Where would life be without alcohol? In a life without humour!

The discerning ones amongst you would have noticed that alcohol makes rather frequent appearances in my writings (for example here, well here too, and then again here). But then that’s merely because alcohol has so many wondrous qualities that it is not feasible to cover them all in one piece. Of course, amongst its many charming qualities, none is more endearing than its ability to make it’s imbibers lose their inhibitions. Hilarity automatically ensues as (a sometimes unintended) consequence; enriching one’s life experiences.

My mind goes back to May 1987, me a young Midshipman of 20 years, posted on a ship in Visakhapatnam, earning a princely Rs 550/- per month. Now, the Navy loves to issue ‘incentives’ periodically as a means to make us strive harder. A Midshipman is essentially a trainee and the Navy chooses the ‘best Midshipman’ every six months, for one such incentive. We had an exceptionally brilliant coursemate, who we were all sure would certainly be adjudged ‘best Midshipman’ at the end of our Midshipman tenure. I, being one of sharp mind and piercing foresight told said Midshipman that as and when the results are declared, and if he does indeed get the ‘best Midshipman’ award, I would be coming over to his ship for free beer. Noticed my foresight here?

Sure enough, the results came, our brilliant coursemate was so adjudged and here were we, two of us fellow coursemates headed to his ship for free beer. The brilliant Midshipman duly obliged and what with  one thing leading to another, I ended up partaking of 6-8 Carlsberg cans (it may have been more, but my mind, after the third can, was finding counting a tedious exercise). Now those who think that beer is a mild drink, scarcely more potent than a Cola, are only partially right. I say partially because while beer is only about 5-8% proof, 6-8 cans do add up to a significant quantity of the fermented stuff. Or maybe, the beer realising that I was just a stripling with hardly any experience of serious drinking thought it would teach me a thing or two about life. Either which way, sozzled is the word that could best describe my mental state. Fortunately, my other helpful coursemate (let us just call him Midshipman ADA), was there to guide me back to our ship.

 Now my recollection of the sequence of events thereafter is, you will understand, a bit hazy but ADA told me that:-

Somewhere halfway down the ‘gangway’ (the platform that one uses to embark/disembark a ship) I had exhibited a very keen desire to dive into the water, for ostensibly, a swim. The fact that we were in full uniform and would present a somewhat comical spectacle for onlookers, convinced ADA to drag disgruntled me homewards, using (in his words) persuasive skills of the highest order.

Then midway through our homeward walk, with me being half carried half dragged by ADA, I broke into a song using my full lung power. This startled the stragglers heading over to their respective ships, but none more than my own Commanding Officer, who too was homeward bound. Not one to forget naval protocols I belched a very hearty ‘Good Evening Sir’. ADA later told me that the CO did not follow the expected etiquettes, and instead of responding with a jolly ‘Good Evening”, gave us a baleful stare. I thereafter started (as per my ADA) a monologue on believe it or not, ants! Yes, ants.

Be that as it may, we ultimately reached our ship by covering the 300 or so metres in about 30 minutes. This time, while crossing my own gangway, I decided (as per ADA) to engage the nonplussed sailor on duty there and chummily lecture him on the ill effects of drinking alcohol; with one brotherly arm around his shoulder. ADA later told me that the fact that I was wearing my uniform cap in a rather jaunty but unprofessional angle, considerably lessened the impact of my lecture, as did the incoherence of my speech.

I woke up the next morning, still in uniform and a head that was threatening to split into two. This experience taught me one thing – I am not a great tippler. I therefore vowed to keep off drinks and indeed did follow my vow for three months.

Fast forward 7-8 months. We were by now proud four month old Sub Lieutenants, but we did have amongst us coursemates, one Admiral.  Now I’ll excuse you if you raise your eyebrow because yes, it takes about 30 years of toil to get an Admiral’s rank.  Let me explain.

The Navy loves to train us and about 30 of us SLts were sent to one of the training establishments at Mumbai for another dose of learning. It is natural corollary therefore, that some party or another is a constant feature most evenings. On one such occasion, merriment was high and sobriety (always inversely proportional at such festivities), was low. One SLt who happened to be a teetotaller was being goaded by the others to have a sip of the invigorating Old Monk. Finally convinced that a little bit of the right stuff can’t be all bad, he quaffed one glass full in a single gulp, without the aid of namby pamby accompaniments like water or soda (you know how these teetotallers are – no finesse). One could see that this braced him up considerably and (erroneously as it turned out) firmed his conviction that alcohol is nothing but a slightly bitter version of lime soda. Another glass full went down equally quickly to much ooh and aahs from the admiring onlookers.

The thing with Old Monk you see is that it takes, in my guess, 15 minutes to show it’s wonders. The SLt had in the meantime already gulped the equivalent of 7-8 pegs before the lapse of these 15 minutes.  He then started his third glass, but the blasted clock struck 15 minutes. A dreamy look lit up his face. One could also sense that his legs had started to wobble a bit and words were finding it difficult to come out of his mouth; as if his tongue had got into a knot. But haven’t I said in some earlier post that while alcohol may weaken the legs, but as compensation, it stiffens one’s resolve. So, up clambered the SLt onto a table (that it took him 3-4 attempts caused some mirth amongst the co revellers), hollered for everyone to gather around and gave a speech. Regrettably, the passage of time has dimmed my memory on what exactly was said; but there was a somewhat incoherent rendition of the famous song ‘Eh Mere Watan Ke Logon’ (well actually the first line was repeated 14 times), some rousing words on service before self, a confusing but touching para on friendships and camaraderie, another repetition of the same first line of the same song, expressions of love for all of us brothers, and as a grand finale, presumably because the legs finally overcame the resolve, he, somewhat inelegantly, fell off the table. Not before pronouncing himself an Admiral though. Naturally, there was a thunderous applause from the rapt audience. To this day, all us course mates reverently address him as Admiral. He of course was carried to his cabin and deposited in his bed in a manner decidedly unlike an Admiral. He woke up 36 hours later and like Midshipman RK Dahiya, swore off drinks for many years.

Now would such riveting stories ever crop up based on ingestion of butter milk? Of course not. The foregoing does not complete my stories of the beloved ‘som ras’ of course. I will get back to this favourite topic off and on. Cheers!!