<p>The Tamil festivals of <span class="italic">Bhogi and Pongal in mid-January make me nostalgic about my joining the Indian Military Academy, in Dehradun, 62 years ago, on January 13, which is also the day Bhogi is celebreated. On arrival, we had to hand over Rs 1,200 in cash towards various uniforms. I had got a pocket made inside my swimming shorts and transferred all my cash into it; little did I foresee the trouble I would have in the bathroom. </span></p>.<p><span class="italic">That amount included the first six months’ pocket allowance of Rs 40 per month. To our shock, we learned that Rs 10 each for cycle cleaning and to room-bearers, Rs 2 for Regt-cutting would go from the allowance every month; we had to manage with the “balance” for postage, cafeteria, town visits, and cycle repairs, etc.</span></p>.<p>In the severe cold at Dehradun Railway Station, I was shivering in a half-sweater, having carefully packed the only suit and a couple of woollens, lest they be soiled. The suit would get soiled the same night, thanks to Lance Corporal Bhatt, a six-month senior who was our course-in-charge for the next six months and would ensure our “rites of passage.”</p>.<p>We arrived in Clement Town, where a local joiner informed us that it was originally an Italian POW camp, further demoralising us. Herded into a queue by Bhatt, I noticed some other <span class="italic">Madrassis</span>, and my mood improved. Signboards announced not to leave things unattended until all joining formalities were completed. But to take out cash, I had to leave my belongings and go to the bathroom!</p>.<p>Bhatt, a tough taskmaster, quickly whipped us into shape by holding daily “shape parades” two hours before sunrise and puttee parades after dinner to sharpen our reactions when switching from one rig to another.</p>.<p>The worst was the <span class="italic">chindit-bajri</span>-bike routine late at night for four weeks during the harsh winter. That dress is eponymous with Gen Orde Wingate’s force and involves wearing a big pack with about 18 kg on the back with a 2 kg side-haversack, a 1 kg-filled water bottle, and a 7-kg weapon. For punishment, the contents changed to aggregate/gravel/solid bricks, which weighed far more.</p>.<p>After a quick 15-minutes lunch, Bhatt ordered us to follow him “at the double” while he cycled through the entire Clement Town Wing of the IMA, showing us around. At the open air theatre, we were told no movies for 10 weeks until passing the Drill Square Test in March.</p>.<p><span class="italic">En route</span>, he showed us the Victory Cinema just outside the gate, saying it screened Tamil movies on Sundays, but, sadistically added, it was out-of-bounds! I finally got a bike after arriving at the bike shop! We were fortunate not to have joined IMA 28 years earlier, because the first few batches were only permitted to use bicycles from 2.30 to 7.30 pm; the rest of the time, “at the double.” </p>
<p>The Tamil festivals of <span class="italic">Bhogi and Pongal in mid-January make me nostalgic about my joining the Indian Military Academy, in Dehradun, 62 years ago, on January 13, which is also the day Bhogi is celebreated. On arrival, we had to hand over Rs 1,200 in cash towards various uniforms. I had got a pocket made inside my swimming shorts and transferred all my cash into it; little did I foresee the trouble I would have in the bathroom. </span></p>.<p><span class="italic">That amount included the first six months’ pocket allowance of Rs 40 per month. To our shock, we learned that Rs 10 each for cycle cleaning and to room-bearers, Rs 2 for Regt-cutting would go from the allowance every month; we had to manage with the “balance” for postage, cafeteria, town visits, and cycle repairs, etc.</span></p>.<p>In the severe cold at Dehradun Railway Station, I was shivering in a half-sweater, having carefully packed the only suit and a couple of woollens, lest they be soiled. The suit would get soiled the same night, thanks to Lance Corporal Bhatt, a six-month senior who was our course-in-charge for the next six months and would ensure our “rites of passage.”</p>.<p>We arrived in Clement Town, where a local joiner informed us that it was originally an Italian POW camp, further demoralising us. Herded into a queue by Bhatt, I noticed some other <span class="italic">Madrassis</span>, and my mood improved. Signboards announced not to leave things unattended until all joining formalities were completed. But to take out cash, I had to leave my belongings and go to the bathroom!</p>.<p>Bhatt, a tough taskmaster, quickly whipped us into shape by holding daily “shape parades” two hours before sunrise and puttee parades after dinner to sharpen our reactions when switching from one rig to another.</p>.<p>The worst was the <span class="italic">chindit-bajri</span>-bike routine late at night for four weeks during the harsh winter. That dress is eponymous with Gen Orde Wingate’s force and involves wearing a big pack with about 18 kg on the back with a 2 kg side-haversack, a 1 kg-filled water bottle, and a 7-kg weapon. For punishment, the contents changed to aggregate/gravel/solid bricks, which weighed far more.</p>.<p>After a quick 15-minutes lunch, Bhatt ordered us to follow him “at the double” while he cycled through the entire Clement Town Wing of the IMA, showing us around. At the open air theatre, we were told no movies for 10 weeks until passing the Drill Square Test in March.</p>.<p><span class="italic">En route</span>, he showed us the Victory Cinema just outside the gate, saying it screened Tamil movies on Sundays, but, sadistically added, it was out-of-bounds! I finally got a bike after arriving at the bike shop! We were fortunate not to have joined IMA 28 years earlier, because the first few batches were only permitted to use bicycles from 2.30 to 7.30 pm; the rest of the time, “at the double.” </p>