THE PLAIN SPEAK OF MOHAMMAD COL IPS KOHLI There had been a bereavement . The bhog was at a gurudwara in Mohali. On Sundays gurudwaras pack a tight schedule. One lot comes out beaming after the marriage ceremonies. The lot heading in could be in a sombre mood. The earlier function was yet not over necessitating a wait outside. Somebody tapped me on the shoulder from behind. I looked back and saw a frail elderly Sikh with a flowing beard wanting to talk to me. I found it strange that he spoke in chaste Hindi and only a smattering of imperfect Punjabi. What he said was certainly not flattering. ‘Aap itne budsoorat kab se hogaye? Pehle jab aap chhutti aate the to vardi me kitne achhe dikhaayi dete the’. I realized the person feeding my ego was Mohammad, the Bihari gardener who had worked in our house many years ago when we lived in Mohali. When and why he converted was not my concern. I thanked waheguru ( sikh god )that my wife was not within hearing distance when the tribute to my fine looks and appearance was paid. What Mohammad said made me do some soul searching. His plain speak was tragi-comic. ‘Aaina mujhse meri pehli si soorat maange’. Genetically ours is a family of heavy weights. In addition, freed of the exacting physical standards which the army demands, post retirement I had let myself go. Love for the good life especially after sun set had taken a toll and I ended up putting on weight. When undergoing an ‘Annual Medical Examination’ many years ago, the Army doctor after seeing a few lab reports and the blood pressure asked since when have you been drinking and how much do you drink? If I had answered truthfully, he would have referred me to a psychiatrist. I went to school during the fountain pen era. While my academic performance was nothing much to write home about, I still carried four pens to school. One contained ink and the other three whiskies whacked from my father’s well stocked cellar. As to the question how much? The truth -------- ‘kabhi yun hi to kabhi tol ke pi hai maine. Mudda yeh, ke jee khol ke pi hai maine. Naar e dozakh (fires that burn in hell) se daraata hai mujhe eh vaaiz (Preacher) Aag paani mein bahut ghol ke pi hai maine.’ Since retirement from the Army in 2009, the corporate hospitals chain that the tricity boasts of, have dipped their hands into the ECHS till with gay abandon. (A health scheme for the retired Armed Forces personnel). An angio, a pacemaker, a Cpap and treatment for several other self inflicted miseries later, and, with the health no better, I accept the devil lies within. I now follow a saner routine and look forward to meeting an admiring Mohammad Singh singing hosannas to my looks.
Posted on: Wed, 22 Oct 2014 07:26:13 +0000
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