World Bicycle Day Blog Post – “Cycling” Down Memory Lane

“Cycling” Down Memory Lane 

CYCLE TOWN PUNE 
A Punekar Cycles Down Memory Lane
By
VIKRAM KARVE

Today – the 3rd of June 2019 – is World Bicycle Day. 

On the occasion of WORLD BICYCLE DAY – it would be apt to post a piece I wrote 9 years ago called CYCLE TOWN PUNE – harking back to memories of the 1960’s and 1970’s when Pune was known as the Cycle Capital of India. 

In theory – it is possible to ride a bicycle even today in the city of Pune – especially on BRTS Roads – which have dedicated “Cycle Tracks”.

But – in practice – it is not feasible to commute on cycles in Pune – since the cycle tracks are encroached upon/damaged and are unfit for cycling (even the pedestrian lanes are encroached and are unfit for walking).

Of course – cycling on roads had become dangerous due to the heavy and chaotic traffic.

But – this was not so in the Pune of Yesteryear – when – the bicycle was the primary mode of transportation – and – we enjoyed cycling all over – and – Pune was indeed a “Cycle Town”.

Let me share some memories of those carefree days of cycling.

I am sure you will enjoy these reminiscences – and maybe – this will tempt you to  hark back to your good old days and memories of your hometown too. 

Please do let me know if you liked this article and comment – I look forward to your feedback.

A PUNEKAR “CYCLES” DOWN MEMORY LANE

CYCLE TOWN PUNE – A Memoir by VIKRAM KARVE

When I was a small boy (in the 1960’s) – and later in the 1970’s – we used to cycle all over Pune. 

Pune was a “Cycle-Town”.

In the 1960’s – Poona (as Pune was called then) – was known as the “Cycle Capital” of India – since Pune had the maximum number of cycles.

But – with the advent and proliferation of scooters – this honour of “Cycle Capital” was taken over by Delhi – and Pune became the “Scooter Capital” of India.

Let’s hark back to the 1960’s – and talk about “Cycle Town Pune”

Those days 90% of the vehicles on the roads were Bicycles.

A few Scooters could be seen zipping by – and occasionally – an Ambassador or Fiat Car would appear on the roads.

Auto-rickshaws were beginning to make their appearance – and the PMT Bus was the second-most popular mode of transportation after the bicycle. 

If you do not believe me – you just watch the scene from the iconic Hindi Movie Sangam (1964) – where Raj Kapoor can be seen merrily cycling down Jangli Maharaj (JM) Road Pune (then known as “80 Feet Road” – the widest road in Pune those days).

As I said – in those days – Pune was a “cycle town”. 

You just picked up your bicycle – and you went wherever you wanted to. 

Today – I dare not try to cycle on the roads of Pune – unless I want to land up in a hospital with my bones broken – or worse still – in the morgue – with my body crushed to pulp. 

There is just no place for the poor cyclist to cycle in the murderous traffic of Pune. 

In fact – in Pune – the only place you can cycle are on the cycle-lanes on those small stretches of the BRTS routes – which thankfully have still not been encroached upon (of course – even here – you risk being knocked down by a motorcyclist) – or you can pedal away on those obscure cycle-tracks which take you nowhere.

Those days – in the 1960’s and 1970’s – cycling was the primary means of transportation 

(I cycled a minimum of 20 kms everyday during my college days. This has given me strong legs and thighs) 

Nowadays – for most young Punekars – cycling is a hobby – a sport – a recreation – a “passion” – or – an “environment friendly” thing to do.

Those days – in the 1960’s and 1970’s – cycling was the primary means of transportation. 

That’s why today you have all types of fancy bikes (which cost the roof) – and snobbish people want to show off their cycles as “status symbols” whenever they get off their expensive limousines and take a rare bike ride wearing funny outfits and contraptions like gloves, helmets et al.

There are Terrain Bikes, Sports Bikes, BMX Bikes, Racing Bikes – all sorts of hybrid combinations – which look good – but are most uncomfortable to ride. 

Sometime ago – I took a long ride on a youngster’s fancy Mountain Terrain Bike (MTB) 

Since I was used to normal cycles (Roadsters) – I found the MTB uncomfortable to ride. 

And – after the ride –I got such a pain in my “you-know-where” – that I thought I had got Hernia.

In my younger days – it was not “Snob Appeal” – but it was “Utility Value” that governed the Design of Bicycles. 

The predominant cycle those days was the “Roadster” (in bicycle parlance). 

The Roadster was a utility bicycle designed for practical transportation – unlike the fancy bikes of today which are primarily designed for recreation and for showing-off. 

The “Roadster” Bicycle was designed for “Occupational Commuting” – and it was designed to give you a comfortable ride. 

As I said earlier – those days – you did not ride a bike to burn calories.

A cycle was the primary means of transportation – and you commuted from one place to another on a cycle. 

Of course – fitness was a by-product. 

