This post is dedicated to our dear departed course-mate, the ever smiling, ever positive, Joginder Chandna. Chandna was born to run and was, to my amazement, happiest when participating in Marathons, burning up the miles with his graceful and fluid running strides. May his soul rest in eternal peace.
My views on exercise on the other hand are unambiguous, and diametrically opposite to those of Chandna. The lesser the better is my motto (and you can read about it here). But then, in one of my weakened and reflective ‘I want to serve the nation’ moments I joined the National Defence Academy (NDA), along with Chandna and another 280 odd cadets, in 1983. I came to realise soon enough, that contrary to my philosophy, the abiding thought process at NDA was, inscrutably, “The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war.” NDA, convinced that there can be nothing better for one’s soul than a life full of aching muscles and bone-weary tiredness, paid a lot of emphasis on all forms of physical activity; drill, PT, swimming, troop games, boxing, and most importantly, cross country runs. This bucked up Chandna considerably, but not me.
In our days, us first termers were trained separately for six months before joining the main Academy in the second term. This gave us a chance to acclimatise to the rigours of training and by the end of six months we had instilled in ourselves the (wholly wrong) notion that we had become superbly fit individuals.
A transfer to the main Academy showed us just how delusional those notions were. Primarily I think, because, unlike in the first term, the Academy had some strange beasts called ‘seniors’. These seniors in every squadron, bless them, were headed by a super beast, called the Cadet Seargent Major (CSM) who’s job description was, basically, to take Genghis Khan as a role model and manifest his worst qualities (I had referred to CSMs earlier here too). The CSMs of all squadrons took their job description very seriously and stretched every sinew to ensure their role model wasn’t let down. Particularly when it came to cross country practice.
The cross country competition is generally held within the first two months every term and the blasted CSMs, never one to waste time, like to hit the road running so to speak, as soon as the semester starts. Which implied that the second termers got to experience the unique training methodology of preparing for the cross country competition right from the very first day.
So here we were, the entire squadron from the second to the fifth termers (and a smattering of sixth termers) under the charge of Genghis at about 1430 hrs on the first afternoon poised for our first practice run. Fancying himself as quite a good motivational speaker, Genghis, who’s attitude towards life was completely free of geniality, started by telling us that should he spot some slackers, “He would….” And he then proceeded to tell us in some florid oratory on what exactly he would do over the next three minutes. Passage of time may have dimmed some other memories but his speech remains fresh in my mind, as if it was just yesterday. And such was the messianic zeal exhibited by him that none of us had any doubts about his intent.
Motivational lecture thus over, we got down to, very scientifically, a warm up. Our Genghis in his endeavour to toughen us had some very able assistants in the form of a few sixth termers and many fifth termers. But then we being mere second termers, even third and fourth termer took special interest to ensure that max value was squeezed from the 20 minute warm up. Resultantly, and I am not ashamed to say, the warm up itself left me considerably winded. I had this sneaking premonition that I was headed towards hell. Sadly, hell was an understatement.
The Academy is situated in a valley off Pune and surrounded by hills on all sides. CSMs in their charming simplicity believe that nothing tones up legs and lungs better that running uphill. Accordingly, warm up completed, we were off towards the nearest hill (called, simply 2475, because that was its height in feet). Aided by frequent reminders by the seniors on what Genghis would do to slackers, we were all goaded up the slope at best speed possible. By the time we reached the top, all cadets were as expected, tired, but none more so than the second termers. In my case specifically, by the time I had traversed the 2475th feet mark (it felt like 28,000 feet), I could sense that my legs had morphed into quivering jelly, my lungs were wheezing and gasping, and every muscle in my body was lodging protests in the strongest possible terms. Anyway, we reached the top by 1545 hrs and Genghis deemed it fit that we break the monotony of running by incorporating push ups, sit-ups and frog jumps into our regime.
Us second termers, with sunny optimism that idiots are susceptible to, lulled ourselves into believing that that was it for the day. Genghis starting what we perceived were ‘cooling down’ exercises, we started perking up and congratulating ourselves. But then you know fate. Just as we were feeling pleased at having handled the first run passably if not creditably, there she was (I don’t know why I’m calling fate, she), in the words of PG Wodehouse, quietly putting on boxing gloves. Our Genghis we soon realised, was just getting started. He then took us on a long long loping run along the crests and troughs of the hilly skyline commencing 1545 hrs. Our sunny optimism started morphing into dark murderous thoughts with each tortured step. The better runners amongst the seniors had spread themselves out strategically to aid monitoring of the second termers. Plus seniors being about 80 in number and we 25, it yielded a favourable goader to goadee ratio, to make our lives miserable. Genghis meanwhile, exhibited his fitness in full by threatening me at the rear of the group and then sprinting ahead to similarly deal with another slacker 200 yards ahead, only to materialise right next to my ear a few moments later bubbling like a volcano about to erupt at the refusal of my legs to obey his urgings. By God his fitness was annoying.
