This Flight Commander of the training Squadron is an old hand in the Marut Fleet. He has been in the fleet from Poona to Jamnagar to Jodhpur. He was the strong silent type and gave the impression of a Professor Emeritus.

One morning he has a slight cold and visits the Doc and after examination he is given a few pills called A P C and a slip with the dreaded words – L D 3, Excused Flying. This is akin to a death knell as it translates into  ‘light duties for 3 days and no flying.

The officer gets the “BLUES” immediately and sort of goes into a depression.T he closer he gets to the FLIGHTS the deeper he sinks.

He drives past the dispersal and sees that not a single Marut is in sight. He alights from his car at the FLIGHTS and sure enough no Pilots are around either.

The Flights in this outfit was a long barracks with the First Room being that of the Flight Commander and the adjacent room being the Operations Room. There was a Judas Window between the rooms and this was for the specific purpose of pushing the Flight Commander’s telephone to the OPS room when he was out. This was most of the time as he was a Flying Hog. (Very different from a Wart Hog)

The next best function a Pilot is happy when not flying, is to shoot the breeze, but the Flight Commander cant do this either as he is all alone. He commences pacing the road and aimlessly admires the handy work of the squadron gardener. He wanders in to the Ops Room sits down and orders coffee and lights up his weed of choice “Wills Filter Cigarette”

The coffee makes him slip into melancholia and his eyes are out of focus and he elects to stare at the ceiling. He follows the antics of two flies on the ceiling and slips further into the BLUES.

Enter from stage left a Flying Officer who is sweating profusely and freezes on seeing the Flight Commander. He has just landed from a sortie.

He realizes that the Flight Commander has left his body in the chair and his mind is elsewhere. He slips in to the “Ops Officer’s chair and gets busy and does the famous trick of “look busy but take it easy”.

There are two telephones on the desk.

The Flight Commander still has not acknowledged the Flying Officer as he is on Cloud Nine due to no-flying depression.

The flight commander pulls a telephone closer, lifts the receiver and dials a three digit number.

The other telephone on the table commences ringing and the flying officer picks it up and smartly answers “Ops Officer Flying Officer R.Singh.”

The voice on the phone says “Fido this is ‘SIS’ what is the aircraft state?”

The reader has to now pause and take in the situation. The ops table is 4 feet in width and Fido is on one side and Sis on the other, Their eyes are locked and yet they continue to talk on the phone.

Fido: Sir the serviceability is 12 plus 1.

Sis: How goes the flying program?

Fido: Sir one aircraft is on TRS on the tarmac. The third detail will be landing shortly and one more detail is planned.

Sis: Which squadron has the ATC and the ACP duties?

Fido: Tiger squadron Sir.

Sis: Thank you.

Fido: Thank you and welcome sir.

Both put the receivers down.

Sis slips back onto Cloud Nine.

Fido immediately gets up and excuses himself saying he has to visit the washroom. He runs to the crew room which is empty and does two front flips followed by two back flips and rolls on the carpet laughing hysterically.

NC(E) Salwade sees this spectacle and runs to NC(E) Pillay to inform him that Flying Officer R.Singh is having some kind of a cardiac arrest. Pillay tells him not to panic as the Flight Commander is in the ops room comatose with a wicked grin on his face.

The question for the scientific lot of the Marut crew is this.

The officers were four feet apart.

Each had one ear on the telephone earpiece.

The other ear was free.

Which voice did their brains receive first. The one in the earpiece or the other one?

This is a true story and I am sure the flying HOGS who had to sit on the ground occasionally had some form of the BLUES. Maybe they care to elaborate?

© Copyright Sam Sekhar and Marutfans. All rights reserved. Reproduction or distribution of this article in any form without the express written permission of the author is prohibited.

The tallest Flying Officer in the Marut fleet returns from his Annual Leave.
He has a completely different look about him.
He has a lilt in his voice.
He has a jaunty walk.
He is grinning from ear to ear all the time.
There is a glint in his eye and he is walking on “CLOUD NINE”.
There is much speculation in the “FLIGHTS” as to his malady.
Many theories are floated and BOBCAT nails it by concluding “Ravi got LUCKY”.
All  agree.

To get back to business, he is given a dual check and launched on a General Handling Solo sortie.
The A C P Pilot on duty is the second shortest Marut Pilot in the fleet.
All goes well in the sortie and Ravi joins circuit and calls down wind and confirms THREE GREENS. He turns finals and the ACP confirms his wheels are down and he is cleared to land. As Ravi enters the phase of short short finals “Eagle eyed FIDO sees the undercarriage being retracted and immediately commands Ravi to go around in a very authoritative voice. Ravi complies and this time on downwind he is asked to check and recheck three GREENS and come for an undercarriage check.
Ravi does the pass and he is told the famous words “Your wheels appear to down and locked”. The next circuit and landing is uneventful.

As soon as Ravi switches off, his aircraft is surrounded by the Marut Bureau of Investigation (MBI).
Before the turbines come to a stop or you can say “Kuldip Singh Bajwa“ the aircraft is pushed into the hanger. The aircraft is jacked up and the hydraulic trolley is connected.
Immediately “ELLIOT NESS” and his two trusty “UNTOUCHABLES” commence recycling the “BHATINDA” out of the undercarriage.

