Train of thought, recalled

Lt Gen KJ Singh (retd)

Lt Gen KJ Singh (retd)

Our mentors in the Army would tell us that a good leader should square up all sums and keep ‘hisab barabar’, always. I saw the most striking example of this maxim during a train journey in April 1985. This was when I had decided to resume train journeys after a self-imposed moratorium. This fear-induced measure was taken after a missed train journey of October 31, 1984, the day Mrs Gandhi was assassinated. This lucky miss, due to a car breakdown, turned out to be a providential escape. A journey on the Jaipur-Ahmedabad Mail would have made my family an easy target for the marauding mobs.

Those were different times, with metre-gauge trains, single domestic carrier Indian Airlines, no Internet or mobiles and Doordarshan the only channel. The PM’s assassination was followed by a communication blackout and morbid music on TV.

Unmindful of the mayhem in Delhi and surrounding areas, we changed the reservation to the very next day. Luckily, the same evening, we heard BBC news, resulting in another cancellation. We literally got a second lease of life as our co-passengers and distant relatives were reportedly pulled out of the train en route and brutally killed. Prudence demanded that train journeys were to be avoided. Hence, after things cooled down, we would take an Indian Airlines flight to Aurangabad from Delhi, followed by a 125-km road trip to Ahmednagar, my place of posting.

Time being a great healer, coupled with the babus’ reluctance to sanction air travel (a rare privilege for Captains those days), I was forced to resume travel by train. In April 1985, I boarded Jhelum Express at Delhi, after temporary duty at the Army Headquarters. The trip to Delhi meant buying and carrying stuff for friends and also official use. I had some extra baggage, which had been arranged below the seat of the first class coupe.

Just before departure, we were joined by another traveller, who was carrying much more baggage and wanted more luggage space. Despite my patient reasoning, he continued aggressively and even remarked that we ought to have learnt our lesson after the Delhi riots. Not wanting to precipitate the matter despite extreme provocation, I let it pass. He persisted with his boorish behaviour, even as two JCOs, Rati Ram and Rameshwar, travelling in the same coupe kept him under some check.

At Ahmednagar, I saw a mini-commotion as the JCOs, while getting down, had pulled out the luggage of this fellow, forcing him to cut short his journey to Pune. They threatened to report him for tax evasion as he was carrying automobile spare parts. The JCOs had their way — apologise to our officer, donate Rs500 (a big sum those days) for gurdwara sahib and some parting advice: “Fauj se mat uljho, hum hisab barabar rakhte hain.”

I had a semblance of closure, but it does make me wonder about the plight of riot victims. What is the ‘hisab’ for loved ones lost and homes destroyed?