Ultimately however, 120 minutes after 1545 hrs (our premature celebration time) we reached our squadron, with, in most of us second termers, bone crushing fatigue well ensconced in the driver’s seat. And it was only then that we started the ‘cooling down’. Now if you think cooling down involves a few minutes of gently stretching shapely calves or toned triceps such as one sees in Jane Fonda fitness videos, you are mistaken. If the run was tough, the cooling down was purgatory. It continued for 30 minutes of push ups till all one could push up was the head (with the chest, abdomen and legs refusing to detach from the ground), frog jumps till our butts, surrendering to all-pervading gravity, merely kept scraping the ground like a dog scratching an itch, and sit-ups where despite amazing facial contortions, upwards movement remained limited, again, only to the head. Clearly, Genghis’s concept of cooling down was at vast variance from that of dainty Fonda. It would suffice to say that by the time we were let go, I at least, could only go up the steps to my room on the second floor on all fours; every muscle in my body, especially those that I didn’t know I possessed, on fire.
While any movement later that evening was painful, the next morning brought out agony in its full finery. So much so that we had to be careful not to laugh as our stomach muscles, not having recovered from the previous day’s sit-ups, would scream.
The same routine continued every day till the cross country finale, where despite our best efforts, our squadron finished, if I remember 10th (out of 12). We were disappointed of course, but the magnitude of Genghis’ disappointment was off the charts. He compensated by becoming more like Genghis than Genghis himself. It was clear that he cared two hoots for the Olympics creed, ‘participation is more important than winning.’ He, perhaps under the impression that implementation of the threats he had uttered on the first day would somehow change the results, went about doing so with great diligence – proving in the process that his threats were indeed implementable.
Boy, we did not have a good time for the next few days. Soon however and mercifully, Genghis got diverted by the upcoming boxing competition. Maybe I’ll come to that some day.
Chandna of course was in a different Squadron than mine so I am not too sure how he feared at NDA, but I know that he only kept getting better at running with age and went on to participate in innumerable marathons, right till the age of 59, when God in his infinite wisdom, decided to take him away from us. Chandna, dear friend, as you beam down upon us from above, you will always remain for the 70th Course of the Army, Navy and Air Force, a fond memory of love and friendship.
That was one hell of an account RK enjoyed it thoroughly. Your homage to Dear Jogi is a fitting finale to Jogi who was not a jogger but a true blue marathoner, an inspiration to most of us who would rather indulge in other forms of exercise rather than run for our lives. But in a lighter vein, my take on running has always been that it is for horses, we homo sapiens ought to indulge in more sophisticated ways to keep ourselves entertained, like golf for example. We always tried to run away from the runs.
I fully subscribe to your views Suyash. And to think that I was till now, the odd one out!
Well written Rakesh brought memories flooding
Rakesh well written tribute to Chandna, a late bloomer in running but turned out to be a great marathon runner, later stage of life. Had an opportunity to run with him at Delhi, 2 years back.
Our ancestors were hunters for food
and always running from one area to the other. We were all born with those genes to run and now a days a few use them. Running is a tough exercise but boring sometimes. Lot of will power is required to sustain this passion.
Thank you Rakesh, for taking me back to Academy days and those nostalgic memories of rigorous cross country practices.
Thanx Krupa. You are of course a different personality, who strangely, enjoys running!! Not me Sir, no no no
Thanx Pravesh
Very well written and was a pleasure reading and remembering old days.
Thank you very much, Sir!!
I was there and you make me re-live it rather cruelly. Thanks.
They were cruel times indeed!
Dahiya!
The Lucid Account of the Cross Country Practices of Second Term at the Academy have taken me down Memory lane and each one of us ( Average Runner Types) have gone through Similar experiences except the CrossCountry Medallists Types of our Course.
A very nice Tribute to our Dear Friend Chandana.
Very well Written !!!
Dahiya!
The Lucid Account of the Cross Country Practices of Second Term at the Academy have taken me down Memory lane and each one of us ( Average Runner Types) have gone through Similar experiences except the CrossCountry Medallists Types of our Course.
A very nice Tribute to our Dear Friend Chandna.
Very well Written !!!
