Army – Random Ramblings

Decoding ECHS

Before ECHS came into being health care for ex faujis was simple . One simple command “Report to the nearest MH” did it.

Post ECHS, we nave so many terms , MH, polyclinic, empanelled hosp, non empanelled hospitals, OPD ,IPD, labs ( empanelled and non empaneled) and so on. A person from a cantonment like Mhow , more often than not ended up having to go to touch every base , in the right order at the right time for right test or treatment at the right price.

ECHS , in typical fauji style issues one short paragraph letters preceded by one page of references to previous correspondence over past decade.

The notice boards overflows with just the ‘current’ changes while the Red Book on ECHS rules has more amendments than original pages.

There are many attempts to compile these letters , in the form of web links , apps , folders and so on.

Sourcedot.com has come out with an app that can be accessed from here

I have installed, but have not been able to register.

ECHS web site has all the policy letters uploaded but there are too many letters and many are scanned documents not legible enough to read.

A link here

One Veteran has gone to GitHub to upload these letters, a valiant attempt to keep track of the policies that mutate faster than COVID 19 virus.

In my view, this is the best available platform today.

Link

Incidentally, GitHub is a site used by software developers to keep track of versions.

then there are videos on youtube, where you can take your pick ; available in both English and Hindi. A few samples here.

There is more complexity in health policies sold by private insurance companies. Yet , they manage to condense their terms and conditions in 4-6 pages requiring no reference documents. It’s a different matter that sometimes the terms are literally condensed to micro print that they are hardly readable.

Why can’t we have ONE annual issue of a single document to spell out the rules for that year ?

Comments welcome.

OROP, What it means to me

As a veteran, do I want or, more importantly, do I need OROP ? To be more precise, do I need that extra money ? I don’t think so. It is a soldier’s dignity that take a beating , when he is back among civilians in the society. Money is really is of no consequence. … Continue reading “OROP, What it means to me”

As a veteran, do I want or, more importantly, do I need OROP ?

To be more precise, do I need that extra money ? I don’t think so. It is a soldier’s dignity that take a beating , when he is back among civilians in the society.

Money is really is of no consequence. Any amount of money is insufficient if the society robs you of your dignity and honour.

That is the way army was when I joined. It was considered too ‘bania-like’ to have a second look at your pay statement. A pay statement (pay slip as it is called ) was routinely torn up after seeing the figure ‘remittance to bankers’. Today it may sound foolhardy. But it is not unique to Indian Army. Warriors all over the world disdain money, it is only the banias or bandits who accumulated wealth(banias did it without weapons and bandits did it with weapons).Japanese concept of Bushido explains it best. Here’s an extract from the book BUSHIDO THE SOUL OF JAPAN BY INAZO NITOBÉ, A.M., Ph.D.

………He disdains money itself,—the art of making or hoarding it. It is to him veritably filthy lucre. Niggardliness of gold and of life excites as much disapprobation as their lavish use is panegyrized. “Less than all things,” says a current precept, “men must grudge money: it is by riches that wisdom is hindered.” Hence children were brought up with utter disregard of economy. It was considered bad taste to speak of it, and ignorance of the value of different coins was a token of good breeding. Knowledge of numbers was indispensable in the mustering of forces as well, as in the distribution of benefices and fiefs; but the counting of money was left to meaner hands………..

We never complained about not getting our due , for the simple reason we hardly knew what was our due. While on leave, I was surprised to find that my civilian friends not only knew the current DA rate but were also aware of the next one. That explains why OROP was not talked about for four decades.

On the other hand, Dignity and respect were valued a lot. One only had to see a military special train , where compartments are marked “officers mess’ ‘Tiger’, Lion and so on. Even in the middle of a jungle, a clearing where the CO’s tent was put up attained the status of a bungalow. Furnishing was done with available material like logs , planks and grass. It resembled the den of ‘Hagar the Horrible’ but far from complaining about, we were proud of the arrangements. It was termed ‘jungal men mangal’.

Lack of money did not affect the dignity of a soldier when he returned home after completing 15 years of service. He had a place in the society. Education and medical expenses were less or non existent. After all army had one of the best networks of hospitals and medical centres.

The liberating nineties , as Gurcharan das calls it changed all that. It was extremely difficult for a fauji to seek admission for his children in private educational institutions and treatment at private hospitals became out of reach. Even to die with dignity it cost money. I could not leave army as I had no civil qualifications and people at the universities and colleges wanted you to apply a year before and go through the process of entrance exams and enrolment. I actually met the Vice Chancellor of Madras University . I thank him for agreeing to meet me without prior appointment, but the rules quoted by him were absurd to me. How can these babus, who have not served in army ever understand how difficult it is when posted at Tawang or Poonch to go through this one year process. No sir, I did not want money, I just wanted an opportunity to study, upgrade my skills to suit the civilian life.