In my college days – I used to cycle about 20 Kilometres every day – breathing fresh unpolluted air – and this was healthy exercise. 

We cycled in our normal clothes – and not in “biking wear” – and that’s why the Roadster Design Bicycle had proper mudguards and chain guards to keep it clean. 

In addition to comfort – the qualities we looked for in a cycle were sturdiness, durability and endurance.

A cycle was a permanent long term acquisition – not a “use and throw” item. 

Well – if you go to Bicycle Shop today – you may not find the humble “Roadster” displayed along with those fancy fashionable bikes.

In fact – there is a proliferation of high-falutin Cycle Malls in Pune selling all sorts of fancy and expensive bicycles.

But if you look on the roads – you will see that the redoubtable Roadster is still going strong.

And – if you care to go to the mofussil – you will see that this humble Roadster Cycle is still the predominant mode of transportation. 

And – if you go to those good old cycle marts in Budhwar Peth in Pune – you will see that these unpretentious Roadster bikes are still selling in plenty.

When we were children – there were no “kiddie” or “children’s” bikes to pamper us.

We learnt how to cycle the hard way on the hardy Adult Roadster Bikes – which entailed many falls and bruises – including one on my forehead – the scar of which is prominently visible even today. 

I learnt how to cycle when I was 7 years old. 

But – I got my first cycle in 1968 – on my 12^th Birthday. 

Until then – I used to hire a bike on an hourly basis from one of the many “Cycle Marts” that adorned almost every street corner of Pune – or manage a ride my uncle’s cycle whenever he was not using it.

The moment it was announced that I would be getting a bike as a birthday gift – I was very excited.

My friends and I started our market survey.

Which cycle did I want?

There were so many brands to choose from. 

At the top end was the matchless Humber – the prized crème de la crème brand from Raleigh Cycles. 

The Humber Men’s Roadster had a unique double-fork – a duplex fork design which had two tubes for absorbing shocks better – and a frictionless chain for a smooth ride.

Owing to all these refinements – the Humber Cycle gave you the ultimate in riding comfort. 

Now my Dad had given me a budget of Rs. 200 – and the Humber which cost around 400 bucks was out of the question – as were other premium brands of cycles like Raleigh, Rudge, Buke and BSA. 

So – I had to choose from Hercules, Phillips, Hind Superb, Hero, Eastern Star, Avon or Atlas – which were the popular bicycle brands those days. 

At first – I wanted to buy a Phillips Cycle which looked very handsome. 

Every Phillips Roadster bicycle had embossed on its badge its famous motto: 

“Renowned the World Over”. 

But the dealer insisted that I try the latest model of Atlas (which he claimed was sturdy and comfortable – and it had the best bearings – and the cycle was long lasting, economical and ideal for a student like me).

So I took a “test ride” – and I acquired an Atlas Cycle for the princely sum of One Hundred and Eighty Rupees (yes – Rs. 180 only).

I fitted my bike with a dynamo and light (for night riding) – a bell – a carrier – and a sleek stand – and a basket.

As I rode my brand new shining black Atlas cycle – I felt on top of the world.

Here is a picture of me and my large size 24” Atlas Cycle taken 51 years ago in 1968 (when I was barely 12 years old)

Vikram Karve with his Atlas Cycle (Circa 1968)

This Atlas Cycle rendered yeoman’s service (I told you that I said I cycled about 20 kilometers every day). 

My bicycle accompanied me all over on my cycling trips – including one touring UP and Bihar – where we just carried our cycles in the second class train compartment – and we got down wherever we wanted – and cycled away for our sightseeing – and caught a train again at the nearest station. 

No one dared to ask any questions – because we were “students”.

I used my rugged Atlas Cycle for over 15 years – and it was still going strong – when I gave it away to a needy student. 

(I was happy to see that this redoubtable bike was fully operational when I last saw it in the year 1998 – when the cycle was 30 years old). 

Soon – I bought a brand new Hero Roadster Cycle for around three hundred bucks (Rs. 300 only) – which I used for cycling all around town – whenever I came to Pune on my weekend trips or holidays from Mumbai – where my ship was based. 

Though I had acquired a scooter by then – which I used for “family” outings – I still rode my bike for my solitary travels in Pune. 

Alas – my newly acquired wife refused to ride “double-seat” with me on my cycle – à la Dev Anand and Mumtaz in the movie Tere Mere Sapne – though my wife had been an avid cyclist and she rode a Ladies Cycle herself in college. 

By the way – riding double-seat – and without a light at night – were traffic offences.

If a cop caught you without a light at night – or riding double-seat on your bike – he would deflate your tyres as punishment – and you would have to walk all the way dragging your cycle along. 

For parking your cycle – there was cycle-stands all over – in cinemas – at railway stations – in parks – everywhere.

Till the 1980’s – in Pune – the bicycle was still the most popular mode of transportation – since – in Pune – distances were not that much – and – the traffic was not that heavy. 