Of course 80% of us were in the same boat! Thanx Anil
Well written Rakesh, I could re-live those moments you vividly brought out. Fortunately, all ‘Genghises’ down the line admired your swimming skills. You could take on the Academy single handedly. Good writing, enjoyed every bit of it. Thank you. Our thoughts are with Jogi. RIP friend🙏
You were of course a ‘Gentle Genghis’!! Aah yes swimming. That was long long ago. Good times. Thanx Babu
Ah ha …dare I say I had a look at many if not all back sides!!! Being as I was a medalist laggard! You have brought back some of my worst nightmares. Bloody hell hope I don’t dream of our Genghis. As for Jogi, honestly I don’t remember him as an outdoorsy guy at all. Being the Sword of Honour I recall him as a nerd. I was very pleasantly surprised when I learnt of his metamorphosis into a marathoner. One day I remember him telling me that his motivation was to keep his heart in good shape! How providential. As if being a marathoner wasn’t enough he went on to run ultra marathons and I cannot get over the fact that he actually ran a 24 hr ultra marathon in Bengaluru …running for 24 hrs non stop and that too around a stadium. Clearly he was insane enough to qualify for eternal glory….
Nightmares, can in retrospect, seem funny. Especially when centre’s around the Genghises of the world.
Yes, Chandna was a late bloomer. Good and sad.
So many years later I wonder how I got through it all. You were a better cross country runner than me so I must have had more interest bestowed on me by the seniors but I blanked out those memories, now thanks to you, they’ve come flooding back.
Nice of you to remember Jogi Chandna in these memories. God bless his soul. Well written as usual, buddy.
Thanx Aries. I did manage to come in the second Encl in our third term, but else was a steady fourth Enclosure type. So, not much better. Important thing is we survived! And can now look back at those days with a smile
Relived the aches and pains of cross country and reverse cross country. Fitting tribute to Jogi. 🙏🙏🙏🙏
Relived the aches and pains. Fitting tribute to Jogi. 🙏🙏🙏
Thanx Parmar. Sometimes I feel that, courtesy Genghis, the aches and pains never went away!
Wonderful account. Relived the first day of the academy. I think all sqns followed the same routine and each newly appointed Ganghis wanted to make the first impression on the entire sqn. Still remember how most of the second termers in the academy on Monday would be walking in vishram chal and that too with lot of efforts.
Blast these Genghises!! Vishram position is right; with aches all over – calves, tummy, shoulders, biceps, triceps and all other ceps
Sir. A nice read that I could directly relate to. It took me down the memory lane in a very lucid way. Looking forward to reading more of such articles. Regards
Thanx Dinesh
Rakesh, I thought all the PTSD we suffered after those sessions were gone for ever after a few years of leaving the Academy.
Your vivid narration brought it all flooding back to our conscious and unconscious mind.
Some of us might need serious therapy now after being reminded of those torturous sessions🤣🤣.
You are too good a story teller.
Haha! Thanx Raj
Very well written Sir. RIP Chandana Sir
Thanx Anandan
Great recall sir, as usual….. 🙂
May God bless Jogi sir’s soul with eternal peace. Aum Shanti. 🙏
Thanx Vatsayan. Yes, great officer, gone too soon.
Very well written, thank you for the trip in the time machine.
Thank you very much
Lovely recount. Like to add a little bit here – as probably, I am one of the few who had been with you even prior NDA – in our School. You were one of those who played volleyball( that i guess was the only physical exercise and games we did! despite some M’am Tara exuberances) – firmly rooted to one spot on the court!( not that i did any better! 😁. From there to run NDA country and endure all that – is what NDA moulds us into!. Chandana sir has shocked us leaving away so soon.Om Shanti.
Yes BK. We had great times in School and despite X Country great times in NDA. And yes, sadly Chandna left us too soon
Hi Rakesh. A fitting tribute to my sqn type Chandna who was an academics torchie in NDA and pride of our sqn. It is only later he took to marathon running and became a legend unto himself . Great guy and ever smiling and helpful always . Aum Shanti
Thank you. Yes, he was a ‘late bloomer’ wrt running, but how he bloomed! Sadly gone too soon
Thanks, Rakesh. That was really lucid, relatable and, as with all episodes that we wished would end sooner, really nostalgic. I remember the dread of the run that would start in the train heading to the Academy for each semester. The bottles of Sloane’s liniment for the sore muscles, remembering Kipling’s IF “…If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew/ To serve your turn long after they are gone…”. It took time to get into the rhythm of running, and get to be comfortable with the challenge that was at the heart of it: to not give in, not give up. The essence of training at the Academy.
“to not give in, not give up.” Well said Sir. That is indeed what NDA teaches you. Sloanes or Iodex both notwithstanding !!
I like this post, enjoyed this one regards for posting. “Fear not for the future, weep not for the past.” by Percy Bysshe Shelley.
Your words possess both the lightness of a feather and the weight of wisdom — a rare and beautiful balance.