An army man misses the opportunities to invest, to upgrade his skills or simply learn the way of life in civil environment. And it happens due to his spending the most productive years at the borders or at sea, not through chasing money at Gulf countries or a better life style in the West.

When a society does not give an opportunity to find a dignified livelihood, the least they can give is the means , extra money , to buy a modicum of dignity and respect. I rest my case.

Scottish Tunes and the Desi Regiments

Having served for 35 years in a Regiment and having frozen to attention every time the Regimental March past played, all I remember is a feeling of intense pride and a deep respect for the Flag and the Regiment when I heard these notes. Back O Bennachie is our Regimental March-past. Though I never learnt … Continue reading “Scottish Tunes and the Desi Regiments”

Back O Bennachie is our Regimental March-past. Though I never learnt the lyrics nor the history of the song I have developed a close attachment for the tune. I just presumed that it was a song about soldier, soldiering and battles. In the pre internet days, ignorance on any subject was well preserved as there was no way to check out facts. One just went by feelings rather than well researched facts.

I remember , a commanding officer musing aloud, “why do we need a march-past called ‘Back O Bennachie’ ? Half the people can’t spell it or pronounce it and nobody can understand it; we need an Indian tune composed by a great Indian musician like Pandit Ravishankar.” The next day was 15 Aug and after the function at the JCOs Club, we were all standing in attention and as the last notes of the Regimental March past played , he looked at me , gently shook his head and muttered ‘no, no, we should stick to it’

As a good adjutant, I agreed with him on both the occasions and as the feelings go , it was not difficult to agree.

Years passed and one fine day, my son sent a video clip of the song played on mandolin. Following that link and further surfing in breadth and depth led to numerous versions. I downloaded and read up everything on the tune and also listened to some terrific versions of the tune played on mandolin, guitar and bag pipe.

It is a Scottish folk song, a sad love song about a girl who talks of two suitors. As the story goes, both the suitors die under different circumstances and it ends on a sad note

” It’s noo that twice I’ve been a bride,

I’ve been a bride, I’ve been a bride,

It’s noo that twice I’ve been a bride,

But a wife I’ll never be. “

For whatever reason , the song is set to a lively tune. Today, it appears to be a huge joke; it could well have been ‘Mary had a little lamb’ . What comes to my mind is the words of Jiddu Krishnamurti that seemingly meaningless rituals and words can become profoundly sacred through repetition over a period of time.It was something I had read long back, but courtesy, ‘the net’, I reproduce it below.

…….By repeating Amen or Om or Coca-Cola indefinitely you will obviously have a certain experience because by repetition the mind becomes quiet. It is a well known phenomenon which has been practised for thousands of years in India – Mantra Yoga it is called. By repetition you can induce the mind to be gentle and soft but it is still a petty, shoddy, little mind. You might as well put a piece of stick you have picked up in the garden on the mantelpiece and give it a flower every day. In a month you will be worshipping it and not to put a flower in front of it will become a sin……

Some links to lyrics and videos (The song is called ‘ back o bennachie’ or ‘gin I were the gadie rins’ )

On mandolin

Old Blind Dogs

The Bag pipe

On Accordion

The Lyrics

A Fauji and his Baggage

Well baggage is baggage; what is so different about a fauji’s house hold baggage ? He is always on the move, every year or two. I can hear a civilian friend saying, “What’s so great in ‘relocation’ ? even we do that you know ? I mutter to myself ‘From Bombay to Bhopal (and back … Continue reading “A Fauji and his Baggage”

A Fauji is posted to places, which to a civilian will not even qualify to be called a place. A typical conversation may go like this “hi where are you these days ?”, ‘Binaguri’… ‘where’s it?’, ‘New Jalpaiguri … that’s near Siliguri’ ‘and where is that ?’ ‘somewhere near Darjeeling’ ‘Oh ! You are at Darjeeling, why didn’t you say that ? nice place eh ?’

or it could be ‘Samba’, ‘ near Pathankot’ ending up as “So you are in Kashmir ?”

I am digressing, let us go into the details of a fauji household baggage.

