As newly-commissioned Sapper officers, we went to the College of Military Engineering (CME) at Pune to undergo the Young Officers’ Course. A few days prior to that, during our brief orientation, we had been allotted our respective regiments. I felt I was the luckiest amongst my course mates — my regiment was in CME itself. Thus, I became part of what was to be my regiment six months before formally joining it and was invited to many of the regimental events. The very first of these was a dinner hosted by the Commanding Officer, to which were invited all the unit officers and their families.
Our CO and his wife were known to be excellent hosts. Since it was my first visit to their residence and being the juniormost there that evening, I was extra pampered. But before that, when the CO personally asked me what drink I would prefer, I replied, “Sir, I don’t drink.”
He raised his eyebrows, “Trying to impress me?”
I replied, “Sir, in the Army, how can anyone impress anyone by claiming to be a non-drinker?”
He was taken aback by this unexpected response from a youngster. In an authoritative tone, he advised, “No, it’s not that. But if you are indeed a non-drinker, be assured, contrary to what is assumed, in the Army nobody will force you to drink. If you want to drink, your choice, if not, again your choice.”
The CO’s words that evening set the tone for my being completely uninterested in anything even remotely related to liquor.
My only association with liquor was when I would be present for the ‘rum issue’ to troops after the company roll call. And yes, for a few months, I was the Wine Member in our Officers Mess when my own company commander was the Mess Secretary. I was intrigued by the liquor peg. Each bottle of liquor is 750 ml and a peg measures 60 ml. So, a bottle is 12.5 pegs. I would wonder why a bottle should have the peg measure in fractions and not a whole number. One day I eagerly suggested to the Mess Secretary, “Sir, this system needs to be changed. Let us from now on have a peg of not 60 but 50 ml and thus a bottle can have 15 pegs.” Looking at me sternly, he chastised me, “Never mention this to anyone; 50 ml ka peg sunte hi sabka nasha vaise hi utar jayega.”
Years later, in Delhi, one day my boss told me, “I am off for a meeting. My retired course mate Panchhi will be here shortly. He wants some liquor. On my behalf, get him whatever he wants from our canteen.”
When Brig Panchhi arrived, I made him comfortable and offered him tea. “You are the bloke who will help me?” he asked. In those few minutes itself, I realised that he had a great sense of humour and that he had taken an instant liking to me because of my oversized moustache.
“Yes, sir, do let me know what you are looking for,” I replied cheerfully, trying to match his josh.
“I want four bottles of Something Special,” he demanded.
“Sure, sir, whatever you want, our canteen is well stocked, just tell me what you want,” I answered with some more cheer and josh.
“Told you, I want Something Special,” said Brig Panchhi.
“Sure sir, we have everything. Just name it. We have every special thing,” I repeated.
A few more iterations of this back-and-forth took place before he became visibly irritated and snapped, “Are you a non-drinker?”
Taken aback, I realised this was not going as smoothly as I had imagined. “Yes sir,” I grinned sheepishly.
He looked up, raised his hands above his head and in mock despair said, “Look what the Army’s come to! Who gave a non-drinker the permission to have such a big moustache?”
Then, very softly, “Son, just get me ‘Something Special’. That’s the name of the Scotch whisky that I came here for.”
(This was published in "The Tribune" on 26 April 2020)
