On A Cat on Cold Tin Roof

I came across a cat in the academy today. In itself it is nothing to write about. However, it is the first time I have noticed a cat. Dogs, monkeys and langurs make up the fauna of the academy. Stray cows too. A stray cat is a strange sight and hence it merited a mention. It jumped in the cold air from the Happy Valley Hostel, sauntered across the 135 degree wide stairs and leaped on to the Unhappy Plateau Hostel roof. 

Cat on a cold tin roof.

The cat then proceeded to the Gandhi Smriti Library and pawed at books yellowed from the Hippie days, the pages brittle as the bones of the rainbow generation. The curious cat browsed through the books kept at the shelves at the end of the book racks, the books that the batch of OTs had gotten issued, read and returned. There were books on law, public administration, warfare, economics, poverty. The cat's curiosity was aroused, however, by the books at the English fiction section. Camus and Wodehouse were being read. Good for the batch, the voyeuristic cat thought, good for the batch for reading more than PowerPoint presentations of subjects, good of them for consuming more than mere slide handouts. But what is this? 'Chicken Soup for the Couple's Soul'?!

The thought of chicken soup made the cat hungry. The cat went to the A.N. Jha Plaza cafe for a cup of coffee with a dash of strawberry syrup and pretty lady OTs for company.

The cat walked in to the Sampoornanand auditorium and listened in on few lectures. Insincere sounding media men and earnest senior civil servants lectured on topics dear to their hearts. The OTs nodded in agreement or in sleep. Few OTs  spoke among themselves. Their thoughts were bubbles rising from vats of boiling tar, the thoughts were tar bubbles, ink black demons and they rose from the mouths of these OTs, floated up a little and then burst, staining the shirts and sticking to hair of fellow OTs, irritating them. The cat decided to shred the demons of distraction to shreds and scratch the presumptuous OTs, scratching away the thick blanket of arrogance with which they cloak themselves. These narcissistic fish think nothing of talking aloud in the class. They love to hear their voice and think everyone does too. 

'Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.' (T.S. Eliot)

Our cat makes short work of these blow fishes, leaps across the valleys, ridge to ridge, peak to peak, in to the distant sun set, in to reluctant night, in to chalked out horizons.

The cat then woke up and found itself in the Happy Valley Ground, it appeared from a winter of discontent. It performed slick moves as an aerobics practitioner, all the while imagining the feline female forms in unitards, actresses escaped from Cats.

On Fete

The Fete (none found a snappy Hindi noun to clothe the event with) was conducted today. In its simplest form, a fete in the academy is a public function in the Happy Valley ground with around 15 stalls for food and 15 for games. The fete was visited by the faculty and their family members, staff and their family members, select school students (think Waverly etc) and of course the OTs. The proceeds from the sale of coupons were earmarked for a noble cause. The OTs man the stalls and with the help (considerable help) of the competent mess staff, they prepare eatables which are sold to the visitors. The visitors are also enticed to play at the game stalls. The groups of students manning the stalls have various coordinators and assorted characters and roles. However, civil servants being civil servants, the fete was preceded by many rounds of meetings and cluelessness (at least on the part of few groups) of OTs as to what it all meant. All is well that ends well, and so we can declare the fete and the efforts that went behind it commendable and an unqualified success.  On offer at the food stalls were biryanis of different regions, vegetarian options galore, beverages and sweet dishes while at the game stalls one had the option to choose from archery, games of fortune, fun activities like 'jail,' where anyone could be recommended for a stint at the corrective facility or a bail amount of sufficient quantity if posted coud get you exempted from confinement. Overall, the visitor headcount was good and I can speak for my groups that our books are in the black after a day long exertion. The games were engaging, one hopes, to the schoool kids as well as the child like OTs. 

What was the objective of the fete? Was it to raise funds? Was it to give a first hand experience of public interaction and service in a controlled environment of a fete, to the civil servants under training? Was it to give a chance for the public at large to interact with the civil servants in an informal manner? It was amusing and illustrative to observe shy school girls from the Happy Valley area approach one's food counter for a helping of a delicious brownie with ice cream and chocolate sauce and when served less chocolate sauce than what they felt was deserved for the price they paid, demand more in unequivocal terms. And on the other hand, one wonders if the profit motive should be the sole motive for civil servants. If a not snot nosed kid comes up to you and hands over a ticket of a small value and insists that he be servedice cream, what should the civil servants do? We just hand over the ice cream with chocolate sauce without a murmur. I appreciate my group mates for displaying compassion and empathy.

