My Apprenticeship

 

Compared to Port Blair Pune was no fun. There were cousins who bettered at studies. I struggled. 

Dry life, no adventure.Heavy traffic. 

Once I was almost run over by a truck. A month of bed rest and my studies slipped again.

Cycling in the Andamans was lot easier than Pune.

I didn’t make real friends outside school. The change was major from a cosmopolitan atmosphere to a conservative one. I was unable to join groups. Cynicism was high in air. I was slow to grasp the typical Puneri style. I had not known my caste till 8^th grade. It seemed pretty important to some people.

Drawing was an important subject at 8^th grade. I was unable to convince my parents that Drawing homework was equally important. The drawings were never completed in time, if at all they were , a hurried mess. The rest of the drawing book went into making paper planes.

For most of the drawing lessons, I was punished for incomplete work.

I hated the topics that we were asked to paint. I rebelled at the thought of someone dictating me on a subject to draw.

During the last semester, I produced a new drawing book with the last assignment on the first page of the book., with an excuse that the earlier book was lost.

The drawing teacher had asked for an ad. of tinned fish food.

I knew that I would be asked to leave the class. Instead, the teacher said,

“ This is good work. Why do you not pay attention to your sketches?”

This was the first good remark I heard at school after ages. Yet, I was aware of other students who were really good at art.

I liked Geometry.

I was moved from central School to a local school. I relaxed; as study was lot easier.

I had been accustomed to make and lose friends, all my life.

The new school had many groups and I was an outsider. In a week I managed to find a group of open minded guys like my older school.

In 10^th grade I tried my best. I got a higher score; exceeded the expectations at home.

I was still unable to get an admission in local colleges. Luckily a school that relied on IQ test over the regular marks absorbed me as a student.

I could see students with lower marks get admissions to colleges through “contacts”. I had none and I hated the thought of using a influence.

En parallel, I gave an interview at a Automobile company for technical apprenticeship.

 My parents strongly supported my decision. My prime reason was to earn money, secure a job and with the time left over to develop hobbies.

Few friends felt that it was a really bad decision.

On 11^th sept ‘81, I walked out of the house with bare essentials to earn my living at the age of 16.

I was not alone. We were a pack of 117 of, scrutinized and selected from a humongous crowd.

I had absolutely no idea, what went on in this engineering industry. The campus was enormous and had a bus service between the blocks.

As I put on the green workshop attire, it dangled on my frail body. There was a lot of “room for improvement”. I would get leaves as per industry standard. My weekend shifted to Thursday.

I had no college life. I had chosen to be a Technical worker and it was a tough call.

Three months flew fast. Very casual ragging by seniors and I lost my airs about myself. I was just a part of the hostel team. I was getting fluent in Harmonica. Sometimes, the seniors used to ask me to play few tunes and I escaped the more intense ragging.

The Hostel was indeed a fine place, well maintained by the apprentices. There were more unpleasant tasks like cleaning the toilets, verandas. If one lives he ought to clean the mess.

I joined the National Cadet corps, which was a good way to get Military training. The parades were twice a week and I was exempt from workshop duties. I was surprised; many Instructors hated NCC guys. My Drawing teacher ragged and humiliated me for some unknown reason and NCC lay at the bottom of it.

I liked the kind of knowledge the Parade gave me. I was a good shot at 25 meters range with a .303 rifle. The best was dismantling and cleaning the rifle post shooting. I later learned to dismantle the sten gun and a Light machine gun.

One of the training instructors at the Technical school started an adventure club. He eliminated all NCC cadets who applied. This was a turning point for me and many others.

The adventure activities included Cycling, trekking and long runs. This triggered other activities from the NCC boys.

The hostel wall was made of reconstructed stone. Prasad and I took turns at ‘Chimney climbing’ to the 1^st floor. Chimney climbs were less risky as we could jam ourselves against the opposite wall. As we gained more strength and courage, we graduated to the flat vertical wall.

Prasad set a taller record by climbing to the second floor. He was determined to beat his record.

These climbs were a night sport, to avoid the Rector.

One such night, I was halfway up flat wall. Few friends were watching the climb from 2^nd floor and one guy was on watch, to raise an alarm.

I inched my way to the second floor and started the traverse to enter the chimney portion. ‘Rector’, The Alarm guy yelled. The fear of expulsion from training division. I jumped and landed like a cat in the soil below. No harm done. I was almost breathless as I climbed the stairs to mark my presence at the night roll call.

The Cricket star, Sunil Gavaskar was at the Hostel after a heroic tour at West Indies. The entire building was empty. Cricket did not interest me and I was engrossed in the 3^rd escape of ‘Papillon’.

