A General with an eye for detail

The tension at Delhi Cantonment’s Parade Ground that cold, grey morning in January 1991 was palpable. The redoubtable Army Chief Gen SF (Roddy) Rodrigues was about to arrive for an operational briefing. Urbane, he was known to arrive fully clued in and skewer ill-prepared officers with a razor-sharp intellect, mastery over the English language and sardonic humour.

The first second-in-command (this appointment is rightly parodied as “Na main nar, na main nari… mai up-kaman-adhikari’ because the appointment primarily handles administrative/social charters) of the newly raised T-72M ‘Digvijay’ tank regiment, I’d been in the ‘hot seat’ as the newly appointed CO for barely three days when I was buzzed by Anil, my Adjutant: “Good start to your command, sir! The GOC, Armoured Division, will speak to you.”

God, I wondered, has some snafu occurred? The GOC, however, sounded cheerful. “The Chief’s visit here is called off. His radio trials briefing is very germane and slated for the coming Monday at Delhi. I’ve nominated you. A Panzer commander, you’re free to choose the briefing mode, but you know him! Cross-check thoroughly and be ready for contingencies!”

We laughed. The Cavalry is like that: not rank-conscious in permitting respectful ribbing to dissipate work stress. Awaiting the Chief’s arrival, I sat black dungaree-clad on my tank’s turret ruminating over the hectic schedule of the last three days. The staff had transported the briefing tank to Delhi, coordinating the complex aspects of VVIP interaction. I called up a Gunner friend. “He has sharp recall; is professionally demanding but if you’re clear and bold, he’ll listen carefully. If he’s satisfied, you’ll know. The rest is all rubbish — idle langar gup.

A Chief at close quarters can seem imposing. ‘Roddy’ had on arrival met the crew and I with flair; taken in the briefing layout in one all-encompassing glance: the computer graphics on the tank deck; his horsehair crew-blanket cushioned turret seating, the alert crew and a briefer who respectfully locked eyes with him. “I know you’ll ask detailed questions at the end and hope to satisfy you before requesting your approval.” He replied: “Rascal! Taking out a rain cheque, are you?” His accompanying blasé smile was nectar.

Comfortable with hot, heavily-sugared tea and pinnis, the Chief absorbed the briefing content, graphics and body language. Clearly, he had not just understood the nitty-gritty but had gone well beyond. This was reinforced by his firm departure handshake.

Years later, ‘Roddy’ became the Punjab Governor. Having retired in June 2006, I was nominated later to a Governor’s Committee seeking veteran facilitation ideas. On our first meeting, our eyes locked. “Rascal,” he recalled. We hugged.

You’ll be missed, ‘Roddy’ sir. You helped me learn, unlearn, grow. I remain indebted.