*Got this forward from an old Army buddy…..* ** * **THE ARMY IS IN SAFE HANDS*.**** **** Its nice to be witnessing regiment level games again after all these years. As a Commanding Officer of a CMP unit, after years of staff postings, I got a chance to witness the Inter Unit Kabaddi Championships.**** **** Nothing has changed. The flags still flutter from afar pinpointing the distant arena. Smart regiment RPs indicate the way with a smash of their heels and a twist of the elbows. The SM receives you with pride to his unit. The red matting adorned with banners winds its way towards the grand stand. The same familiar glitz awaits you as everyone gets up to greet you. **** **** There is a buzz around the ground when the teams line up to be broken by the trumpet announcing the arrival of the Commander. An announcer educates us that Kabaddi is the national game of Bangladesh and that the word itself is derived from a Tamil word meaning ’ holding of hands”. The referee in starch whites asks permission to commence proceedings as we all sit to attention. With a ‘ let the games begin’ followed by a whistle a huge roar erupts. Match on.**** **** I hear the old familiar battle cries. I belong to neither team, but I am hooked. The involvement of each and every member in the audience is so passionate. As each competitor is knocked to the ground one side goes crazy as the other groans. This is what we joined the army for. The camaraderie. The loyalty to unit. It wasn’t just seven members of the team in there but 800 of the unit. With each raider there were 800 bits of advice. The officers behind me were going hoarse screaming instructions and amazingly there were feminine voices too.**** **** After the initial prodding one team was slowly gaining an ascendancy over the other. As their side was getting more vociferous as the other was waiting for a chance to cheer. By interval time it was getting pretty one sided and it seemed that the losing side was pretty shaken up. We were well into the second half when suddenly a lady officer, barely five feet tall ( what’s the minimum height for them?) ran out and asked the referee for a time out for the losing team. **** It was quite contrary. These huge, muddied hulks kind of peering down on this tiny thing as she coached them in dead earnest. Then they huddled, she said something and trotted back to her seat in complete confidence, mission accomplished. In the next few minutes we watched in utmost amazement as the tables turned. Now it was this units turn to get delirious as their team recovered lost ground. Men were dancing down the sides and so were the officers. The commanding officer sat stoically, trying to remain impervious to the excitement building up, till he lost it when his team won with the final whistle. He rushed onto the ground and hugged each and every sweaty team member. ****
The table drill, the prize distribution, all went off with military precision. I watched it with pride and nostalgia. After the customary ‘jai kara’ we walked out to a sumptuous tea. Standing aside with my cup I surveyed this next generation of officers. Quite by chance, I spotted that tiny lady officer who had performed that motivational miracle. She was dwarfed by her group of youngsters, as I went up to her. With a brief introduction I asked the question that was intriguing me all along.**** “What exactly did you tell them to change the game around so definitely”, I queried.**** “Oh that sir” she replied confidentally “ I just told them that if they lost any more points I was entering the ground to fight for my unit”**** ** ** That was it. Keep it simple silly. I watched in amazement at this lady officer who meant every word she said. It was time to pass on the baton. The army is in safe hands. -- With best wishes S Chander
