DARBARA SINGH SAAB
LT COL NOEL ELLIS
13/X/2022
As I scrolled WhatsApp today, the first picture was of Subedar Major Darbara Singh of the SIKH Regiment. I address him so because we saw him as Sub Maj in NDA. He later rose to be an Honorary Captain, which he well deserved. We fondly called him, ‘Darbara.’
If anyone could dwarf a drill instructor, it was this man. I am not sure how many inches above six feet he was but one thing was sure that no other Drill Ustad could match that personality. He would stand at the ‘Quarter Deck’ and keep an eye on every squad practicing across the length and breadth of the drill square.
Instead of calling a Cadet ‘Dheela,’ it would be the instructor who feared to be called ‘dheela man.’ If Darbara was near any squad, drill instructors got into a tizzy. Rather grilling and drilling cadets, instructors used to shout at twice the decibel levels and stamp their feet fifty times harder than they normally used to do. That was what Darbara.
Adjutants came and went but Darbara stood there forever. Imagine a close to seven-foot Drill Ustad from Sikh Regiment giving the parade report to five foot something Gorkha Rifles Adjt.
One day we were practicing ‘Shastra Kawaid.’ (Drill with rifles). There was one favourite cadet of ‘Subedar Ranganathan.’ Let us call him Cadet GP. Madrasi and a Malyali combination was worse than a Sikh and a Madrasi.
We were practicing the ‘slow march’ where the weapon is carried millimetres above the ground. GP somehow balanced the rifle in the gravel and left the weapon as we marched in ‘Dheere Chaal’ towards the Quarter deck. Ranga did not notice it but Darbar saw the SNAFU and shouted at top of his voice, ‘Rangaaaanaaaathaaaan.’ Ranga did not know what hit him. His life was made hell by Darbara thereafter. Ranga used to request us to do that much, so that SM Saab does not notice.
As usual, yours truly was caught by drill Ustads for something or the other. At 1.30pm after classes we would fall in near Darbara Saabs office in Sudan block. I had been shifted to the third battalion and was pedalling up the steep slope towards the hut of remembrance. You could not ride a bike unless you were in a squad but what the heck. My bad luck, as my favourite Drill Ustad took my I-Slip and told me1.30. I would miss my veg pulao for lunch today, I thought to myself.
As a veteran of ‘punishments’ I knew where to report. I was all alone somehow. Darbara appeared from somewhere and saw that Drill Ustad and me. Having been marched up to Deputy Commandant and Commandant, in his presence, he recognised me and smiled. Ye Cadet, kee keeta hun? With ‘dopish eyes’ I remained mum. Without even asking my fault he told me to ‘FO’ and tore that slip. It was my lucky day. The Ustad who caught me, did not have the guts to utter a word. Off I went, all alone, riding my bi-cycle and ate all the leftover veg-pulao.
Just before the final POP (passing out parade) of any term, Darbara would address close to 1500 cadets bundled together inside the Quarter Master’s Fort. 300 waiting to cross the ‘antim pag’ and the rest did not care as DLTGH and catching the NDA special train would now be one or two.
With adrenal running at double the speed in every artery and vein and every nerve sending twice the signals that final POP is the time to dig up the drill square, Darbara would walk in and stand on the steps. ‘Oye saalo discipline main raho, Darbara a gaya hai,’ we would chatter. He would raise his cane once. That is what was called ‘pin drop silence squared.’
In the softest of tones, he would deliver his josh talk. We would strain our ears to hear each word and mind you we could hear them so clearly. ‘Ye cadet, aaj meri izzat ka sawal hai. Meri izzat rakhoge, he used to say? The QMs fort walls could fall when we all shouted in unison ‘Bilkul saab.’ Even girls at Deccan Gymkhana could feel the reverberations.
He would then quietly walk out and we would just look at him in awe. That was the reverence we had for him. We never got a chance but each cadet who learnt drill under his stewardship would touch his feet and swear by him.
We had the Queen of England visit us and he was responsible for the Parade we presented to her. People fainted and fell flat on their faces but not a cadet moved. The synchronisation was so perfect that the Queen complimented and remarked about the synergy displayed by the cadets during the parade at the Queen’s lunch. SM Darbara received a ‘Vashist Seva Medal’ for that event.
This is how I remember Hony Capt Darbar, VSM. The impression he has left on me will ever remain etched deep inside me. Drill Ustad to bahut dekhe par darbara jaisa koi na dekha.
Rest in Peace sir, May Waheguru bless your soul always. My head has grown heavy and my sight grows dim as tears are swelling up remembering you so fondly. A Salute to you for making boys into men.
JAI HIND DARBARA SAAB. Can such legends ever be replaced? I wonder!!!!!!!!!
JAI HIND
© NOEL ELLIS
Comments
Post a Comment