The daily routine was well set. At 5.30pm I got to the hostel after work and immediately rushed to the swimming tank. Few guys were training for Industrial competitions and I tried to watch and learn. I pursued swimming and it improved my stamina.

Bruce Lee was a favorite figure at the hostel. But soon after the ‘36^th Chamber of Shaolin’ was screened, our dormitory turned into a martial arts center. Bruce Lee was regarded as the “real” action hero. One of the bookworms was trying to learn the Karate moves by reading a book. There was another serious guy who was into Boxing. He introduced skipping. A Wrestler from Kohlapur mimicked the Shaolin monk by carrying two Buckets of water, arms parallel to the ground.

The Dormitory was full of fun. At any juncture one of the ten was active in some crazy pursuits to liven up the room. The seniors did the rest of livening in the pre roll call Rag session. Ragging was strictly prohibited and the few cases found were quickly settled through mutual agreement.

Unfortunately most of the activities were based on Physical strength that I lacked.

The Stipend earnings were saved and I had sufficient to spend on the basic needs ie. food and transport.

The group of 4 NCC cadets started a thought. Bike: Pune-Mumbai. I started biking at weekends for workout. Bruce Lee ignited a spark so intense that I once pedaled carrying my friend on my bike for 18 km after watching the “Fist of Fury”.

With everything as per plan, the 4 set off for Mumbai during the Diwali vacations.

Pedal Pushers

After the shift the boys pulled out their bicycles. We sneaked out of the hostel keeping an eye on the Rector’s office and casually pedaling out of the hostel gate. Each bike had a small sack with food, water and clothes.

It was 4.30PM, thirty minutes delay from the planned departure.

Nigdi passed and they were climbed the slope to Dehu road.  We took a halt at Talegaon for a brief rest. We passed Vadgaon, cut through Kamshet and reached Lonavla. One of the bikes had a puncture that was set right. We dined at a cheap place and discussed further plan. It was 9PM and the food made me lethargic.

I wanted to give up and sleep the night but the group spirit was high. It flashed to me that I could not give up now. I would not be able to save face at the hostel.

None of the bikes had torches, as the team sped biking down the ghat slopes, brakes squeaking. At Rajmachi point the police stopped us.

We mentioned that we were going to a village at the bottom of the ghat and the police were satisfied.

The slope was steep and the breaks juddered in attempt to reduce the speed. I found that a better way to reduce speed was to jam my heel into the rear wheel. We soon reached the bottom of the ghat. The bikes were very basic, without gears. Moonlight helped to light the way; so did the huge laden trucks that shone the headlights. I was feeling very tired and we had to stop every 5 km for a rest. The drone of the trucks occupied my mind and he kept pushing on with the rest.

The lights of Panvel were a treat. We decided to rest our aching limbs. I had a saddle sore and was barely able to walk to the Bus station.

It was 4AM and there were announcements of buses ready to depart. We shared some biscuits and decided to sleep for an hour.

Sleep would not come easily as the cacophony of the passengers never ended. Bombay was not far from here and the destination could be reached by noon next day.

In the morning light the 4 mounted on their bikes. The sores brought me back to reality. We passed the Vashi toll bridge. No toll for cycles. Maruti cars zoomed past and I wondered if I would ever get rich enough to afford a car. I dreamed of driving one to Bombay.

My friends parted earlier and I pedaled on till Dadar. I had a story to narrate but wasn’t sure of the reaction.

My first large adventure ended. I had a bath and tried to sleep. The sores and body pain only reminded me of the huge effort.  The pain became a distant illusion.

In arms of adventure

 

The travel from Delhi to Andaman took a month. I was glad to have free vacation during the move. Dad had bought me a cycle, only too large. Moreover, someone asked me, how I intended to learn to ride. Port Blair was mountainous.

Port Blair was an interesting place in 1975 for a 5th grade student. My first rides were near the wharf, which was the only nearby flat ground. I climbed on a small boulder and mounted on the seat and gave a heave. Cycling was easy, if I could balance. With a few turns, I was close to the jetty. There was a strange smell of diesel mixed with rotten wood.

Two frigates were lined up and the flag came down at the honk of the bugle. It was sunset and I had to push my bike up the slopes.

Port Blair seemed like a lot more fun than Delhi. I had lost my best friend Bhasu in Delhi and I had to yet make new acquaintances. I decided to write to Bhasu. I was missing the Television serials Fireball XL5 and Robin Hood which but I had new assets; Hilly terrain, a bike, a sea shore.

I had tough time at school to meeting “new” expectations.
The teachers were more strict than the Delhi school. Cane was used freely. The name of “Ram Milan Singh” struck terror in classrooms.
My acquaintance with “Ram” was through my bad handwriting. The change of schools challenged me to use the pen as the weapon instead of the pencil I was much used to.
On receiving the juiciest I found that this was just the name of the cane.
Usually, the class monitor was asked to fetch 'Ram Milan Singh' and I pitied that guy.