Bobcat lands and enters the hanger to complete after landing formalities with the FORM-700. He takes in the sight of the aircraft on jacks and the constant recycling in process. Sight to behold are the bodies draped around the cockpit of the aircraft. Two bodies on either side of the cockpit and one perched on the canopy. Only the lower torsos (BUTTOCKS) of the three bodies are visible as the upper torsos are well inside the cockpit.
He spots Ravi and FIDO standing far away close to the hanger doors.
He ambles over to them and decides to make some polite conversation.

Bobcat: Well Ravi how went the annual leave.
Ravi☹ With a perplexed look on his face: Good Sam had a really good time.
Bobcat: Did you make some new acquaintances?
Ravi: Oh Boy did I ever meet a few GOODIES.
Bobcat: I gather from your smile that they were all lassies.
Ravi: Yes siree Bob they sure were as you said it.
Bobcat: I presume one in particular struck your fancy.
Ravi: Yes, yes and yes.
Bobcat: I presume this was because of her Big Big Beautiful eyes.
Ravi: Turning RED yes, yes and yes.

Bobcat smoothly switches gears and asks Ravi to get back to his general handling sortie.
He tells him to close his eyes and imagine the first time he was on downwind.
Ravi closes his eyes and says “I got it I can see myself in the cockpit on downwind.” Bobcat tells Ravi to raise his right hand and place his palm on his forehead.
Ravi complies.
Bobcat tells Ravi to wipe away gently the image that is foremost on his mind. Ravi rubs his forehead a few times and tells Bobcat that the image is gone and he is back in the cockpit on downwind.

Bobcat asks Ravi that when you lowered the undercarriage on downwind “Did you ensure that you depressed the button on the right of the lever and pulled back the lever fully back till it was at the stop.”
Ravi goes into a trance and concentrates and after a minute or two says ”You know Sam I don’t think so because I had the other IMAGE foremost on my mind at that particular time.”
All three have a good laugh.
Bobcat tells Ravi not to tell the MBI investigators and let them figure it out.

The MBI report said that for some reason the undercarriage lever did not hit the back stop completely and so it moved forward involuntarily and the up cycle commenced.

FIDO is commended for his sharp eyes and prompt action in saving a would be belly flop. But no Cigar (V.M.).

The three ostrich investigators were pilots without any Engineering/Medical degrees and were looking for the virus that was grown in a petri dish and entered as a Gremlin in the undercarriage circuitry.

For those of us who are slow on the uptake I have pictorially illustrated the exact image that was on Ravi’s mind at the time he lowered the undercarriage. Hope your eyesight is sharp as ever. P.S. Elliot Ness was the FBI agent who got Al Capone. His special team was called the “UNTOUCHBLES”

© Copyright Sam Sekhar and Marutfans. All rights reserved. Reproduction or distribution of this article in any form without the express written permission of the author is prohibited.

Air Mshl Dastur was actively associated with the Marut in its initial stages. Could not do better than paste Gp Capt Bhargava’s tribute to him at the IAF History Group site, for those who are not members there.

“He was the senior-most IAF officer in
Bangalore for the last many years. He lived in the city for over
thirty years from perhaps 1975 when he became Chairman HAL, a
responsibility he carried for around five years. After retiring
from HAL in 1980, he was actively involved in social work such as
steering the Sheila Kothawala Institute for the Deaf via the Deaf
Aid Society, of which he was the head. He also looked after the
Cheshire Home Bangalore for a considerable time.
Air Mshl Dastur’s tenure in HAL was
noteworthy for a number of important milestones. Perhaps the most
important were the planning for the production of Jaguar aircraft
in India, development of Kiran Mk II, HPT-32 Deepak trainer (which
unfortunately had to be grounded due to engine problems with its
American engine) and the Ajeet evolved by HAL from the Sabre
Killer ˆ Gnat – aircraft. 

He also ensured the rapid turn around
of Marut aircraft after overhaul. However, despite this. the type
was retired by IAF during his tenure, presumably due to the
insurmountable difficulty in production of its spares..

Referred to as Dusty by his senior and
contemporaneous, he was commissioned as a fighter pilot in the Air
Force on January 19, 1942. He had a fine career in the Indian Air
Force. The citation (see below) for the award of Ati Vishisht Seva
Medal explains some of his achievements.
May his soul rest in eternal peace.
May his grieving family overcome grief at this loss and recall
with pride his good deeds, particularly after his formal
retirement. These were in the true tradition of the Parsi
community in India. A long life may not be full enough but a full
life is long enough. Air Marshal Dastur had the best of both and
left behind some wonderful memories and achievements.

In Grief, 

Kapil Bhargava”

This Command had just come into existence and the Boss with his Operations staff elected to have an air exercise to show the powers that be(both military and civilian)that the Air Defence of the sector was in safe hands. The aim was to show that any air threat would be well detected in time and would be annihilated well before coming close to the target. he Ops 1 A/B/C/D/Z got busy and wrote out the Preamble-Aim-Mission-100% Kill Rate and concluded that all enemy aircraft that dared to strike were shot down, with ZERO losses from the Air Defence Element.

 You-Lie airfield and Jazz-Mare airfield belonged to the Good Guys and were defended by the IAF sports car version of Air Defence (Type-77 with one ventral drop tank)

 Jo-Pure airfield was where the Bad Boys operated from with their Twin Jet Fighter Strike Force.

 The strike route was planned by Ops-1 Pee. The Marut Bosses were handed over this information by MEAN SING and HE warned them that great harm would befall their careers if any miniscule deviation was ever attempted by any Twin Jet Pilot.

 A total of 10 Two Aircraft Strike Missions would take part in each detail.

Three details would be flown the first day.