But gradually – scooters were slowly taking over – as people were increasingly in a hurry to get wherever they wanted to go.

I quit cycling in Pune sometime in the end 1980’s – because cycling had become increasingly unsafe.

The traffic situation in Pune had become quite bad.

Heavy vehicles, buses, cars and scooters ruled the roost.

And after a few close shaves in the dangerous traffic – I decided to stop cycling on the streets of Pune.

Cycling keeps you healthy. 

Cycling also keeps you stress-free.

Those days – as I cycled to college or work – the physical effort while cycling helped remove my stress – unlike driving a car or scooter in the chaotic traffic of Pune – which drives you crazy. 

Almost everyone cycled to school and college – and – to work and back – all the way from the heart of Pune City – even to far-off places like the factories in Khadki and beyond. 

Cycling was a healthy affordable way of commuting.

Yes – cycling was primarily a means of travel – and not a competitive sport or a means of working out for exercise as it is now. 

Of course – exercise was a byproduct of cycling. 

I have decided to relive those good old days. 

So I am going to get myself a cycle – not a fancy bike – but an a old-style standard roadster bike – maybe I will try out the good old tried and tested Hercules Roadster Cycle this time. 

The only problem is that I will have to find a safe road to cycle on – which is nigh impossible in Pune – or a Cycle Track on the side of a BRTS Road. 

(BRTS = Bus Rapid Transit System)

I eagerly await the removal of encroachments on the Cycle Tracks on the BRTS in Wakad – so all of us can cycle down the bicycle track – as people do on the BRTS route on Satara Road near Padmavati/Bibwewadi. 

I wonder how safe it is to cycle in other cities – and whether unencroached clear good cycle tracks are available for speedy and safe cycling...? 

If the Government is really keen on promoting cycling – Top Ministers/Politicians and Senior Officers should lead by example and cycle to work every day instead of commuting in cars. 

Schools must insist that Children Cycle to School on bicycles instead of travelling by Bus. 

Organisations must encourage their Employees (especially Senior Management) to use a bicycle to cycle to work instead of using vehicles. 

We see some VIPs/Celebrities merely paying “Lip Service” (for “Photo Ops”) once a year on World Bicycle Day and then using luxurious cars to commute to work throughout the year. 

As they say: Actions Speak Louder than Words. 

In the mornings and in the evenings – I watch the serpentine traffic moving at snail’s pace on the Wakad Hinjewadi Road towards the InfoTech Park. 

I wonder how different things would have been if everyone rode bicycles to work like in yesteryear Pune. 

We would have a more healthy, unpolluted and stress-free Pune.

Happy Cycling.

VIKRAM KARVE

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Disclaimer:

All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the stories are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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This is a revised and abridged version of an article that I wrote 9 years ago in 2010 in my series A PUNEKAR WALKS DOWN MEMORY LANE and earlier posted online on my blog in 2011 at urls: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2011/08/cycle-town-pune.html andhttp://karvediat.blogspot.in/2012/02/cycle-town-pune-memories-of-yesteryear.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2013/04/commuting-in-pune-50-years-ago.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2015/10/cycle-town-pune-memoir.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/07/pune-cycle-plan-memoir-cycle-town-pune.html and http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2018/06/world-bicycle-day-story-cycle-town-pune.html  and http://karvediat.blogspot.com/2019/04/pune-cycling-down-memory-lane.html etc

Humor in Uniform : The “Oily” Navy

Humor in Uniform 

THE “OILY” NAVY

Hilarious Memories of My Delightful Navy Days

A Spoof

By

VIKRAM KARVE

PREAMBLE

This story happened more than 35 years ago – in the year 1980.

Today – “fauji” officers are a pampered lot – all officers travel by air from the day they are commissioned into the armed forces.

But in those “good old days” – air travel was a luxury permitted only for senior officers above the rank of Colonel/Captain/Group Captain – a rank very few achieved – and that too after slogging in cut-throat competition for around 25 years.

So – most defence officers travelled by the magnificent Indian Railways – and long train journeys were an essential part of military life – while travelling on duty and while going home on leave – and we still remember many of those memorable train journeys.

Nowadays – since defence officers and their families mostly travel by air  – they miss out on the romance of train journeys.

But in those “good old days” – The Indian Railways were an integral part of the romance of military life.

Here is the story of one of a memorable and unforgettable train journey during my Navy days.

PREFACE

THE “OILY” NAVY

You may have heard of the WAVY NAVY – RNVR (Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve)/RINVR (Royal Indian Naval Volunteer Reserve) whose officers wore “wavy” rank stripes (while Royal Navy (RN) Officers wore straight rank stripes)

You may have also heard the witty quote by a famous World War 2 “Wavy Navy” Officer of the RNVR:

...“the difference between the “straight navy” (RN) and “wavy-navy” (RNVR) is that – the RN look after the Navy in peacetime – while the RNVR do the fighting in War…”

...hinting that Regular (RN) Officers “fight” in “peacetime” – whereas Reservists (RNVR) fight the war 

This highlighted the difference between “peacetime soldiering” mainly done by Regular Officers – and “warfighting” mainly done by the Reservists.

