought together again and we were both posted to Delhi. Here he created a
software package for qualitative
analysis that would provide decision
support for procurement of weapon systems, for which he was commended by the
Chief of Army Staff, while I slaved away at the Postings Branch an object of
much criticism. The powers that be however felt that we were
both eligible to command units and detailed us for the Senior Command course at
Mhow. As India
progressed on the vehicle of Manmohanomics,
Mhow seemed to have been left behind.. Except for a few grey hairs on
the moustaches of our favourite tailors and an odd sign board advertising
mobile service providers Mhow seemed to exist in a time warp. Our respective
bosses had exhorted both of us to come back with flying colors, but the soothing environs of Mhow coupled with the
absence of our nagging spouses made us regress back to our Young Officer days.
Come the post lunch hour and a keen look would appear on Girish’s face. ‘Can
you hear it?’ he would ask much as the Gopis longed for the sweet strains of Krishna’s Flute. He was of course referring to the aged Lambretta
of the Kulfi wala who knew where the connoisseurs of his wares lived. We
muddled through the Course, reveling for once in the anonymity of mediocrity. Not
for long though, as we were again forced to rise to the challenge of commanding
units in the backdrop of OP PARAKRAM. Apparently we had both been good
commanding officers as we found ourselves nominated for the Higher Defence
Management Course at the College
of Defence Management,
Secunderabad. The competition here was much stiffer as the course had the best
and brightest officers from the three Services. Girish, however still excelled
coming second on the course as also receiving the second prize for his
dissertation on The Indo US Nuclear Deal. I had to remain content with the
first prize for the best case study. After, the course while I stayed back as
an Instructor he was posted on staff to the North East. He had by now left his
squash playing days behind and become an enthusiastic Golf player outdriving
other more skilled players by using his
sheer physical strength. Which was why it was such a shock seeing him lie
comatose in the Command Hospital at Kolkata, his body racked by the low grade
fever that characterizes Leukemia.
The first round of
chemotherapy had thinned his hair, darkened his face and enlarged his spleen
distending his stomach. He had undergone severe bodily discomfort including
blister like eruptions and a debilitating diarrhea due to the side effects of
chemotherapy. His defences having been laid low he was susceptible to
infections, and no visitors were permitted to meet him. I had to pull strings
to meet him, the sanctioning authority being his wan but resolute life support system,
Radhika. She warned me not to speak of his illness, but true to his great
fighting spirit he was confident of his chances and getting ready to move to Delhi for two more rounds
of chemotherapy to be followed by a bone marrow transplant. I assured him our
rivalry would continue as he was certain to make it in the Brigadier’s
promotion board scheduled in Apr 2009. He could not talk for too long as he
tired quickly. Now, I am no Reiki
Master, but when he asked me for therapy to ease the pain, I called upon all
the healing powers in the Cosmos to descend on my feeble palms. When he seemed
at peace I left the room. Later, that evening Radhika told me that he had
benefited from my touch but couldn’t see me as the fever had returned. As darkness descended, Girish again demanded to see me. I walked in not
knowing what to expect. True to form, there was soft music playing and Girish
was conducting an invisible orchestra as the soulful Hindi numbers of our youth
filled the room. We listened in silence as Kishore, Lata and Mukesh expressed
all that we couldn’t say. He soon began speaking of how he had not let down the
Corps of Signals when called upon to analyse the Chinese threat, of how proud
he was to be a Signals officer and of
how much he owed to the Corps. He had written a poem on the day he was
diagnosed of blood cancer and was keen on circulating it to his course mates
and obtaining their opinion on it. The poem was remarkably moving expressing
the paradox of surrender to the almighty while simultaneously being engaged in
a pitched battle with him for the gift of life. He was determined not to give
up.
But as the John
Lennon song goes, ‘Life happens when we are busy making plans’. Or, as in this
case, death happened. That great heart was stilled by a cardiac arrest at on 26
Feb 2009. The cancer had insidiously eaten
into his vital organs. Girish had fought his final battle, and here he was
wrapped in the tricolor, lying lifeless
as the buglers played the Last Post. The crematorium was a sea of green as the
arms guard gave him their ‘Salami Shastra’. His beloved Corps of Signals was
represented in full strength. I was not
in green, for, you see one can’t cry in uniform.
I don’t know if his battle for life meets the exacting
requirements of Yama, but the courage with which he fought the good fight could
not have escaped the notice of the Great Reaper. The religious teacher who
performed the last rites, seeing my tears told me, ‘Ab woh sare bandhan se mukt
ho gaye hain’. It was then that it hit me. In the race that mattered his soul had
made it to the finish line before mine.
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