Temporary Duty at Bareilly Air Force Station

The bus journey from ISBT to Bareilly was a memorable one. For those not in the know, ISBT was the short firm of Inter State Bus Terminus and it was a massive affair – the time was December 1982 and the route passed through forests and dangerous terrain. There was an armed guard inside the bus and, along the route, there were policemen on horses. It was assuring because the region was notorious for dacoits. Anyway, we reached Bareilly early morning and my colleague took me to his house. Both of us were tired and fell asleep and when we woke up it was quite late. We finished a hurried breakfast – and, here also, there were chapatis with curd and pickles. It was similar to the combination that I had in Delhi – curd and pickles for breakfast even in winter is something that the north Indians relish.

Breakfast over, both of us came to the Air Force mess where I kept my suitcase. Then we went to the office of the Service Engineer. It was a single room assigned to the Service Engineers of HAL Nashik Division and HAL Koraput Division. The engineer of Koraput Division had to give coverage for the engines. He was a Bengali and my colleague introduced me to him and left to finish some unfinished work. And, the two of us spent the rest of the day taking stock of the inventory of various papers, drawings, documents that were being held in the custody of my colleague. However, my colleague did not turn up for the rest of the day. Neither did he come to office next morning. Therefore, in consultation with the Koraput service engineer, we decided to complete the handing-over taking-over formalities. He signed as ‘handed-over’ and I signed as ‘taken-over’. Then I had my lunch and took a cycle rickshaw to Bareilly railway station. I had to now proceed to Tejpur to take over that inventory as well. And, for my journey to Tejpur, I had to first reach Kolkata and from there take a flight to Tejpur. (to be continued ..)


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Pitfalls of Temporary Duty – the Delhi-Bareilly experience

As a member of Customer Services it was but natural that I proceed on Temporary Duty to Air Force locations, sometimes at short notice. It began with my first TD to Air Force bases at Bareilly in UP and Tejpur in Assam. I had got a promotion and, while my immediate boss wanted to retain me in the office, his boss wanted that I go to some Air Force base. And, as luck would have it, one of our Service Engineers was retiring and I was asked to take over the inventory from him. He held charge of two bases – one at Bareilly, the other at Tejpur.
The time was December and it was my first ever TD – I expected to get guidance from the officer who was retiring. But, it turned out that he was not happy with our boss because his request for extension had not been approved. Hence, he bore a grudge against him.

Unfortunately, he was a Bengali, hence, my colleague wanted to vent his anger on me.
Anyway, the journey from Nashik Road to New Delhi was uneventful. We had boarded the Punjab Mail and, in those days, there was a First Class compartment. By manipulating with the TTE, my colleague managed to wrangle a couple of berths for us.
We got down at Faridabad and took a cycle rickshaw to the house of my friend’s son in law – it was terribly cold as it usually is in Delhi in the middle of December. The cyclerickshaw-wallahs had covered themselves in blankets and pedaled without removing the coverings. After a north Indian dinner we retired for the night.
Next morning, he wanted to go to the Air Headquarters – to follow up his request for extension. I tagged along with him and, saw some important landmarks of New Delhi. Then we went to the house of another of his son-in-laws in Delhi for lunch. Our plan was to leave for Bareilly by taking a bus from ISBT - accordingly, I arrived at ISBT by evening but my friend was nowhere to be seen. I rang up his daughter and she said he had already left. I was getting in a panic because one bus was getting ready to leave for Bareilly when I saw him coming. (to be continued …)


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Tagore and aircraft manufacturing do not gel

I have been asked any number of times as to how I landed up in the Customer Services department and no one would believe that Tagore was responsible. Yes, the very same Rabindranath Tagore, the name every Bengali swears by.
The fact of the matter was my involvement in the Tagore birthday celebrations. The Bengali community wanted to put up a small play and they wanted me to select a story, write the script and help in directing it. Well – that was not much of a problem. There was sufficient time and once the script was approved, rehearsals began in the evenings. It would be held on the rooftop of one of the actors.

The venue of the program was supposed to be the School auditorium and I was under the impression that the Bengali club would get the approval from the school. But, at the last minute. I got to know that they had not bothered presuming that I would get the permission.
Well – I had an argument with one of the club members that led to high blood pressure. I was hospitalized and my doctor, a very strict doctor, wanted me to come over for periodic checkup every fortnight. He had prescribed medicines and the effect of those medicines was that I became like a zombie. I began to forget simple things like the names of technicians working under me.
My doctor was a chain smoker and, forbade me from smoking. When I pointed this out to him, he smiled and replied – I may be a chain smoker but I can float in the water for hours. Can you?
Anyway, I was stuck with the situation and finally requested my boss for a transfer. And, that is how I landed up in a department where all my colleagues were near to retirement.
Incidentally, when next I visited Kolkata, I got myself checked up by a specialist and he informed that my physical condition was not bad and I could safely discontinue all medicines. It was a huge relief. (to be continued …)


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Computerization is fun - to get any data anywhere

My first adventure into the world of computers encouraged me to venture further. As expected, my boss was happy with the computerized outputs of the monthly statements to Corporate Office, Bangalore. It may be noted that Mig-21 fighter aircraft were the lifeline of the IAF and there were hundreds of them operating in various bases. Some of these bases were near the sea, others near deserts and, others in mountainous terrains where the temperatures plummeted to below zero degrees Celsius.

