Divine intervention in a lighter vein
IN the Army, we live by the motto: Sweat more in peace, bleed less in war. It’s a life of constant training — pushing our physical limits, mastering the use of weapons and planning for any battlefield scenario. But amidst the drills and exercises, there’s another kind of battle: preparing for inspections. These visits are a major affair. The entire unit undergoes a frantic makeover.
Imagine a pre-party cleaning frenzy. Every corner gleams, trophies sparkle and even the cutlery gets a spa day. The Officers’ Mess, the heart of social life in the unit, receives special attention. Think of it as a crash course in military interior design.
The barracks are scrubbed till they shine, the parade ground is meticulously levelled, and the weapons are polished to a mirror finish. Every detail matters — from the freshly painted fences to the perfectly aligned boots. It’s a collective effort, a testament to the unit’s pride and discipline.
The highlight, however, is always the mess function. It’s a showcase of military hospitality — gourmet meals and perfectly executed drills. Enter Havildar Krishan, our mess veteran. He knew the drill better than anyone.
Then came the Corps Commander’s visit. High alert! Everyone was on edge. Suddenly, Krishan received an urgent telegram — his father was ill. He needed to go. Enter Havildar Ramesh, a rookie mess manager. I was tasked with mentoring him quickly in military etiquette and social graces.
The inspection went off smoothly. Then it was time for the grand dinner. The mess, adorned with flowers and gleaming silverware, welcomed the Corps Commander and his wife. Officers and their wives, dressed in their finest, mingled with each other and engaged in lively conversation.
As per tradition, the mess steward announces the arrival of the meal with a loud, “Bhojan prastut hai, Shriman!” (Dinner is served, Sir!). Ramesh, however, had other plans. He roared, “Bhojan prastut hai, Hanuman!”
A hush fell over the room. You could have heard a pin drop. Then, slowly, a wave of laughter erupted. Even the Corps Commander couldn’t help but chuckle.
Apparently, Ramesh was rousing his inner devotee and seeking divine intervention in his moment of panic. Despite the unexpected invocation to Lord Hanuman, the dinner continued, and the entire event was a resounding success. It was a reminder that even in the most serious situations, a little humour can make its presence felt. After all, in the Army, you learn to laugh, even when things go hilariously wrong.
Musings