The Life Changing Episodes

By Brig Narayan Singh Malik

Commissioned in the famous Rajputana Rifles Regiment in 1964, Brig Narayan Singh Malik (retired) is a veteran of 1965, 1971 and 1999 wars. He was also rewarded for bravery in anti-insurgency operations in Nagaland. National Defence Academy alumni, he attended the Defence Services Staff College and Higher Defence Management Course. Besides holding the coveted appointments in Military Operations Directorates, Divisional and Corps Headquarters, he earned the unique distinction of serving in the Cabinet Secretariat on two separate assignments, including R&AW. He is known for making laudatory contribution on many National issues (including Kargil), both in India as well as abroad. Whereas he faced severe health problems in the formative years, tenures in vital places in subsequent years were also interspersed by unprecedented encumbrances. How he could brush aside the impediments to reach the objectives is a story of perseverance sans seeking rewards. In postretirement period, he continues to indulge in educating people to develop progressive skills. The episodes are a reflection of pains and pleasures derived in life. Although he has taken up permanent residence in Australia, he continues to work towards development of concerned people in India by training them in Leadership, School Management, First Aid, Life Saving, Disaster Management and National Security.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Dec 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482859416

Brig Narayan Singh Malik

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OUR VILLAGE

I was born in a clustered family where larger the number of children, greater was the domain of persons influence. The huge size of our family traditionally deserved a prominent say in the affairs of the village. My great grandfather Choudhary Bharat Singh was still alive till I went for my schooling in Primary School. He was blessed with seven sons, out of which only four could be married for inheritance of his property and domain. My grandfather was one such beneficiary. My father had two brothers and three sons, one of which happens to be me- Narayan Singh. The female children were not accounted for in terms of eligibility to share wealth of their fore fathers. The children squabbled about sharing of the land produce and later on the land holdings. We, as children remained firmly committed to the ideals of our forefathers and undertook the jobs assigned to us. Any one of the elders could order us about to any errand job, which we were supposed to accomplish without question, as part and parcel of a family tradition. I grew up remaining a handy labour boy to such a large number of family members. Although I started my education in a neighboring village, we were soon thereafter accommodated in the precincts of the spacious and gorgeous Mustan Shah Shrine. We were supposed to remain confined to the few rooms placed at the disposal of the primary school. The rest of the buildings and space remained the property of the village Muslim religious leaders, who organized the usual religious rituals, including hosting of a yearly fair in the complex. The building comprised the Baba’s tomb, shrine, a mosque, and a large number of rooms arrayed along the boundary for the pilgrims. Our school was graciously allotted a few of these rooms. As a small boy I was always wary of venturing the school site alone primarily because of the loneliness of the area, being situated well outside the village. As the years passed by, I gained confidence and faith in the Baba.

My village comprised a mixed population of Hindus and Muslims. Hindus were dominated by the Jat community that engaged mainly in farming and Army professions. We had ingredients of all other Hindu communities sprinkled in the village as each village was self-sufficient in all the professional trades that helped run a village without going to town for years together. There were many people residing the village who had never been to a town, as their needs were met through traders and other tradesmen. Brahmins (Priests) were supposedly the learned lot, who generally comprised only one or two families. They were given all due reverence, even though their financial condition was no better than the low caste people. Brahmins were looked upon as saviors of the divine faith owing to their preoccupation in religious chores. Brahmins honourable decorum in gifting of choicest sweets and clothes was a practiced custom. As part of their occupation they were devoted to perform prayers (puja) in the sole temple of the village on behalf of the villagers. The villagers remained at the mercy of the Brahmins (Priests) to perform rituals for invoking GOD to beg fortunes or to ward off evils. The Bania (traders) community was rich and respected, but their greed for money and unfair dealings drew a sneer from one and all. They were traditional money lenders and would recover that with interest at the time of harvesting season. On account of the vagaries of the weather and for reasons of living up to community’s obligations, the farmers and the rest alike fell in the debt trap of the Banias. There may have been rarely a household in the village that would not have mortgaged jewelry or land to them in exchange for loan. The other communities comprised the labour force and the sweepers, who were engaged in labour and cleanliness work. There were other trades common to both Hindus and Muslims like carpenter, weavers, tailors, barbers etc.

