May God Bless Ms Madhu Sapre – a True Miss Universe!

Most of my 12 readers will know that the Navy conducts a ‘Navy Nite’ (earlier called the ‘Navy Ball’) every year sometime in early December as part of the Navy Week festivities. This Ball is quite popular amongst the citizenry of some of our major cities, especially Mumbai, Delhi and Vizag, conducted as it is on a somewhat lavish scale. Ordinarily, the Ball comprises a lot of dancing (of course), a lot of drinking (again of course) but also performances by some famous artists, a fashion show and culminates with its crowning glory – the ‘Navy Queen’ contest. (Sadly, in keeping with today’s ‘enlightened’ times, the Navy has had to do away with fashion shows and Navy Queen contests.)

A good time is had by all, save, the organisers. And I say that because, what with me having been a minor cog in organising one such Ball in Vizag many years ago in 1994, I have some experience in the matter.

Duties for conducting the event are shared amongst various units of the Navy and my ship was given the seemingly glamorous task of organising the ‘fashion show’. Having scanned the limited talent available on our ship, our Commanding Officer (let’s call him Cdr SS) erringly homed onto young Lieutenant RKD (self) and unerringly onto another officer (let’s just call him Lieutenant SB) as the ‘chosen ones’. The two of us were despatched to Calcutta (now Kolkata) to find a suitable choreographer and move things forward. Lieutenant SB being the more erudite one took the lead and put forth the requirement articulately, particularly the aspect of us seeking a performance at minimum cost. The choreographer, scarcely older than the two of us exuded confidence and assured us that she would hire the best available talent. And she was true to her word as she roped in the super stars of the modelling world then, perhaps 15 of them – Madhu Sapre, Noyonika Chatterjee, Mehr Jessia and Milind Soman included. 

The Commanding Officer was briefed on our return who in turn briefed the Commander in Chief and generally everyone was happy. Lieutenant SB being senior to self, sneakily and smoothly delegated most of the subsequent legwork to me and perhaps as compensation, deputed a Midshipman as my aide (let’s just call him Midshipman A) in lieu.

To cut a long story short, the choreographer reached Vizag three days prior to the Ball along with the models to enable rehearsals before the big show. And that is when my travails started. In my defence, I had suggested to my Commanding Officer that the models, used as they were to certain luxuries, were best put up in a starred hotel. (Most probably the hotel would have granted accommodation gratis too.) However, the powers that be were having none of it. ‘Nonsense’ said the powers that be, ‘we will put them up in the naval mess and show them true naval hospitality.’ Now naval messes dear readers, have many pluses (an excellent bar being one) and while being adequately comfortable for us mango people/naval officers, can be deemed ‘luxurious’ only by stretching the imagination a fair bit; and were certainly not luxurious enough for the delicate, and in keeping with their fame, haughty models.

The models came, inspected the offerings, sniffed and started heading back to the transport they were brought in. ‘Off to the airport we are’, they said. So much for true naval hospitality!  If you think that that would have scared the living daylights out of me you would only be partly correct because my lower jaw had fallen till my knees. But those of you who have read my previous posts will know that I am also a man of charming manner and blessed with considerable persuasive and oratory skills. So I reattached my lower jaw and rambled incoherently like the dickens. Something on the lines of the Navy is not a profit making organisation, good cause, patriotism, duty to the nation, appeals to their innate goodness, dharma/karma, etc. I think I also sneaked in a ‘my bosses will kill me.’ Ultimately, Ms Madhu Sapre, God bless her, sensing my panic, convinced the others to stay in the mess and they reluctantly agreed. I let out a ‘Whew.’ Prematurely.

It already being about 2300 hrs by the time they were settled in, the models feeling grubby, decided that they wanted some sandwiches. Foresight being my forte, I was expecting that and had the kitchen staff standby. Sanguine that this was not something the kitchen staff could not handle, I was about to send in my order when I stopped, mid order. Because while the kitchen staff could whip up a basic cucumber/tomato and bread butter jam sandwiches fairly competently, the ladies wanted chicken pastry, tramezzini, falafel and some such stuff, which I had never heard off. And if I was stumped, the kitchen staff gave their best imitation of a particularly uncomprehending stuffed frog. I had to bring out my considerable persuasive skills again and convince the sceptical ladies that cucumber and tomatoes are not so bad for the skin.

I reached home, weary and careworn at about 0100 hrs and had just started unloading my woes onto The Wife when the doorbell rang. To my consternation and amazement, I found my rather miffed looking Commanding Officer standing there! (No cell phones those days and I did not have a landline either – yes those were the days.) Apparently, the ladies had called up the Commander in Chief (CinC) complaining about mosquitoes. The equally miffed CinC in turn called up my Commanding Officer to do SOMETHING and said Commanding Officer was now at my doorstep demanding that I do SOMETHING. You will understand me when I say that I got miffed too. Nevertheless, I roused all my neighbours at an hour well past 0100 hrs, thereby spreading the miff evenly around and collected as many mosquito coils as I could and set off for the mess again. Having placed the coils in all fifteen rooms, I was about to head back when I was accosted by Ms Madhu Sapre. The lady needed to go for a run in the morning and wanted to know where she could do so. I am not ashamed to say that I was stumped again, but I suggested the small lawn in front of the mess. The lady, God unbless her, was not satisfied – apparently she needed a full track so that she could ‘time’ herself. (Those of you who know about her will recall that she was quite an athlete.)