So – now you have heard of the WAVY NAVY.

But – have you heard of the OILY NAVY...?

Well – I certainly hadn’t heard of the “Oily Navy” – till this rather comical incident happened to me.

So, Dear Reader, let me delve into my “Humour in Uniform Archives” and narrate to you, once more, this hilarious story of peacetime “soldiering” :-

PROLOGUE

The best thing that happened to me in the navy were the two glorious years I spent in Mumbai (then called Bombay) 35 years ago.

Both my ships were based at Bombay.

We sailed for a few days, sometimes visiting various ports, but for the remaining days we were tied alongside in Bombay Dockyard which is in the heart of the city.

I loved sailing,

But more than that, I loved spending time in a harbour like Bombay, which was most exciting as the vibrant metropolis had so much to offer for young bachelors like me with a zest for life.

It was the happiest time of my life.

And like I said, it was the best thing that happened to me in the navy.

The worst thing that happened to me in the navy was my unexpected to transfer to Jamnagar, which put an end to my happy time in Bombay.

I was looking forward to an appointment to a shore billet in Bombay, which would enable me to continue to enjoy the life of bliss in “maximum city” to the fullest.

In fact, a few months earlier, I had been informally told by a senior naval officer that I would be appointed in the Naval Dockyard at Bombay, as was the norm for young technical officers after appointments at sea.

But, someone pulled strings, and I was on my way to Jamnagar.

After a fantastic time in Bombay, the desolate naval base at Jamnagar was most disappointing, especially for a young bachelor like me who had a zest for life.

My only aim was to get out of that dreary place as fast as possible.

That is why, when the first opportunity came, a temporary duty to Bombay, I jumped at the opportunity.

And on my journey from Jamnagar to Bombay, happened this “Oily Tale” which put me on a “Slippery Slope”.

AN OILY TALE

A Memorable Train Journey

PART 1

1000 Hours (10 AM) Sunday 26 October 1980 Navy Base (INS Valsura) Jamnagar

I was all set to proceed on Temporary Duty to Bombay.

(Mumbai was known as Bombay then and I shall refer to Mumbai as Bombay hereinafter – since that was the name of the city when this story happened – though I personally prefer the name Mumbai).

The 3-tonner truck arrived at my cabin in the Wardroom (Officers Mess) to pick me up.

“Why have they sent a bloody 3-tonner for an officer? I am going on duty. I thought they would send me a staff car or jeep,” I asked the driver.

“Sir, both staff cars are out – one is with CO who will be going to town with his wife for shopping and lunch – the other staff car has been taken by the Commodore who has come from Delhi – he left early in the morning with his family for pilgrimage to Dwarka and Okha – and the XO has taken the jeep to town – he has gone to see a movie with his family,” the driver said.

I seethed at the feudal culture still prevalent in the services where senior officers treated government resources as if they were their own personal fiefdom.

As an officer proceeding on duty I had the first claim on a staff car – but I would have to ride in a truck since senior officers had commandeered the cars for their personal enjoyment.

I took my small bag and got in beside the driver.

Instead of proceeding to the main gate, the driver diverted the vehicle to the Married Officers Accommodation.

Lieutenant Commander “X” (a “Schoolie” Education Officer) was proceeding on leave to Madras (now called Chennai) with his family and was taking a lift in the transport meant for me.

I got down, let “X” sit with his wife and small daughter in front with the driver, and I sat behind in the 3-tonner.

At the guard room, there were a few sailors and their families, proceeding on leave, and some liberty-men, waiting to take a lift in the 3-tonner, to Teen-Batti, near the Jamnagar Railway Station.

In those good old “metre-gauge” days, there were only two trains from Jamnagar:

1. The Saurashtra Mail, which originated at Okha and passed through Jamnagar at 11 AM (1100 Hrs)

and

2. The Saurashtra Express which originated at Porbandar and passed through Jamnagar at 5 PM (1700 Hrs)

The morning Mail was convenient for those going towards Bombay and the south.

The evening Express was ideal for those going towards Delhi and “up-north” in the through slip coaches via Mehsana which were later attached to the connecting metre-gauge Ahmedabad Delhi Mail.

Of course, both trains had connecting broad gauge trains at Viramgam towards Bombay.

At the guard room, I reported to the Officer of the Day (OOD).

The OOD made an entry in the ship’s log book that I was leaving “ship” and proceeding on Temporary Duty.

Lieutenant Commander “X” had also followed me into the OOD office to make an entry regarding his proceeding on annual leave.

As I started to walk out, the OOD said: “Wait – you have to carry some items to Bombay.”

“Items?” I asked.

“Yes, you have to carry three oil tins,” the OOD said.

“Oil tins?” I asked.

“Yes, you have to carry 3 oil tins and deliver them to these addresses,” the OOD said.