The village had a small population of Muslims, clustered together in small ghettos with a small mosque. The community consisted of traditional professionals, like oil churning man, washer man, Weaver, carpenter, black smith, dyeing and bangle men. These were generally all that served the village community in most of their trade needs. They were all very poor and mainly survived on the fixed amount of grains given to them every year on harvest time, and during Hindu festivals as charity. Mastan Shah was the village deity, not in the traditional religious sense, but as our village had been renamed after the great Muslim Saint, Mastan Baba. He was known to be the errant son of one of the Mughal Kings at Delhi in the Eighteenth Century. The story goes that to wean him away from his lecherous ways and make him fit for the throne, the Badshah sent him to a saint at the Nizammudin Dargah. Initially the Prince was very unhappy and rebelled to the extent that he tried to strangle the saint, but gradually reconciled and started learning the Sufi ways of the religion. He devoted himself to the service of society and humanity. He told the Saint that he had then-on decided to take to religious ways and renounce the world. He claimed to have imbibed all the religious teachings of the saint He went to the extent of renouncing his right to the throne and withdrew to our village. Here, he stayed for many years leading a holy man’s life under a small tree. After his death, the Baba was buried just outside the village, which became a venerated shrine. Even today people of all religion, caste and creed come to seek blessings to get their wishes fulfilled.

By now the village has expended considerably, encroaching on the main Meerut- Karnal state-highway road. A police Post and a Primary Health Care Centre have been established astride the state highway. A private school, an Industrial Training Institute and a small hospital have also sprung up, after habitation along the road commenced. These services could be established with the herculean efforts of our father, Subedar Dharam Pal Singh, who was later rewarded to contest Lok Sabha election on a national party ticket. Following the development of the national highway, the nearest township of Shamli has emerged as a big commercial joint. The town has now been converted into District Headquarters hosting a Lok Sabha constituency. The local people are politically savvy and enjoy to gossip on political issues. An outsider cannot convince them even in the form of a well-articulated summation. However, there is lack of unity in the village in so far as political affiliations are concerned. They view their consideration from the point of caste and party orientations. By and large, local issues carry a bigger weight with each community eyeing a particular declaration from their own angle. The past loyalty to the Farmer leaders has gradually dissipated and overtaken by opportunities being offered outside the village. The younger lot is looking at softer options beyond the village.

Our village has become the crucial centre point on the Highway between Shamli and Budhana (tehsil headquarter). This area can be described as the most fertile part of the Gangetic plain. Sugarcane happens to be the cash crop for producing sugar through a large number of sugar mills. The farmers have switched over to easier mode of cultivation by tractors and transportation by buffalo carts. Irrigation is the product of innumerable tube wells and a good network of canals. Unfortunately, owing to increase in population the land holdings have shrunk to such levels that agriculture per se cannot financially support a family. A large out-flux of people has moved to the nearby towns to seek alternative vocation, besides seeking employment in Government jobs. Nevertheless, the average income of a family would still be above the national average. I have enjoyed my early childhood munching sugar cane in fields and eating freshly manufactured hot Gur from the antiquated oven. When I moved to Ajmer, Rajasthan, my biggest surprise was the desert area without water, in comparison to my home land, where thriving wells were in abundance.

In my early years I admired the camaraderie of the villagers to work as a well-knit society. As a young boy, I could see my uncles approach even a stranger for a favour, who happened to belong to their village or community. On many occasions, we could spend a night at the residence of some unknown person belonging to the village. We were also bound by such traditions, when we became officers in the Army. Joining the Army in the ranks was a popular notion in our community. Unfortunately, I remained posted in field areas too often and my brother was on a career mission in the fighting arm. Therefore, we could do very little to help out in recruitment affairs. However, on posting to Delhi, I did help out some persons for recruitment in my Regiment - Raj Rif, but it was far below the local expectations. They thought that we could use our position to get all and sundry recruited. In the meanwhile, my father did a yeoman service in getting our youth employed in various Government services. However, the villagers were obsessed about our role to get bigger employment. At best, we could organise recruiting rallies, which did not impress them due to large number of rejections. In a way, an impression gathered that we were not amenable to the community. My brother was given Bhartiya Janata Party (BJP) ticket to fight Parliamentary election from our constituency in 1999. The climate for BJP was favourable with no visible cause for worry. I went to meet some of our village heads, who used to often call on us for recruitment queries. I found a total estrangement in their behaviour. They would not even talk and rather turn their head away from us. Some of them made a faint complaint that their boys were still unemployed. I came away quite dejected from the scene. When the results came, my brother lost by a narrow margin, because our own villagers voted against him. I wandered what village camaraderie that was.

