A Preposterous Prophecy Comes True

(-Col Ravi Nair-)

The story dates back over six decades to when I was a 15 year old student of pre-Cambridge at the threshold of the Senior Cambridge curriculum. In the 1960s I was pursuing my studies at Sainik School Madras, located at Amaravathinagar (TN).

   Amaravathi Nagar- Amaravathi Dam and Reservoir & Anamalai Hills

As per the undertaking, all students had to appear for the National Defence Academy (NDA) selection process after the pre-Cambridge exams (X standard). Hence, our entire class filled out the application forms for 33^rd NDA Course, under the guidance of our class teacher, Mr. Cariappa, and focused on preparing for the UPSC (Union Public Service Commission) written examinations. The coaching for the Services Selection Board (SSB) tests also commenced simultaneously. Preparation for the UPSC exams included, in addition to our regular classes, special sessions on exam techniques, solving old question papers from the NDA Master Guide published by Khanna Brothers and model question papers put forward by the School.

                                        Main Gate of Sainik School Madras

             The SSB training was more practical oriented. The physical training ustads (Instructors) focused on our performance on the obstacle course, rope climbing, Tarzan swing, leopard leap, monkey crawling etc. The SSB training also included lecturettes and interview techniques, personally conducted by our Headmaster, Maj. Thamburaj. Group discussions, group tasks, command tasks, and interviews etc., were conducted under the personal supervision of the Principal, Lt. Col. D.N. Shahni. All these activities were in addition to our normal academic pursuit.

                Playing Reveille to rouse the School - Bugler IX Class

The UPSC exams were to be held at the Madras (Chennai) University Examination Centre on Marina Beach Road. Our entire class of 17 boys travelled to Madras by train. The school had organized our stay at Madras Govt Arts College (Cheṉṉai Arasu Kalaik Kallūri) on Mount Road. Fortunately, it was vacation time for colleges. One classroom served as both our living accommodation and study room. The benches and desks were turned into acceptable resting places and for study.

We were all in our early teens and, as a result, were up to mischief, mainly bunking out to the city, contrary to the orders of the schoolmaster, who, being from Madras, was seldom seen around. For many of us, it was our first time in ‘Mattraas’. Marina Beach, the swimming pool, Buhari Hotel, and cinema halls were irresistible attractions. I, however, was very serious about my preparations as I had always dreamed of joining the Defence Forces and donning the uniform, considering it my only deliverance from the years lost in my studies. I was a student of VIth (Sixth) Form or class Eleven when I, as per my permissible age, was inducted into Sainik School in Class 9. When I was pursuing Pre Cambridge, my old school colleagues were already in Colleges. The only way to catch up with them and compensate the two years lost, I figured, was to join the NDA stream. Having come from a Malayalam-medium curriculum prior to joining the public-school system of education at Sainik School, I was still catching up with my peers, who had exposure to English-medium education and who were fluent both in written and verbal expressions. After two days, the UPSC examinations commenced at the Examination Centre next to the prestigious Madras Presidency College. The examinations lasted three days and I acquitted myself well in the exams.

The results of the exams came after one month, and the Headmaster himself came to our classroom to announce them. Twelve out of seventeen was a good result, and he individually congratulated those who passed. By God’s will, I was also among those on the pass list. Now, those who passed the written exams concentrated on SSB coaching.

The calls for the SSB interview started arriving soon. My friends, in twos and threes, proceeded to various SSBs throughout the country. My call also came in a few weeks’ time, and I proceeded to SSB Bangalore. Bangalore was then an orderly, laid back and beautiful town with many parks, gardens and fountains. It also enjoyed a salubrious climate. The MG (Mahatma Gandhi) Road, 100 feet broad was the main thoroughfare in the Cantonment area and it was lined on either side with single-storey tile-roofed buildings housing various shops, restaurants, hotels, and offices. The SSB establishment was located on Cubbon Road in the Cantonment, which boasted of the Army Sub Area Headquarters and other military installations, all housed in colonial-style buildings.

Our batch consisted of thirty boys—some very confident, some feigning confidence, and many very unsure of themselves. From Bangalore Cantonment railway station itself, I became friendly with a few boys from Sainik School Kazhakoottam, mainly due to linguistic affinity.

