The Batman!!!

While dating my 'fauji' for the past 9 years, the word which incessantly rang in my ears was 'Buddy'. Even on the telephone, I could make out that he was busy directing his buddy instead of concentrating on me. Believe me, it was very very frustrating when as a 'full stop' to his conversation with him, he said a word or two to me. 

For the naive, the buddy is a junior rank soldier attached to a senior officer to carry out his orders and other official tasks. The Buddy System is as old as the word Army, when it was called by lesser known names like Sahayak, Helper, Batman to name a few.

The day my husband reported to his unit after being newly commissioned, he got his first batman...DK...that's what he used to call him. DK was quick and followed his 'saab' day and night. He and his saab were expected to work as one team in the times of war to provide each other increased safety & assistance, and they practiced it in peace time too.

They saved each other from crisis - professional and personal both. DK made sure his saab was never late for the early morning PT, rubbed his saab's shoulder titles & ranks till they shone; and his saab made sure that DK's leave application was accepted without hassles. They had developed a bond with each other; a bond which was not of friendship or brotherhood; it was different and special. A bond of taking each other's responsibility upon each other. It was not forced or professional; it was implicit. At dusk, when DK used to be busy ironing his saab's uniform and his saab used to be busy attending the day's posts in his room, they had unknowingly set apart these few minutes to laugh with each other; the minutes in which they gossiped and cracked jokes and planned the tasks for the next day.

Years later I finally got married to my 'fauji' and walked into his bachelor space turning it upside down. My husband was compelled to share his cupboard space and DK his work space. DK couldn't just barge into the home; he did not get to choose his saab's civil dress now as his 'memsaab's' choice prevailed; and he didn't have to do the rounds of the mess for his saab's meals. DK was elated or dejected by this sudden change, I do not know. On one particular occasion, he even expressed his disapproval, when I re-planned the furniture placement and shifted our bar cabinet to a new corner. I guess we were vying implicitly to prove the explicit.

Despite our domestic tug-of-war, our sense of camaraderie prevailed naturally on all social fronts. If ever I faced obstruction in my new cantt life, due to my non familiarity to the army norms or the absence of my husband, DK was quick to do away the trouble. The places where ladies were not expected, DK did the job as his saab was busy playing the adjutant. On one such occasion, a jawan denied me entry to the CSD as they were winding up for lunch; by the time I made a call to my husband as there was still time to break off for lunch, DK was there at the CSD door, nudging the jawan, saying "adjutant saab ki memsaab hain"; and I was let in.

That afternoon my husband came home, hung his beret on the hanger and walked into the kitchen. "Are you free this evening", he enquired.

"Yeah, unless you take me to shopping", my optimism replied; but he seemed to ignore the humor.

"D'you mind paying a visit to DK's home?", he asked. I assumed it to be a question when he actually meant 'pay a visit to DK's home'. I had sensed the fishiness of his tone so replied in the affirmative without questions but following him into the bedroom couldn't hold my inquisition any longer and I bombarded him with queries.

DK was in a tiff with his beloved wife. The unit had limited married accommodations and DK had outstayed his tenure in the unit campus. It was now his turn to shift to the civil homes on rent so that some other jawan and his family could entail the accommodation benefits. But his wife had refused to obey as she found civil accommodation unsafe for her children. Her young mind turned down all logical and ethical reasons. He at last confided into his saab as the last resort, who chose to give woman-to-woman-talk a shot.

I couldn't recall the moment when my husband christened me a counselor; but as a dutiful wife, I reached DK's home. His wife was at the door and I greeted her; it seemed absurd at first, where to start and what to start; and just like the rising falling tides, the thought of being thought of as a meddler in her personal life was also giving me cold creeps. She was courteous to hear me out and her frequent nods melted the ice of callowness. Her last nod was a long one and I assumed it to be the right moment to give the meeting a halt. She bid me goodbye and after kissing her children I left her place. For me, the visit was dispensable from the start point because sooner or later, his wife would have to move out; she would want to do it happily or unwillingly was upon her; hence I just followed the directions given to me without churning my brain wires. I guess, the same was with her too when she entertained me as a guest. But from that day onward, our reflexes were not governed by our husbands.