Kids in the class were friendly. A mix of different states that gelled very well,a perfect cosmo India. Hindi sounded strange, when the local kids used Karta, Mangta..; no gender bias .

Most of the class toppers were sincere with homework, notebooks beautifully underlined with sketch pen, very colorful; almost to the level of project work.

I could not cope with the level of tidiness, nor the punctuality. My parents unwilling to believe that investment in sketch pens fetched better marks. The beauty of the Andamans filled up the void and frustration at school.

There were unexplored coves, Lakes around my place. A Japanese bunker. Studies took time and I was not moving a notch.

With Asterix and Tintin comics, a whole new world of neat animation opened for me and my interest in Phantom and Mandrake comics died. Treasure island was still a favorite. David Copperfield moved me to tears.

Other kids from Mainland used to talk about Disney movies.
I had never seen a cartoon movie.

Arindam was my best school friend. He was fun loving and adventurous. Quite talkative contrary to me. His elder brother Arvind, was on the serious side, but the trio had splendid times.
Another colleague, Om Prakash, was the local adventurer. His dad worked in the Fire brigade.

At school we could hear explosions. On inquiry, we found that there were mines and bombs left by the Japanese during their occupation during World war 2. The Indian Army was in process of diffusing them. The weather on the islands had corroded the shell.
It was prime talk at school ; apart from recent expeditions by Indian Archaeology attempting to be-friend the Sentinel Tribals. A senior’s dad was shot at by the Sentinels with a poison arrow and had to lose an arm.

I thought of exploring the Japanese bunker someday. I talked about it with Om, Arvind and Arindam, who were very keen.

On a Sunday I was trying rant my Sanskrit , the school colleagues dropped by my house. We sneaked out, climbed down the rocky shore.

The sea water was at high tide and had cut away several places, that were usually accessible. I had not given a thought to the tide.

We waded to the bunker. The bunker had two compartments we crawled into the outer one. The floor was caked with dust, deserted for a long time.

The inner compartment was locked by a door. Om pulled out a pocket knife and struggled with the lock.

As the door opened in front of them lay a heap of Earth, some wires and overwhelming rotten smell.

If the bunker was indeed mined, a step would blow us off. We discussed the consequences. 

No one knew what lay beneath the grit. There were Indian Oil fuel tanks a hill. We decided to pull away, satisfied by our desire to break into a bunker. Next day at school was interesting as the class listened to the details of the ‘expolit’.

The jungle in the tropics was dense. The vines twisted to form tunnels. I often ventured into deeper forests.

My encounters with snakes were rare. It was one creature I detested for its slimy form and unpredictable course. The Cashew fruit was available in plenty and the kids used to feast, eventually staining the shirts.

There were few Guava trees around the colony and it gave me immense pleasure to climb up a tree unnoticed and steal ripe fruit that was out of reach. On one unfortunate venture I was bee stung in the eye, as the bee guarding the guava disagreed with my selfish motive.

The jungle had unknown creatures. At home, we used to breed chicken for eggs. Somehow, the tribe was reducing every day. Mom showed me a Ghorpad that lay underneath the bushes. The hen eater, slithered off into the dense foliage, at the blink of the eye.

Centipedes, as thick as a finger, were common. Local name Kan-khajura meant, it could crawl into the ear at night. Sleeping on ground was avoided. My toddler brother was and expert in smashing them with slippers.

We had a small garden for vegetables.

The vegetables from the ship were a week old and poor quality. Fish was available cheap and plenty.

The common pest in the garden was snails. The snail conch was as large as my fist. There was a rumor that the Japanese had bred them as a delicacy.

The snails had to be collected in a bucket. They melted into a soupy liquid, as salt was sprinkled over them.

A Krait had made itself comfortable in the Water valve pit, till it met its usual fate with a human encounter.

My trips to the Rock shore were not a secret. Someone had informed my parents.

A few friends had an idea to build a raft. There were plywood planks that were tied together.
The entire 'ship building' process had to go unnoticed, if the news of the newer exploits leaked, the venture would sink.

The raft was complete and could seat two kids at a time. As we launched our first trip across the local pond, the raft  sank almost immediately. The trips to the beach had improved swimming. Through the shipbuilding venture, we found a new pass time. Swim in the pond. The slip out procedure was simple; mostly at afternoon in holiday season. Wrap a towel and undergarments, hide it under arm and slip out of the house at scheduled time. It was all boy’s effort for complete secrecy.

I was waiting for others to join and they had not been punctual on that particular day.