Three details would be flown the second day.

The strike missions would take place at five minute intervals.

All strike missions would follow the same navigational route.

Height to be maintained NOT BELOW 500 PLUS 10 FEET.

At I.P. the second aircraft would close into CLOSE FORMATION.

The attack would be in close formation along westerly runways at You-Lie and Jazz-Mare airfields. Height 500 plus 10 feet.

The missions would be in close formation till 10 miles after flying over the airfields and then climb to 5000 feet and return to base.

Ops-1 D/O/P/E/S would be the ground umpires at You-Lie and Jazz-Mare airfields to ensure proper strike heights and close formations by the strike force.

The speed to be maintained at all times was 420 Knots.

 The Mission briefing would the next day at 0500 Hours and would be attended by Heart Bag Sing and Mean Sing.

 The Bosses were in a quandary as to how to pass on the Mission Profiles to the Strike Crew. They contemplated using the Whip method and then thought better of it and used the fall to the knees and begged all and sundry to comply by the rules.

 The strike crew agreed that they would comply provided on the THIRD DAY the strike force would be permitted to carry out 20 Missions on their own secret routings. Mean Sing was contacted and he reluctantly agreed. Maps were prepared and trial briefings were held. Mission 101 Alpha was a flight commander and Bravo was Bobcat.

 The Bosses went down on their knees and once again pleaded for all pilots not to drink that evening and to get to bed early. Special finger pointing was directed at a selected few.

 Met briefing and Mission briefing was in the same place and all crew minus one were changing into flight suits at 0430 Hours. One Boss starts sweating profusely and yells at his Adjutant as to the whereabouts of COOL HAND LUKE. The adjutant replies that he must be sleeping. The Boss goes Viral and despatches his jeep and instructs the MTD not to return without COOL HAND LUKE.

Briefing commences at 0500 Hours with Heart Bag Sing and Mean Sing in the front row. Mean Sing with his sharp nose senses that something is amiss and elects to take a head count of the pilots. He is sitting in a low slung sofa and so cannot see all the way back. He tries the swivel the neck trick and is given a dirty look by Heart Bag Sing. Mean Sing stops his head count. Just as Mission 101 Alpha is in the last stage of his briefing COOL HAND LUKE slips in and takes a seat. The second the briefing is complete MEAN SING jumps up and takes a head count and is perplexed that all pilots are accounted. He makes a note to himself to sharpen his sense of smelling the rat.

 Mission 101 Alpha and Bravo get airborne followed by the rest in 5 minute intervals. The second radio channel is tuned to a secret frequency and all hell breaks loose on this channel.

“Leveling off at 500 plus 10 feet and the target is in sight.

Sports cars are airborne.

They are turning in.

They are coming in for the second attack.

Guys they are coming in for you.

Can we get down to 500 feet.

Please do not go below 500 plus 10 feet. Please Please Please

Put these sorties down as high level navigations”

 The first wave lands and the debrief is attended by MEAN SING. He is very happy that all went according to plan. When Mission 101 Alpha concludes his debrief and asks for comments, Bobcat pipes in and says “Sir your altimeter was under reading and mine was indicating 500 plus 50 feet.” Bobcat becomes a marked man.

 At the end of the second day the sports cars claim all missions were shot down. Reports fly to New Delhi about the annihilation of the enemy. 120 sorties were conducted by the strike force and the sports cars claimed 128 kills.

 THIRD DAY.

Four junior pilots and one engineering officer have a confidential briefing. The engineering officer is sworn into secrecy and is informed the fate of the Marut Fleet lies in his hands.

Twenty 2 Aircraft mission are flown.

Height is just above sand dune level.

Attack direction from all points of the compass.

Speeds reached by strike aircraft 550 to 560 kts.  Four aircraft hit 600 kts.

One mission each to You-Lie and Jazz-Mare airfields follow a route which takes them directly over the live bombing target of the Pokran Air to Ground Range.

Four air defence migs are shot down by Maruts with gun camera evidence.

Not a single Marut is ever sighted long enough to follow or catch up to.

None of the Radar units had any Maruts on their screens.

MEAN SING is unhappy with the debrief.

The pirate gentleman at Pokran range who clandestinely collects scrap from the live bombing target is happy with metal from 8 drop tanks. It is manna from heaven for him.

Inventory of drop tanks is correct thanks to crafty engineering.

Any disbelievers?

© Copyright Sam Sekhar and Marutfans. All rights reserved. Reproduction or distribution of this article in any form without the express written permission of the author is prohibited.

About a month later, I went back to the Naval Hospital in Bombay for my final check up. To my pleasant surprise both Zuthsi and Prakash were there. This time I was not there for very long as it was more of a formality rather than anything else. In the evenings Prakash and I would have long chats over the events of the last month during the period that I was away in Jamnagar.

During this period Prakash had been able to get some leave and had driven down to Coimbatore or perhaps Madras, I am not sure, with an air Force couple who were driving down in their car and had asked him to accompany them. On the way, one day around noon they passed a temple, close to the road, a fairly large temple, where the couple stopped to pray. They asked Prakash if he would like to come up to the main temple but he declined, preferring to stand below the flight of steps leading up to the main temple. Looking around idly, he glanced up towards the temple and at the top of the stairs he saw a Sadhu standing there looking down at him, with a smile on his face. Their eyes met. At that instant Prakash felt that he had left his body and he saw the whole universe. He said that he just could not describe what he felt and saw. In that flash of a moment he seemed to have found the answer to the Universe. Who he was, what he was and what the whole Cosmos was about. He said that it all happened in the flash of a second, when time stopped, and then he was back to normal. He then went up to this Sadhu and spoke to him. The conversation was quite long so I am going to give the gist of it. Apparently this was the gentleman who was writing those letters to him. I am a bit confused about the exact text of the conversation. But I am absolutely certain that Prakash asked him if he was his Guru, but the Sadhu said “no, I am not your Guru”. When Prakash pressed him further asking him then as to who was his real Guru and how was he to find him, the Sadhu relied to the effect that “you cannot find your Guru, your Guru will find you”. By this time the couple had returned so Prakash too came back to the car and they drove off.

