BEING IN THE EARLY 20S, WE WERE UNDERAGE FOR MATRIMONY BUT RIPE FOR FUN
One late November evening in the early 1970s, our military special chugged into the Chandigarh railway station after traversing better part of the subcontinent. Starting from Missamari, a remote township in Assam, we made it to our destination on the fifth day. It marked the beginning of our well-earned peace tenure after four years of demanding operational service in the dense jungles of Mizoram and Nagaland, besides the Bangladesh War.
Our battalion was located in a temporary accommodation at Chandimandir, but the city was a big attraction. While married officers joined by their families settled down in the cantonment, we four single officers were nestled in the unit mess on the Shimla highway, astride the Chandimandir police station. Being in the early 20s, we were underage for matrimony (25 is the cut-off, as per army regulations) but ripe for fun.
To make the best of the facilities around, we were members of the Chandigarh and Lake Clubs within in few days, the most happening places then. Making inroads into the university, we joined part-time programmes to scale up our academic credentials. Excellent sports facilities came as a boon. Courtesy then Asian champion Ajmer Singh, I was able clock under 51 seconds in the 400 metres race during the annual athletics meet.
A good number of army officers’ children studied in the university. Their parents often requested our commanding officer to have goodies delivered to them on special occasions. Courier duty to Sarojni and Mata Gujri Halls was one errand we always looked forward to. As working days were rather packed, the weekends were awaited eagerly. On Saturday afternoons during summers, the foursome was at the City Club invariably for a game of tennis. After cooling off in the pool, the evening tombola was a great occasion for socialising. Come Sunday, we rarely missed the midday movie at KC Theatre, followed by sailing at the Lake Club. Dinner would be at Sector 17. The desolate drive back to the unit through Manimajra and Panchkula hamlets, with a long week ahead, was a real dampener.Captain Shamsher Singh was the iconic secretary of the Chandigarh Club, where social events were always a great draw. Even on the New Year’s Eve, when the city lads were in high spirits, the captain was effective in maintaining institutional decorum. Grand reception hosted for the Indian hockey team that had lifted the 1975 World Cup remains etched in memory. We all had motorcycles but we had a crazy idea to buy a 1958 vintage Fiat to boost our stature. Detailed document was prepared, defining the terms and conditions for sharing the property. The venture turned out to be a fiasco, as the little beauty had to be towed frequently by the unit recovery vehicle, we sitting inside blushing with embarrassment.
The higher headquarters were in Kasauli and Shimla. Snappy ride uphill to spend evening with course mates and getting back in time for the physical training at the crack of dawn added spice to life. Two-years-and-a-half flew by and we headed to Jammu and Kashmir for deployment on the Line of Control (LoC). Many friends we had made came to bid us adieu, the overwhelming sentiment of the moment was: ‘It will never be the same again.”
Even four decades on, the fond memories of the Chandimandir tenure come alive whenever I happen to be around the town. Overpowered by nostalgia, I search frantically for the missing vibes; alas, in vain!