ANECDOTE SERIAL 5 ALCOHOL MY STORY

ALCOHOL:  MY STORY

Opening Comment

 

But for tasting rum, beer and brandy I never took to consuming alcohol, not even cider! In retrospect, I am proud of having made that powerful choice. 

 

Introduction 

1962, graduated from Indian Military Academy, all charged as member of the reputed fraternity of Indian Army.  With aspirations on cloud nine, reached Pathankot. From there started journey to join my unit located near Srinagar, exotic hill station. Two days journey by road was arduous yet enjoyable in the company of few fun-loving colleagues. 

Initiation into the real world was traumatic observing transformation of a 40 plus Major from fun-loving guy to lust-filled demon.   He was on way to high altitude location after two months leave with wife & children. Four of us, I was the rookie, planned to go around Srinagar City in uniform as per orders.   Unable to restrain, his lustful stare at women and shameless efforts to get contacts embarrassed us no end.  He had no qualms approaching waiters & ‘panwalas’ despite their derogatory shrug.  Reflecting on the reasons, I think, he was a victim of ‘unhealthy sexuality’. Read ‘Healthy Sexuality’.  

    

Next day I reached Unit, located on the picturesque bank of perennial River Jhelum. Commanding Officer, exuding warmth, welcomed me with a drink—soft drink was served as per my choice. I still recall his affectionate suggestion—‘whenever you decide to drink, please open a bottle of Vat 69 (expensive brand of Scotch Whisky) on my behalf! Memory is still fresh regarding his grace and style as a senior officer who inspired confidence. His hand writing conveyed neatness & organized mind; I was impressed. 

Initiation: Dining-In.    

Soon after his departure, other officers, all seniors, arrived.  We settled down in the Officers’ Mess for drinks and dinner. Overawed by presence of seniors, I declined with trepidation their insistence to have anything other than soft drink.  Conceding, they asked the waiter to serve coke.     

Unaware of the scheme, I was tricked into consuming Coca Cola-Rum-Cocktail. Its local product, was their reply to my observation ‘it tastes different’. Another drink followed. I gulped it reluctantly, still assuming it to be coke. Declined to have any more, we moved in for dinner. Night was comfortable and exciting sleeping in a tent and kerosene oil lantern for illumination. 

 

Football Field.  Early next morning, fresh and fit, I was all set to dazzle everyone with my performance as I stepped on the field.  It was also crucial to create the first impression in front of troops. Identifying with men and winning their admiration was of utmost importance to earn NOT demand respect.  While running I felt unsteady and kept tripping. Inability to gauge ball-height, it kept rolling under my foot and that too few times. It seemed as if the ball was playing with me! Match ended leaving me feeling ashamed and embarrassed.  Consolations sounded like sarcasm! 

JCOs’ Mess Dining-In. JCO—Junior Commissioned Officer perform as link between officers and men. Dining-in/out are traditional protocols to promote camaraderie. There the senior most JCO came to me with a bottle of Beer. Unhesitatingly, I declined. To ward off his insistence, I asked a  captain present to vouch for me as I did not take any alcohol at Officers’ Mess the previous day.  Smilingly he replied—‘but you drank two large rum yesterday’.  This embarrassing revelation  explained my  instability that morning. I requested for a glass of beer and served promptly. Like a novice I gulped down half glass in one swig. JCO arrived with another bottle to refill. His forcible action to top up was unacceptable as he stepped on my ego. Putting down the glass I refused to drink. Initially, no one took  me seriously until we left after dinner with ‘that tumbler-filled beer’ lying there. Cajoling  and pressures failed to influence my choice. It became a bench mark for me to say No to alcohol thereafter!

Fortnight Ordeal

Our Officers’ Mess  had shifted to an exotic and cozy House Boat. We assembled there for all meals. Dinner was special in many ways as we spent quality time bouncing off experiences and ideas. As a rookie I was on listening watch. That was the traditional expectation.  In the company of two bright and talented Captains, in particular, interactions were intellectually stimulating.  Wonderful learning opportunity that I still cherish.  They were confirmed and heavy boozers; score: one bottle of rum every day. 

After dinner they stayed back to hit the bottle and expected me (ordered in fact) to join them for company. Unsaid intention unfolded when a bottle of soda and peg of whisky was placed on the side table.  Both of them said very caringly—‘well friend we will wind up as soon as you take that drink’.  I declined. Soon they got into their usual witty mode. Admittedly, they had a wonderful sense of subtle humour akin  to  PG Woodhouse.   But for the agonizing late hours before a busy day, my fun-filled learning accelerated on full gear.   

This routine continued uninterrupted. Increasing loss of sleep and anxiety of enduring late night ordeals again was unnerving. Helplessness in finding solution enhanced the level of stress. By fourteenth day my determination to hold on to my choice started wavering.  The same scenario was repeated after dinner on that ‘Day of No Return’ except that they gave an ultimatum saying—‘if you do not give up your stubborn choice, we will dip you inside Jhelum and push the drink down your throat’.  Though tossing with the idea of succumbing, I put on a courageous face to say—‘Sir, if you do it by force, I can do nothing ’.  

Welcome surprise! Within half an hour both got up. ‘You are a hard nut to crack. Good night’ was their parting statement on that momentous night. They never bothered me later.  In fact our bonding strengthened as they appreciated my commitment to resolution. 

I met one of them many years later. While exchanging pleasantries he said—‘I am sure you couldn’t have started drinking’.   This high caliber officer finally retired as Lieutenant General.   

Reading my story, reader(s) may be convinced of a fact of life—‘No one can force choice without his/her permission’.  

A Truism:  I am a product of my choices not environment and genes!