Obviously, the wear and tear on each of the aircraft was different.
Therefore, whenever information was received about any accident or incident to any MiG-aircraft, the General Manager would want to know the history of the aircraft. Such information gets transmitted very fast to senior formations of both the IAF as well as HAL who are the manufacturers or who have carried out the overhaul and the GM wants to be ready with all possible answers.
Until the aircraft data had been computerized, this information would have to be retrieved by going through the respective aircraft file and then the data would be typewritten on a sheet of paper and sent to the office of the GM.
With the computerization of the data, it was possible for the General Manager to see the data of the aircraft on his own computer screen. But, then, new questions arose. If an accident had taken place, was it a first-off or were there previous similar accidents? Has any improvement has been thought of? Does it involve any special kits? Has IAF placed orders for these kits? Has HAL supplied any kits?
The questions were many and, there was a need to extend computerization to other related areas and make the data more comprehensive. (to be continued …)


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Getting to know the computer programmers

Since I had already had preliminary discussions with the computer people, the letter from my boss made it easy for me to proceed further. But, the boss of computers had a question. His people would get the data inserted in the computer files as a one time basis. Subsequently, I would have to arrange to keep the file updated. Then only can necessary reports be generated. I had two reports in mind.
The first report was ‘Input Output of aircraft in the month’. This was, as its name implied, details of aircraft that had been either delivered to IAF after manufacture or overhaul or received from IAF for overhaul.

The second report was about the various accidents and incidents pertaining to the MiG-21 fighter aircraft and reported to HAL Nashik.
Both reports had to be sent to our Corporate Office in Bangalore in the first week of every month. Before I came on the scene, these reports used to be prepared manually, typed and then dispatched. I wanted to create the reports through the mainframe computer.
Once we came to the same frequency, I handed over to them an initial set of data pertaining to aircraft as well as accidents and incidents along with a set of alpha-numeric codes. And – the programmer assigned to do the work agreed to write the necessary programs.
She was the daughter of one of my earlier bosses and a willing learner. I had to explain the logic to her and she would write and rewrite the programs so that the outputs were satisfactory. Moreover, she had to write programs for entry of data into the computer files – this would have to be done by the clerks in my section who are assigned to do such work manually.
She had to, also, write a program to decode the alpha-numeric codes for the sake of the reports. I had to, therefore, design necessary data entry formats for aircraft receipt, aircraft dispatch, alpha-numeric codes of accidents and incidents, specific accident to aircraft, specific incidents to aircraft etcetera. (to be continued ...)


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Mainframe computer system and new breed of programmers

The period I am talking of was a transition period in the computer department.
The huge setup of mainframe computers consisted of punching cards, reading the cards and getting them organized in order to provide necessary outputs. It was a long drawn out process and was getting outdated. The rooms where the system was installed was out of bounds to all except those directly involved. The room was air-conditioned and precautions had to be taken to ensure cleanliness of a high order.

However, there was a change of guard in the department and new boys and girls were inducted. They used to be engaged in work of the payroll and finance departments and the system being used was Cobol. They had got tired of doing the same job over and over again.
Therefore, when I discussed my proposal, they understood that they would get an opportunity to be involved in doing some other type of work that would provide some sort of excitement as well as variety.
By that time I had prepared some basic data on a whole lot of aircraft – these were mostly dates of release into service, dates when they came back for repairs or overhaul from the IAF, date when they were delivered back to IAF after the work etcetera.
Along with dates, I had also prepared some other data on the various accidents or incidents that had been reported on those aircraft. In order to do this in a systematic way, I had generated specific Alpha-numeric codes based on the reports held in individual files.
Armed with these inputs, I went to the computer department and discussed it with its boss. He had a vision of the future and welcomed my idea. But – he wanted an authorization from my boss. A matter of protocol.
I had discussed it with my boss already and when I asked him for authorization, he gave it readily with a clause. In the letter he mentioned that – ‘all matter related to computerization must be addressed to only Ghose.’ (to be continued …)


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How to shed the image of a misfit and become a most wanted

When I landed up in the Customer Services department, I felt was a misfit because it was known generally as a department for those on the verge of retirement. The officers were aged persons and their presence was basically to take advantage of their long years of experience. They had worked in different departments and had brought with them varied experiences.
One of them was a Sardarji – he held the responsibility of maintaining record of innumerable reports of accidents and incidents that were reported by the Indian Air Force, our customer. The fleet of MiG-21 fighter aircraft ran into several hundreds and new aircraft would be getting added on a regular basis. It was his responsibility to keep track and advise our Boss whenever he wanted information.