The SSB selection process commenced upon our arrival with lots of paperwork and documentation, followed the next day by IQ (intelligence quotient) tests, psychological tests and physical tests like obstacles, etc. On the third and fourth days, we had individual tasks, lecturettes, Group Testing Officers’ (GTO) interviews, group discussions, group tasks, the SSB president’s interview, etc. Throughout, we were under the close scrutiny of our GTOs, who always wore dark glasses to mask who they were focusing on. The finale, called the ‘conference’, took place on the fifth day, when we each marched into the Conference Room, where an unnerving group of gentlemen sat around an inverted horseshoe table. There, the candidate confronted the entire selection team, from the president to the GTOs and psychologists—all in uniform. With all eyes grilling the hapless lone figure, they broiled each candidate for an unpredictable length of time.

After this, we were all huddled into a hall, where one GTO swaggered onto the platform with a small chit in hand to announce the results. After a customary moral lecture on success and failure in a selection, he unfolded the chit and read out five chest numbers. He said those five numbers would stay back, and the rest could return home. My chest number was 10, and I was among the five.

A sheaf of papers was given to us to fill out for our medical examination at the Air Force Hospital, Bangalore. The medical examination took three days. All five were found fit. Then instructions came for the three of us who had opted for the Air Force (flying) to stay back.

We were sent to No. 3 Air Force Selection Board, Gwalior, for the Pilot Aptitude Battery Tests (PABT), passing which was mandatory for flying. We travelled to Gwalior and underwent the PABT, which was more like computer games that children play nowadays. There were a few assimilation test papers on the basics of flying, for which we were given basic lessons and taught the nuances of flying an aircraft. The PABT is conducted only once, and if failed, one is considered unfit for flying forever. Fortunately, all three of us passed and were directed to proceed to Delhi for our Air Force medical checkups.

Accordingly, we travelled to Delhi and were put up in Air Vista Officers’ Mess on Janpath for our stay. Even now, I recall catching a glimpse of General J.N. Choudhuri, the Chief of Army Staff, arriving in his four-star saloon for a party at Air Vista Mess. I could also see that the General’s arrival was preceded by those of Chiefs of Navy and Air Force in their respective three-star saloons.

The medical check-ups were at Air Force Medical Establishment (AFME) near Ashoka Hotel. The medical examination was more thorough, and they even took an ECG, which was rare in those days. We all were declared fit and issued with return railway warrants to proceed back to our homes.

The real story begins now.

I was whiling away my time on the New Delhi Railway Station waiting for the Grand Trunk Express to come on the platform line, when I noticed a group of young men conversing with a relatively younger person who looked sad and withdrawn. They seemed like friends, trying to console the younger man, who was taciturn and appeared deeply saddened.

As the train was announced, I got busy positioning myself appropriately for easy entry into the coach. Upon the train’s arrival, I boarded with my baggage, and as luck would have it, my allotted seat was a window seat. I soon settled down. Shortly after, I saw the same young man being ushered in by a few of his friends. The seat opposite mine was his. He settled down silently. One of his friends asked me where I was traveling to. I replied, “Madras, and then on by Cochin Express to Cochin Harbour Terminus.” His friends seemed relieved. They took me aside and told me that their friend, travelling with me, had lost his father and was deeply disturbed and in a state of shock. They explained that he was travelling to his hometown, Trichur, and he also had reservations on the Cochin Express from Madras. They requested that I keep him company and console him. I assured them I would take good care of him and help him recover from the shock. When the engine hooted, announcing the train’s departure, his friends hurriedly got down, leaving their friend in my care.

                           Grand Trunk Express - Delhi to Madras
                                                                           I returned to my seat and found the young man, who I guessed to be a few years older than me, looking out of the window of the moving train with tears in his eyes. To break the ice, I shook hands with him and introduced myself. He murmured that he was Sethu Madhavan from Trichur, working in Delhi at the Cabinet Secretariat. He went silent again and continued gazing at the scenery flitting past. I then offered my condolences, which he accepted gratefully. When the ‘chaiwala’ (tea vendor) arrived, I ordered two cups of tea and offered one to him. Though he initially refused, he accepted after some coaxing. I felt the ice melting, and he slowly started to come out of his reverie of gloom. I kept engaging him in a long conversation, starting with our shared experience of losing a father at a young age and then discussing my family.

Eventually, he asked me why I had come to Delhi, and I explained my selection to NDA (Air Force). By evening, he had nearly recovered, and we started discussing personal as well as social topics. I ordered dinner for him, which he accepted without objection. We kept talking until we fell asleep.

Next day, I found him in a more relieved and relaxed disposition and nearly back to normal, an indication of his coming to terms with the tragic loss of his father. He ordered my breakfast, tea, and so on. Sethu seemed intelligent and highly knowledgeable, with a lot to say on many subjects. We became good friends, and on the third day of the train journey, he asked me about Sainik School, the selection process for the NDA, SSB, PABT, medical tests, and other such matters. I explained everything in detail and mentioned that I was returning home as a successful candidate. Then he asked me, ‘What’s next?’ I explained that I would receive a call with joining instructions for the NDA at Kharakvasla, Pune, in few months’ time and then I join the Course. He nodded as if he understood all the nuances. That day also passed, and after talking so much about myself, I started dreaming of joining the NDA and then the Air Force Flying Academy.

