SaikapiansAbroad

After some uncertainly in the last few weeks to the event, we had decided to go ahead with the dinner, though we were not sure about the attendance. The event however turned out very well considering the very little effort that went into it.

We started off very slow with very few saikapians reporting in time but by now we are used to it. We made an exception this time and opened the bar before our customary meeting just to keep those who arrived in time in good humor.

For me, the boys’ meeting was one of the high points of the evening because I experienced firsthand the spirit that we exemplify and celebrate. It is this spirit which keeps us organizers going.

We also agreed on a new approach to handle two of the problems which we have been grappling with at the committee. A new committee was formed that will implement the policy on raising funds and assuring participation at both our annual events. It was agreed that the annual dinner will be on the Saturday of the long weekend in February every year and a similar date will be finalized for the annual picnic.

Another great achievement of the evening was the voluntary participation of the ladies. It was amusing to see how the ladies dominated the dance floor for most of the evening with boys just trying to hang in.

Another first was the presence of one of our ex teachers Mr. Dhaliwal, who recently retired and joined his son in Windsor, Ontario. It was interesting to see how the boys controlled their natural saikapian instincts and heard him patiently. I guess we were trying to set a good example for our children.

The musical chairs for the children and ladies were fun as usual. Parmjit Hundal (1068) who demonstrates his selfless commitment to all our events, time and again, spontaneously came up with a prize for the winner child. The winner of the ladies was awarded a Champagne bottle by Mr. Param Sondhi (635) which was presented by the senior most saikapian present, Col. Vasudeva (079).

We all danced to a fair mix of Hindi and Punjabi songs but as usual the demand for Punjabi bhangra music was more than the supply. We are always trying to strike a balance but it is hard when the gathering comprises of the old timers with two digit school numbers and youngsters with school numbers over 5000.

The banquet hall was smaller this time and I think that brought a feeling of togetherness. But I assure you next time it will be larger, we need more space. The music was louder than what I would want it to be but I guess that is a given on these events. Over all I think it was a great celebration. For those few hours I was a part of my larger saikapian family and as Rajinder Rana (1523), who had joined us for the first time from Windsor said, it felt wonderful to be amongst his own. I am sure we all feel that way. Let’s keep celebrating together.

click on the picture above to view the slide show of photographs from the night.

I was watching this movie JAB WE MET on TV with my daughter the other day and the heroine (Kareena Kapoor) goes to Punjab. Suddenly on seeing those Sikh gentlemen in the PIND, I went down memory lane to my child hood in Kapurthala. Sheer Nostalgia and the good old days just went past my mind. These are random thoughts and not in a particular sequence.

The air so fresh, Bhole ki lassi, Neelkamal and Pankaj ki chaat, Maheshi ka paan, 5 paise ki candy floss, Tarsem ki kulfi, Ganderis and Ganne ka ras, the Railway station ke cholle bhature and masala papars, garma garm jalebis, jamun ke jungle, grapes ki chori, jai jawan dhabe ka khana, mai ke bhune daane, tandoori rotis and paraunthe, greens (Chinda) ke ban te barfi, Inderjeet canteen wale ke besan ki barfi, CSD canteen ki toffee chori, the smell of cadets mess food, plucking of “ambian” and running for life, collecting the bark of eucalyptus trees called “baalan”, the desi ghee, and milk from the fourth buffalo from the left, that thick malai, that mitti ke sakore mein lassi, kaanjali ki fish, palace ke kabootar, kheton ke titar, watching the harvester combine for hours together, those cycle races, the “pittho” and I-spy in Tilak and Bhagat houses once the holidays started, the long cricket sessions against the of a mango/eucalyptus tree.

I remember Beena, Mr. Mittal’s daughter who was too good at “staapu” and “langri taang”, my brother who could shoot a match stick with an air gun, Malla uncle ki Honda par ride, Pathiram auntie ke ghar par tari daar aloo ki sabzi and puri, those days together of reciting of Mangal bhavan amangal haari……at their place, Mr. Ajmer Singh’s shouting which could be heard for miles, the karah prasaad and langar on gur purb, the holi celeberations, Saxena auntie ke ghar ki mithai, the hiss of the dhobis washing clothes, the dogs in the house, our deer Pinky, the patang baaji in the football grounds, the gulli danda sessions with ajay maher, ajay shah, akhikesh and gang, the tennis sessions with nuppi, ajay and Dimpa, the hens in the back yard, the fruits in  the house, chikoo, malta, amrud, custard apples, papayas, grapes, dhurunj, faalsa, lookat, that raat ki raani ki kushboo, those mogra ke phool, the rows of crotons, the variety of chrysanthemums.

Abhimanyu was sipping a cup of hot tea sitting in his bunker at an infantry post in Arunachal Pradesh- India’s easternmost province which bordered China. He had been here for six months. It was the rainy season when he had just arrived here in July immediately after getting commissioned into a battalion of the Mahar Regiment. He had got fed up of the rains. Now it was the snow. He had had enough of it. He would do anything if his commanding officer would give him leave for a few days and he could visit his hometown, Delhi. He was desperate to meet Vinita. His fellow subalterns in the battalion would often tease him that she would run away with some ‘corporate type’ if he didn’t visit Delhi soon. Abhimanyu would smile and enjoy the banter. He knew his Vinita.

During the daylight hours he could see the Chinese Army posts across the border. Had it not been for their uniforms the soldiers on the other side could well be from one of those battalions of the Indian Army which had mongoloid troops, say, the Gurkha regiment, the Assam Regiment or the Naga Regiment. He would often see them play volleyball, basketball or soccer on the other side. In the mornings he would see them at drill. Most of them were friendly and would wave across. His own hardy Mahar troops would also smile and sometimes shake hands with the Chinese troops when tourists wanted to take pictures. It was a strange feeling. Abhimanyu knew that if, God forbid, the situation were to deteriorate he would have to fight and kill the men across the barbed wire.

He often wondered at the hopelessness of his post. In case of hostilities breaking out his post would get overrun. They were at a disadvantage. This was a known fact. In fact his battalion’s adjutant had described this post as the ‘Gallantry Award Post.’  What he meant was that in case of war it was this post’s responsibility to keep the Chinese at bay for as long as possible. It was expected that the men at this post would fight till the last bullet and then fix bayonets and charge the enemy. “You are the right person to send here,” the adjutant had teased him. “Yes,” Abhimanyu had replied, “there’s no way I can get out of this post alive if hostilities commence. I will live up to the tradition set by my namesake in the Mahabharata.” The adjutant had laughed out loud and said, “Make sure you get posthumous PVC. It will be good to motivate the boys.” He was referring to the Param Vir Chakra – India’s highest military gallantry award.