For each and every aircraft, there used to be a separate file – and, whenever any new report came, it would be filed in that.
The system was fine so long as the concerned clerks came and the letters were put in the file but, there were instances when some officer would remove a file and forget to put it back in the location.
I decided to change the system but had to proceed with caution because I did not want to annoy the old man. He would have felt offended and would think I was too big for my boots. There was a generation gap between us and I had to bridge that gap step by step.
Therefore, I embarked on a mission of my own. I wanted to computerize the complete history of each and every aircraft from the day it went into service till it was written off. Accordingly, I began to come to the section early before others came and left after the others – and, I would take up a few aircraft files every day and go through the hundreds of paper in them to decide just how I should proceed. (to be continued …)


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Wing Commander who wore a wig and rode a scooter

Yes, this Wing Commander was the head of Customer Services and my boss. He was a unique person and the more I got to know him, the more was I struck by his methods. He was a Bengali and never spoke in Bengali. He owned a Fiat – an original Italian version. And, he maintained it by himself. If you opened the bonnet, you not find a speck of dust or a drop of oil anywhere. He also owned a scooter and would come to office on the two wheeler. In order to keep his wig from flying off, he used to hold it in place by a pair of goggles that he would place strategically on his forehead – to lock the edge of the wig in place.

This boss was different from others because he could also strum the guitar. This was revealed at the farewell party of a colleague. In order to liven up the evening, he had come with his instrument and sang some of his favorite sings. One of these was – ‘mere piya gaye Rangoon, wahan say kiya hai telephone …’
As I have mentioned earlier, he initially did not give much importance. But, one day, I discovered a letter from the IAF that he had marked to me by name. ‘Ghose, please discuss’. It was a purely technical subject and I discussed with my elderly colleagues on how I should approach the subject. But, their replies did not help. So, I decided to study the subject on my own, and gather as much information as possible.
That took me the rest of the day and next morning, I met my boss after he had settled in.
I narrated to him what I had found out and he appeared to be impressed. He wanted to see it himself and I accompanied down the stairs and climbed into the cockpit of one of the aircraft in the hangar. I had carried with be drawings and explained to him the nature of problem that our customers had referred to us for clarification.
That was my first test and I had passed it with flying colors because, soon he began to mark more and more such letters to me for my actions. (to be continued …)


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My links with the Indian Air Force

Going back to my professional life, I have had links with the Indian Air Force and have met many officers in the course of my career. When I had chosen the aviation field, I had dreamt of being associated with some airline and of going to work in the company’s vehicle. I would see the engineers of Indian Airlines and envied them. But, as luck would have it, I got employment in an aircraft manufacturing unit in Kanpur – it was a totally Air force setup with a few civilians like me.

The in-charge of my section was an officer of the rank of Wing Commander and he gave an impression that he owned the factory. He had a daughter and she would drop in on him to surprise him. At the time the girl was about ten or twelve years old and she would roller-skate in the hangar while the workers looked on.
Then there was another officer – he was a Squadron Leader and my boss. I had a tiff with him and resigned from Kanpur because of that. But, the world is round and, in Nashik, he returned to be my boss there also. Of course, considerable time had passed, he had got a promotion and so had I. The bitterness had gone. In fact, we got along wonderfully well.
And then there was another of my bosses – also from Air Force. He was a retired Wing Commander and a Bengali. But – he did not like Bengalis. Anyway, he was boss of Customer Services and, since I was transferred to his department, he had to accept me. And – I had to bring him into my line of thinking through my work. (to be continued …)


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My third conquest was Crime magazine

Writing for two magazines on a regular basis was not an easy affair because I had to switch frequencies from one to the other and ensure that my trend of thoughts did not get disturbed. Moreover, none of the magazines paid any honorarium therefore I was always on the lookout for avenues that would pay – as a friend had once told me – I should get money to cover expenses of paper, ink and postage. But – that was a pipe dream.
However, during one of my subsequent trips to Kolkata, I met another editor – he was editor of Crime. This was yet another magazine on the lines of Mashik Romancho and Mashik Rahasya. The only difference was that those who ran Crime were young people and they were in the business to make money. To them, a writer has to deliver what is wanted.
Incidentally, the magazine consisted of a few stories and a full length novel – usually the translation of some popular English novel. I submitted a couple of stories and they were accepted.
It was after a few months that I realized their real game. They would print the magazine on newsprint and, simultaneously, print a book separately on high quality paper. The book would be the novel that had appeared in the magazine with attractive cover photos depicting scantily clad girls and the writer would get an honorarium.
The books would be offloaded in the Wheeler book stalls at railway stations.
I was present at an incident that left me astounded. I had accompanied the editor to Howrah station and he wanted to get a feedback on the demand for the latest book from the stall owner. However, the stall owner did not give a favorable reply – he said the cover photo should be changed to attract the customers.
The editor was not worried. He hailed a taxi and asked the stall owner to put all the unsold copies of the book in the boot. He promised to send them back with new covers!! (to be continued …)


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Super spy Gobardhan Garai, the Bengali version of James Bond

