<p>It was a reunion long overdue. A couple of months ago, we 30-odd veteran airmen from different parts of Kerala assembled at a resort on Cherai beach near Kochi. It was from Kochi (then Cochin), on a June evening forty years ago, we, a group of fresh recruits, headed for our boot-camp at Sambra, a village near Belgaum in northern Karnataka. Still in our teens, we had just taken perhaps the biggest decision in our life to opt for a career about which we had little knowledge. Our batch mates were very excited by the fact that some of us would be meeting again after nearly four decades. For days, the tempo of anticipation was building up in our newly formed whatsApp group. I closely looked at the small circles of profile images to get an idea of “who was who”.</p>.<p>When we finally met, it was indeed a struggle to recall the faces that were once so familiar. Then came the ‘Aha’ moment, followed by hugs and pats and more hugs. Little wonder, we were all amused looking at each other’s form and shape. Some had gone bald, some sported their grey hair and beard proudly while some others tried, rather desperately, to look younger with handy touch-ups.</p>.<p>Those who were pencil-thin boys once have turned into pot-bellied oldies. Some others who made fitness regimes a routine had their figures still in decent shape. Yet, time had mellowed us all. We moved and spoke gently like soldiers on retreat, who ceased fighting and sheathed their arms.</p>.<p>Even then, traces of idiosyncrasies, unaffected by the passage of time, stood out. Those trails of mannerisms, once objects of billet jokes and pranks, triggered old-world charms and memories came flooding back. Among all the boisterousness, sombre moments crept us as we saw the “missing man table” for our fallen comrades who took an untimely leave.</p>.<p>After dinner, we gathered by the pool, right on the edge of the coastline, and took the mandatory group photographs before settling in for casual conversations. Behind us, giant waves with monsoon rage continuously pounded the sea wall as a debate on the new military recruitment policy raged on the large TV screen in front of us. </p>.<p>Panellists tried to outsmart each other by listing the opportunities and challenges before the new short-term recruits. The hot topic should have been a staple for a gathering such as ours and I anticipated some of us to pitch in with our own views and reviews, a grassroots review for that matter.</p>.<p>On the contrary, there was a total silence. Perhaps, each one of us was quietly trying to put ourselves in the new soldiers’ boots, and frankly, there were no easy answers. Someone then blurted out: “They miss the point. Friendships that last a lifetime are the greatest gift from the old order.”</p>
<p>It was a reunion long overdue. A couple of months ago, we 30-odd veteran airmen from different parts of Kerala assembled at a resort on Cherai beach near Kochi. It was from Kochi (then Cochin), on a June evening forty years ago, we, a group of fresh recruits, headed for our boot-camp at Sambra, a village near Belgaum in northern Karnataka. Still in our teens, we had just taken perhaps the biggest decision in our life to opt for a career about which we had little knowledge. Our batch mates were very excited by the fact that some of us would be meeting again after nearly four decades. For days, the tempo of anticipation was building up in our newly formed whatsApp group. I closely looked at the small circles of profile images to get an idea of “who was who”.</p>.<p>When we finally met, it was indeed a struggle to recall the faces that were once so familiar. Then came the ‘Aha’ moment, followed by hugs and pats and more hugs. Little wonder, we were all amused looking at each other’s form and shape. Some had gone bald, some sported their grey hair and beard proudly while some others tried, rather desperately, to look younger with handy touch-ups.</p>.<p>Those who were pencil-thin boys once have turned into pot-bellied oldies. Some others who made fitness regimes a routine had their figures still in decent shape. Yet, time had mellowed us all. We moved and spoke gently like soldiers on retreat, who ceased fighting and sheathed their arms.</p>.<p>Even then, traces of idiosyncrasies, unaffected by the passage of time, stood out. Those trails of mannerisms, once objects of billet jokes and pranks, triggered old-world charms and memories came flooding back. Among all the boisterousness, sombre moments crept us as we saw the “missing man table” for our fallen comrades who took an untimely leave.</p>.<p>After dinner, we gathered by the pool, right on the edge of the coastline, and took the mandatory group photographs before settling in for casual conversations. Behind us, giant waves with monsoon rage continuously pounded the sea wall as a debate on the new military recruitment policy raged on the large TV screen in front of us. </p>.<p>Panellists tried to outsmart each other by listing the opportunities and challenges before the new short-term recruits. The hot topic should have been a staple for a gathering such as ours and I anticipated some of us to pitch in with our own views and reviews, a grassroots review for that matter.</p>.<p>On the contrary, there was a total silence. Perhaps, each one of us was quietly trying to put ourselves in the new soldiers’ boots, and frankly, there were no easy answers. Someone then blurted out: “They miss the point. Friendships that last a lifetime are the greatest gift from the old order.”</p>