A typical fauji household baggage would have an assortment of stuff. In addition to regular stuff like TVs, Refrigerators, Air conditioners and kitchen gadgets, you will encounter some place-speific essentials ; Woollen clothings , quilts and a Kero-heater to survive himalayan winters (a room-heater actually working on kerosene) popular at Dharchula (one can google to find the loc), a heavy duty voltage stabilizer to bring up the voltage from 75V to 200V or a diesel generator (for places where power supply is near zero and a couple of Desert Coolers (for our western regions). You can’t discard any stuff any time as by now you are only too aware as to how indispensable these are at places where you bought them . And one never knows the place of the next tenure and if there is anything to go by , you can consider Murphy’s law for fauji postings “Thou shalt see three postings along the coastal areas once you have acquired desert coolers to survive in Thar Desert and enough woollens and jackets for a trip to Tibet . I speak from personal experience.

Original idea was to write about how the stuff is moved but as it has been a long preamble , that would follow in the next post.

Contd — Travelling Light

Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! Though, in the West, Rum is generally associated with sailors, In India, it is the soldier and an infantryman at that, who is more attached to this incarnation of Soma Ras. It is not just the contents, even the container serves the infantryman so well. There are some unusual … Continue reading “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum”

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

Though, in the West, Rum is generally associated with sailors, In India, it is the soldier and an infantryman at that, who is more attached to this incarnation of Soma Ras.

It is not just the contents, even the container serves the infantryman so well. There are some unusual applications of this container and here we are talking only about a bottle having a uniformly cylindrical body and narrow neck and is made of glass; fancy shaped ones or PET bottles will not do.

In the field areas, generally in mountains, bunkers are made using available natural resources, ie Rocks, timber and mud. A CGI (Corrugated Galvanized Iron) Sheet is generally fabricated to form the door(fabrication involves putting a few holes in the iron sheet and using some wires to anchor it to a pole on one side or to use as a door handle or a door fastener !) What do we do for windows ? Getting glass panes is out of question. This is where the empty rum bottle comes into picture. Just make a rectangular hole in the wall and fill it up with a neat row of bottles. Sheer simplicity does it; your skylight is ready to brighten up your living space . Should you favour tinted glasses, well, you can try using beer bottles. I wish I had a photograph, but had to do with a simple illustration.

While on a Long Range patrol, the bottle is used just about everywhere. Though there is a whole range of equipment issued by the Ordnance Depot, like Mess tins, 4 men cooking set, 45 men cooking set and so on, what really works is a simple kerosene stove, a tawa (hot plate ?) and patila (a handle less pan) locally purchased. All solid (I wouldn’t say dry , as in army, opposite of dry is fresh and cooking oil comes under dry rations !) rations are carried in bag-packs and liquid or semi solid rations are carried in , you guessed it right, rum bottles. So you have milk, Curd, Cooking Oil, kerosene, and of course rum, all carried in rum bottles.

When you halt for the night, the patrol gets cracking to prepare a meal. You knead some dough , find a flat surface or use steel plate, and start rolling out the chapattis using the good old rum bottle as belan or the rolling pin. For a housewife a rolling pin might become a weapon, but for a soldier, his rum bottle becomes a rolling pin.

After the meal, which is generally cooked before it gets dark, you need a lamp. Fill up a bottle with kerosene, stick a piece of chindi (cloth for cleaning weapons) and you have a nice lamp; not so nice really , but so what ? I have actually read though nights using these lamps.

If that’s the story in a Field area, what happens in the peace station ? Well, you can see manifestations of a soldier’s sense of Good Life, in a Peace station. It is not uncommon to find money plants growing in rum bottles on window sills. And during the company bara khana , some hibiscus flowers or even a bunch bougainvillea flowers placed in rum bottles pass for flower arrangement.

Even in Officers messes, a rum bottle had its use. In the earlier days, cash strapped as we generally were, the mess secretary took pains to ensure that the empty bottles were sold at a good price to augment the income for the officers mess.

God knows how a soldier could have lived and fought without the Gift of Rum bottles with or without the original contents.

Mentally straight and Dentally crooked !

Whenever. I think of NDA (National Defence Academy), it is always with a mixed feeling. On one hand, it is truly a Cradle for Leadership where an unsure youngster is slowly and surely turned into a confident young man. On the other hand one also gets to see some mindless rituals and extreme sadism which pass for training, particularly when practised on unsuspecting teenagers, ironically by other teenagers. If an alumnus says that he enjoyed his first term there, either he is a consanguineous liar or a die hard masochist.

Be that as it may, every first termer looked forward to an escape route . There were lucky ones who were part of some Squadron sports team and at least for the duration of that sport event , they got a respite from day to day ‘ragada.’ . Everyone needed a break to maintain a semblance of sanity. For my own mental stability , what came to the rescue was my ‘dental instability’. It is this dental escapade that I am writing about.