EARLY YEARS

I was recognized as a good student in my primary school in the village. The only remarkable thing about my achievement was that despite a lot of manual labour type of work that I was engaged in, I did well in studies as well. There are no perceptibly significant events to record about the primary school as such, except that I had to walk about 4-5 kilometers long distance through the fields to reach my school in the neighboring village. Since the pathway passed through own farmland, I was often caught midway by my uncle(s) to help out in farming. I was a sort of free-lance child, available to any of the family elders, to be put on any house hold job, because my father was always away on military duty. Customarily, my mother had no say in protecting her small child. I have been witness to some traumatic days in the village. Untimely rains and turbulent natural catastrophes are the biggest worries for a farmer. I painfully remember the night when hail storm ravaged the village. My mother cried the whole night for fear of losing the ripened crops in the field. Nearly five acres of excellent wheat crop was thoroughly devastated by hailstorm. I do not exactly remember how the family coped through the year without grain in store.

My father was looking at the possibility of putting me in a boarding school, like what he did for my elder brother by sending him to the Rashtriya Indian Military College. However, the prohibitive expenses in that college were driving the family under debt. Therefore, he chose a more economical option of sending me to King George’s Military School, where a small percentage of my father’s pay was supposed to be deducted as the school expense. I had to appear in a competitive examination for entry to the school. After the initial formalities were completed, I was taken to Delhi cantonment for a test of my ability to enter the school. The test was in the form of making models compatible to the images. I succeeded in the first test and later appeared for an interview in front of an army officer. He asked me some questions in Hindi, which I replied to his satisfaction. The final result of the test was declared a month later, on Delhi channel of All India Radio. Incidentally, in my attempt to escape the hard labour at home, I had gone away visiting my aunt about 10 kilometers away from my village. My brother heard the news of my selection from the radio broadcast and rushed to bring me home without delay. I would admit that he did a commendable job to reach me at the earliest on a bicycle. We rode back home late at night through rough mud tracks between the fields, wary of depredators on the way. It turned out to be a God sent opportunity for me to escape the daily hard labour at the farmland. Soon, I was happily settled in the school, where I made a mark of sorts, partly because of the fear that if turned out of school, I may land up in the same environment that I had escaped from.

In the school, I was admitted in fifth standard as against my batch mates, who could go nowhere beyond third standard. This enabled me to finish Senior Cambridge examination even before appearing for the National Defence Academy (NDA) written test. This way, I got a boost in my standing in the school right from the start, which afforded me an opportunity to hobnob with the seniors. The academics seemed a difficult task in the new medium of instruction - English. I found it difficult to assimilate the study material, but I realized that contrary to the village environment, where I had a host of other tasks to perform, plenty of time was available at my disposal in the school to attend to personal work. Therefore, I decided to put my heart and soul into it and sure enough soon fell in step with the rest of the class. I still remember the red ink corrections that my teachers made on my note books, which looked something like a snake and ladder playing field. However, I soon discovered the art of converting the Hindi texts into English and lo and behold, I started scoring good results in the class. My teachers were so impressed that in the next two years I was nominated as the undisputed class leader and remained in that position till my departure from the school, after nearly three more years. I was never at the top of the class, but also never ever lost my position lower than the third best. My very close friend Bulgaria was always at the top, leaving me and Sushil to contest for the second and third positions. My overall stature in the school was of a high order, partly because of my forte as a good student, together with association with the influential body of students. I forsook offer of appointments for house duties, primarily to devote time to studies. I must admit that it was one of the most important decisions that I could take at that time. For, I knew pretty well that I would not be welcome home with an unwanted grade. I did have my share of smothering, but without any major setbacks on the career as such. I can remember of at least three such incidents.

In the first one, I was confronted with a very obstinate and irritating student who literally followed me everywhere in trying to take a pick on me for no rhyme or reason, even though he was not in my class. I just did not know how to shake him off. The guy happened to be a brute from a village in Rajasthan and would not understand any logical reasoning. One evening we were sitting in the ante room and enjoying a good music in the company of my very good friend, who had come from the neighboring house. The arrogant boy came and gave me hell of a time through all sorts of obnoxious abuses and started accosting me. I felt so cheesed off that without realizing what I was doing, lifted a big wooden ruler, something on the lines of a baseball bat, and hit him bang on the head. The impact was so hard that his skull seemed to split in two and a gush of blood spurted. I was totally shaken by the incident but my friend Bulgaria from the nearby house, got hold of the boy and placed a cloth on the injury to control the flow of blood. He then rushed out towards the school sickbay. Me and a few others joined him and reached the sickbay in no time. The nursing assistant examined the injury and declared that it would require a few stitches, but the doctor would have to be informed. Fortunately, the injured boy was a close relation of my friend and he prevailed upon him to tell the doctor that he had a big fall at the obstacle course. Although the boy was hell bent on avenging the act, he had to accept the compromise because of my friend’s connections. My own reputation amongst the influential lot helped me get away clean from the incident. This put an end to my agony in so far as that nonsensical boy was concerned.

