A language faujis know and speak

Col Avnish Sharma (retd)

Indians speak 398 languages, with official status to 22. However, one realised on donning the uniform that there is a 399th and a 23rd quasi-official language — the military lingo. The 2 million or so military population (including veterans) converses in a common language, though not necessarily in a common dialect. On induction into the academy, most are greeted with a pleasant welcome and words of encouragement by senior termers: ‘Clot, so you have come to disgrace the uniform... get rolling’.  Over the week, the clot graduates to ‘Hey you, come here’, signifying your nondescript status. ‘Get on your haunches, up the tree, go from the left and come from the right....kaddoo get into bajri order (haversack filled with bajri)’ are some popular one-liners. Then, there are intellectual discourses comprising questions with guaranteed accurate answers. ‘Why have you joined the service ?’ ‘Sir, to serve the nation’, and an immediate rebuttal, ‘You will be a blot on the nation, look at your paunch you fatso.’  Another question: ‘Which games do you play?’ If a fresher from civvies street proudly says, ‘Sir, carrom, chess, TT, badminton.’ The mention of such non-brawny sports would make a senior’s day: ‘Why didn’t you join the local community centre and leave the nation alone. Report in double bajri order at 2300h.’ Then there are point-blank shots: ‘You walk like a pregnant duck, pull up your socks... tighten your belt... get on the ball... move... you lazy bum’, which don’t leave you till you find the grave. 

I was commissioned in a Cavalry regiment which was an amalgamation of three pure caste squadrons. Each squadron maintained its original composition of troops, with three prominent North Indian castes. I was greeted with a new name, not out of sarcasm or default, but based on their  dialect and common understanding within their society. ‘Secand Laftain Vanesh Singh Sharma’. This name was neatly spelt on a slip and inserted in my quarters nameboard. My friend, Beji Matthews too remains ‘Biji Singh Mehta’.

 My sahayak came to invite us to his wedding, listing the decade-old ‘as taught’ schedule: ‘Saab, baraat will report at RV (rendezvous) at 2000hrs.  Issue (bar functioning as equated with their weekly issue parade of a tot in the units) will be from 2000 to 2100, bhojan at 2100 followed by mandir  parade and lights out at 2330 hrs’.

Newly married, my wife from a civilian background was dumbfounded  and underwent a cultural shock, especially when my sahayak briefed her on my routine and said: ‘Memsaab, in hidayaton ko kirpa kar ke 20 bari ek kagaz par likhen taaki aap se koi galti na ho’. 

 Reading the Beetle Bailey comic strip reinforces my conviction that the military lingo is universal.