Before the entry of Nero Mullick into the world of criminal investigation I had created Gobardhan Garai, a super spy and the Bengali version of James Bond. In his words, he was the jury, judge and executioner and had authority to take his own decisions where the safety and security of the country was concerned.
While his exploits were written exclusively for Mashik Romancho, the detective Nero Mullick was meant for Mashik Rahasya and both the Editors accepted that decision. The reasons were obvious - the lifestyle of a spy was different to that of a homely detective. The storylines would also be molded accordingly – more of brawn for the spy and more of brain for the detective. There was no conflict and each of them looked at the world in his own way. He spy was a smart alec, the detective was a wizened old soul.
My problem was to identify a plot and decide whether it should go to Gobardhan Garai or Nero Mullick – as their creator, I could bend the rules to suit my convenience. A murder case that could have gone to Nero Mullick could very well be dumped the lap of Gobardhan Garai because of involvement of foreign elements.
Therefore, once I decided on a general storyline, my pen would begin its journey. Yes, the journey of a pen could run into several thousands of kilometers as claimed by some manufacturers of pens. In those days, writers had to toil – never would any story come out OK in the first attempt. Sequence of events would need to be recast, paragraphs would have to be rewritten, and words would have to be replaced. And – the process could go on for quite a long time to finalize a story that could be sent to the editor. (to be continued …)


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Detective Nero Mullick enters the Puja special edition

As requested by the Editor of Mashik Rahasya, I returned back to Deolali and created the character of Nero Mullick and he made his entry into the world of criminal investigation in a prestigious Puja Special edition. He was a retired officer of the Indian Railways and had the traits in him that singled him out from others. He was a strict disciplinarian and was hurt when anything happened that should not have happened.
He had a dedicated assistant in the form of a police inspector who would drop in on him whenever any out-of-the-way crime took place. The crimes were usually of murders.
One such story was about a dead body found in the boot of a taxi at Howrah station. In fact, such an incident actually took place and my pen wove an imaginary story around it and it became a novelette. I realized that penning a novel was not an easy task and one had to be careful to ensure that continuity was maintained and that the characters did not get mixed up.
In order to do this in a systematic way, I would jot down the important points like names of characters, location of incidents, timings etcetera on a separate sheet of paper so that I did not lose track of the important aspects. There would be times when I would need to refer to some documents like a road map or a railway timetable to ensure accuracy of facts.
And, I always kept a note book near my bed – to jot down sudden inspirational items like a newly coined word or the name of a character that would sound most appropriate in the particular situation. (to be continued …)


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A magazine Editor and his magic of creating a masterpiece

I had lunch with my new found friend and Editor of Mashik Rahasya and, as he cooked and later as we finished the meal, I was surprised to learn of the struggles he had to go through to set up the magazine. The odds were stacked up against him but he had that never-say-die attitude and he surmounted all obstacles.
I was impressed as he narrated his experiences and, after lunch and a bit of rest, I set out with him on his journey to the world of books and the world of writers and poets – namely, the Coffee House on College Street.
Coffee House was the meeting place for everyone who mattered in the world of those who worshipped creativity in any form – from writers to artists to people associated with the movies and the theater. There would be groups seated at the tables and arguing on any conceivable topic under the sun. They talked about their own works and heaped criticism on the works of others.
My Editor friend introduced me to a few of them and once they came to know that I was not from Kolkata, they heaved an unmistakable sigh of relief – they knew that living so far away from the city I could never become a competitor for them.
Anyway, after spending the afternoon in their company, we parted company and he requested me to create a new character specifically for his magazine – of course, he admitted that he could not afford to pay me any honorarium but assured that the exposure would benefit me in the long run. And thus was created the detective Nero Mullick – a retired officer of the Indian Railways. He had a devoted friend in the form of a police inspector and a loving daughter-in-law who gave them both company. (to be continued ... )


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Insider view of the world of Bengali magazines

While Mashik Romancho was handled by a single individual who had people around him to carry out the numerous activities associated with the publication of a monthly magazine, the setup in Mashik Rahasya was totally different.
It was more or less a one man show – there was a man who did the type setting but, the editor himself was the proof reader. He was a middle aged bachelor and cooked his own meals.
I first met him when I located the office of the magazine – it was a single room on the main road and opposite the Scottish Church College. The clanging of trams and they trudged along the road and the smoke belched out by the buses kept the atmosphere polluted. And, in the midst of it all, the editor would be seen either poring over some manuscripts or busy correcting first-off prints in the role of a proof reader.
When I introduced myself, he was happy. He was familiar with my writings and now it was time to take the familiarity to the next level. He invited me to his home for lunch. Since I had no other work planned, I agreed and we walked down lanes and by-lanes to reach his house. The location was in north Kolkata and narrow lanes and by-lanes gave it a distinctive look.
I was surprised when he took a key from his pocket and opened the lock – it was then that I realized that he lived alone. Later I came to know that he was a bachelor.
Anyway, he offered me a seat on the only wooden chair in the room and then lit the kerosene stove and cooked up a meal of sorts. Finding the door open, his pet cat entered, looked at me and then curled up in a corner of the room – it was its lunch time. (to be continued …)


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I discover some more outlets for my literary skills

