Indian Army, Food Guide.

Discussion in 'Indian Army' started by Kunal Biswas, Sep 1, 2012.

  1. Kunal Biswas

    Kunal Biswas Member of the Year 2011 Moderator

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    soldiers life starts ( in field or in peace) with the smell of puris from the nearby langar. These puris are the size of a big tandoori roti and have salt and red chilli powder as the seasoning. These are eaten by the handfull with hot tea.A rare treat is Aloo ki subzi or petha subzi (pumpkin). In the field officers usually eat the same food with aloo and mirchi chips and sometimes anda bhujiya with lots of onions and green chillies. The soldier sticks to the puris pretty much all around the year. Breafast is between 7 and 8am. However, you eat, when you get a chance.




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    Lunch is usually a hot meal, rotis with lots of atta stuck on them (they have to be clapped together to get the atta or flour off), subzi (vegetable any seasonal stuff depending on fresh ration, aloo gobhi, gajar, just aloo), and dal which is the langar dal. Vegetarian platoons get milk instead of meat and eggs and the Jats make great kari pakoda. There is sometimes egg curry but seldom meat, unless its muslim unit or sub unit. There is rice nearly everyday. So basic stuff , Roti, subzi, dal and rice. Most soldiers have all of it served in one utensil (quite like sai baba), rather than take aThali and eat it comfortably. Some just reat out of a saucepan or mess tin (put in the dal and subzi together) and scoop it out with rotis. Whilst there some who eat zestfully with supplementing with a salad of tomatoes, onions and cucumer with green chilli. Procured from the wet canteen or the nearest habitation and brought in by a dispatch rider. He is usually the lifeline of lesser the mortals with the outside world.
     
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  3. Kunal Biswas

    Kunal Biswas Member of the Year 2011 Moderator

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    re: Indian Army Soldiers, Food Guide.

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    Evening tea is hurried affair and seldom consumed and usually nothing other than plain tea. Busy with games allocation of work or just plain "working" or fatigue.
     
  4. Kunal Biswas

    Kunal Biswas Member of the Year 2011 Moderator

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    re: Indian Army Soldiers, Food Guide.

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    Dinner on issue day adds buoyancy in the stride as issue days are usually coupled with meat ration or fresh ration days. Most persons take the effort to bathe and dress in mufti's the tadka group gets active. The ghee from home in the kit bag is taken out, the disptch rider has been ordered with the required condiments and masalas and we are all set. Rum is issued after the roll call. The menu tonite is Meat, usually a spicy curried meat with lots of gravy. Its a delight to eat it with the rajputs, they make it the spiciest best. Eaten with flour dusted rotis (now you don't care) and pretty much nothing else, although there is dal, subzi and rice. The treat is meat curry (hot) with rotis or just with hot rice. Sometimes there is kheer. Now is the time for idyllic bidis and sometimes drunken brawls. the day has come to an end. The guys who do not drink do the guard duties whilke the tipplers rest it out. Huge camraderie. There is a simplicity to this life. Sometimes too simple, pickle, savoury or sweet makes all the difference in and otherwise humdrum life. More on the Badakhana later.
     
  5. Kunal Biswas

    Kunal Biswas Member of the Year 2011 Moderator

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    Good Langar food
     
  6. Kunal Biswas

    Kunal Biswas Member of the Year 2011 Moderator

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    Will post more pics..
     
  7. Vikas Sharma

    Vikas Sharma New Member

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    Many times I used to call my dad, when he is off duty. I could hear men talking to each other and as usual I would ask," Kya kar rahe ho Papa ji." and he would reply,"kuch nhi bass baithe hai, tadka-shadka lagg rha hai." And almost everyday they used to have non-veg in dinner.
     
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  8. Ray

    Ray The Chairman Defence Professionals Moderator

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    Kunal,

    The ration scales for soldiers have changed and they get officers rations.

    That is what I was told the last time I visited the unit.
     
  9. Ray

    Ray The Chairman Defence Professionals Moderator

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    Government of India Increases the Scale of Rations to the Army Jawans


    New Delhi (Delhi, India), September 14, 2011

    The Ministry of Defence, Government of India, has approved the increase in the scale of rations for chicken, or mutton from 110 grams per man per day to 180 grams for all non-vegetarian jawans with effect from July 01, 2011.