Some time after this incident, Prakash went back to the Chaya Shastra, this time with a hundred and one rupees, for the full session, which lasted a good five hours. Armed with a pen and notebook he made a note of all the dates and the important events that were expected to take place in the days to come. In other words he made a complete note of everything for his reference.

After the usual going out and standing in the sun, and the calculations, the pundit took out the Patras pertaining to him, and began to read them out while Prakash began to make a note of what all he was saying. On reading the predictions written on the Patras, the pundit was very surprised and he remarked that in the last five generations this was the first time that such a set of predictions had come out. When Prakash asked him as to what was so unique about his predictions, the pundit remarked that as per the writings in that set, he had no future birth. He said, “according to what is written here, you have no future birth. That means you are not going to be born again! In other words you are going to achieve Moksha in this life!!”

This came as a bit of a surprise to Prakash as he had no such ambitions and was not very keen on such things. Anyway they had this massive session and Prakash just kept jotting the events down, and at the end of it all he came back to the ward. A few days later I landed up there, and he confided all that had happened to him in the time that I was away. We had long discussions on this subject, and both us were quite puzzled and wondered whether there was any truth in all of this or was it just some mumbo jumbo. Neither of us could figure out what this was all about. The only conclusion both of us came to (at least I did) that there was more to it than met the eye, and did not seem a hoax. The only thing left was to check out the whole thing by tallying actual events with what was predicted in the days to come. One did not have to wait very long in order to verify all this, because in the coming week, the precise day was given, he was supposed to go down south. On the other hand he had already received his posting orders to Naval Headquarters, New Delhi to take up his new assignment!! The note book said south while his posting orders said north. So in a week’s time we would know what it was all about and if the predictions would come true or not.

It was also predicted that he would be leaving his job very soon, I think it said about two years from then. Another thing I do remember is that by the time he would come into his late thirties, he would have achieved enlightenment, and that he would be in an ashram in Rishikesh or would set up his own ashram. Also that around this time he would be in a position to leave his body, that is die when ever he wanted to, and he would have the desire to do so, but he would be prevailed upon by his disciples not to. And he would continue to reside in his ashram till he reached the age of 52 or 55 and that he would be cremated on the banks of the Ganges in Rishikesh at 4 in the afternoon, of this time I am absolutely certain.

He and I had some very powerful reasons for not taking these predictions very lightly because when he took the whole Rs 101 session, his entire fainting episode on board the ship, his being unconscious, his paralysis, his inability to speak on gaining consciousness etc were all mentioned in the Patras very clearly. How on earth all that could be recorded on those Patras is/was beyond our comprehension. He is sure that he was not hypnotized or any such thing. And why Zuthsi should take part in such an elaborate hoax makes no sense at all, because he was the only one who knew about Prakash’s illness, about his fainting, his paralysis, his loss of speech and all that. Just did not make any sense.

What was written in the Patras was that at this age which coincided, he would lose his senses, would fall into a deep sleep ( which he did, in that he was in a coma) and when he would wake up he would not be able to speak or move. That after some time he would be able to do so, etc etc. all tallying with what actually happened. This was because in his last life, in a fit of rage, he had slapped a young Brahmin boy who had then put a curse on him. It was also written that he would have achieved Moksha in his previous birth itself, but he had had a minor disagreement with his guru, because of which he had to take birth again, and that he would have to go through this life before he finally achieved Moksha.

This is where my story ends.

Three days before the acid-test, I left for Jamnagar, so I could not confirm whether he went North or South as predicted. After coming back to Jamnagar I got back into the thick of flying and I lost touch, not bothering to follow-up and reestablishing contact with him and finding out what happened after that. Did he go on to become the Naval Chief or did he go on to Rishikesh and finally achieve Moksha? I don’t know. But today I do want to know. Hence this long elaborate story ending with a very earnest request to all my Air force friends to find out from The Naval Head Quarters as to who this officer was and what happened to him. This should not be too difficult because at the time of this incident there was only one Hydrographic ship around the Indian Coast, doing a survey of the seabed. And the incident of a Naval Officer having a stroke on board the ship, and that too while on duty, would not have gone un-noticed. I am sure all that would be on record somewhere. So please take this seriously and help me resolve the issue once and for all. Many thanks

© Copyright Sanjai Kumar Singh and Marutfans. All rights reserved. Reproduction or distribution of this article in any form without the express written permission of the author is prohibited.

Jodhpur not having good entertainment spots like Goa, the Marut crew made the best of the week ends with socializing and picnics. The pilots had their own cliques and accordingly formed mini groups. One such group being in Jodhpur for a long time made some friends with the civilian crowd. This group was very active and had great fun at all times.

One fine day MYRA BEHAN joined this group and was seen at every week end gathering enjoying the festivities.

