Four NDA Cadets, Some Chicken, And Sandpapered Backsides

My most popular post to date pertained  to Commander NKR. (Those wanting to refresh their memories can read about him here.)  He is tall, strapping, and with his zest for early morning 10 km runs, a pain in the neck.

Especially when holidaying. In one of my earlier posts I had made a mention of our trip to Dharamsala. It was a very pleasant experience and I would recommend Dharamsala to everyone. But with a caveat – DON’T GO THERE WITH NKR! 

For he will knock your door every morning at 0500 hrs, mid energetic jumping jacks and boxing feints. ‘Lovely morning. Lets go!’ he would announce with the enthusiasm of a child promised ice cream. He eased off only on the fourth day when I told him with all the diplomacy I could muster, ‘Buzz Off’.

Was NKR always like that, you ask?

Well, let me take you back to our late teens, 1985, when we were Cadets at the National Defence Academy (NDA). The Academy, with the aim of making our lives even more miserable, often organized skiing camps, desert safaris and some such ‘character building’ activities during the term breaks. Most NDA Cadets would try and avoid these activities as they came in lieu of a visit home. But not Cadet NKR. He yearned for glory, he yearned for action, and he yearned for sore backsides.

Hence, he along with another ten gluttons for punishment volunteered for a bicycle hike from Pune to Kanyakumari, a distance my keen sense of geography told me was a million kilometres away. I tried to put some sense into his head by repeatedly emphasizing the distance. NKR merely scoffed – ‘It is just 1700 km.’

As the countdown to the D Day approached, some of the more pragmatic NDA Cadets suddenly realized that there are less stressful avenues for utilizing time. Some therefore, conjured up a sister’s wedding to attend while others put grandparents on their deathbeds. The 10 dropped to four.

The remaining four musketeers managed to convince the Adjutant, Major Daniels, that they continued to be uniformly keen on expanding their horizons and building character.  Major Daniels boomed – “If you buggers find pleasure in getting royally screwed, who am I to stop you? Off you go then.”

The four musketeers were duly given those standard ‘Atlas’ non geared cycles which while suitable for commutes within the NDA, were as suitable for long distance cycling as are samosas in a health seminar. In true fauji traditions, they were given:-

No GPS, no phones and to maintain the spirit of adventure, no protective gear.

They WERE given:–

A small bag for toiletries, three T shirts and Shorts each.

Uncooked rations in the form of rice, dal, oil, and other essentials.

A daily allowance of Rs 20 per day for 20 days, viz Rs 400 per NDA Cadet. (Like a good Finance Minister, Rs 40 per Cadet was then taken back as cost of rations issued.)

Thereafter Major Daniels gave them a rousing lecture, mainly centred on what he would do to them if he got any adverse reports from anyone enroute. Their ears still buzzing, off they were sent.

The four musketeers took stock of the situation and came to the immediate conclusion that their culinary skills were identical to the decorum levels on an Arnab Goswami debate – zero. Prudently, their first stop was at the local market and where they sold the rations (after some impassioned pleading), thereby accruing an additional Rs 12 per Cadet.

The merry band takes off

Morale high, and with NKR taking the role of guide, they set sail for Kanyakumari. Their first day on the road made them feel like heroic Marco Polos. The busy two lane highway teeming with buses and trucks deterred them little and they breezed along. ‘This is the life’, they exulted.

Day 1 concluded with a night halt at Sainik School, Satara.

Frayed tempers overpower enthusiasm

Satara to Kolhapur. The second day of cycling saw quite a bit of the sheen wearing off; to be replaced with equal quantities of leg cramps and back pain. Tempers rose in direct proportion. Exhausted with the guides enthusiastic speed, NKR was unceremoniously stripped of his duties.

Scraped bottoms and Parathas

Kolhapur to Belgaum and onwards to Goa.

The cyclists bums had by now started discovering something called friction. The seats you see, having been designed by those who had no belief in humanity, were sans any cushioning and limited to a thin layer of toughened leather. The Butt Cushioning Insufficiency I had alluded to in one of my earlier posts too, started manifesting its symptoms.

Plus, the rivets/screws holding the seat in place were fastened with great precision and jutted out exactly enough to make contact with the sitting bones (called

ischial tuberosities for the academically inclined). The four musketeers soon got the feeling that an unkind hand was sand papering their bottoms with some vigour.

On arrival at the Naval Air Station in Goa, their planned two day stay, the Mess Secretary, himself an ex NDA, welcomed them effusively.