    In terms of quantity, this scale of ration will be equivalent to the non-vegetarian dishes the Indian Army officers are authorized now.

    This was done to ensure that the Indian troops get wholesome non-vegetarian dishes considering their physical nature of work.

    Earlier, the Indian government had also increased the scale of fruits and eggs for JCOs (Junior Commissioned Officers) and ORs (Other Ranks) to bring it on par with the officers of the Indian Army. Now, the JCOs and jawans get two eggs every day just like officers.

    There is also an authorization of special rations to the troops deployed in posts above 12,000 feet. This includes areas like Siachen-Saltoro Ridge and Kargil. Special ration authorized is whole meal instead of grinded wheat, branded wheat atta, ready-to-eat vegetarian, and non-vegetarian retort pouches and procurement of branded salt.

    The Ministry of Defence spends more than Rs. 1,440 crore annually to procure and supply dry ration such as wheat, rice, dal, tea, sugar, oil, tinned stuff, etc. and fresh ration like fruit, vegetables, milk, meat, etc. for the Indian troops.

    Army Service Corps (ASC) and Army Purchase Organisation (APO) manage the supply chain of rations through Army Supply Depots.

    Indian Army - Authorization of Rations to the Troops
     
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  10. Ray

    Ray The Chairman Defence Professionals Moderator

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    The IA soldier is no longer the hardy rustic that one saw earlier, who were the real sons of the soil and very tough.

    They are more urban these days in lifestyle.
     
  11. Tronic

    Tronic Stars and Ambassadors Stars and Ambassadors

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    Agreed.

    Though its still good to see that our boys are being fed well.
     
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  12. Splurgenxs

    Splurgenxs Regular Member

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    Sounds exactly like the catering services at the Hostel i stayed during my College years maybe this is a little better even.

    It was outright frustrating. Food is the only thing a dude cant compromise upon. The whole day goes bad if u don't get satisfactorily good food.
     
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  13. Rahul92

    Rahul92 Senior Member Senior Member

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    Kunal ji do you work in Army
     
  14. SPIEZ

    SPIEZ Senior Member Senior Member

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    strangely similar to a blog had read years back.
     
  15. Ray

    Ray The Chairman Defence Professionals Moderator

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    Rations maybe great.

    Indeed it is!

    But then the cooks should be upto standard.

    Indeed, it isn't!
     
  16. Ray

    Ray The Chairman Defence Professionals Moderator

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    THE GOC’s BOTTOM

    This happened. The General Officer Commanding’s (GOC) bottom was blemished!

    It was in the spring of the 80s.

    It was providential it was not in our time. It came about in those days when the preceding unit was holding the posts along the Line of Control in Kashmir. It is an interesting story and so it has to be unravelled in the correct perspective and not sensationalised, it being a historic event.
    All was calm and quiet on the northern front as it was all quiet on the Western Front in World WarI ……till it was discovered that the Pakistanis were slowly inching forward with their posts and were in the process of violating the Line of Control between India and Pakistan. The locale of this shenanigan was the forbidding heights of High Altitude somewhere on the Northern borders – as the tabloids tend to weave mysterious anonymity to the formidable frontiers to garner enigmatic background to their stories.

    Flag meetings took place to resolve the issue. It was to no avail. Right as rain was the Pakistani skulduggery of claiming that the Line of Control drawn on the map was done with a thick pencil wherein the thickness of the pencilled line equalled quite a few yards, if not kilometres on ground! Crafty little devils!

    The dispute not being resolved, each side stood by in an armed peace. They had always stood in armed peace, but this was more armed and less peace than the usual!

    It was still calm. Then some Pakistani madcap opened up with a Heavy Machine Gun (HMG)! All hell broke loose! It was an unfortunate thing to have happened but then the Pakistani soldiers were usually on Afghanistan’s best and consequently the trigger mechanisms tended to react to their itchy fingers causative of the hallucinations that Afghanistan’s best tends to encourage.

    The hell became an inferno and then there was no stopping it from becoming a full-fledged war. With no holds barred, the environment was savage.

    While the exchange of fire continued unabated, the saving grace was that it was confined to this battalion’s area of responsibility and had not spilled over to the remainder of the Brigade and the Division. More Flag meetings took place, but to no purpose. And, as it is with most Indo Pak conflicts of all dimensions and size, it took on a permanent indelible signature!