Myra was in her twenties and had very fair skin.
She had blue eyes.
She had long lustrous, dark flowing hair.
God had blessed her with good numerology – 36-22-36.
She was always very well attired and her favourite outfits were chiffon sarees in all the light colors possible.
She was a good dancer.
Her walk was like poetry in motion.
She had a fabulous sense of humor and also the gift of the gab.
Tobah she wore hipsters.
Tobah,Tobah she smoked.
Triple Tobah she drank and could hold her own.
She was good clean fun.
She had ROYAL connections.
MYRA BEHAN had the power of “THE EFFECT” on men.

 The camels of Jodhpur (other Marut Pilots not from this group) soon learnt of this celebrity and were all keen to see her in person and would hint at an invitation to join their week-end gatherings.

 This group along with MYRA BEHAN visited the house of Cool Hand Luke one afternoon. Drinks were served and MYRA commenced her quick intake. The hostess on seeing MYRA BEHAN knocking back two in quick succession told her to take it easy as there was plenty of liquor around. MYRA BEHAN told the hostess not to worry as when she had three drinks she would be under the table. She further told the hostess that the time to worry was when she had four drinks as this would lead to her being under the Host. The hostess uttered “aaareee baba” and promptly fainted.

This group elected to have a picnic at Kailana Lake one Sunday and had just commenced the festivities when they were bounced in hoards by the full Marut Fleet. Good fun was being had by one and all and in due course of time some Marut Pilots jumped into Kailana Lake fully clothed.

 I now ask the reader to pause and take in this vision. MYRA BEHAN was wearing a gossamer thin white chiffon saree and a muslin white blouse. Soon she also jumped in. She splashed around for half an hour and emerged from the water.

 I leave it to the reader to imagine “The wet EFFECT” and the number of cardiac arrests. A strange factor called (POPPING EYE BALLS) occurred.

 The good wives of the Marut fleet surrounded her and whisked her home in one of the cars.

 One Marut pilot who was on deputation from All India Radio was on annual leave and on his return he heard about the PICNIC. His brother was visiting him at this time. He immediately contacted THE GROUP and pleaded to be invited for the next gathering. A few weeks passed and the All India Radio pilot came to know that The Group was having a get together the following Sunday at La Jees place. The A I R pilot and his brother donned their best attire and splashed copious amounts of OLD SPICE and started up the car. The good wife asked them where they were going and they replied in unison “To the officers mess to get some bread”. Soon they were on their way and as they were a couple of houses from La Jee’s residence the A I R pilot checks his rear view mirror and to his horror he sees his wife on the MOPED hair flying all over and doing the maximum speed of 20 kms per hour He takes off like a bat out of hell, proceeds to the Mess and loads up bread and heads home.

 The next day he comes to work with a black eye and said he ran into a door.

 A few weeks passed and there was a BASH at Umaid Bhavan Palace and there were a few invitees from the Marut Crowd. The party was in full swing soon and everyone was having a ball.

 Soon MYRA entered the Ball in a fashionable late entrance and boy what an entrance it was. She was resplendent in a blood red ensemble with enough gold embroidery and diamond jewelry. The HIPSTER was barely legal. In due course of time she had  reached her quota and was having a blast.

In walked a man of some royal descent and he was working in Bombay. It was believed that he was:

Current Husband
Separated Husband
Not interested Husband.
Kicked out Husband
Legally Divorced husband
Not legally divorced husband
Not talking to husband.
Nobody was sure what state this gentleman and MYRA were currently in.
The three reps from the Marut fleet were

Ed Koch
Bug Nyet
Sir Dash.

MYRA soon gets a glint in her eye and comes over and grabs Ed Koch by the hand. She leads him around the Ball Room and introduces him to the Royal crowd. She does so in Rajasthani and so Ed Koch has no clue as to what she is saying. He keeps grinning away in a diplomatic smile. He soon realizes that he is getting HOSTILE looks and the temperature in the room is rising.

 In a flash like in the Fairy Tale the Grand Old Dame of Jodhpur “ Bhai Jee” grabs Ed Koch and whispers in his ear that the time is close to midnight.

What she actually says is that MYRA has been introducing him around to all and sundry that he is her fiancée and they are soon to be married. This remark has not been well taken by the Royal crowd and they are rounding up a lynching party.”Bhai Jee “ tells Ed Koch and the other two to make like Houdini and vanish in to thin air.

 The three make a dash to their carriage. A four cylinder Fiat belonging to Ed Koch.

 Loud voices are heard in the background “CLOSE THE GATES- CLOSE THE GATES “.

 For those of us familiar with the Palace Gates you will remember that these Gates were built of pure Wrought Iron about a few hundred years ago and were meant to keep the invaders out in them old, old days.

 The gate keepers come out of their slumber, do not reason why and jump to the order with a ” Jee HUKUM” and start rocking the gates to get them loose from their rigid position due to being kept open for years. Soon the gates start moving slowly an inch at a time.

 There is great pandemonium in the Palace and crowds are pouring out of the doors. Many are armed with daggers and swords and some are twirling ropes fashioned into a noose. Soon a bookie emerges and he opens a booth and the odds he is offering are 10 to 1 that Ed Koch will not make it out of the gates. The royal crowd is soon laying bets.

Objects start raining on Ed Koch’s carriage and are bouncing off the metal.

The three brave fully ops pilots get in to the front seat of the Fiat. The windows on the carriage were kept open due to the warmth of the evening.

