"I spent a year in NDA as a Divisional OH in 1979 before I was sent to FIS, ten years after my stint as a cadet. Despite being 10 years older, without my ‘Ho Chi Minn’ moustache that I had back then as a Divisional Cadet Captain (DCC) in '69, I hadn’t grown up that much.
"When venerable Dhotiwalla Sir was posted in as the Commandant of NDA, either his staff officer was dumb, or the then AVM didn’t know a single thing about the power, pomp and glamour associated with the Commandant of NDA.
"A telegram arrived in NDA fifteen days before the AVM. ‘Arriving by train with family, request to arrange transport and accommodation’!!
"It became the joke of NDA.
"My then Battalion Commandant, Late Commander Mohan Chandy (the man who got his MTB towed to Karachi and attacked Pakistan with aplomb in 71); a roly-poly jovial man, conferred with us (youngsters) and decided that we must play a practical joke on the Commandant on his arrival in NDA (for sending that stupid telegram.) I was detailed as the LO (Liasion Officer) to pick up the AVM from the Railway Station in my beat up Herald car.
"As per the details I received him at the Railway Station, made him push start the ruddy Herald, and took him to my Flight Lieutenant’s quarter in D3 area. Mrs Dhotiwalla first inspected my toilets and bedroom and was most disappointed. She gave a piece of her mind to my newlywed wife masquerading to perfection as the maid.
"After a cup of tea, I suggested that since Mrs Dhotiwalla didn’t approve of the accommodation that we had arranged, I will take him to an alternate accommodation, which is a bit better.
"I deliberately made him push start the car again. And when he arrived at the ‘Lake Palace’ overlooking the Peacock Bay he almost had a heart attack. There was a guard of honor, brass and pipe band, and the entire staff of NDA and their wives lined up to receive him. Last one in the line-up was my wife, still dressed as a maid!!
"Mrs Dhotiwalla hugged my wife when introduced, and started crying and laughing at the same time. She said something in Parsi, which perhaps meant some really affectionate thing.
"I never got to meet the Commandant or his wife at close quarters for several months, even though there were very lively parties at his Lake Palace, as well as by the mess (pool side) with the star attraction being the swimming wonder, beauty queen, Nafeesa Ali, the newlywed wife of the equitation officer. Life went by at supersonic speed with ‘AVM Lungi’, raising the bar higher and higher.
"I had an outstanding Commandant in B Squadron, whose father (just like mine) had no sense of humour and gave him a name (just like me) that sounded like a postal address, complete with the pin code. Every day I was called upon to write something or the other, a mix of facts and fiction, in his dossier.
"Now how many times can you write ‘Padmanabha Venkata Varaha Venkatehswaralu’, did this or that, on a daily basis? Out of frustration, I decide to chop his name to ‘PVVV Lu’. After making him front-roll down the corridor of B Squadron, I told him to get up. Like the Queen of England, I pronounced him a knight, ‘Rise, Sir Lu’.
"He immediately went to Gol Market and got a new name tab, ‘PVVV-Loo’.
- "Everything went well till this bugger Loo went and got himself several medals in athletics or something like that. During the prize distribution, the Commandant got tired of hanging medals around his neck. So he asked him like Gen Patton, ‘What is your name son?’
"The Commandant, with exemplary military bearing, stood to ram rod attention.
"‘I am Cadet Peeee, Veeee, Veeee, Veeeee, Loo Sir,’ he said, like Centurion ‘Pontius Fuckusall’.
"The whole thing was being broadcast on the PA system. The academy started laughing and yodeling like hyenas, very musical, like Kishore Kumar. I didn’t have a place to hide.
"‘What is your name, come again?’, the Commandant repeated.
"‘Cadet Peeee, Veeee, Veeee, Veeeee, Loo Sir,’ my boy shouted at the top of his voice with the justified pride of Centurion Pontius Fu@k@#ll, the star performer of the Roman Army.
"The academy started hooting with uncontrolled mirth despite a shouted command by NDA Adjutant to ‘Shut Up’.
"‘Did your father give you that name?’ the Commandant asked with an incredulous look on his face.
"‘No Sir, my Divisional OH did,’ Loo confessed truthfully, like Centurion Pontius Fu#$k#@ll.
"I was marched up to the Commandant without a belt, and the bugle was blown. I was in deep s#$t.
"‘I like your practical jokes, but this is going too far’, the Commandant warned me seriously.
"‘Just imagine, one day he will be a General. Do you want him to be known as General Toilet?’, he asked very sagaciously.
"I didn’t tell the Commandant that, behind his back, I had christened him ‘AVM Lungi’.
"I was relegated to being ‘Corporal’, ‘do phiti’ on my sleeves rather than on my shoulders.
"In keeping with the Commandant’s advice, I went and got Loo a new name tab, ‘Venkateshwaralu’. There was no place to put PVV on the name tab.
"I told him that he is no longer a ‘Loo’.
"Some years ago, I was told that ‘Venkateshwaralu’ whad been given the command of a Brigade. And because he is such an illustrious man, the troops very affectionately, with pride, calls him ‘Commander Pishab’. One day we may have a CoAS, ‘Chief Pishab’. I agree with AVM Lungi, tampering with names, even as nom-de-guerre, can have grave consequences! What can I say, I was a silly bugger!!!!
"Air Marshal Lungi Sir, and Mrs Dhotiwalla, you have chosen to go far away. But no matter how far you have gone, you will be remembered by us with fond affection and pride.
"RIP, both of you."
The Air marshal passed away on 5th May, because of cancer, in Chennai! This story, in memorium, was narrated by Lt. Col. Anil Suryawanshi to Garima Tiwari