Wake me up when September ends.

He felt as if few none too lightweight fairies were resting on his eyelids, sending him to the land of sweet slumber. He slapped himself from time to time to snap out of the extreme torpor. There was no charm in sleeping during class time. Sleep bore down on him, loosening his will, loosening the joints of his limbs. Sleep bore down on him like a cascade. He felt heavy, like water. He felt his skin bulge like the skin of a water bag. Then he fell headlong into sleep and woke up after September ended.

Hear it from the horse's mouth

Hear it straight from the horse's mouth, then: Dear readers of KS's blog. I am Tin Tin. I am a chestnut brown horse, 5 years old. I have beautiful black mane and my groomer is quite good at his job. Therefore the chestnut skin glows like molten Dairy Milk, especially when my thigh muscles ripple whenever I gallop. And gallop I like to do. Often. Alas! I am not free to gallop to my liking, though. I was born and brought up in the Indian Army. At Equine Breeding Stud, Babugarh to be precise. The first letter of the place of my birth and the last digit of the year of my birth are branded on to my left thigh. So, I have B9 with an arrow mark pointed upwards indicating my ownership by the army. I was born in 2009.

While the OT group of about 28 (us horses are good at numbers, among other things) gathered in a circle about the Riding Instructor (RI), the riding assistant (helper etc) helped demonstrate to the OTs how to unshoe me, clip my nails, brush my mane and how to saddle me up. The Riding Instructor is a 6.5 ft tall gentleman from the President's Bodyguard. The OTs were also instructed on how to mount and dismount a horse. Grab the rein in the left hand, grab the pommel with the left hand, stirrup leather to face you, left foot in the stirrup, haul yourself up on your left leg, haul your right leg over the cantle on to the right side, sit, take better grip of the rein, snag the right foot in the stirrup. The RI explained to the OTs the dietary requirements of us horses and I could see one fat, round OT shift uneasily on his feet at how many kilos of different kinds of sprouts, jaggery, salt, mustard/fish oil we are fed. Was he hungry or did all those kilos mentioned remind him of how less he was eating?

We were a bunch of 17 horses, of different ages and colours. The riding assistants had worn us out previously so that we would be tired and less frisky when the OTs would decide to ride us. Soon enough, as Fate would have it, that fat, round OT was assigned to me. He had some difficulty  mounting but once he was settled in the seat of the saddle, he seemed content just to be where he was. Probably he had never seen the world from these commanding heights. We were led by the riding assistants on a round of the riding grounds. The OT assigned to me pulled the rein too hard initially, which is a sort of a brake for me, so I stopped, bringing the group of horses at my back to a halt. The riding assistant asked him to loosen the rein and things were all right from then on. Press the heel of the corresponding leg to go in that direction, pull back the rein to brake, press both the heels to move forward. Basic movements. The Riding Instructor asked the OTs to slap our necks in appreciation. In the good old military fashion, it was an 'ek do ek' of appreciation shown. The OTs dismounted and thanked the riding assistants and walked to our front. The RI instructed the OTs not to move to our back without intimating us. A well placed kicking of an IAS officer is therefore missing from my account.

Riding ground where Tin Tin and KS met

A fat, round OT's account: You could hear the 'clop, clop, clop' of their horse shoes on the steep, cemented road running from the Silverwood hostel near the academy gate all the way down to the Polo grounds. Over and from between the tree tops one could catch glimpses of the riders in riding helmets, riding breeches and riding boots, every bit equestrian and smart. When my turn came for riding a horse, a chestnut brown one, I was a bit apprehensive. However, my heart rate stabilized soon and though I looked ridiculous riding a horse while clothed in formal wear, I might have also looked like a fat, brown saheb on his brown horse. We were asked to slap the neck and the back of the horse to show our appreciation. It came naturally to me, the appreciation in 'ek do ek' time period.

One juggles, one struggles.

One juggles, one struggles.