    The unit improved their defensive posture by occupying areas to their advantage. The new posts that mushroomed were rough and ready as the area was high altitude and no natural resources to bank upon. Defence stores had to be man-packed from the valley to these high heights. Therefore, stone bunkers and Sangers was all that was immediately feasible, but dangerous they were, fraught with the ever present hazard of soldiers becoming casualties through flying splintered stones. Over the weeks with the advent of defence stores, brought up by ropes and dangling like monkeys, the bunkers took shape of permanency. All this was constructed under intense and heavy enemy firing. The Pakistanis being on higher heights, even before the conflict, had an advantage.

    With the conflict escalating in ferocity and with all flag meetings with the opposite side having failed, the situation was becoming another festering boil for the Brigade and the Divisional HQs.
    First-hand knowledge was essential for those who were responsible for the overall strategy. To have this first-hand experience of the operational situation, the living conditions, the morale of the troops and the state of defences, the General Officer Commanding (GOC) decided to visit the forward most posts.

    It is one thing for a unit to be fighting the front line battle and it is quite another thing for a GOC to be hanging around as shot and shell traipsed around randomly in a high density mode. While one could statistically predict the accuracy of bullets of Marksmen, it is those bullets of those classified as ‘Standard Shot’ and ‘Failures’ which were most unpredictable. Pakistanis appeared to have a surfeit of the later variety. Fortunately, God was with this unit. However, there was no guarantee that God would smile favourably on the GOC and that was what made the CO break into cold sweat at the prospect of the GOC visiting the forward most posts of his unit.

    The CO was not ready to take the risk. He took advantage of the fact that the GOC was a once the CO of this very unit and tried to dissuade the GOC; but the GOC was adamant as a mule!
    And so it came to pass that the GOC arrived at the unit’s Battalion HQ located on a lower ridge and relatively safer than the forward posts.

    The CO once again tried to dissuade the GOC. The GOC exhibited true mulish resolve. He would go, come what may.

    With total resignation, the CO prepared the escort party and as soon as the sun set, the party along with the GOC and the CO, set forth for the arduous climb to the next ridge where they would spend the night. This area, though under fire, was no hell hole like the forward posts and so the night passed ‘peacefully’ for the CO, though the nocturnal exchange of fire and it hitting the various bunkers kept the GOC awake and going a long way to his acquiring a ‘first-hand experience’. This post was there before the current conflagration and hence was well fortified and could stand many an assault of shot and shell.

    The morning broke, but none could move. The GOC hung around moving behind the brestwalls and through the communication trenches and observed the day battle as it waxed and waned. He had lunch at the troop’s cookhouse (lunger) and the party set out to the forward posts as soon as it got dark. The track leading was a registered target and so it was being flayed by HMGs describing random arcs that were discernable because of the indiscriminate use of tracers. The tracers allowed one to judge the trajectory and where the firing was terminating and so it was actually an aid to avoid being in the firing line, that is, if the gunner was not an addict of Afghanistan’s best! That risk had to be taken in one’s stride!

    Running the gauntlet, the GOC finally reached one of the forward most posts, which had only a platoon. It was one of the hurriedly constructed posts under fire. It had no amenities or adequate bunkers. Most had to make good sleeping in the communication trenches, when they could grab the time by day, when the intensity of fire was lower and the OP (Observation Post) could watch the area over a longer distance. It may be mentioned that this being High Altitude, there were no trees and so the observation distance was fairly long.

    On arrival, the GOC got a warm steaming dinner from the lunger. He was most satisfied since he was not one to stand on formalities when he was in his own unit. He ate out of a bashed out, though scrubbed shining, mess tin, the food receptacle issued to troops and officers. Being an Indian, he had no qualms or difficulty in using his fingers to eat the food. For dessert, a syrupy fruit was served from a tin since rations were basically tinned. A vitamin pill was also handed over as that was routine when one took tinned food.

    The GOC then hit the Communication trench to observe the battle!

    That night it was hell. Worse than before! Somehow, the Pakistanis had got an inkling that some VIP had come avisiting! The GOC was not worried. The others were. Bullet streaked endlessly and the thump and rattle of the HMG resounded all over. A couple of RPGs (Rocket Propelled Grenade) also came the post’s way, as if to give it a shake, rattle and roll. While the bunkers shook, rattled and rolled, the GOC was not amused. He was beyond the age for Disco Dancing!