My second most notable event was a case of dereliction of duty as a class monitor. It was the cold month of January, when at about 11 o'clock we were to change location from class room to the laboratory for chemistry period. When we walked out of the room, the sun was so nice, warm and tempting that all students, nearly 14 in number, requested me to allow a few minutes of sun basking. Although I was known to be upright with my duties, I allowed a few minutes of recess as a good gesture. Unfortunately, the principal happened to pass by that way at that particular juncture. He briefly noticed the imbroglio and asked for the class monitor to report to his office. Mr. Din Dayal, subsequently as principal of Rashtriya Indian Military College (RIMC) and Delhi Public School (DPS), earned the reputation of issuing yellow cards at the drop of a hat, as singular punishment through segregation of particular student in a differently identifiable school dress. I was the first such victim to be treated that way in my school. My name was read out in the assembly as an offender, except for the saving grace that I was not asked to present myself at the podium for caning. The school staff, teachers and the students unanimously sympathized with me, which helped me get-away from any other physical punishment that may have ensued as fallout of the Yellow card. Nonetheless, I wore a white shirt over my Khaki shorts to be identified as the guilty person for one week. Surprisingly I continued to remain the class monitor despite all the faux pas.

The next major happening of my school career was by way of taking up a challenge thrown by some of my friends, who defied me to show enough courage to go at night to the burial ground and bring hot ashes of the recently cremated dead body. In those juvenile days, it was a matter of pride and standing amongst your friends that mattered most. I was thus left with no choice but to take up the challenge. My school was located at the foot hills of the famous mountain range called Madar. The hills were fully covered with thorn bushes and the lower portions of the hill were excavated as mine quarries for stones and mud earth. However, there was no direct route available to the cremation ground, which was at least a mile away from our school, as a crow flies. Unlike the modern times the cremation ground was spread over a large area, as there was no dearth of land in the mountain range for this purpose. There was no habitation nearby and the occasional howl of jackals could be heard in the vicinity. Some rumours also gave rise to signs of presence of wild animals like wolf and leopards. I geared myself to meet the challenge with stick and an axe stolen from the Gardner’s implements. One of my close friends, Bugalia, taking a pity on my plight of facing the threat all alone, offered to be part of my mission. Seeing him join such a dangerous adventure one more boy offered to join the fray. This lifted my spirits and we launched on. It was a treacherous journey full of threats of wild animals and ghosts. Besides, few stray dogs suddenly came to life from the ruins of an abandoned village in the foot hills. While keeping a distance from us, they raised all possible hue and cries to alert the world. Fortunately, there were no habitations to arouse suspicion out of wild dog’s barking in the locality, but we could see some jackals and foxes scurrying past in a terrified state.

We kept cool and refrained from indulging in hunting of animals. The movement was steady, except that big boulders and huge ditches, as remnants of mine quarries, delayed us considerably. A pyre of recently dead man was still smoldering, which gave us an orientation to the site of the graveyard. We took solace in the fact that we did not lose our way and headed in the right direction. As also, contrary to our earlier perceptions, the site was absolutely peaceful and no ghosts came forth to checkmate our progress. The night was pitching dark and stars were fully bright and shining in the sky. However, we did not know the art of identifying the location of stars to navigate our way. After about two hours of strenuous and treacherous walk, we reached the cremation site. Although a few old scorched places gave indication of previous cremations, we decided to go to the latest one, whose ambers were smoldering. None of us spoke, and my companions just followed in whatever action I took. I made a circle around the pyre and looked around to clear any impediment that may be lingering. Fortunately, no one was noticed at that late hour of the night in such a remote area. I prepared myself to collect the ashes, as this happened to be the most momentous occasion, when I was supposed to face the main threat. While my two friends stood guard on either side, I placed my weapon-axe- on one side, taking due care that it was quite handy in case I needed it impromptu. The sack was the next most important item that was to carry the invaluable ashes. Without indulging in any run-away attempts I coolly poured the warm ashes in the sack, yet keeping it within reasonable limits, something that would not impede our progress on the return journey. In fact, the surroundings in that place looked damn serene bereft of any imminent danger and oozed a stint of fresh air under the star studded night. We observed considerable pile and smattering of ashes over the area, with no visible sign of disturbance as such. The animals could not be attempting to disturb the hot ambers during night. During the day, relatives would collect the remains for disposal. My buddies reminded me not to waste any more time than was necessary in such a dangerous place. Therefore, after paying a symbolic tribute to the dead body, we circled the pyre once and departed. By now the din of the dogs had somewhat subsided. Except for occasional jibe of stray dogs in the far distance, a seemingly calm situation prevailed.

