Forget at your own peril!

Raj Kadyan

Raj Kadyan

In 1969, I was appearing in the Army’s Part ‘D’ promotion examination. This was a six-subject written test, passing which was mandatory for promotion to the rank of Major. There were cases where officers were compulsorily retired as Captains if they did not clear the test in maximum 22 years. Being on leave, I had chosen Delhi Cantt as my exam centre. One evening, I was summoned by our centre Adjutant, who introduced me to Captain V, saying that he was in his 22nd year of service and had repeatedly failed in his military history paper, scheduled the following day. My help was sought. All this while, Captain V sat woodenly, nursing his drink.

While in ‘competitive’ exams, other candidates may complain, help for last-chance cases in promotion exams was generally overlooked. Captain V walked up to me from three tables behind, wanting to know the role played by the British navy in the 1915 Palestine campaign. ‘Sir, first coastal bombardment, second escort of merchant shipping, third…’ He raised a restraining hand. ‘Young man, if I could remember more than two, I wouldn’t have bothered you. I will come back.’ He walked away, moving his thumb over his fingertips.

There is a popular anecdote of a forgetful someone who landed in the office with a red string tied around his little finger. He explained that he was required to post his wife’s letter and the string was a reminder. Had he posted the letter? He sighed, ‘She forgot to give the letter!’

An acquaintance was known to be forgetful. A story concerning his rakhi visit to his sister along with his wife carried repeated relish. On the way back, they halted their scooter at a level crossing. Since the wait was long, the wife got down. When the barrier lifted, he took off. A passerby saw the woman waving frantically and stopped him. On reaching home, they realised he had forgotten the house keys at his sister’s. Asking the wife to wait, he drove back. While the sister was surprised to see him, he could not remember why he was there!

As cadets, two water sterilising tablets were part of our kit. One tablet was white, the other blue. After putting one in the bottle, we were to wait for half an hour, put the second, shake the bottle and drink. We invariably messed the sequence and ended up drinking either unsterilised water or drank it with a strong chlorine taste. We were told to follow the sequence of the first letters ‘W’ and ‘B’ of the water bottle. Thereafter, I never forgot the sequence.

But acronyms can be problematic, too. My wife once asked me to buy grocery. I created the popular acronym ‘OBC’ for onion, bhindi, cabbage. I ended up buying onions, brinjal, carrots.

With age, memory plays more truant. One morning, the wife was unusually po-faced. Truth dawned only when our daughter called to wish her a happy birthday. Two days later, she was still monosyllabic.

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