I have been suffering from a split personality right from my school days – one part of me had to, always, be engaged in routine and mundane jobs, the other would fantasize. In school it was studies. In college it was studies plus a bit of exploration here and there to learn the intricacies of life. In service it was work to make a living.
The other part of me was one that allowed me to view life from a different perspective and walk into the world of fantasy. I would give complete freedom to my imagination to take wings and come up with what, in my opinion, were gems of literary creations. They would hardly ever be acknowledged by the glitterati, I would not be given any award but, they were loved by my readers. And, that egged me on to create new age series of crime and punishment.
Starting with Mashik Romancho, I discovered a new outlet in Mashik Rahasya.
I never knew of its existence but, picked up a copy at the Wheeler Bookstall in Howrah Station during one of my journeys. The Wheeler Bookstalls were there in practically all major railway stations and they displayed a whole range of magazines in Bengali plus many in Hindi and, of course, English paperbacks. In those days, the conversion rate was five rupees to one dollar and paperbacks had a fairly good market.
Anyway, Mashik Goenda was my second conquest.
With several stories under the belt, thanks to Mashik Romancho, I was no longer a fresher in the field. Hence, there was no difficulty in getting a toehold in Mashik Rahasya. Rahasya means mystery – therefore, I had to pen stories that would meet their requirements. And, in order to get a new identity, I created a few characters that my readers would not forget in a hurry. (to be continued …)


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I gamble away my month’s earnings before Diwali


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My Boss takes off his pullover and teaches by example

During winter time, the temperature drops to the five and six degree level and the woolen clothes take over. Since the factory work started at 7am and buses picked up the employees from their respective bus stops by 6am, it was but natural that they wear pullovers, mufflers and even hand gloves to fight off the wintery blasts. And, once the Sun shone, the workers would try to go out into the open to enjoy the sunshine. They would stand in groups and smoke a few cigarettes to allow the warmth to ward off the cold.
But, such attitudes of the technicians meant disruption in the work and lower output which the bosses did not want, neither did the Russians approve of such attitudes. They felt that winter was just another season and there was no need to wear bulky pullovers or mufflers at the work spot. Such pieces of attire hampered the work and could lead to accidents at the work place where people had to work with different types of machinery.
In order to curb this tendency, my Boss set an example – and, it helped.
The layout of the workplace was such that while the work area was on the ground level, the offices were on an upper floor that looked down on the work place.
My Boss would climb the stairs, go into his office, remove his coat and muffler and come out on the balcony. The technicians could see him clearly. He would pace about on the balcony for a few minutes and then climb down the stairs. And, as he climbed down, he would begin to roll up his sleeves.
By the time he set his foot in the workplace, he would be attired in the dress that would be the best possible wear for a factory.
It was a wonderful example in issuing a directive without uttering a single word or resorting to a single line of writing. (to be continued …)


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Nashik, a tourist center with links to the epic Ramayana

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I gamble away my month’s earnings before Diwali


I finally join the MiG factory in HAL Nashik

My forays into the world of Bengali writing

I have already mentioned that my first Bengali story was published in the monthly magazine Mashik Romancho. Subsequently, they published some more of my stories and, when next I visited Kolkata I decided to drop in on them and have a face-to-face direct interaction with the editor.
Accordingly, I located the address in north Kolkata – and was surprised to discover that it was a family affair. The magazine had been started by a person who had links with the All India Radio and, therefore, some big names of the world of radio used to write for the magazine. However, the present editor was his son and he had his offices on the ground floor of their ancestral building in a lane of north Kolkata. It was near the Hedua Park.
In those days it was the age of letter press printing and there would be compositors who would compose the matter for every page based on the handwritten manuscripts. Obviously, neat handwriting was important as well as the ability of the compositor to decipher the words.
After the pages were composed, the matter would be printed one off and submitted to the proof reader – he would check the accuracy and correct the matter where needed before the matter was sent for final printing. This was done in a 16-page format – that means eight pages on each side. Later the formats would be arranged, printed and bound into magazine form. The last step was the distribution to book stalls and other outlets, including the railway stations like Howrah station.
Getting to know the intricacies of printing a magazine was a great help to me as I learnt many years later when I printed magazines from Nashik – yes, Bengali magazines printed from Nashik, thanks to language software, computers and photo offset process.
Anyway, the editor of Mashik Romancho encouraged me to write on topics like spying – it was the age of James Bond and other characters like him and I also went ahead a created a Bengali version of James Bond. (to be continued …)


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Interaction with Russian interpreters

There were Russian specialists in practically all the departments and, whilst there was one specifically meant to advise the General Manager, there were others in the design department, in the workshops, even in the planning departments. The gentleman in the planning department would come every morning with his worksheet to check and record how much work had been completed till then and submit the report to his higher ups.
Along with the Russian specialists were their interpreters – some of them were Russians and some of them were Indians. Moreover, before the actual work began on manufacturing the MiG fighter aircraft, groups of employees who had a diploma in engineering had been given training in Russian language. Most of them were attached to the design department and the planning department where documents would be coming regularly from Russia about updates. These would require to be translated on priority and passed on to the user departments for implementation.
Obviously, there was a fad to learn the language.
Here I must make a mention of one Russian interpreter. She was from one of the earliest batches of Russians who had come to Nashik and, as luck would have it, she fell in love with an Indian boy. It became a scandal of sorts. Then there was another interpreter – she was a Punjabi and had many admirers.
To cater to the Russians, there was a shop in the township dedicated to products that Russians loved – and, there was a Russian Mess where the cooks were trained to cook meals for Russians, the way they love them in their own country. In the initial stages, Russians were not permitted to have their families with them and they relied on the Russian Mess for their meals. Later, the restriction was removed but the mess remained because many of the Russians were bachelors while many of them preferred to live without their families.
For marketing, there would be buses on Sundays and the Russians would go to Deolali. They would roam the streets peering into the shops, do their marketing and return back in the evening. (to be continued …)

