YOU’RE A BULL

Facet is an interesting word, particularly speaking it is used to describe one flat face of a geometric object or one side of a precious stone. Generally facets are used to refer one aspect of something big. Life I feel, is nothing but a perfectly designed model made up of multiple facets. Something like a fullerene with countless faces. Each facet of life is called a story. Each story has a beginning and each story has an ending. Just like the facets every story is complete in itself but is also an element of a bigger arrangement. Your life is all about stories and stories are nothing but life. Every second you live, every bubble of air you breathe, every thought that passes your mind consciously or unconsciously, with every passing moment a story is being written and you are a part of it.

As I have already said your life is made up of stories and as humans all of us are connected by this one common thread. No matter how different we are from each other as a person, no matter how different we think, no matter how different our way of living is, we are still connected. Your life is a story and so is mine. Generations passed and humans evolved, characters changed but the stage remained the same. All of us, literally all of us are mere characters on this stage and our lives, these small stories are part of one great lore. The writer of this greatest story is unknown, for some it’s nature, for others the universe, for me its God. So all I want to say is this- our lives are made up of multiple stories, our life as a whole is one big story and all our lives together are part of one great story.

Well I cannot decode that one great story, however today I have one story. A chapter out of my father’s life. I got to know about this a few days ago. One fine evening when he was sipping a drink on the terrace he called me regarding some work, however after that he started talking. My father and I don’t usually talk, I mean we talk but not casually. My father was a servant of the Indian Air Force, for twenty years he gave everything he had to the forces. By nature he is strict. He strongly believes that you just need two things to become successful in life- Discipline and a value system. He is not a very money minded person. He believes that if your value system is intact and you are satisfied with what you have then you are successful. He has always said, “Pahle achaa insan ban jaa, wo ban gaya to baki sab theek hai” (Become a good human being first, if you achieve that everything else is fine). His and mine relationship is mostly about respect. But more than respect it’s about fear, like you are serious punishment if you break the decorum of the house. So I usually avoid being friendly with him, for safety reasons, iykwim. And hence we don’t talk a lot.

But that day his mood was a little different. He was kind of revisiting his younger self, reminiscing the time when he was an young Aircraftsman (AC), dashing and dynamic, ready to run for any signal that vibrates his eardrums. Hence he was all nostalgic. Plus I think the Jhonnie Walker also contributed. So he started saying, “ You know beta, once when I was in the 14th Squadron, mind you I was an LAC back then……….”, he narrated me a story. Trust me I am really glad he went nostalgic that day. I got to know a story which introduced me to different side of my father. I felt like it was worth sharing and so here I am. I am going to take third person mode from here on and will come back at the end, so here we go –

It was the summer of 2003. The No. 6 Squadron of the Indian Air Force was stationed at Lohegaon Air Base in Pune. The Aakash Yodha exercises- an fitness programme curated and designed by the Indian Air Force for all it’s pilot, warranted and junior ranks was underway. All the Airmen were doing a drill and their superiors and trainers were observing them. In the platoon of those young air warriors was a young Sergeant, my father Sergeant Dipendra Kumar. Sergeant Kumar just like all his colleagues was wearing the same white P.T uniform, however there was one difference. All the other airmen were wearing a T-Shirt bearing the name of No. 6 Squadron, but Sergeant Kumar’s T-Shirt read “No. 14 Squadron-The Bulls” with the caption “Once a bull, always a bull” etched at the bottom. The CO observed this for the first few days of the exercise, however on the fourth day his patience died. He called out, “ Kumar! Come here.”

“Yes sir!” said Sergeant Kumar

“Which Squadron are you a part of Kumar?”

“ The No.6 Squadron sir!”

“Right. And what do we call ourselves?”

“Dragons, sir!”

“Right again, then why on earth are you wearing a Bull’s T-Shirt.”

“Actually sir……..I used to be part of the….”

“ Yes, used to be, that’s past tense soldier. You were once a bull. Now you are a dragon. I want to see a dragon’s T-Shirt on your body tomorrow otherwise get ready for a night duty.”

The officer started walking away just then he heard Kumar’s voice again-

“Sorry sir. But I am a Bull.”

You don’t reply to a superior’s command in the forces, it’s a crime. Why would anyone in their right mind do that. If I was present there at the moment I would’ve shouted at my dad, “ Aap paagal ho gaye ho kyaa, ye kyaa kar rahe ho.” However the CO didn’t get angry, he laughed.

“ So you are a Bull.”

“ Yes sir, once a bull always a bull.”