Since the street and building lights of our school were fully visible for the return journey, our movement was brisk. At this point, we were perceptibly haunted by the likely prospects of pursuit by some unknown spirits. So, we trudged along regardless, even after negotiating the thorn bushes and deep ditches rather haphazardly. Our dresses were torn and feet bruised no end. Yet, the success of our mission gave us an unfettered glee to deride our challengers. We crossed the school boundary fencing surreptitiously, fearing that our counterparts may have alerted the authorities of the mission. Once inside the premises and safe, our problems were accentuated by someone (Ram Nivas) professing that the ashes could not be placed in some one's room. For, the person who slept in the company of ashes was bound to die by next morning. Three of us were now suddenly pushed in frenzy about what to do. Finally, we got an idea, to leave the ashes in the guard's room. The chowkidar (guard) was on his usual cursory round of the main building, when the sack containing ashes was inserted in a corner, behind some old junk that was lying in his room for days. The threat of someone losing his life in the process kept us awake the whole night. We kept specific watch at the chowkidar's movement about his physical condition as such. To our good fortune and surprise, we found the chowkidar hale and hearty in the morning; but that was not the end of our woes. Ram Nivas threw another bombshell by the prophecy that the ashes would incur catastrophic consequences, unless restored back to the place where these came from. This was a Herculean task as we did not want to expose ourselves to the unmitigated danger. We complained and tried to explain that our commitment lasted only till the first undertaking, which supposedly ended soon after we accomplished our mission; but they won't take it. After a lot of haggling, we found some enthusiastic guys willing to take the plunge for fun. So, Vijay and Raghu, known for their eccentric exploits, volunteered to complete the job. This brought an end to the saga of the ashes, which happened to be one of the serious offences that I would have committed in the school. Fortunately, we remained fully absolved of the matter, even though the authorities came to know about it at a later date. On account of their ongoing involvement in many scandals, Vijay and Raghu were considered the villains of the episode.

By and large, my activities in the school remained confined to areas that gave me special status. Apart from the academics and my class monitor status, I participated in school sports where I played hockey, volleyball and football for the school. The only game I had no idea about was cricket. If I had known that this would turn out to become such an important game, I would have done something spectacular to participate in cricket as well. I had an impressive clout in all spheres of sports. Even though I had not played football at any significant level, but managed to secure a place in the school team's Right Outside position, by virtue of the fact that I could run harder to garner the ball, before anyone else in my position could do so. I learned to kick around, essentially to pass the ball to the inner players in the vicinity of the opponent's goal. It was for them to convert the goal. Similarly, I found a place in the athletics’ team. I was considered good for 100 and 200 meters races, which automatically qualified me for the long jump event. Somehow owing to weakness in my lungs, I could never make a mark in long distance events. This handicap embarrassed me all through my career in the military academy, followed by the unit tenure. I capitalized on my hockey and basketball games, which I played at respectable levels in youthful days. I was selected to represent Rajasthan at all India level in hockey, the game which I played in the military academy teams. Subsequently, I was always selected to represent these games up to Army command level, wherever I was posted. Basketball was thrust upon me at the unit level, which I graduated to represent at parity with the state levels. I had to play basketball at the National Defence Academy, because my school mates were part of the team and they created a place for me. Apart from sports, I was in the fore front of school curriculum activities. I got the singular distinction of securing the best actor award of my school. I could sing a poetry or Hindi filmy song at any forum and could amuse the crowd impromptu and extempore. My colleagues still recall the good old days, when I was quite a star. I think my voice betrayed once I got into late teen years, as it became too heavy and hoarse.

My friend Bugalia and I became quite a celebrity as smart and indispensable students of the school. However, towards the end of 1958, our Senior Cambridge examinations kept us away from any more serious participation in other forays. The examinations were a challenge inasmuch as that was the first time our students were appearing in the prestigious Cambridge University