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I finally join the MiG factory in HAL Nashik

Russians adapt themselves to Indian conditions

The MiG-factory in Nashik had been started in a village called Ojhar. There is an interesting story about the selection of the site. The Defense Minister in the 1965 era was from Maharashtra and, after the Chinese invasion in 1962, a decision had been taken in Delhi to set up the MiG factory in Maharashtra.
Accordingly, a team of senior officers of the Indian Air Force was traveling from Delhi to Mumbai by road to meet the Defense Minister.
Why they opted for a road journey instead of flying is not known but, they stopped at Ojhar for a break and got to talking with the locals. One of them happened to be the owner of huge chunks of land in Ojhar and its surrounding areas and he was willing to make a deal with the government.
That is how the factory came into being and took up manufacture of the MiG-21 fighter aircrafts with the involvement of Russians. If the team had taken a flight, the factory might have been set up somewhere else.
The Russians supplied the materials and the Indian technicians built the flying machines. There was a huge work force drawn from different corners of the country and, within no time, a mini town grew up in Ojhar to house the employees. Provisions were also kept for accommodation for the Russians.
Since Ojhar was situated nearly 15-Km from Nashik, there were buses on Sundays to take people to the city for marketing.
Well – while the Russians mixed freely with us, it was rumored that they were always suspicious and never trusted anyone. It was rumored that every second Russian spied on the other. Moreover, while they would talk in Russian among themselves, many of them could converse in English and, even, in Marathi but would keep that a secret!! Therefore, we had to be careful of what we talked about in their presence. (to be continued …)


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Train travel to and from Kanpur to Kolkata


I gamble away my month’s earnings before Diwali


I finally join the MiG factory in HAL Nashik

I discover the power of my pen

The work in HAL Nashik depended on the availability of materials that used to be imported from Russia and, usually, the work load would be high in the period September to March. Once March ended, the work force would not have enough work load and would idle.
This was the state of affairs in the section where I worked. But, in some other sections there was an excess of workload. Therefore the management would transfer some people on a temporary basis to work centers where there was sufficient workload.
I seized this opportunity and volunteered my services and was transferred to the sheet metal section. It suited me fine because my actual work was in assembly section where sheet metal components were used. The experience that I gained was useful at a later stage.
Anyway, this piece is not about my work but of how I helped out an individual with the power of my pen and my knack of writing.
He was a technician in the sheet metal section and, one day, he came to me with a request. He was from Uttar Pradesh and he wanted a transfer to HAL Lucknow division which was located in his home state.
Such transfers are rare and I explained as much to the young man. But, he pleaded. He said that he had all necessary contacts in the right places and a suitably worded application would do the trick.
He brought a sheet of paper with him and I asked him questions to get a sort of background. Questions that were designed to find out what sort of reason would be most appropriate to put forth in the application to justify a case of transfer on compassionate grounds.
Once the application was drafted, he got it typed out and sent it to the authorities. I treated it as a case of an eccentric person and was surprised when he came back to me within a week. He was all smiles and showed me the official orders for his transfer from HAL Nashik to HAL Lucknow.
I suddenly realized the power of my pen. (to be continued…)

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How I got inspiration for my stories

I have this wonderful gift of being able to write – the subject is of no consequence, I could write on any subject under the sun. It is something that I had acquired from my schooldays. My first name in print was in English when I was a 14-year-old boy and in school. My second writing to get published was also in English. I had received monetary compensation for both. The amount was six rupees for the first story and twenty five rupees for the second one.
Moreover, when in school and I had to write essays, I would select topics that others would hardly ever choose. I especially remember two topics. One was ‘Keeping house when mother is ill’. This topic would usually be chosen by girls bit I was an exception.
Another topic I still remember from my schooldays was ‘the day everything went wrong.’ It allowed me to fantasize and give permission for my imagination to take wings.
Subsequently, when I began writing in Bengali, I would give complete freedom to my imagination to run wild. It was I who would create the characters and put them into tricky situations. It was similar to writing in English – only, I had to think in English and translate in my mind and put them into Bengali. At times I would not get the appropriate word immediately – therefore, at such times, I would write the English word and leave it. Invariably, the Bengali equivalent would pop up into my mind.
Of course, once in a while I would require some external inspiration like a puff or two or a tiny sip from a glass. Such inspirational inputs were not unusual for those who have been afflicted by the writing bug. (to be continued ..)