 Ed Koch has his famous grin which is quite unique as we all know and is cool as a cucumber. Bug Nyet is laughing hysterically and keeps saying “Go Ed Koch Go/Go Ed Koch Go.” Sir Dash being the tall one looks in the back seat and spots three foreign royal objects and leans over and scoops them up. He can’t believe his eyes and tells the other two “BOSS we have the genuine articles” and they are Daggers in their scabbards from many years ago. They were the objects raining down on the carriage.

 The beast turns over at the first attempt and Ed Koch guns the Horses and is off from ZERO to FORTY kmph in 40 seconds. His aim is to make it out of the palace gates before they close. The other two utter the famous words of the twin engine pilots “Guru RPM Udau”.

 The royal husband is of the opinion that he has to avenge his honor and so gets into the first car a Bugati, that has the keys in it and commences the chase. He is closing in on Ed Koch and so are the gates. Like a James Bond movie Ed Koch goes through the gates with some paint scrapes. The gate keepers just about shut the gates and jump out of the way when the BUGATI slams into the gates.

 Ed Koch slows down to the legal limit and makes it home. The three divide up the loot and swear on the official secrets act to keep mum. A few days later BHAI JEE meets the trio and tells them that the BUGATI belonged to MYRA and when the ex-husband came up the palace steps he was the recipient of an upper cut and rolled down the royal steps out cold.

 If you visit them today in their homes and see a dagger, you will know how and why it got there.

 The other Marut crowd in the Kahani are in double digits. Folks, please use your noggin and remember them yester years. Happy reading I hope. No disrespect to any actor intended.

 P.S. Myra could not hold a candle to the beautiful Marut better halves

© Copyright Sam Sekhar and Marutfans. All rights reserved. Reproduction or distribution of this article in any form without the express written permission of the author is prohibited.

Prakash was a bright spark that the Indian Navy had got hold of and his career path had been fairly well defined quite early. He was posted  in the Executive Branch  aboard the only oceanography ship that the Navy had at that time and he was one of their blue eyed boys. One day when he was on the Command Deck while work was going on mapping the contours and depth of the Seabed, suddenly  he passed out and fell on the floor senseless. There was panic on board and he was immediately airlifted by a chopper and flown straight to the Naval hospital. There had been no warning about his being unwell. One minute he was hale and hearty, carrying out his normal duties on board, and the next instant without any warning he lay crumpled on the floor unconscious. For many days he lay in the Hospital in deep coma with the doctors not being able to do anything.

As far as I remember, no surgery was carried out. I am surmising all this because when I met him, which was quite some time after the incident, his head was not bandaged nor were there any wounds visible on his head. Any way, he lay in deep coma for several days, and when he regained consciousness, the left side of his body was totally paralyzed, nor could he speak a word. After a fortnight or so, he began to show signs of improvement and began to speak, slowly at first, improving as time went by. After a while he was able to speak quite clearly and move his limbs. How long all this took I cannot say with any certainty, because when I met him he was quite hale and hearty and in pretty good shape. One could not have guessed looking at him that he had come as close to dying as one possibly could. He was now coming to the hospital for periodic reviews but was not on duty on board any sea going vessel. Where he was posted during this period I do not recall. May have been in the hospital all the time for all I know.

I never was the excessively inquisitive type, going into gory details.  Zuthsi’s problem I don’t know and in any case it has nothing to do with the story as such. He introduced the subject of the Chaya Shastra fortune teller and that is all that interested me then and now.

As time passed I got quite friendly with both of them, to the point that we were telling most of our personal details to one another and sharing our thoughts on practically everything on earth. Now hereafter the sequence of events gets quite murky and I cannot recall things as they occurred date-wise. So what I present, is the gist of the whole thing, perhaps not in sequence.

One day when Prakash and I were alone, he pulled out an inland-letter and showed it to me. I did not go into the contents very deeply. For one it was written in Hindi and none too legibly at that, plus reading some one’s personal letters was not my cup of tea. Secondly, it was a bit embarrassing because it pertained to sex. All I remember is that I just glanced at it and said yes, yes, quite interesting sort of thing, leaving it at that. Today I kick myself for not having examined it minutely and pored over the contents and tried to understand what was written in depth. What a fool I was, letting a God sent opportunity slip through my fingers. The letter just started off with a Dear Prakash (in Hindi ) and then went on to discuss sex and whether it was sinful and whether It prevented one from leading a holy life. Something to that effect. What I can recall, however, is that Prakash told me that the gist of the letter was that sex in moderation was not a sin, or something like that. The letter was written on both sides, and just ended after talking about sex and was not signed off with any name or formal closing words like yours sincerely or any such thing. Prakash told me that this was the second or third time that he had received such a letter. He had no clue as to who sent it and why. He said that what really intrigued him was that when in the night he was thinking about something and pondering over a problem or concept, he would receive such a letter the very next day, discussing just what he had been thinking about the night before. He showed me another similar letter in the same hand writing, but what was the content or subject matter, I do not recall. What I do remember very clearly was his saying that the night before the arrival of that letter he had been thinking about that subject and was looking for answers when this letter arrived next morning discussing just that particular problem and the answers to his doubts and nothing else. He went on to say that he had received several such letters quite recently, and that he had no idea as to who was writing them and from where. They would just land up out of the blue, so to say.

Here, I must add in explanation, that in our little chats, we did go into a bit about life, philosophy and that sort of thing, but it was nothing very heavy because we both were young and had far more interesting things to talk about. We naturally shied away from any heavy stuff. In any case I always was, a vacuous so and so, thus discussing anything of consequence could be safely ruled out.

