Spice of life | NDA is our DNA: Back in form of uniform days

It took time to match names to faces in some cases where youthful looks had succumbed to balding or greying out. Thankfully, the change was only in appearance and not their idiosyncratic traits

“Dear Makra Cadet (the expression used for us by instructors at the National Defence Academy), your course mates are delighted to welcome you to celebrate 30 years reunion of the NDA course”; this billboard at the reception had an electrifying effect. For the next 72 hours, our pack of more than three score officers and their families left a trail as it waded through the sandy beach of Mandrem, Goa. The mood of the moment was such that we delinked ourselves from work, family commitments, anxieties and stresses of daily lives.

The reunion of the Band of Brothers (the name we are known by) was a wonderful travel back in time with a good number travelling from across the globe to relive fond memories of those difficult academy days. (Image source: National Defence Academy)

With the fear of the pandemic at its lowest ebb, it was time to ride the high tides and let your hair down. The reunion of the Band of Brothers (the name we are known by) was a wonderful travel back in time with a good number travelling from across the globe to relive fond memories of those difficult academy days. It took time to match names to faces in some cases where youthful looks had succumbed to balding or greying out. Thankfully, the change was only in appearance and not their idiosyncratic traits.

Many a future Generals, Admirals and Marshals were captured in camera being unapologetically themselves. Some mavericks performed the ‘pole dance’ and ‘Beedi jalailey’ shakes so well that Russian troupe girls at the venue felt professionally threatened and insecure. Some like me who have never run unless threatened by circumstances were seen jogging on the beach as soon as eastern horizons got lighter. The glint in everybody’s eyes indicated a strong defiance of age, which in any case was just a number.

Our ladies, attired in their best dresses, added glamour to the reunion. They were a sport to their ‘juvenile’ hubbies, each one in his element, narrating anecdotes and exploits of his cadet days with no fear of being judged. No one was conscious of their complacent potbellies or white-haired chests even as their better halves looked way younger. One does get over such trivial bugbears when on the wrong side of 50. That they would all pull in their tummy before the camera is just a subconscious programme of this age.

Health was the last thing on the minds of those battling issues of weight, blood pressure or body aches earned in combat. The dopamine surge would certainly have taken care of our vitals counterbalancing the hangover and tanked-up livers. Many, however, had sore throats due to excessive vocal exercise; those three days were a midlife upgrade in the true sense.

At the end of the bonhomie, overwhelmed with gratitude, there was a thunderous applause for the organisers. Be it the selection of venue, theme-based events and menus or curating of goody bags with customised souvenirs, these volunteers from our own stock had got into the minutest of details to make the occasion a grand success with enthusiastic participation. Before biding adieu, we were already planning our next ‘overhaul’ so essential for rejuvenating humdrum lives.

“I have seldom seen you in this form earlier,” my wife said. “NDA is my true DNA,” was my brief explanation as we took off from Dabolim. harrypal71@yahoo.co.in

The writer is a Mohali-based freelance contributor