To understand this “ once a bull always a bull” concept we need to travel back in time. Back to 1999, in the city of Ambala. This was the month of December, the temperatures had dropped down to 3 Degree Celsius in the city and LAC Dipendra Kumar was preparing to strap his pilot for his sortie. If you don’t know what a sortie, well when a fighter pilot takes his aircraft for daily routine flying exercise that’s called a sortie. So LAC Kumar had checked all the components of the SEPECAT Jaguar IS aircraft and the beast was ready to take off. The pilot, Flying Officer P. Chandrashekhar, a young 25 year old Malayali from the city of Kochi in Kerala came to the hanger. For a guy from coasts a Northern Frontier like Ambala is no less than a punishment, especially in the winters. Shivering with cold he said-

“ Bloody, I can’t believe out of the entire country they decided to post me here. Abhi Kumar tum hi bata, aisa thand mein kaisa plane udayega. (You only tell Kumar, how can I fly when the weather is so cold)”

My father said-

“You don’t worry sir, come back and then Anshul shall arrange for the fire. A couple of old monks and the fire will charge you up.”

“Ya, this sounds like a plan.”

Flying Officer Chandrashekhar had been in Ambala for four months, LAC Kumar had been in the city for over a year. Even though Chandrashekhar was a pilot and an officer while Kumar was an aircraftsman yet both of them had become fond of each other’s company. These small anecdotal conversations had become their trademark. When Flying Officer Chandrashekhar came back from the sortie, both of them sat around the bonfire sipping old monk and laughed.

Soon after the Kargil War broke out and Operation Vijay was launched by all three armed forces. IAF sent out its bomber aircrafts to capture objectives. My father was sent to Srinagar air base and he stayed there for the next three months. When he came back in August he joined the 14th Squadron again. Flying Officer Chandrashekhar also returned as a hero, he was one of the most successful Jaguar pilots in the war. He got a commendation for his valour and courage. When he joined 14th Squadron again, he had changed. The war had made him more sensitive and mature, and now he didn’t hate the cold weather of Ambala. For LAC Kumar the war was a disturbing experience, he had on the airbase seen the game od death. Every transport aircraft used to leave the base empty and came back with coffins.

For the next few days LAC Kumar tried coping up with his mind. He had just brought in his family. His wife and his son to Ambala. But he was not able to. Amidst all this one day he made a mistake in checking the radar, as a result of which the sortie had to be cancelled. A planned getting cancelled for human errors is a big thing in the IAF. Kumar was punished for his carelessness, he was given a 14 day night duty stretch non-stop. This was the trigger for Kumar. Next day, on the airfield as soon as he saw his Flying Officer Chandrashekhar approaching he ran towards him and handed him a piece of paper.

When Flying Officer Chandrashekhar read what was written on the paper he smiled. He said, “ Kumar abhi help me fly, and when I come back n we’ll discuss this around the bonfire with a couple of old monk’s.”

Kumar couldn’t say anything, he just nodded his head in partial agreement.

When Flying Officer Chandrashekahr came back he called for Kumar and both of them with two glasses of rum sat down –

“ So you want to leave the IAF?” said Chandrashekhar.

“Yes sir.”

“And may I ask why?”

My father narrated his problems. The effect of the war, the mistakes he was making and the pressure he was going through. Hearing everything patiently Flying Officer Chandrashekhar said-

“ Well Kumar, what’s the name of this squadron?”

Kumar couldn’t comprehend the question, why would anyone ask the name of the squadron amidst such a serious discussion. But respecting his superior he said –

“No. 14 Squadron sir, The Bulls.”

“ You know something about bulls, the animal. I’ll tell you. Bulls don’t attack you for fun, in fact if you leave them alone they’ll never trouble you. But when someone provokes them, irritates them, rubs chilli on their eyes that’s when they loose control. As humans we are amused by this pain and hence we do it on purpose. Make that a sport. Sell tickets out of it. The Bull knows this, he knows that ultimately he will have to succumb to the intellectual superiority of the humans, but does he give up quietly. No. You know what he does, he fights, every time a human deceives him, he comes back harder, uses all of his energy, dries up every ounce of concentration. He doesn’t give up.

You’re a bull Kumar. And I don’t expect you to give up without a fight. If you really want to leave I’ll help you with the discharge formalities myself, but remember if you leave without a fight then that’s an injustice to your uniform, your colleagues and your family.

Remember you are a bull, once a bull always a bull.”

Kumar smiled, he knew that he needed this. He was never going to leave Air Force, he just needed someone to tell him that he had a lot of fight left in him. Kumar laughed and said-

“ Yes sir, I’m a bull and bulls don’t give up. Waise sir, wo guard duty ka kuch kardo.”

“ Galti ki hai, punishment to banta hai.”

And both of them laughed.

Coming back to Pune 2003, Sergeant Kumar remembered all of this and smiled, he said –

“ yes sir once a bull always a bull.”

The CO smiled back at him, he knew that Kumar would take the punishment but won’t change his T-Shirt. He said –

“Fine, Bull it is then.”

When I heard this story I felt that my strict father had another facet to his all macho demeanour. He just like me also got faced problems, the only thing was he didn’t give up. Even though I have never met Flying Officer (Now maybe a Group Captain) Chandrashekhar, I became his fan. Not for just his valour and courage but for the clarity he had towards life. As for my father, I have always respected him as a soldier and as a human being. Even though he is bad at expressing it he loves me too much. And for me he has always been a hero, he will always be a hero.