The academic sessions have started. A common complaint of the OTs seems to be a struggle to remain awake during the classes. In all fairness, this is not a reflection on the faculty or the course content. Instead, it is a race to adjust to the changed circumstances of structured physical exercise in the morning and classes all day. Hopefully we should be able to win this race.

I see no point in updating details of the classes. I might just as well upload the course PPTs and the time table. If I persist on insisting on writing about the going-ons of this place, this will turn irrelevant. However, I shall try my best to capture the interstitial spaces and times. I shall try to write about the reading in between the lines.

There is a great deal to do at the LBSNAA for the OTs. There are extra course modules specifically designed to let an OT hone her skills or pick up new ones. The OTs are also expected to learn a new language. The idea is to push the OTs out of their comfort zone.

Yours truly has opted for, and has been allotted to, horse riding. Yes, I too am thinking Sea Biscuit. Or Black Beauty. That is how far my knowledge of horses and riding extends. This promises to be a novel experience. We can hear it straight from the horse's mouth in the future. :)

So help me god...

Thus the oath was rounded off with a hope that deity or deities of one's faith would help an administrator bear allegiance to the Constitution of India. A clause for conscientious objectors was inserted advising them to only solemnly affirm.

The Honourable Vice President of India, Shri M. Hamid Ansari, administered the oath to the Officer Trainees of the 89th Foundation Course. Prior to that, the inaugural ceremony started off with the national anthem, address by the Course Coordinator,  Director of the Academy, his Excellency the Governor of Uttarakhand and by the honourable Vice President. It may be of interest to note that the honourable VP is an alumnus of the institute having undergone the Foundation Course himself in 1961. One may find the gist of the dignitaries' speeches in news reports. Hence, I am skipping that part.

The course coordinator and the faculty introduced the course module to the OTs in rest of the sessions. A session on Official Language Policy was helpful in shattering myths and preconceived notions regarding the official language. The distinction between national language and official language (rashtra bhasha and raj bhasha) was clearly explained. The visiting faculty, Shmt. Veena Upadhyaya highlighted the nuances in various laws enacted to promote the official language. The question and answer session was informative as well, as the OTs brought in a contemporary perspective in understanding the language debate.

The inaugural ceremony and the orientation sessions were held in the Sampoornanand Auditorium located opposite to the reception area of the academy. The auditorium has an impressive octagonal roof and can seat, as per my estimate, close to 400 people at a time. The auditorium may double up as a theatre for one noticed the cluster of stage lamps overhead on the stage. I was reminded of my days as the lights boy for RK Hall (IIT KGP) dramatics team. It involved rotating a dial on the resistor from a cubby hole above the stage and out of view of the audience. I was a witness for many a fade in and a fade out and gimmicky light effects. The sound was crisp owing to the Bose sound system in place.

The OTs once free from the classes were seen clicking pictures of themselves in the ceremonial attire, around the campus. A point midway between Karmshila and Kalindi buildings (Karmshila houses the Officers' mess, Library, class rooms and Kalindi houses the VIP guest house) offers good view of the mountains all the way up to the Gangotri on a clear day, according to the guide to the peaks placed on a bronze plaque there.

The bandhgala is a tough dress to wear for long periods of time. I felt suffocated and hot all the while I was wearing it, for a good 8 hours. 

I got some time to explore the Gandhi Smriti Library. It is well stocked with journals, books, magazines, reference books, news papers, terminals for accessing the net etc. The feature that attracted my attention the most was the not insubstantial collection of fiction. The duration of Foundation Course, Phase 1 and 2 can be well spent with these books. 

The grind of the FC starts from tomorrow with the famed PT at the polo grounds at 5.55 am. The polo grounds are around 1.5 km from and below the Ganga hostel, reached by a steep path. The ascent will be a challenge. But then which ascent has not been a challenge? And it is not even the Everest, for crying out loud. It is a side of the Happy Valley. As a slogan goes, "No race, no rally, just enjoy the Happy Valley."

I clicked few photos of the campus. Next post, may be? However, I prefer my thousand words to my one blurry photo.

I do not see this daily blogging habit sustaining over a long time. May be this may turn in to a weekly update affair. Let us see how it goes.