                        National Defence Academy - Logo

 On the morning of the third day, the GT Express steamed into Madras Central, where we alighted. I had planned to go to Sapphire Theatre for a nonstop movie and return late in the afternoon in time for the Cochin Express, but I cancelled that plan and stayed with Sethu to keep his morale high. When the Cochin Express arrived, we managed to secure adjacent berths in the train with some ‘mandatory coaxing’ of the Travelling Ticket Examiner (TTE).

On the fourth day morning the train entered Kerala, hooting its way to our destinations. Sethu was to detrain first, and I three hours later. We were having a cup of tea from the ‘chaiwala’ after breakfast when Sethu suddenly looked at me seriously and asked to see my palms. Surprised, I asked if he knew palmistry. He replied that he knew a little, though he wasn’t a master. So, I showed him my palms. He brooded over my lines, feeling the mounts of both palms, and then concentrated on my right palm. I was bemused initially but soon grew eager to know about my future. Suddenly, he came out of his deep study of my palm and asked if there were any more stages in the selection process. I replied that all my selection processes were complete and that I was just awaiting the joining instructions.

Then he asked if he should truthfully predict my future. By then, I was getting anxious and fretful and asked him to come out with his prophecy quickly. Hesitantly, still holding my palms, he said, ‘You will not be selected.’ I was shocked by this prediction and asked, ‘Then what?’ He continued, ‘You will never be selected for the current venture in the future either.’ Presuming this to be a cruel joke despite my having crossed all the stages of selection, including the Air Force Medical Board, I asked him how my education line was. Reviewing my palm again, he told me, ‘You will never be a graduate.’ I was totally shaken. Alarmed, I asked, ‘Then what do I do for a living?’ He replied, ‘Your lines predict that you will do well in life and lead a respectable life.’ I dismissed his prophecies as sadistic opinions. With his destination approaching, Sethu again went into a bout of depression and remained silent. Trichur railway station arrived, and Sethu alighted into the midst of his sad relatives, who had come to receive him. I felt sad for him, but he left me feeling sad too.

As for me, the school authorities received a letter from UPSC stating that although I had been successful in the written exam, SSB, and medical, I could not be accommodated as I had not come within the available merit capacity of the NDA. That was my saddest day, especially as four boys from my class left for Kharakvasla, leaving me to continue with the daily grind of school.

At Sainik School, we were regularly put through the mill of UPSC exams, SSB, and medicals. I went through the tests for NDA courses 34 and 35. Despite having cleared all hurdles of the UPSC, SSB, and medicals for both courses, my fate was the same—I did not make it within the available capacity. My school authorities were surprised with this turn of events with me repeatedly. Later I learned that this phenomenon occurred due to excess allotment of vacancies to foreign candidates from our friendly countries. There was an influx from a number of countries, more so from the African continent, that had become independent from colonial rule in the first half of 1960s. Thus, the qualified candidates who came up through the mill suffered. But then it would have been a diplomatic decision! Soon it was time for me to leave school after my Senior Cambridge exams.

                               Sanatana Dharma College, Alleppey

  I returned home with a broken heart and joined Sanatana Dharma College for Bachelor of Arts in English Language and Literature course. My mother was the happiest person in the world, as she was not very keen on me joining the Armed Forces. With my undying aspirations and ambitions, joining the National Cadet Corps (NCC Rifles) was a natural course for me. I qualified in B & C Certificates NCC, also attended Army Attachment Camp and the ultimate aspiration of an NCC cadet, that of representing Kerala State NCC Directorate in the Republic Day parade at Delhi.  I went for selection to the Officers Training Unit (OTU - NCC), but again fate was against me. After clearing the SSB at Kolhapur, I was sent to MH (Military Hospital) Pune for medicals, where I was told I was rejected on account of some cardiac abnormalities. I appealed against the medical board’s decision and was sent again to MH Pune to a different medical board, the results of which are still eluding me.

