Romancing the uniform

HAVING worn the Army uniform for 37 years, I shall now switch over to civvies in the next few days. This uniform has become my ‘second skin’ (as General Pervez Musharraf would say when politicians were hell-bent on him removing it). It is indeed difficult to come to terms with the much-loved uniform resting in the wardrobe. If you see a person in civilian clothes dress up in Army uniform, you would be amazed to see the aura it adds to his personality. Medal ribands, incuding those of gallantry awards, brass stars with coloured backings, shoulder titles denoting the regiment, the red ribbon worn on a turban by a Colonel and above ranks and other accoutrements give the soldier a sense of high esteem which only he can feel. 

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Every morning, I wore the uniform ensuring that my stars were shining, boots were polished and not a thread was missing in any buttonhole of the uniform. There was never a dilemma of choice because the Red Book issued by the Army clearly defines what and how to wear. In fact, dressing in a military manner over the years gives a sense of aversion towards persons dressed rather slovenly. Once I was horrified to see my son dressed in jeans resting half way at his posterior and about to fall down, while going to college. My rebuke to him brought no change to his sense of dressing. Admonishing him, I silently wished that he joins the Army which will teach him the basics of sartorial manners. 

It gave me immense pleasure when he joined the Indian Military Academy, Dehradun, and I saw him immaculately dressed with his trousers neatly perched at his navel level, with just three buttons of his shirt visible. 

I remember a very nice ditty jotted by an Army officer in Punjabi — Ek mainu vardi piyari, duja tera piyar kude. Kihnu lahwan, kihnu pawan aukha eh sawal kude. (I love you beloved and my uniform in equal measure. Rather it is difficult to choose between the two.) 

I may be out of my uniform soon, but once a soldier, always a soldier. Being in uniform for so long becomes a way of life. It has got in my bones, my skin, and cannot be removed from my body. It will be reflected in my daily chores being done in a military fashion, be it  talking, walking, eating or having a chhota peg in the evening.