One fine day, Prakash very sheepishly confided in me that on one of his ‘outings’ from the hospital he had taken Zuthsi with him to that Chaya Shastra fellow. Not only to take the wind out of Zuthsi’s constant talk about that astrologer and by proving that he was a hoax and that he was being hypnotized or some such thing. So the two had gone to this fellow armed with their three questions. Prakash had prepared his questions well in advance so as to prove to Zuthsi that it was all humbug and that it was all a fraud.

Well they went there, Prakash was taken out into the sun, his shadow was measured and then the pundit carried out his calculations and started off by asking Prakash his date and time of birth. Prakash told him. The pundit looked into the Patras that he had pulled out, and translating what was written on it, said that it was not matching. According to what was written there, in the Patras, it was such n such. So he again asked Prakash if he was quite sure about his date of birth and he said of course, I am absolutely sure, and that he had had it confirmed from his mother, sort of thing. Prakash had taken Zuthsi along, to translate what was written on those leaves, and he confirmed, that what the Astrologer was saying was true.

So they went out into the sun and took measurements again, recalculated, and came back with another set and there again there was a disparity. The man was quite puzzled and asked him if he was sure about his date of birth, because according to what was written on the Patras the date was not tallying with what Prakash was saying. In fact what surprised Prakash was that the date  as written in the Patra, was in fact correct, and was his actual date of birth, and time! What really blew his mind after that was the next line in the Patras, which he read out and which Zuthsi translated “you are now arguing about your date of birth. It is not such n such but is such n such date”. That being resolved, he answered his second question. Before asking the third and final question, Prakash asked Zuthsi to leave the room as he wanted to ask that question in private. What he asked I do not know, but whatever it was, it turned out to be absolutely correct. In a way this was a turning point, because Prakash said that it just could not be a hoax, because what he had asked was known to only two people. His mother and him. He said that in no way could that person have guessed the correct answer. And that shook him to the core.

Later on in the ward, we did talk a lot about it, but none of us could come to any kind of conclusion. It left us all quite foxed and confused on this issue. A few days later, I went back to Jamnagar and back to my flying. Slowly the whole thing faded out of my world. Another mystery unsolved, but no big deal, because there were other things to do in life. Flying being one of them.

(to be contd……)

© Copyright Sanjai Kumar Singh and Marutfans. All rights reserved. Reproduction or distribution of this article in any form without the express written permission of the author is prohibited.

 The story that I am going to relate is on an ‘as is, as was’ basis, without any embellishments or additions on my part. Where I am vague I will let you know, and you can be sure it will be the result of a poor memory. And there, you will have to form your own opinion about the veracity of the statements that I make thereafter.  It, that is my story, has lain in the dark long enough, and the time has come for it to see the light of day and for the missing parts to be investigated. For this reason, and also to make  this incident part of my spiritual progress, I narrate this story buried deep in my memory for decades.

The entire episode took place, I think, somewhere around 1964-1967. Here my memory fails me, but I am sure my Air force friends will be able to help me out in finding out the exact period, which is not vital to the tale, but important when it comes to finding out the present whereabouts of the characters in this story. Which is the real reason for my digging this out from the past.

 Sometime around this period, I was posted to Jamnagar and I fell ill with an acute urine infection and was admitted to the local MH in Jamnagar.  I was subsequently transferred to the MH in Bombay, a Naval establishment. The first time I was hospitalized, for about a month or so. The next time, which was three months later, I had to go back for my Medical Review.

 In the Officers ward where I was admitted, there were a total of three beds. One was occupied by me and the other two, by two young Naval officers around my seniority.  Anyway these two would then be sub lieutenants, or around that. One of them I know went by the name of Zuthsi (a Kashmiri Brahmin). Of this I am sure, because it was the first time that I had encountered such a name. The other I think was called Prakash. Here I am in a mess because I just can’t remember his name, I think it was Prakash. And this is where I am going to stop for a moment and request all of my Senior colleagues who rose to the rank of Air Marshall, and as such had and have, good links with the Navy, to find out the name of this officer and where he is/was now. Because he is the star of this episode. I would also like to locate Zuthsi because not only will he be able to corroborate my story but correct and fill In the parts, where I have gone blank.

 In the first few days of our stay, we were in the ‘Hi! How are you’, sort of relationship, but as the days went past and we were forced to bear up with each other’s company, we began to go into the more personal details of our lives. Zuthsi was a serious type. He was, tall, fair (as Kashmiri’s are want to), while Prakash (and I am going to call him that from now on for the want of a better name), was slightly dark in complexion, like me and a wee bit shorter than me. He was more of the ‘shippy’ type. Girl in each Port, sort of fellow. Fond of the good life. The typical, Wine Woman and Song sailor boy. I would put him in a fighter pilot’s category.

 But what we came to know, as time went by, was that he had a startlingly serious side to his nature. He was like all of us young bucks, but unlike many, gifted with a very questioning and rationalizing mind. He had to see the practical side of things especially when it came down to the unknown, the future, predictions and those sort of things like Astrology, Palmistry etc. He secretly did not rule it out completely, but called it pure humbug just like I did, while Zuthsi, being a Brahmin was more amenable to this sort of thing and this is where the fun started. Or rather, this is how it all began. And in a way was responsible for where I am today. At least in my perception of things that one cannot see and which border the unknown and the esoteric.