‘What do you guys want for breakfast tomorrow? Just name it’, he gushed warmly (and indiscreetly) like an elder brother.

The musketeers replied unanimously, ‘Aloo Parathas’.

What the Mess Secretary had not catered for however, was that the youngsters had the appetite of a starving horse. By the time they had finished seven parathas each, the cooks had started getting nervous. Nine each created panic. Eleven each and they got worried about aloo scarcity in the country. One of them sent a Code Red message to the Mess Secretary.

The Mess Secretary did not ask them for their preferences for the rest of the meals. And his visage as he saw them off for the balance part of the trip, was completely devoid of elder brotherliness.

A slight misunderstanding

Karwar to Bhatkal and onwards to Udipi.

The lack of laundry facilities enroute, and a healthy disregard for hygiene that all teenagers exhibit, had resulted in the foursome by now, looking a bit like vagabonds in a C Grade movie.  

Those of you who have been to Udipi will know that the quaint village Upoor falls on the way. The adventurers chose this very village to fill up their water bottles.

However, scarcely had they approached the first house when all hell broke loose. For what they got was not water but a wholly unwelcome rain of lusty lathi blows; and while the language used by those wielding the lathis was foreign to the intrepid cyclists, the tone clearly indicated complete lack of friendliness. They soon found themselves trussed with kilometres of sturdy rope, like goats being prepared for slaughter. NKR, who spoke a smattering of Kannada, translated –

‘They are demanding we give them their chicken’. The foursome was expectedly, befuddled.

‘Plus’, he added (being a stickler for complete and seamless dissemination of information), ‘they are discussing whether to break our legs or noses. Some are insisting on parading us naked.’

The musketeers disagreed strongly with all the announced courses of action, and as PG Wodehouse would say, the liveliest of apprehensions started doing calisthenics in their minds.

Turns out that this village had had quite a few incidents of thefts over the past week where some miscreants had been stealing their chicken. The general appearance of the unwashed four was for the simple souls, all the evidence they needed. The well trussed, well thrashed, but forlorn cycling enthusiasts was for them then, a satisfying result.

It took NKR quite some silver tongued oratory to convince the villagers that they were merely innocent NDA Cadets. They were finally let off at 0100 hrs.

Years later, NKR was gracious enough to acknowledge that he couldn’t fault the villagers. ‘Actually, I too if I had seen four specimens like us in the village, would have picked up the stoutest bamboo.’

Onwards then to Mangalore – Kasargod – Kannur where the only thing of note was the scraped bottoms getting further scraped.

The four break ranks

NKR suggested that since three fourths of the trip was already over, they could reward themselves by staying at a luxurious hotel at their next stop in Calicut. The other three agreed wholeheartedly and commended him for the soundness of his suggestion. Hotel Monarch was chosen. The hotel also providentially, served beer.

Two of the four NDA Cadets decided to have their first beers ever. Except that in their general enthusiasm they forgot to check the cost of a bottle, or keep a tab on the quantity consumed. End result – a bill of a mind numbing Rs 180 – roughly 90% of the remaining collective cash balance.

The financial shock resulted in the foursome regrouping into the red corner (drinkers)  and blue corner (non drinkers). A heated debate ensued. It would suffice to stay that tempers flared, undiplomatic names were called and character building forgotten.

Ultimately, NKR took charge and order was resumed. He sought an audit of the pooled funds (after quietly slipping Rs 20 into his underwear as emergency funds). It was decided that if they ate frugally, and shunned all unnecessary expenses (such as on hygiene), they could just about make it. Tensions however, continued to simmer.

The rest of the journey via Ponnani – Kottayam – Thekkady – and Trivandrum was performed in a mixture of childish sullenness and occasional snide remarks.

Day 20 saw the tired, bedraggled and unwashed foursome reach the culmination point of their heroic journey – Kanyakumari. Their morale should have been sky high on completion of a remarkable adventure, except that the lack of funds put a dampener on their celebrations.

The four NDA Cadets had to resort instead, to sleeping on the Kanyakumari Railway Station platform for a day, (being careful to not let their stinging ischial tuberosities touch the benches).

Rs 20 can go a long way

The cycles were booked to Pune using Military Warrants and the foursome departed for their respective homes. It was only then that NKR dug deep into his underwear and retrieved his strategic reserves of Rs 20/-. It helped restore his morale with some food and drinks till he reached his hometown Miryalguda. And as soon as the tender parts of his anatomy would allow, he was back to his 0500 hrs, 10 km runs.

PS – If the above made you smile, please forward it to two friends who take life too seriously.