He gave me a chit with the names of 3 Commodores, their designation and phone numbers and their home addresses in NOFRA Bombay, written below each name.

Now, in those good old days, as far as Naval Officers were concerned, Jamnagar was famous for five things:

1. The Unique Colourful Bandhani (tie and dye) Sarees

2. Soft Lohi Blankets-cum-shawls from Digjam Mills

3. White Uniform Buckskin Shoes made to order by a cobbler in the heart of old Jamnagar city (nowadays, buckskin shoes are not permitted, I think)

4. Luscious Rasgullas and lip-smacking Farsan from Shrikhand Samrat near Mandvi Tower (The Best Rasgullas I have ever tasted)

And, last but not the least,

5. Groundnut Oil (because groundnut refined cooking oil was much cheaper in Saurashtra than in Bombay)

I would have had no problems if someone had requested me to carry the other items.

But there was no way I was going to carry three huge cumbersome 16 Kg tins of groundnut oil.

I came out of the OOD office.

I saw some duty sailors loading three large 16 Kg groundnut oil tins into the 3 tonner.

The OOD had also come out of his office and was watching the proceedings.

I looked at the OOD and said: “Sorry – I can’t take these oil tins with me. Please ask the sailors to unload them from the truck.”

The OOD looked at me in disbelief and said: “What...? You are going on Ty Duty to Bombay – aren’t you?”

“Sir, I am not going on Ty Duty to deliver those bloody oil tins – the purpose of my Ty Duty is something else,” I said.

“Don’t act smart. The Commanding Officer (CO) desires that you have to carry these 3 oil tins and deliver them to the 3 Commodores whose names are written in the chit I gave you,” the OOD said.

I tried to reason with the OOD: “Sir, please try to understand. I just have one small bag. In Bombay, a Lieutenant does not get transport, so I intend taking Bus No. 123 from Bombay Central to RC Church and walk down to Command Mess. I can’t lug these three huge oil tins around, and I don’t intend hiring porters just to carry these bloody oil tins – and who is going to trans-ship these bulky oil tins from metre-gauge to broad gauge at Viramgam?”

“Look here, I told you once – you don’t try to act smart – the CO has directed that you carry these oil tins. All officers going to Bombay on Ty Duty carry oil tins,” the OOD said.

“Well, I am not going to carry these bloody oil tins for sure,” I said, “and now I have to go – otherwise I will miss my train.”

“Don’t try to take “panga” – I told you that the CO has ordered you to carry these oil tins,” the OOD said.

“Then you can tell him that I am not going to carry these bloody oil tins,” I said firmly.

“If you act funny and disobey orders, they will transfer you out,” the OOD warned me.

This was music to my ears.

So, I said to the OOD: “I would be the happiest person if they transferred me out of this godforsaken place.”

Lieutenant Commander “X” was hearing the argument between me and the OOD.

“X” looked at me and said in a patronizing manner: “Why are you making such a big issue out of this – everyone going on Ty Duty takes some items that senior officers want delivered.”

Bolstered by the support from “X”, who was a Lieutenant Commander, the OOD said, “You will bloody well have to obey the orders of the CO – do you understand?”

I had my doubts whether the CO had actually ordered me to carry the oil tins to Bombay, so I asked the OOD: “Why didn’t the CO tell me personally about the oil tins? I think you are bluffing.”

“Are you accusing me of telling lies?” the OOD said getting angry.

“I didn’t say that,” I said.

“You will not leave the base unless you take those oil tins – do you understand?” the OOD shouted at me.

“Listen, Sir – I told you very clearly that I am not taking those oil tins with me. I am getting late and I will miss my train. If you detain me any further I will not proceed on Ty Duty,” I said firmly.

As I said earlier, I thought that the OOD was bluffing that the CO had ordered me to carry the oil tins.

But it seemed that the CO had indeed done so, because on hearing my refusal, the OOD went all berserk – he picked up the phone, dialled furiously, and then started talking excitedly, about my refusal to carry the oil tins.

I wondered who the OOD was talking to, but the way he was saying “yes sir, yes sir” in an animated manner, it was either the CO or someone senior at the other end of the phone line.

Soon, I heard the OOD mention the name of Lieutenant Commander “X”.

And then, the OOD gave the phone to “X”.

Now, it was “X” saying “yes sir, yes sir” on the phone.

The upshot of the conversation was that now, instead of me, “X” would carry the oil tins to Mumbai.

On reaching Mumbai, “X” would dutifully deliver the 3 oil tins to the 3 Commodores in Bombay, and then he would catch the Dadar – Madras Express in the afternoon and proceed to Madras (Chennai) to enjoy his annual leave.

PART 2

1200 Hours (12 noon) Sunday 26 October 1980 on board the Okha Viramgam (metre gauge) Saurashtra Mail just departed from Jamnagar Railway Station

I sat in the old style first class compartment (which you see in old black and white Hindi movies) in the metre gauge train which ran from Okha to Viramgam.