We met frequently from then on, in welfare meets, 'bada khaana' and other gatherings and our relationship grew gradually; she never hesitated to bring forth anything which worried her or which required my help. And I tried my level best in all I could do for her and her kids.

Counselling sessions held for wives of jawans

I was now figuring out the actual meaning of 'Buddy'. Although the system had started years ago with 'Battle Buddy', where the respective partners were required to support each other in and out of combat, the age old system still had relevance today. It was a two way relationship and it still is. I felt myself to be responsible for the welfare of DK's family just as DK carried my husband's responsibility on his shoulders.

Months passed and the posting to the new station finally broke the monotony of my newly acquired household life after marriage. The cooking-dusting-washing exercise for 3 long months had knocked me out and I was beginning to crave for my earlier-despised 9 to 5 job; but the acclimatization to the new place had signed off my ambitious doppelganger to a hiatus.

Being social is not natural to me and it took me around 10 days, 3 casual invitations and several moments of self inducement to pay a visit to my new neighbors. As soon as I knocked on the door, somebody pulled open the door for me from behind and greeting me 'namaste memsaab', removed his shoes near the door mat and went inside. Imitating him, I too pulled open my shoes before stepping inside but my host stopped me mid way and signaled me to come in with the shoes on. My eyes followed that somebody into the kitchen where he religiously pulled out the chopping board from the rack and started slicing the veges. I made a mental note to ask my husband if we could also keep a cook for a while (I wanted a change and my husband needed a brush with reality), and the icing on the cake was that he was right in front of me.

The thought was thwarted when my subconscious mind introduced me to the fellow in the kitchen as my neighbor's sahayak. Little had I known then that it was just a peek into the new dimension of' Battle Buddy which I would be soon coming to terms with. From then on, I would encounter several sahayaks minding toddlers of officers, walking their dogs, helping with the dusting of the house, serving in personal parties and doing all sorts of jobs which I generally saw my mom doing in her civil life or for which she hired a domestic help.

During my husband's field tenure before, I had come across several soldiers who were also categorized under various trades like Chef, Dresser, Mess keeper, Steward, House Keeper etc. Although it was a bit of discomfort, to let soldiers enter my personal space and do menial jobs for me, but the limitations of the terrain left us with no other option. 

The deserted terrains of Leh..only the best of friends and worst of enemies would like to visit!!!

As the saying goes, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do', so we went with the flow.

But now when we had arrived 'elsewhere', it was distressing to see that the 'Rome culture' was still being loved here; it was distressing to see that the limitations of the service were used as its perks.

The irrelevant work space and the continuation of such things over the years not only wounds the pride & dignity a soldier feels in his uniform, it also makes their combat skills obtuse.  For instance the sahayak assigned to my husband at the new station was in the habit of offering me help in all kinds of domestic chores. He felt it was his moral obligation to attend to such things. The other morning he was quick enough to see that the maid had called it a day without disposing the garbage tin and he took it upon himself to finish off the task. I could sense the disappointment of a missed target on his face when I took the garbage bag from him and asked him to let the maid do it in the evening.

He was creative too and amused me by his expertise in creating new assignments. Once out of the blue he asked me for a needle and thread because the inappropriate length of my living room curtains was disturbing him. I guess his vision and scope of work had been broadened by multiple attachments over the years. The last day of his service with us was a big relief to me; now I didn't have to run around to make my home impeccable before his hawk eyes found a fault with it.

The scenario definitely needs realignment because somewhere our ignorance and inclination to follow unethical practices for immediate benefits, is responsible for such a tangled state of the Battle Buddy. The soldier fraternity would be fortunate if the think tanks formulate a solution to bridge the gargantuan gap between the old and the existing buddy system. But if they don't and just decide to do away with it, the army will definitely lose one of its strengths.
Ever wondered how unfortunate it would be if the consumption of honey gets banned only because it becomes toxic when heated???  Let's use it naturally and moderately and it will remain as wondrous as it is.

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