Royalty redux at NDA

Maj Gen Raj Mehta (Retd)

Acavalry veteran, I respect change but get distraught when, at times, our armed forces violate their understated fail-safe ‘hastening slowly’ rule in invoking radical change. The need to break free from our colonial past is incontestable but how much is irrelevant needs a sense-and-sensibility-driven approach. ‘Hastening slowly’ can be re-positioned from being a smart oxymoron to a status wherein our haste to dump the past doesn’t return to haunt us.

These conflicting thoughts were temporarily overwritten in my mind by the superbly choreographed spectacle of Queen Elizabeth’s earthly journey ending as her coffin was carried to St George’s Chapel for burial by her scarlet-uniformed Grenadier Guards, escorted by her resplendent, mounted Household Cavalry.

Draped in her Royal Standard, her coffin shorn of its symbols of royalty and power — her bejewelled orb, sceptre and Koh-i-noor-embellished crown — a poignant, haunting, traditional lament, ‘Sleep, dearie, sleep’ was played out by Paul Burns, her Scottish Royal Bagpiper. As the lament faded away, the lone piper symbolically walked out of the chapel… Elizabeth’s story had ended.

My mind did a royalty redux as I recalled the shock and awe when I, a Short Service Commission (SSC) officer, was posted to the National Defence Academy (NDA). It had received orders to accept SSC officers but rigorous ‘performance appraisal’ of those posted was imperative; an unprecedented change inviting mutual apprehension. In the hard work that followed, I saw the first of three chances to clear the prestigious, tough-as-nails Defence Services Staff College (DSSC) examination disappear: I was on ‘probation’, I was told. When the second chance came, it was announced that Queen Elizabeth II was visiting the NDA for the 65th Course Passing Out Parade.

The Commandant, Rear Admiral Ravi Sawhney from NDA’s first batch — a handsome, florid man in knife-edged ceremonials, sword, aiguillette and medals — made it clear in the Queen’s English that the parade would be memorable not just for the visiting royalty but also in making a statement with a performance of ‘NDA’, not ‘Sandhurst’, standards by proud cadets of a resurgent India. I didn’t bellyache. Officers don’t.

That pleasant winter day of November 21, 1983, the Queen’s gracious words of praise and endearment for the meticulously-choreographed parade and linked ceremonial/social events made us walk tall. ‘They’ve set world standards’; so the Queen implied, as did proud Air Chief Dilbagh Singh who’d reviewed the parade. The bursting-with-pride cadets marched out on Scot poet Robert Burns’ poesy/music of Auld Lang Syne….

I followed their lead, clearing the DSSC exam on the last chance.

The Queen has departed. Auld Lang Syne has departed, as has ‘Abide with me’. Our colonial past, however, needs time before deciding what’s worth trashing or retaining. Hasten slowly.

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