The berths were fore-and-aft, the compartment was bright, airy and roomy due to the three large windows on each side alongside the lower berths.

The train had left Jamnagar at 1130 (11:30 AM) and would reach Viramgam at 19:30 (7:30 PM) – covering a distance of roughly 300 kilometers in 8 hours – so you can imagine the slow speed of the train as it chugged along unhurriedly pulled by an archaic steam engine belching smoke and soot as it puffed along.

It was a most boring journey, with hardly any big railway stations, except Rajkot – and for a foodie like me, the only thing available was various kinds of fried “bhajji” (pakoras).

But I had come well stocked – a bottle of Hercules Rum, my favourite set of plastic tumblers which accompanied me on my journeys, a “surahi” of drinking water (acquired at Jamnagar station and topped up with cool water from the water cooler) – and some “small eats” like boiled eggs, aloo parathas and potato fingers (packed from the Officers Mess).

My co-passengers in the compartment were the “schoolie” Lieutenant Commander “X”, his wife and their small 3 year old daughter – and, of course – the 3 big oil tins – placed strategically at a safe place near the bathroom door and guarded zealously by “X”.

The moment the train started from Jamnagar – I opened the bottle of Hercules Rum and poured a drink.

In those good old days – passengers were permitted to drink alcohol and smoke cigarettes in first class compartments – provided other passengers did not object.

There was no question of the “schoolie” Lieutenant Commander “X” objecting – since I had poured him a drink too – though his wife was giving me dirty looks as if I were spoiling her husband.

At the first stop – a small station called Hapa – the Train Conductor (TC) appeared – and he asked us if we wanted to order lunch at Rajkot.

His eyes lit up the moment he saw the bottle of rum.

I offered him a drink.

He pulled out a large stainless steel glass from his bag – and I poured in a generous tot of rum.

The TC did not add water to the neat rum – but to my utter surprise – he drank the neat rum in one gulp – straight “down the hatch”.

The spirits seemed to have raised his morale.

“Sir – you don’t worry,” the Train Conductor said, “the railway refreshment room food in Rajkot is not that good – I will get chicken dishes for you from Sher-e-Punjab so you can enjoy your drinks – the train stops for 20 minutes and the hotel is just outside the station.”

It is great to see the sense of camaraderie between the railways and defence services – and it warmed the cockles of my heart.

Three hours later – at around 3 o’clock – with half a bottle of Rum and generous amounts of tandoori chicken, butter chicken and rotis inside me – I was satiated enough for my afternoon siesta – and the moment I hit the bunk – I fell into deep sleep.

I woke up around 6 o’clock in the evening – and had a cup of refreshing masala tea – at largish station called Surendranagar Junction – where the train had halted for a long time for a crossing.

The moment that train started – I had a shower in the spacious old-style bathroom of the first class compartment – and I was ready for the evening action – commencing with a “sundowner”.

It was still one hour to go for Viramgam – there was time for a drink or two.

The “Schoolie” Lieutenant Commander X” and his wife were sitting on the opposite berth with their daughter – and all of them were looking utterly bored.

The Lieutenant Commander’s eyes lit up the moment he saw me taking out the rum bottle – but his wife gave him a stern look and he refused my offer of a drink.

I noticed she had been giving me angry looks throughout the journey.

Maybe – it was because I had made her husband drink in the afternoon.

Or – maybe – it was because she was annoyed that her husband was saddled with the three bulky oil tins – thanks to my refusal to carry them.

I think it some frustration was building up inside her – and she could hold it no longer – so she said to me: “We were thinking of visiting my relatives in Matunga and then catching the Madras Express in the afternoon at Dadar. And now we have to go all the way to Colaba to deliver these oil tins. Our full morning will be wasted. It is all because of you.”

“All because of me...?” I protested.

“Yes – you refused to carry the oil tins – so my husband is forced to carry them,” she said.

“He could have also refused,” I said.

On hearing my words, the “Schoolie” Lieutenant Commander “X” said bitterly to me: “It is very well for you to say this – you are a non-bothered ‘couldn’t-care-less’ type – and you are a junior Lieutenant – but I am a Lieutenant Commander in the promotion zone – my Commander’s board is next year – and as it is – in the Education Branch there are just one or two vacancies – and it is very difficult to get promoted – so I have to do whatever they tell me...” 

I felt sorry for him.

But I was not going to be emotionally blackmailed by him or his wife into taking on the burden of carrying and delivering the oil tins.

So I just looked away out of the window at beautiful sight of the setting sun and sipped my “sundowner” rum-pani and nibbled into the “mirchi pakoras” which I had picked up at a tiny station called Lakhtar where the train had halted for two minutes – these “bhajjis’ or pakoras were the only “small eats” available on this rather desolate stretch of railway.

By the time I finished my rum-pani – it was dark – and I could see that we were approaching the marshalling yard of Viramgam Junction, and the train was slowing down.