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Spreading my wings into the world of crime

I was writing crime stories for one magazine – it was Mashik Romancho, a monthly magazine on crime and I was fortunate that all the stories I sent to them got published. There was no rejection and I received one complimentary copy of the magazine by post after my story was published. There was no system of feedback. Unfortunately, I did not get a single naya paisa for the stories. The magazine gave you a chance to get noticed and, for a beginner, that also mattered.
My friends would be waiting eagerly for the complimentary copy and it would do the rounds till the next one arrived. The plot of the stories would come to me at odd hours and when it came, I would jot it down – it could happen at the dead of night or early in the morning or on my way to the factory or in the factory itself as I was busy discussing some problem with my colleagues.
The fact of the matter is that the inspiration for a story would just strike my mind all of a sudden and, once I got hold of it, I would weave the story around it.
It has happened that I had got stuck on a stumbling block and the story was half complete. Since I wrote crime stories, there would be occasions when I would get bogged down in the web that I had woven and had lost my way. At such times, I needed a solution and when that came, I would be a much relieved individual.
After I wrote a story, I would read it several times, check out spelling mistakes and grammatical errors and then begin writing it afresh for dispatch to the magazine. But – suddenly I would want to add some matter in between. That was a major problem because any last minute addition would mean rewriting some portions of the story.
Anyway – I kept at it and gradually I wanted to spread my wings and embrace more magazines to get a wider audience. But, sitting in Nashik I could not access other probable outlets. Therefore I decided to do that whenever I would visit Kolkata. (to be continued …)

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A weekend at Bachelor Mess listening to Rabindra Sangeet

After seeing my name in Bengali print for the first time, it was but natural that I pursue this further to improve not just my standard of writing but also to gain acceptance as one who can express his thoughts in his mother tongue.
In the course of my regular duties, I would write – my mind was full of ideas and, coupled with the varied experiences that I was acquiring, I discovered that I could write a couple of pages and end up with a story of sorts.
I would then take it to two of my critics – they worked in different sections and were always ready to give it a look over and suggest changes. Some of the changes I would accept, some I would ignore. Yes, there would be arguments and counter arguments and it was fun. All the three of us were bachelors and that added to the fun.
I remember that one Saturday they asked me to stay over for the weekend in the Bachelor Mess. This was a building that had been built by HAL Nashik near to the factory and was meant to accommodate the male bachelors who had honed service.
Well – it was indeed a memorable weekend. One of the residents had a wonderful voice. He was a Russian language interpreter. After dinner he invited us to a session of songs. Therefore, I and other Bengalis trooped after him to the roof where he sang Rabindra Sangeet (songs of Tagore) – his stock of songs was fantastic and time literally flew.
Anyway, I did my writings in the factory and got them written properly on one side of foolscap paper once I returned to McKenzie Bungalow. Later, I set hem by post to the magazine. I had stated with one magazine and later got a second one added. Both were just names to me as I was to them –and, I decided that next time I visited Kolkata I would drop in on them and surprise them. (to be continued …)

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Trip to Kolkata for Durga Pujas by Mumbai-Howrah mail via Nagpur

I had joined HAL Nashik in April and decided to visit Kolkata during October for the Durga Puja celebrations. Yes, I was getting a bit homesick and felt that a trip to Kolkata would act as a booster and be just what the doctors would have ordered.
The year was 1967 and railway reservations could be had 10 days in advance – the quota from Nashik Road was six, if I remember correctly. I had to be in queue at the railway station in time. I was staying in Deolali and getting a bus early in the morning was difficult because people of Deolali were late risers – hence, I went to the station the previous night and stayed at the station till the reservation counter opened at 8am.
I was fortunate enough to get one of the six berths and, on the scheduled day, I boarded the Mumbai-Howrah Mail via Nagpur at around 11.30pm. The compartment was reserved and meant for 75 passengers only. When I woke up in the morning and, whenever the train stopped at the scheduled stops, the people waiting on the platform would not dare to board the reserved compartments. It was taboo.
The train had a dining car attached to it and the waiters kept coming at regular intervals with their wares - tea, crispy snacks, breakfast (bread-butter-omelet) followed by lunch, more tea, more snacks and finally dinner. Since most of the waiters in this train were Bengalis, they took special care of me and other Bengalis like me who were traveling to Kolkata for the Pujas. I ordered for a plate of chicken curry and chapatis – and, thanks to my waiter, there was the leg of a chicken.
By the time I woke up next morning, the train was arriving in Kharagpur and one look out of the window revealed that I was in Bengal – the people milling around on the platform talking in Bengali, the posters of Bengali movies, the advertisements on the walls in Bengali.
And, then, the local vendors got up with their unique Bengali products like vegetable chops, shingara, sweets, jhal-muri and, of course, green coconuts.
As the train left Kharagpur and proceeded on its journey towards Kolkata, a distance of around two hours, the dining car waiter came over to collect the money towards the meals. After he finished collecting from the passengers, he came over to me and confided that he, like most young Bengalis, was a poet in his spare time. He also said that he stayed in north Kolkata, in Shyambazar and gave me his address. He wanted to meet me and exchange thoughts as man to man and not as a passenger and a waiter.
Well – as the train rolled into Howrah station, my eyes began to search for my brothers who had promised to be at the station to receive me and I began to dream of how I would spend the holidays. (to be continued…)

