Those were the best days….
By Vivek Hande
I grew up an Army
brat. I say it with pride and as I grow
older , I realize it was a truly privileged existence. It was the finest
childhood a parent could offer a growing child . I am what I am today ; I think
the way I do ; react in the way I do , in
large measure to my Army , my Cantonment up -bringing..
It was a different
way of life . I saw nine schools by the time I passed out of school. Yes, I
felt bad leaving school each time , leaving friends and class-mates. But each
new station and each new school , brought in a new set of friends , a new range
of experiences and a whole lot of new adventures. One joined good schools , bad
schools , indifferent schools and one adapted . You always had other Army brats
to help you in the journey. There were
classes at times under the open skies-the roof of the school had been blown off
in a storm . At times , there were no
classes at all – no teachers could be motivated to serve in those remote far
flung areas- so one played football the whole day long and studied at home !
But do believe me , all my co –brats are doing amazingly well today in all
walks of life ,all across the world. They are all professionals - executives ,
physicians ,journalists , fashion designers , Armed Forces personnel of the highest caliber…
The cleanest air we
breathed; the best of grounds we played in. We had access to the finest
sporting facilities in the country –tennis , squash , riding , swimming
–we had it all. We saw the geography and the topography of
this great country. It is a different thing that we often had to dig out the
Atlas or find out from Dad’s colleagues in the Signals as to where exactly the
place we were posted to existed. Learnt terms such as NRS- Nearest Railway Station- very rarely was one
lucky to detrain at the same location. But the reception at the station and the
onward journey by road made one feel like a feudal prince. Every Army brat
knows the high regard one had for the “Bhaiyya “. One did not know about Sewadar or Sahayak but one certainly knew “Bhaiyya” was family. He was Jeeves
, your friend and guide rolled into one
.
One learnt that there
was a family beyond the four walls of
your home. . One learnt that when your Dad went on course or exercise or got
posted out , there were a whole lot of “Uncles” and “Aunties” who adopted you
and made you feel special and cared for and somehow made things easier . The “Pot-luck” dinners and impromptu “Chaat
–parties” and Sunday brunches by the riverside with the entire unit in
attendance gave you something special to always look forward to. One learnt
that the more you give , the more you get ..
It was not always
rosy and beautiful and cheerful. There were mosquitoes, erratic electricity supply
, extremes of weather , paucity of supplies and provisions at times .
Connectivity was often a problem . Medical facilities were often rudimentary
. Yet , when I think back , I rarely
remember that . I remember the sense of belonging ; I remember being part of a
huge loving family ; I remember the beautifully laid out roads; the thousands
of trees marked with brown and white ; greenery and open spaces; fresh air and
the thrill in simple pleasures of life.
If there was good times to be enjoyed, one did so heartily and if there
were bad times around the corner , one faced them with stoicism .
I am proud being an
Army brat . I would not like to trade it for any other kind of childhood . I am
what I am , the way I grew up. Those were the best days…
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