So – I secured my bag – and got ready to shift to the broad-gauge Saurashtra Mail which would take us to Bombay.

“X” was hovering around his precious cargo – the 3 large groundnut oil tins.

“Sir – why don’t you just leave the bloody oil tins over here in this metre-gauge train – and you can tell the CO that you forgot the oil tins in the train,” I joked.

“Please keep quiet – you need not worry about the oil tins,” he said angrily.

“To hell with him,” I thought.

And I took my bag – and I got down on the platform.

“X” was haggling with the porters for carrying the 3 oil tins.

PART 3

2000 Hours (8 PM) Sunday 26 October 1980 on board the 6 UP Viramgam – Bombay (broad gauge) Saurashtra Mail just departed from Viramgam Railway Station

The new broad gauge first class compartment seemed spacious as compared to the ramshackle metre gauge coach.

Once again my companions in the four-berther compartment were the “Schoolie” Lieutenant Commander “X” and his wife and small daughter.

In the broad gauge, the 3 oil tins fitted in below the berth where “X”, his wife and daughter were sitting.

I sat on the opposite berth.

I polished off the remains of the bottle of rum.

I had offered “Schoolie” Lieutenant Commander “X” the last drink remaining in the bottle – but again – “X” politely declined my offer of a drink – scared of the stern looks his wife was giving him whenever he looked longingly at the rum bottle.

By the time I killed the bottle – it was almost 9 PM – and Ahmedabad Railway Station had arrived.

I had a quick dinner of Puri Bhaji on the platform.

And then – I hit the sack.

I let “X” and his wife take the two bottom berths and I slept on the top berth above “X” – the oil tins were on the opposite side below the berth where Mrs. “X” slept with her daughter.

I was in deep sleep – when there was a big bang.

Suddenly – everything went topsy-turvy.

The compartment had toppled – and was lying on its side.

My legs were on top of my head.

I realised that our train had derailed.

Suddenly the lights went off – and it was dark.

“X” and his wife were shouting: “What happened? What happened?”

I told “X” and his wife that the train had derailed – and that they should remain where they were till I got the door open.

Luckily the compartment door was on the upper side of the toppled compartment.

The moment I swung my legs down – I hit oil.

Yes – an oil tin had burst – or probably all the three oil tins had burst – and there was oil all over the compartment.

Nevertheless – I got down – and I tried to pull myself up to the door.

It was a slippery slope – and soon I was fully covered with groundnut oil.

“X”, his wife and daughter were looking at me curiously – I motioned to them to remain where they were.

Suddenly – the compartment door was yanked open.

It was the Train Conductor with some people.

They had a torch.

They threw in a blanket and told us to hold it tight.

Then – and one by one – they yanked us out into the corridor – the lady and her daughter, “X” and me – and then we carefully climbed out of the derailed bogie.

Soon – after a small walk along the railway track towards the rear of the train – we were sitting on a bench on the platform of Miyagam Karjan Railway Station.

I looked at the station clock – it was 2 AM (0200 Hours on 27 October 1980, to be precise).

Talking to people – we came to know that it had been a freak accident.

Some wagons of a goods train coming from the opposite direction had got derailed seconds before our speeding train passed it – and our engine had hit the derailed wagons and gone off the rails, derailing the first few bogies off the track.

Luckily – ours was the last bogie to be derailed – the bogies in front had got badly smashed.

I thanked my stars that I was alive and well.

Suddenly “X” asked me: “Did all the oil tins burst – or only one?”

“I don’t know. I was worried about saving our lives – not about the bloody oil tins,” I said.

“I think we should go back and try and get the oil tins out of the compartment,” he said.

“Are you crazy? I just about managed to get our bags out. The bloody train is derailed. The bogie is lying topsy-turvy. It is pitch dark. Sir – please lets thank God that we are safe and sound – and for heaven’s sake please forget about those wretched oil tins,” I said.

“But the CO will be angry if I don’t deliver the oil tins,” he said.

“Sir – what’s wrong with you? Be happy that you, your wife, your daughter – all of you have narrowly escaped death. You want to go in there again to get those damned oil tins? Suppose you break your legs – or even smash your head and die? Is it worth it – just for the sake of a few oil worthless tins ?” I said.

Suddenly his wife interjected – and she said to her husband: “Yes – Yes – it is too dangerous. You don’t go anywhere.”

We spent the whole night at Miyagam Karjan.

At around 3 AM I saw the station master – I told him I was a Defence Officer and showed him my Identity Card – and he kindly allowed us to sit in his office – and put a couple of benches for us to lie down.

I woke up at 6 AM – washed up in the Station Master’s bathroom and got ready.

“X” and his family were nowhere to be seen.

I asked the Station Master about them.

“Oh, your companions got up early and must having tea on the platform. A relief train has already arrived from Baroda (Vadodara). They have almost finished removing the derailed goods wagons from the ‘down’ track. The moment the ‘down’ track is cleared of the derailed wagons we will send you in the relief train to Bombay (Mumbai),” the Station Master said.