        At College Small Arms Firing Range with Instrusctor demonstrating
                                                                 

             By then, the prophecy of my transitory friend Sethu kept popping into my mind. I told my mother about it, and she assured me not to get demoralized. She reminded me of the story of ‘King Robert the Bruce and the Spider,’ which she often quoted during my childhood. She would always say, ‘Try, try, and try again till you succeed!’ She was the happiest person when her son returned home from Sainik School. She was the one who had coaxed me into taking English Language & Literature to graduate as she wanted me to join the Civil Services. But on being convinced of my intense desire to join the Armed Forces and admission to the Academies eluding me despite success in the selection process time and again, my mother from then on encouraged me to pursue my aspirations to the fullest. She performed pujas and sought divine interventions to fulfil my dreams.

That was when an innocuous-looking advertisement appeared in one of the local newspapers, seeking candidates for admission to the Officers Training School (OTS) Madras, to be commissioned as Short Service Commissioned Officers in the Indian Army. The position offered the same perks and conditions of service as those who passed out of NDA and the Indian Military Academy (IMA) and offered permanent commission to those who excelled. There was no written examination for those who had attended SSB selection earlier. I was floored by the conditions and sent a postcard with my details to the address given in the advertisement. After a few weeks, I received a call letter from SSB Jabalpur.

                                    Officers Training School (Academy) - Logo

I attended the SSB process with ease, as I was by now very familiar with the nuances. On the last day, during the ‘Conference,’ the President of the Selection Board asked me, ‘What do you think? Will you be selected?’ I confidently replied, ‘Sir, I cannot be rejected.’ The members of the interviewing board were amused by my statement, and the psychologist in civilian attire asked, ‘Why are you so sure?’ I replied, ‘Sir, if I can be selected by four SSBs, there’s no reason for a fifth SSB to reject me, and if that happened, there would be something wrong with the selection system.’ I couldn’t believe I had spoken so boldly. It was my pent-up frustration that gave rise to such a reaction. They seemed taken aback, and then the President smiled and said, ‘Ravi, you can go. We wish you all the best.’ I noticed everyone behind the inverted horseshoe table digging into my personal details, including the column seeking information as to the SSB interviews attended earlier and their results.

After the conference was over, one of the GTOs entered the hall empty-handed to announce the results of our batch of 30. He announced, ‘Chest no. 17, stay back; the rest proceed to the accounts office to collect your railway warrants to return home.’ And I donned chest No 17. My medical examination was at MH Jabalpur, where I was cleared as FIT.

After returning home, I wasn’t sure whether I would receive the call from OTS. In light of Sethu’s prophecy, I was apprehensive and felt like a ‘cat that had fallen into hot water and now feared cold water.’ I concentrated on my studies. After few months was my final year examination, and with prospects of joining the pre- commission training at OTS during the academic session, I found it difficult to concentrate on my studies too. One day when I reached home from college, my mother told me that there was a fat envelope for me lying in the head post office. I rushed to the post office, collected the heavy envelope, and opened it. It was my joining instructions for OTS. I was to undergo police verification and purchase a long list of necessary kit to take along and report to OTS on a date that was one month prior to my final examinations. There were strong reservations from the ruling dispensation of my State then to carry out the verification of candidates for Central Government jobs by State Police, so my call came from Central Bureau of investigation and I complied. Propriety goaded me to report to OTS and not to miss the God given opportunity. In the circumstances, I gave the go-by to attending my final year degree examinations.

           At OTS - sapped out after Ex Chindit march- Life was indeed tough !😤
In due course, I was commissioned in the Indian Army as an officer. My three and half decades of service life thereafter, through trials and tribulations, that too as an Infantry officer, is yet another story.

 Commissioned as Second Lieutenant into First Battalion the Sikh Light Infantry

That marked the end of my unsuccessful attempt at college graduation. To this day, despite my efforts to complete it, even by correspondence from other States and Universities, I have not been able to graduate due to various exigencies. The spell cast by my strange transitory friend Sethu seemed to have come true. ‘Neither could I join the NDA, nor could I be a graduate.’ However, I was able to earn a decent and honourable living from the profession of my dreams.

In the hurry-burry of his palmistry at the fag end of my journey with Sethu and the mood changes it caused, we could not even exchange our postal address, which was very usual and the only means to keep in touch in those yonder days. Access to telephones was then futuristic, and mobile phones were yet to be invented. Despite my best efforts in subsequent years to trace Sethu—my ‘soothsayer’—he continues to remain an enigma.

In the ultimate analysis, I, from a family of doctors, engineers, auditors, those in civil service, judges, professors, and the like, was transformed—as the saying goes in my place—to a moron with ‘Sixth and Gusthi’ (Sixth Form or 11th class and wrestling!!) as my educational qualification.

Yet, God has been kind and my long-departed mother’s concerns for me, her assurances and prayers stood by me in all my ventures, and I have no regrets in retrospection. 

                                                                            - Col Ravi Nair -