I had , and still have a really crooked set of teeth. At NDA, at the very first visit to the Hospital for a routine check up,a dental surgeon from Pune happened to be there. This surgeon was absolutely fascinated by my teeth; well formed ,strong but set in two distinct rows. He must have loved cosmetic dental surgery, and couldn’t resist having a shot at putting them all in one line.

He patiently explained to me that he could align all my teeth in a perfect row and that there would be no gaps whatsoever; it would be like a perfect set of pearls ! Of course , he told me, it would require pulling out three good teeth, to make way for the unruly ones. The full import of his proposal did not hit me then, and all I registered was that ‘I would get a chance to get away from the academy and seek refuge in the hospital , at regular intervals.

So the treatment started. At the Academy, the highest priority was accorded to a call from the medical authorities , and the 2” x 4“ chit bearing the date on which I had to report to Command Military Dental Centre , (CMDC for short) was my passport to a well earned break. On the appointed day, I told my course-mates, that I was ‘proceeding to CMDC’ and reported to the Military Hospital after breakfast. From there a bus took us to the military Hospitals at Pune and Kirkee. A first termer could sleep anywhere, any time and I slept in the bus and later in the CMDC waiting room. There were times I got to meet my dentist and there were times , he was too busy to meet me and in either case I got my next date. At least on one occasion, no one noticed me in the Waiting room till it was time to leave and I was simply given a chit for the next date.

The treatment involved , taking x -rays, preparing moulds and all this took a number of visits, unlike the present times. Three months passed and it was soon time for the end of term activities. So one fine day, the dentist realized that my term break would upset his schedule for treatment and he decided to postpone the actual surgery to the next term.

The next term was a different story altogether. I never again went anywhere near the Dental Centre except for a routine check up by the GD (general Duty) dentist, who was not interested in any fancy surgery, and only the smokers among the batch were dished out ‘chits’ for scaling.

So ended my cosmetic surgery , even before it started and into the last year of my service, I still love my crooked set of teeth. The first line of our daily prayer at NDA went like this ‘ Oh God, help us to keep ourselves physically fit, mentally alert and morally straight…. “ My own unsaid prayer went, “ …keep me mentally straight and dentally crooked , so that I may proceed to CMDC, Pune……….

Regimental Reunion

It is about a Regimental Reunion or a Paltan reunion and I shall restrict myself to my thoughts rather than people and events. I had left the unit in Mar 1997, and it was after a long gap of 16 years, that I found myself back with the family. Unlike a School or College, there are no … Continue reading “Regimental Reunion”

It is about a Regimental Reunion or a Paltan reunion and I shall restrict myself to my thoughts rather than people and events.

I had left the unit in Mar 1997, and it was after a long gap of 16 years, that I found myself back with the family.

Unlike a School or College, there are no buildings or landscape to identify the Paltan with. It is just an idea that gives people a sense of belonging. Of course, it was easier to mingle among familiar faces, but one could feel the deep sense of familiarity even with members of the family who were not yet born, at the time I left the unit. The turn out was so good, that, we were counting the people who couldn’t make it , rather than the number who made it.

Just as you get a better perspective of ground from a vantage point, seeing the course of events from a distance of long years adds to the clarity. You look back on your own journey in life which is inexplicably linked with the Paltan’s journey through the highs and lows. People make the paltan and paltan makes the people. A Reunion affirms that it is indeed a worthwhile journey.

There was a lot of “do you remember when…..” The Freudian filter was definitely on, leaving only such memory that was good for the system, leaving out the unpleasant and harmful pieces.

While in service, a senior is always a senior and a junior is a ‘bloody junior’. The kind of advice , guidance and words of wisdom freely dished out to the captive audience, “bloody juniors” is also off the memory map.

Reunion is the place where the ‘then juniors’ remind you of these words. “Oh yeah, did I really say that ?” Well it certainly feels good to have said that.

There are others who get to receive a realistic feedback after long long years , on some debatable actions taken at the spur of the moment, in organizational interest or just as the result of an emotional outburst. One officer got to hear from an NCO, some kind words on how much he was impressed by the riot control action of the young adjutant. The act involved beating up own jawans with a tent pole to break up the warring factions after a “not so friendly’ football match with another unit.

Yes, we did talk about the bad times, when things didn’t go well for the paltan. A battalion is like a human being , complete with memory, mood swings, and ups and downs in performance and potential. Perhaps, that is why ‘Morale’ , is an important principle of War. The morale presently is definitely sky-high.