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My Boss wanted me to become a detective

Yes, in those initial days in HAL Nashik, my Boss once wanted me to become a detective and investigate an allegation of corruption against one of the officers in the section. It was an extremely sensitive affair and an embarrassment for me to do the work but I was helpless.
The allegation was that the officer was taking bribes from the workers for booking them on overtime – the overtime meant double payment to the worker for the number of hours he does overtime and he was supposed to give a cut of his earnings to the officer.
The allegation had been sent to the General Manager through an anonymous letter and my Boss wanted me to have a look at the handwriting and identify the person who had written it.
Boss opened the drawer, took out the letter and showed it to me. I was totally confused because there were nearly 250 workers and supervisory staff in the section and anyone of them could have written it. Boss saw the confusion on my face and hinted that whoever had written it would not be any worker because it was written in English – the writing was legible and there were no grammatical errors.
The clues were there but many persons would fit the bill. To me it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. I told as much to him and he folded the letter and put it back in the drawer.
I came out of his office and heaved a sigh of relief but, I became a marked man because the workers had seen me and there was suspicion on their faces. Why should I spend nearly half an hour in the office of my Boss unless something was brewing?
My Boss’s office was on the upper floor and as I climbed down the stairs, I could feel eyes piercing me from all directions. I just ignored them – I had to survive. (to be continued …)

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The world of pakoras and wadas in Nashik

Once in Nashik, I was forced to get used to snacks that were totally different to what I had been used to in my days in Kolkata and Kanpur. In fact, I had to reset my taste buds and learn to appreciate different variations of fried stuffs like the pakoras. To me pakoras were concoctions of vegetables that were dipped in a batter of besan and deep fried. The vegetables that lent themselves to being transformed into delicious mouthwatering snacks were could be slices of potatoes, brinjal, or finely cut onions, or cauliflowers. The first three had many takers in Kolkata while the fourth one was a rage in Kanpur.
Anyway, in Nashik, I came cross other varieties like the sabudana and fries made out of pulses. Here the generic name for all such fries was wada – therefore batata wada meant a fry where the potato was the main ingredient. Potato in Marathi was batata. Similarly, there was the sabudana wada and the urad dal wada.
Incidentally, the sabudana wada and its khichdi version were meant usually for the days of fast. Yes, the local Marathi people observe fast on certain days of the week and on these days, the eating joints would serve these snacks.
Of course, I cannot forget the bread pakora – it was nothing but slices of bread dipped in the batter of besan and deep fried. The frying would not be uniform – some would be over fired making it more like biscuit. Others would be under fired – the end product would be soggy.
It was most unfortunate that the culture of rolls (egg roll, chicken roll, mutton roll), which is the delight of Bengalis, had not invaded the kitchens of Nashik. Neither did the north Indian culture of chats and golgappas . The nearest to chats was the bhelpuri – a sort of mixture that was popular in Mumbai. It was similar to jhalmuri of Bengal where fluffed rice would be mixed with a number of unique ingredients and a dash of mustard oil and served in paper cones or packets.
But, alas, the vegetable chops, mutton cutlets, kabiraji cutlets, fish fries and other fast food delicacies unique to Bengal were nowhere to be seen. (to be continued …)

Lesson in how to manage a cosmopolitan work force

Most of the technicians in the factory had been trained in-house in the TTC (Technical Training Center) and they came from different corners of the country. However, the General Manager was a senior officer of the IAF and hailed from Kerala, it was but natural that a majority of the technicians were Malayalees.
Alongside them were people from Bangalore because that was the only place where people were available who had some sort of experience in manufacturing aircraft. Moreover, since the factory was in Maharashtra, there were many Maharashtrians. And then there was an assortment of technicians from others states like West Bengal, Bihar, UP, Punjab, Andhra Pradesh. It was a big cosmopolitan family and everyone worked as a team. Most of the supervisory staff was officers from HAL Bangalore and they joined hands to ensure that the work proceeded as per plans. The work was new to all of us and, hence, everybody cooperated.
Tea was served twice – once in the morning along with snacks. Snacks were necessary because most of the workers were unmarried and therefore had to have their breakfast in the tea time itself. Breakfast usually catered to the local tastes like batata wada, onion pakora, bread pakora, urad dal wada, sabudana wada, poha etcetera.
The second time tea was in the afternoon – only tea. No snacks.
Well – as is human nature, I became pally with the Bengali boys. They were technicians, I was a supervisory staff. But, when the tea came, we would have our tea, crack a few jokes and puff cigarettes together.
One day, my boss called me aside after tea time and gave me one of my first lessons in management. He did not make any reference to my taking tea with the technicians. He only smiled and said – ‘workers are like a source of fire. If you go too close, you will be burnt. If you stay too far away, you will miss the warmth. You must decide the distance.’
My boss had not graduated from any IIT, he did not hold any degree in Engineering but he was knowledgeable about the ways of the world and spoke from experience. (to be continued …)

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