 One Sunday evening, Zuthsi came back from his weekly outing and told us, that he had gone to a person who indulged in ‘Chaya Shastra’, that is a person who could predict the future, on the basis of shadows cast by the sun, at a particular time, and then by doing some calculations based on that. He briefly explained the mechanics to us. According to him, this ‘Chaya Shastra’ Pundit would take you out into the sunlight and measure the length of the shadow cast by you, and noting the time of the day he would carry out a series of complex calculations and after having done that, locate the Patras or leaves I don’t know what you call them in Hindi, those rectangular strips of paper or leaves on which words are written in Sanskrit. Hence – Patras. Any way, this pundit would pull out these leaves that pertained to you, from his library and would then read out the three questions that you were going to ask, and the answers to those questions. And this is where Zuthsi used to send us two into hysterics.

 We would pounce on this hapless Pandit and shrieking with laughter, we would ask him, “Are you trying to tell us, that this bastard, takes you out into the sun, measures the length of your shadow, and then tells you your bloody future? You must be freaking nuts to fall for this sort of crap, and then on top of that, pay the booger eleven bucks for feeding you a lot of bullshit!!”  And the poor beleaguered Zuthsi would reply in all seriousness “ No, no, he is not a cheat. I have checked him out before, and all his prediction have come true! We had been digging a well for watering our fields, in the village and with no success at all. Then I went to this chap and he checked out his Patras and he said that there is such and such type of tree on your land, and you walk so many paces from that tree, in such and such direction, and you dig out there, and you will find water. And so I wrote to my father and they dug a well and they found abundant water at the spot described by the Pundit. More than they had ever imagined and that too very close to the surface. All earlier attempts had failed!”

 And with tears of laughter streaming down our cheeks we would hoot at him saying “you mean, this bloody frog, sitting out here in Bombay, thousands of miles from your home, can tell you that there is water, in such n such place, near such n such tree, and you boogers actually go and dig out there? You guys must be freaking nuts!!”  He would say in all seriousness, “ No, no, no I have seen it with my own eyes. It’s all written in Sanskrit and I know Sanskrit. It was written very clearly – the exact directions where to dig. Not only that, the questions that I wanted to ask him were also written out there. If you pay eleven rupees you can ask three questions, and get three answers. If you want to ask more questions then you will have to pay hundred and one Rupees and then you can ask as many questions as you like.”

 That you must remember was a lot of money for a young sub lieutenant those days. Anyway this guy believed him whole heartedly while both of us thought that it was a lot of bull and this guy was most probably being hypnotized or some such thing. In brief, he was in some way being made to believe that what was happening was true, and he, the fortune teller, was not some kind of charlatan. We didn’t want to push him too much because there is a limit to the amount of ribbing a person can take and Zuthsi was basically a very sincere and decent sort of chap. So we used to ease off after some time and say it must be all right and that sort of thing. He was entitled to his beliefs and we to ours.

                                                                        ( to be Continued……)

© Copyright Sanjai Kumar Singh and Marutfans. All rights reserved. Reproduction or distribution of this article in any form without the express written permission of the author is prohibited.

“ Why don’t you go to the park and take a ride on the horse there? “  suggested a friend of mine. He could never understand that I wanted to ride a horse, a stallion, galloping across the fields and jumping obstacles like the way cowboys do.

Years passed and all I could do was to ride my bicycle to college, but no horse. When I finished college, I was told that if I joined the Services like the Army or the Air Force, I would be taught horse riding. That did it. I joined the Air Force.

We were given a close haircut and a lengthy briefing by the Sergeant on the do’s and don’ts of the life in the Air Force. “Any questions ? “ he asked at the end. I meekly stood up and asked him if horse riding was part of the syllabus.

“ Well “, said the Sergeant twirling his moustache, ” we had a Riding Club but we had to close it last year. Instructions from Headquarters.” Lady luck was not on my side.

My first posting was to Poona, the biggest Station in the Air Force. After the initial briefing by the Adjutant, I was shown into the office of the commanding Officer. I listened to his expectations of me and waited for the famous question,” Any questions?“. I was much bolder now and asked him if I could join the horse riding club. He thought I was an expert horse rider seeing my enthusiasm. “ You are in luck, my boy”, smiled the boss.” Meet Flight Lieutenant Patankar. He is in charge.“ I was happy to know that he lived in the same Mess where I stayed. His room was locked.

” Saab, haspithaal mein hein” said his bearer.

Patankar was sleeping in the ward with his leg in plaster. It was all his mistake, he said sadly. He had not noticed the ditch but the horse did. It stopped all of a sudden and let Patankar do the leap. Once discharged he would be only too happy to take me in as a member since there was no one else. I learnt  later that the horse was mad and would soon be disposed off. I found myself riding a scooter, but still no horse.

When I sat on the mule, on a trip to Kashmir, I was overcome with self pity. Perhaps I was destined only to ride a mule led by the owner. It was a long ride which did not seem to end. I asked him if he was showing me a spectacular view of the snow clad peaks. It was a surprise which he had kept for the last minute. It was the place where the film “ Bobby” was shot. I did not have the heart to be angry with him.

Much water has flown under the bridge since then and many summers have passed. I have retired but the never-say-die attitude is still holding on. I met a senior retired Cavalry officer the other day at the bar, who must have lived a better part of  his life riding horses. When I expressed my life long desire to him, he looked at me from top to bottom, took a large sip of beer and said, ” My friend, I’ll tell you something. Horses are very temperamental creatures. They can throw the best riders off their backs. A fall can be fatal you know”, and took another sip.

” If I were you” he said wiping his lips, “ I would take up bird watching.”