At home I am outnumbered 1:3 as the only one who is not an army brat. I keep wondering why army brats love to return to the services fold even after spending considerable time in the corporate world or even a stint abroad. May be there is something the kids raised in cantonments pick up even as a children.

From reception to seeing off there was an overwhelming sense of being wanted (but not dead or alive :)). As my train pulled away from the Station , the foremost thought in my mind was ” Oh God !, what have I done to receive such warmth, love and affection ?”

(Photos: Courtesy Rohit Chandra)

A Fauji and his Rank

In a strictly hierarchical system, comfort is, knowing where exactly one fits in. A man in uniform is quite uncomfortable in a flattish organisation, where people don’t give or take orders unquestioningly. That is why, when the stars and stripes on the shoulders look similar, people discretely look for the service number or date of commission to ascertain the correct pecking order.(chapati seniority as they say in army) . Literally you can’t even move a step forward , as you wouldn’t know whether to walk to the left or right of a person if you don’t know the inter se seniority.! A senior always walks to the right of his junior. (may be that is why a south indian bride stands on the right, while in the West, the bride stands on the left !)

As a sixteen year old, when I entered my squadron in the NDA (National Defence Academy) I got a welcome bark from a senior, “what’s your name ?” “muralidharan”, I replied. “what muralidharan ? Bloody Bhangi muralidharan ? Get rolling. So I got rolling, and kept rolling till another boy, who had joined a day earlier was called up to demonstrate the correct response “Cadet Rakesh Marwaha , Sir”. Oh , so I see . That is how it started and till today, I have always had a tag of cadet, GC (gentleman cadet) capt, major, whatever. Finally it will be col (retd), as for a military man ‘stars and stripes are forever . No one is so attached to his rank as an army man.

Back home, there are people who generally refer to me by the rank I held when I first met them. I remember being asked as to how I got this ‘pattam’ (pattam in Tamil roughly means a title) . It is understandable as , for many tamilians, the only major is major sunderrajan and the only capt is capt vijaykanth; both actors got their titles playing the roles of army men on screen / stage.

Once a hostess from non army background, in a party, repeatedly called a major general as major. She had to be taken aside by the husband to explain the huge difference between a major and a general. She quickly apologized, but had the presence of mind to coo “ Oh.. General, but you look soooo.. young”

That reminds me of a briefing at the academy for an important tactical exercise. Commandant, who was a Major General, addressed the cadets, stressing on the importance of training and tactical exercises. Once he left, a tall, big mustached Major stepped up and bellowed “ok… now that the General has given the general points, note down the bloody MAJOR points if you want to save your ****”

Having settled in a retired officers colony, I hardly hear anyone being referred to, without the rank tag; and sometimes it comes in handy to differentiate, as between Gen Jetley and Col Jetley. I personally feel , the earlier one can shrug off this tag better it is, at least after retirement. In uniform , one is used to getting saluted, not ignored or challenged . In the civvies street even a lowly security guard may behave rudely, unless of course you are Amitabh Bachan or Sachin Tendulkar. As a civilian one is in a better position to handle it than as a retired “General Officer”. After all we are all civilians except for the brief period of 20-30 years when in uniform.

Empowerment of Women : Army Style

Empowerment of Women : Army Style She gets the first taste of empowerment when her husband gets to command a battalion , she is further empowered when he commands a brigade and is fully empowered when he becomes a general officer. ……and when he retires , there is the inevitable, … Continue reading “Empowerment of Women : Army Style”

Empowerment of Women : Army Style

She gets the first taste of empowerment when her husband gets to command a battalion , she is further empowered when he commands a brigade and is fully empowered when he becomes a general officer.

……and when he retires , there is the inevitable, sudden power shut down…

Indo-Pak Sports and Cultural Ties as seen from the LOC

Unlike the earlier posts , this is no anecdote, funny or not so funny. I am aware , I am walking on thin ice , when expressing any opinion on Indo-Pak issues. I am no rightist or leftist but just a left-rightist , and would just like to ask some simple questions and leave it … Continue reading “Indo-Pak Sports and Cultural Ties as seen from the LOC”

Sports has no boundaries, art has no boundaries; fair enough.

Firstly, Will the sports persons and music maestros, continue to disregard the boundaries if some of their loved ones are deployed on LOC and may be shooting or being shot at even while the sports and cultural events are taking place at New Delhi or Islamabad ?

Secondly, In case there is a War on , will the sports and cultural ties still be as important ?

As seen from the LOC, you hardly find any kith and kin of a soldier amongst the people rooting for sports and cultural interactions and secondly, there is always a war on.