Flashback From The Past: AIR FORCE BRAT

#by Gitanjali, Bridgewood A

 Kids growing up in military regiments are often referred to as “military brats” but my story refers to The Indian Air Force where my father served as a Meteorological Officer, in short, ‘the weather man’.

That's me with an aircraft just landing behind our house. The balloon I am blowing is hoisted up a pole to show the direction of the wind for the meteorological officer to forecast the weather!

 So, all his ‘postings’ were at ‘flying stations’. The most impressionable stint for me was our 4 years in Jorhat. Impressionable, because I was between the age of 4 to 8 years, and I was “home schooled” during this period. Apparently, I was attending a play school in Agra when we were tossed across the country to Jorhat. Mom was the only lady in the camp and I was the only child. All other officers preferred to leave their families behind but my mother would countenance no such decision by my father.  A journey to Jorhat meant crossing the Brahmaputra River twice by ferry and waiting for hours at railway stations for connecting trains. Dad was given a revolver to carry, the rule of the day, which instead giving a feeling of security to Mom, made her constantly worry that dacoits would over power my father to grab it!

Our house was rather big for a family of three, so Mom converted one of the rooms into a school with separate teacher’s and student’s desks and chairs, complete with blackboard and bookshelves; and I had to observe strict tuition timings. And thus began the one-teacher-one-student classroom. Various subjects were taught, including hobby classes such as knitting, crochet and gardening. My knitting skills, in later years came in handy when I contributed sweaters and socks to the hampers that were sent by the Air Force Ladies Club in Chandigarh, to the jawans serving at the Chinese border.

Our home was surrounded by thick tall grass and we had many adventures living there. Almost every night jackals howled just outside our fence. A couple of times snakes sneaked in. One had to be careful of scorpions and leeches while walking in the garden. The highlight of our stay was when a rhinoceros wandered into the Air Force Station from the Kaziranga National Park!

The ‘aerodrome’, as we called the airport, was just behind our house and all the pilots lived across our house in bachelors’ barracks, they received Cadbury’s chocolates as “flying rations” after every sortie. Needless to say, my sweet tooth developed right there, and even to this day my fridge is always stocked with chocolates…

Other families slowly trickled in a year after we moved but still there was no English school in the vicinity. To my joy, two other kids came to live in our camp. Life was one long picnic for 4 years – trips to the Sulphur springs on Holi, visits to tea gardens on weekends… and every festival was celebrated by everyone. My parents played badminton in a court which was an extension of our home. A gramophone was bought for the Officer’s Mess and everyone danced at parties. Dad, who was raised in Rangoon and possessed the necessary skills, was the official “Ballroom Dancing” teacher!

Well, all good things come to an end and my parents realized that I was having a bit too much fun. Moreover, my elder sister was in boarding school in faraway Madurai. My father started moving papers, requesting for a transfer to South India. He was issued transfer orders out of Jorhat twice, but each time his replacement would pull strings at Air Head Quarters and have them cancelled - even after all our belongings were packed and we had attended all our farewell parties. The second time Dad’s transfer got cancelled post the second round of farewell parties, Mom refused to unpack, so we lived of deal wood cases and spartan kitchen vessels for a few months until the much awaited replacement officer arrived!

All these stories are as told to me by my parents…