Manekshaw, the only way he could be!

Wg Cdr DP Sabharwal (retd) 

He was known for witty quips. My only one, but memorable interaction with Sam Manekshaw took place in 1984, when I was graduating from the Defence Services Staff College, Wellington, where he was the chief guest and handing over the parchment to graduating officers of the three services.

When my name was called, I walked up the podium. He greeted me with his usual smile. His handshake was firm. ‘What is your number in the college roster? I was informed there are 442 on the list?’ he asked. 

‘Four two zero, Sir,’ I replied.

‘Have an enjoyable and fruitful career young man,’ he said, as the next officer marched up to him.

After the valedictory function, I was having tea with my colleagues, when one of the directing staff came to me and said: ‘Come, the Field Marshal wants to speak to you.’

I was dumbfounded and felt as if lightning had struck me. Instantly, I looked at my uniform which was proper and well-ironed; the ribbons and the nameplate too were rightly pinned. I started recollecting if I had said something wrong while receiving the parchment from him. As I was walking to the VIP section of the lounge, I was still wondering why I had been singled out. As I approached him, I braced up as smartly as I could, amounting to saluting when not wearing a cap.

He moved sideways to place the cup of tea he was holding on the table and responded to my greetings by bracing up equally smartly. I realised why he was the first General to be elevated to the rank of Field Marshal! Then shaking my hand, and as if addressing the gathering he said: ‘I have met quite a few rogues and cheats in my service career, but today is the first time I have the privilege of not only meeting, but also shaking hands with a real 420.’

Before I could say anything, he moved a step closer and almost whispering, added: ‘I wonder how you felt to be so called for one long year, but make sure you don’t do anything wrong to be labelled thus in your future life.’ Then patting me on the shoulder, he said: ‘Have a blessed life son.’

I was 34 then, and am double that age now. In the intervening years, there were two occasions — one while still in service and another after voluntary retirement — when I was virtually on the edge of the cliff and strong currents were pushing me off the path of righteousness. Both times, his smiling but stern face appeared before my eyes.

I salute you Field Marshal for keeping me on the right track during my darkest hours!