INDELIBLE MEMORIES
LT COL NOEL ELLIS
30/V/2022
Enroute to becoming an officer in the Indian Army, there were many hurdles which one had to clear. Though being from a Sainik School, things were quite sorted out as far as physical fitness and oratory skills were concerned. The toughest was the SSB (Services Selection Board).
Preparation for any competitive exam is the key note to everything. Our preparation began when we stepped in for our ‘entrance exam’ at the Sainik School. 1973 was the year & January was the month.
If I recall correctly, my Waterloo was maths. 1972-73 was a tough year for me. I was ‘jumping’ from class III to V being a late joiner to the kindergarten. With the ‘age limit cap’ to join the prestigious school, one had to appear in an entrance test. Just with basic knowledge of addition, subtraction & English, it was tough. Tuitions of every kind followed.
It was the first time in my life when I faced MCQs. 100 questions in100 minutes was a tough ask for this tiny fellow. On the E-day, the lawns of the school were swarming with people. Worried parents, over worried moms including mine who was petrified, terribly worried masis, chaijis, phupparjis who were accompanying children taking the exam. It was a make or break moment.
Off we went ascending the white marble steps towards the durbar hall from the front porch of the ‘Mahal’ as it was commonly called, to our exam rooms. Exam papers were collected back before we realised it was time up. Passing that exam was my first taste of victory in an all India open competitive exam.
Then started our ‘grooming’. Disciple, adherence to timings, games & sports, cross country, swimming, debates, declamations, paper reading and poetry reciting contests, dramatics, essay writing competitions, extempore lecturettes and quiz competitions, et al. An obstacle course was there too. Horse riding was a hobby, besides lawn tennis and squash.
NCC parades were held every Friday and how we hated it. The ‘registrar’ would always tick off a few selected people, especially yours truly without rhyme or reason. Polishing shoes, getting your belt buckles shining like gold with Brasso, ensuring your hackle on the beret was perfectly placed. Tucking your shirt in those Khaki shorts with no extra creases were taught to us very early. No twist in the shoe laces too were taken note of.
With so much to do besides studies, there was never a dull moment. On top of that, any outing with ‘Dada’ meant getting bombarded with information. From a steam engine, to flora and fauna that existed, everything was told in a story form. One day dada took me to a ‘Persian wheel’ drawing out water for the paddy crop, while we had gone fishing.
If one bucket can carry three litres of water, how much water would be drawn from the well in one hour? We would then keep count of numerous small buckets going round and round into the well and out. He would then complicate things. When each bucket is emptied out, half a litre falls back to the well, now calculate the amount of water? I used to run & dive in the river, go across and shout that once you have done fishing call me, I am not calculating anything.
He won’t leave it there. Before he sat down to clean the fish for dinner, he would give a topic, something like a ‘day at the river’, or ‘time spent at the well’ to write an essay on. Well, those were lessons which one cherishes till date, though disliked them like hell then.
Besides coaching for SSB, our school would organise motivational lectures, cultural shows, talks by prominent personalities. Even the defence minister would come down. Chief Ministers, Governors. Brigade commanders and GOCs would often grace our functions. Visit to local army units or even weapon displays in our school grounds helped us to finetune our GK.
Life took us to SSB after clearing the NDA written. All that was taught stood us in good stead. Besides, the habit of reading made me a bookworm, where the librarian would wonder how much a child would read daily. The fiction section, irrespective of the author, was chewed and digested in those few years spent in the school. The habit continued.
Those were paces one had to take to reach the pinnacle. This led to your name being engraved in golden letters in the school Ante room. The others who couldn’t make it to the forces excelled in other fields of life. Doctors, engineers, IAS, IPS even politicians and now we have a governor of a state. That’s how life treated us.
These are indelible memories so permanently etched in my mind. Can they be erased? I wonder!!!!!!!!
JAI HIND
© NOEL ELLIS
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