PART 4

1130 Hours (1130 AM) Sunday 27 October 1980 on board the Relief Train to Bombay just departed from Miyagam Karjan Railway Station

The railway accident repair team did a spectacular job – and by 1100 Hours – they had cleared the down track.

First – a test engine was sent across the repaired track – and shortly thereafter – our relief train was on its way to Bombay.

As I came to my seat – I saw Mrs “X” and her daughter – but “X” was not there.

“Where is your husband?” I asked Mrs “X”.

“He has gone to the brake van?” she said.

“Brake van?” I asked, surprised.

“Don’t you know? He finally went and retrieved those oil tins – two of them are intact. The railway porters were removing luggage from the brake van on the derailed train – he paid them some money and they got out the oil tins from the compartment and they have put them in the baggage compartment of the brake van of this relief train. So he has gone to check whether they are secured properly,” she said.

“Is he crazy?” I said – instantly regretting my words.

“I don’t know what will happen now? We will miss our connecting train, Dadar Madras Express...” she said, looking worried.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am. We should reach Bombay Central latest by around 8 o’clock at night – maybe even earlier. You can catch the Bombay Madras Mail which leaves around 10 PM from VT. I know someone in Central Railway – I will see to it that you get a berth…” I said.

“But he will insist on delivering the oil tins…” she said, sounding anxious.

“You don’t worry about those oil tins, ma’am – I will deliver the oil tins,” I said in a reassuring tone to Mrs “X”.

PART 5

1900 Hours (7 PM) Sunday 27 October 1980 Bombay Central Railway Station

We – Lieutenant Commander “X”, his wife, his daughter, and I – all of us were walking towards the exit of Bombay Central Railway Terminus when a man stopped us.

“Are those your oil tins?” the man asked – pointing to the 2 oil tins being carried by the porter.

“Yes,” I said.

“You have to pay octroi,” he said.

“Octroi?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, “if you bring anything for sale you have to pay octroi.”

“But the oil is for my personal consumption,” I said, “and I am a Defence Officer.”

“Oh – then show me the octroi exemption certificate,” he said.

I was in no mood to argue – and the octroi amount wasn’t that much – so I paid up.

“The next time someone asks me to get an oil tin from Jamnagar – considering the porterage and octroi we have paid – I will just give him the difference in oil tin price between Mumbai and Jamnagar – and tell him to buy the oil tin in Mumbai,” I remarked sarcastically to “X”.

We took a taxi to Bombay VT (now called Mumbai CST).

I dropped off “X” and his family at VT Railway Station – and I proceeded to the Navy Command Mess with the two oil tins.

Luckily – one of the Commodores on the list was posted in Headquarters – where I had go for my work.

The Commodore was not in office – so I told his PA to have two oil tins collected from my cabin in Command Mess.

I told her that I had instructed my civilian bearer accordingly – so the tins could be collected anytime.

I gave her the list of 3 Commodores – and told the PA to request  her Commodore to deliver the second oil tin to any one of them.

When I reached back to my cabin in Command Mess in the afternoon – the civilian bearer told me that the two oil tins had been collected.

Disappointed at having lost one day in Mumbai due to the train accident – I caught the 5 Down Saurashtra Mail back to Jamnagar that evening as per my return reservation.

EPILOGUE

One month later – after returning from his leave – the “Schoolie” Lieutenant Commander “X” landed up in my office at Jamnagar.

“Did you deliver the oil tins?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, “Commodore “Z” collected both the oil tins.”

“The canteen officer is asking for money?” he said.

“What money?”

“For the 3 oil tins.”

“Didn’t you tell him we had an accident?”

“Yes. He said he will write off one oil tin – but he wants the money for the other two. Didn’t Commodore “Z” give you money? Did you ask him for it?”

“Well – I didn’t even meet Commodore “Z” – his PA had the oil tins collected from my cabin – and I didn’t even know that I had to ask for the money – in fact – I don’t even know how much the bloody groundnut oil tin costs,” I said.

“Then what do we do?”

“Well – tell the canteen officer to ask the CO to write a DO letter to that freeloading Commodore “Z” to pay up the money for the oil tin.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lieutenant Commander “X” said.

“And Sir – make sure you include the porterage, the octroi charges, the taxi fare, and some ‘sweat money’ for me as well,” I said, tongue-in-cheek.

Apparently – “Schoolie” Lieutenant Commander “X” did not learn any lessons from the “Oily” experience.

The very next month I saw him standing near the OOD Office.

He was on his way to Bombay on Ty Duty.

And yes – believe it or not – he was carrying three 16 Kg groundnut oil tins...

Of course – a few months later – when the promotion board results were announced – “Schoolie” Lieutenant Commander “X” was promoted in his first shot to the rank of Commander.

Cheers to the “Oily” Navy...

VIKRAM KARVE

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