I then suggested the naval stadium which did indeed have a track, but it being some way off, she, somewhat imperiously (you know how beautiful women are, they just assume that their wish is everyone’s command) asked me to pick her up at 0700 hrs the next morning.

Though far from gruntled, I could take the rough with the smooth and I presented myself at the mess 15 minutes prior 0700 hrs. And now came my next problem. The Navy while generous with many things, is particularly stingy when it comes to things like transport – for I was provided none. All I had was my LML Vespa NV. But to my surprise, Ms Sapre was not only dot on time, but had no qualms in hopping behind me onto my scooter! So, off we were.

I demurred when she asked me to join her cardio burn and stood to one side as she started her run. Now you know how athletes are, particularly beautiful ones!  She had, unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) for Vizag’s somewhat conservative citizenry, chosen a slightly, should I say daring, attire for her run, viz skimpy shorts and a skimpier top. The citizens of Vizag are a splendid lot mind you, with many sterling qualities, but seeing this vision early in the morning was too much even for them (and this was the 90s of course). Resultantly, and what with the stadium being adjacent to the main road in Vizag, there was soon a traffic jam of curious goggling onlookers. Notwithstanding, I was able to get her back through the throng without incident.

The fashion show practice sessions started later that morning. There were minor hiccups every hour or so, primarily due to miscommunications – when the ladies wanted juice, I took it as orange, they wanted durian/dragon fruit, they wanted dry ice (the thing that makes smoke), I thought ice (frozen H2O type), they wanted loud music, I provided a 5 W Sanyo two in one, they wanted a green room, I sourced green paint to paint the room green, etc.

However, I survived and we reached the last day’s rehearsal. And then, our CinC thought it would be in keeping with the best traditions of naval hospitality, if he offered the ladies lunch after the rehearsals were over and a time of 1300 hrs was fixed. Accordingly, I started obliquely suggesting the importance of being on time for the lunch by 1030 hrs. The ladies however, quite oblivious of the intricacies of protocol and punctuality that a lunch with the CinC demanded, appeared to care two hoots; much to the detriment of my blood pressure. My oblique suggestions morphed into direct entreaties, but you know how ladies are, they are from Venus. By 1245 hrs, much after the time we should have already been on our way, my direct entreaties had turned into pleadings and I was behaving quite like a cat on a hot tin roof. The ladies on the other hand, decided at 1300 hrs that they were too tired and declared that they would skip lunch!

My heart stopped beating. And then to compensate it took off at 200 bpm. Ladies and gentlemen, that was the last straw for me. Visions of our CinC waiting impatiently at the head of a table, knife and fork in hand but only 20 empty plates in front of him for company, contributed in no small matter to my anxiety levels reaching stratospheric levels.  I threw in the towel and decided that I needed to seek higher intervention in the form of my Commanding Officer. A panicky message was sent to him (still no mobiles remember?). Perhaps sensing the gravity of the situation, he was in our midst in minutes. Now the charm level of my Commanding Officer was of a level far outstripping mine, but I could sense that he too was barely managing to conceal his panic. And while he actually didn’t do so, every aspect of his demeanour was of one who has laid his ‘pugree’ (well his uniform Cap actually) at the feet of the damsels.  Fortuitously, the same angel in the form of Ms Sapre (God bless her again) stepped up once more and convinced the ladies that perhaps a spot of lunch couldn’t be so bad for everyone.

Matter thus settled, my Commanding Officer departed, quite relieved at his future promotions being secure, and I was left to chaperone the ladies. Did I tell you earlier that the Navy is stingy with transport? Well, let me tell you again, for I soon realised that the only transport that I had at my disposal was a ‘Matador’, the other vehicles having vanished because the drivers had to have lunch! Ladies and gentlemen do you recall a Matador? It was that blue thingy with a low roof and about ten seats. Against which we had 15 ladies plus the choreographer, her two assistants, the driver, me and Midshipman A.

It needs no imagination to tell you that coaxing the 18 ‘invitees’ into the non AC Matador was no easy task. However, after some heaving, some butt wriggling, some unladylike squeezing and squirming, we could get the 18 in, in an awkward tangle of arms and legs, with me and Midshipman A outside. I think it was Ms Sapre again who suggested that there was space for one more human on her lap, but I (note my resolve) baulked. The Midshipman on the other hand, shorn of gentlemanly etiquette, jumped at the offer, and before I could reach the u of my baulking was plonked onto Ms Sapre’s lap. Though that also implied that there was no lunch for me, I saw them off with considerable relief.

The Ball of course was a roaring success and the ladies put on quite a show. The CinC was happy, which meant that, as a natural corollary, my Commanding Officer was happy. What of me? Well, belying my then age of 27 years, my hair had turned white over the preceding three days and has  remained so since.

And that ladies and gentlemen was my brush with stardom. Whilst the story may seem unbelievable, I assure you that every word is true (well with a touch of embellishment). I on my part will remain eternally grateful to Ms Madhu Sapre. While she may have been Runner Up, to me she will always be Miss Universe. May God bless her with a long and happy life in Italy!