I desperately hoped that no one was caught or had spilled the beans. I walked to the pond alone. As soon as I began to unbuckle, I saw ripples in the water. A very long black snake slithered over the surface of the water and was rapidly charging towards him.
 It was scary, when I realized, it would have been lurking around all these days probably with other equals.

In the evening meeting, I narrated my experience others and the rafting venture sank three days after it was floated.

The school trip to Mt Harriet was eventful.  The class got on to the ferry boat, went to a plywood factory and later climbed the highest peak near Port Blair.

A senior boy whipped the head of a viper, as it was close to make its strike on another kid.

A Viper bite on top of a mountain was fatal; it would take almost 3 hours to get him to a hospital. The boy became a hero. The Viper ended in Formalin jar in the Biology lab.

The summer vacation started and dad announced his transfer to Pune. It meant that I had no chance to say goodbye to school friends!

This was sudden and unexpected. Hopefully, Pune was another good place too. I recalled few cousins of around my age.
I would miss the sea a lot.

I went back to the rock shore for a last time. I had a last look at the bunker. (It had a new lock.) The tide was ebbing away and I could cross to the rock island with a cave. I sat there alone to hear the last bugle call from the naval ship.
I slept early for the morning flight.

The Superman and the Half marathon

The 5AM alarm woke me up. The beer did not have so much of an effect. I hoped it would help me with the run on 5th Dec. 25 years of Pune International Marathon. I remembered my Vow to finish 21 km of run.

Nitin picked me up at 6.45AM and we left the car parked at Dorabjee’s. He was committed to do his 10 km run, despite being on Antibiotics for a week. We met the other PTCites at Peter England showroom and went for a photography session. Then we walked to the Sambhaji bridge. The crowd was not the same as last marathon, I guess it had something to do with the high fees.

I registered for half marathon. There was some announcement going on and everyone was eager to make a start. The presenters were making a late start with the traditional Indian mumbo jumbo. The participants were on the verge of outrage.

The half marathon was flagged off at around 8.50AM. As I passed the Laxmi road, I saw couple of participants disappear into a public loo for a long awaited leak. I joined in as well, wondering the fate of female participants.

The first km I felt my limbs rebel from lethargy, to the sudden pace I subjected them to.

They felt heavy and cramped. I wondered about their fate after 10 kms, but kept going. At 3 kms the body was warmed up and the heaviness disappeared. Good motivation was ahead of me, as females raced by, along with veterans. I decided to maintain my pace unruffled by the overtaking crowd.

At timber market junction I grasped a bottle from the cheering crowd and emptied it over my head. Wow! This felt real good! The slow climb after the 5km stretch started and I felt pretty good. I was maintaining my pace at the Rhythm of my snapping fingers. Soon I was on the Main street. School children held their arms stretched to cheer and I waved back. Almost as if they lent me power to continue.

I felt myself reeling into a transcendental state, separating myself above the crowd. Man and superman. Thoughts come and go. I am different. So are few select. I am doing well as I deserve to. There are better candidates of course. I should look at them and not look back. Few are dropping of into a walk. I should not think of them. It is easy to give-up..Nearing 10 kms... The Koregaon park bend.

It is so easy to run.. why should it take so much more time in my car.. 10 kms done. This is just half of it and I can surely do more. I curse my decision to tie the shoe laces tight. I got painful blisters on both feet and they are giving me a bad pain. I look around for waterspots but there are none. I arrive at the bridge. Is Sujit around? I remember his accident. I pass by my office take the left turn and continue on the Kalyaninagar road. Yes. A water spot. Another empty bottle to dissipate the heat. Feels fine. Is the “Wall” another myth? That does not apply to a superman? A “gori” races ahead of me. Another “Motivation”. As I cross the Nagar road, I see Sujit waiting with his camera. Feel so good to see him, so bad that he cannot run this time.

I hit the Jail road, at around 16 kms a strange thing happens. I have never encountered anything like this before. Strange feeling of dizziness. The world spins around slowly as if I downed 5-6 pegs of hard liquor in single go. Body shivers as if I have a fever. There is a strange sensation as if someone has hard gripped my wrists. I slow down my pace to a fast walk. Fill my lungs with air. Feels better and the feeling passes. The body rebels and the superman vanishes from my thoughts.

The painful blisters remind me that all is not well. The sun is scorching and I start feeling all the agony I subjected my body to. I am comparing this with my Himalayan expeditions and I tell myself, there is no load on my back. I start into a slow run. I have passed the “Wall”.

I reach the Finis point and I see an older dude. We nod to each other. First among equals?
I consider my ill training and the only 2, 8 km runs with Zero physical activity for several months.

The Superman in me returns.