    He had more than what he had bargained for, in the quest to have a first-hand experience of the operational situation, the living conditions, the morale of the troops and the state of defences.

    The fireworks went on through the night and the GOC got accustomed to the ‘scenario’ and the ‘effects’. He then went for his nap. Initially, he kept waking in fits and starts as the thumps kept falling close but later, it is reported, he snored away merrily. It was also mentioned that his snore was near in decibel as the noise of the battle ensuing outside.

    The dawn broke and the ‘war’ took a break. It was apparent that though different countries, the habits were the same. Timings for ablutions for both the countries were historical and as ancient from the time of Mohenjodaro.

    After a steaming cup of tea in an enamelled Government Issue mug, the GOC wandered around the post. It was as if he had come to check the ‘stand to’. He chatted here, he chirped there with the troops and the troops were distinctly happy and proud that a GOC had the spirit of a soldier to have come where danger is the norm.

    The GOC wandered a wee bit more and then, not being able to take it anymore, asked the CO as to where the toilet was.

    Toilet?

    That was rich! Who had the time to build a toilet when the bunkers are yet to be built?

    “Sir, there is no toilet in the strict manner of speaking”, the Company Commander was bold enough to say and clear the GOC’s fanciful thoughts.

    “Really? Then where do you go?”

    “To be frank we just sit in the communication trenches and use a used fruit tin and then chuck it towards the Pakistanis and it rolls down to them!”

    “OK, then where should I go?” asked the GOC incredulously.

    A part of the communication trench was cleared and with gunny sack it was screened and the Company Commander regally led the way. It was a historical event after all. No GOC ever emptied his bowels in a communication trench in history. Sadly, there were no representatives of Guinness Book of World Records to note this unique and singular feat in the history of warfare!

    And so the GOC repaired to this hallowed part of the communication trench duly screened.
    If the Company Commander could help it, he would have even sat alongside to help him on the way to nature’s release of bodily waste. No sir, the GOC did not want to have such devoted observation and assistance and he made that crystal clear.

    Disappointed not to be of assistance to the GOC, and that too an ex CO of the unit, the Company Commander was disappointed. He soulfully handed over a used and empty fruit tin, duly wiped of all remnants of the syrup that accompanies, to the GOC and left.

    He left, but hovered in the vicinity so as to be of assistance in case required.

    Obviously, in a communication trench, there was no toilet bowl and so all had to squat and use empty fruit tins. The General was not used to squatting or substituting the toilet bowl with a used fruit tin. He was hard put to relieve himself. The only consolation was that there swirled a cool breeze through the gaps in the boulders and it had a very pleasing effect in this unique manner adopted to release bodily waste in the morning.

    The General was getting used to this style of operational readiness.

    He GOC was enjoying this activity since the exertion ever since he arrived had transformed all the food into bodily waste.

    Then there was a sudden and sharp yelp from within the ‘toilet’!

    The Company Commander rushed. He then hesitated. He could not muster up courage to peek in lest the General was still in the raw. He realised that it would do him no good if he caught the General with his pants down.

    “Any problem, sir?” he meekly enquired.

    The General’s reply was a mix between anger, pain and surprise!

    “Yes, it is the fruit tin”.

    “So sorry, sir. Was it not up to the standard?”

    “You bet it. I have cut my bottom. It’s bleeding. The Godforsaken thing has jagged edges and my bottom is a jigsaw puzzle!” Wincing, he added, “Get a damned bandage and antiseptic”.

    Of course, the General’s desires were attended to and his bottom was salved.

    His bottom may have bled, but his bottom made the troops lives a happy one.

    The first thing the GOC did when he went back to his HQ was send a long missive on improving the Quality of Life on the Posts!

    Field Flush Latrine took priority!
     
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  17. Ray

    Ray The Chairman Defence Professionals Moderator

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    THE HUKAH AT THE MESS

    We were located in ’Operation D’ in the High Altitude area.

    Of course, it was not earth-shaking an experience. It was just that there was this daily unpredictable incessant, intense and unrelenting exchange of fierce shot and shell, especially in the hours when people elsewhere curl up with the warm hug of sundowners. It is nothing much really, except that one could make his Maker. Bookmakers would make a killing and it was but a daily lottery and that’s all!!!!

    Our Division’s sector was sea of tranquillity. It was this place alone where we were that was the hot spot, if you did not count Siachen. Siachen: Those desolate waste, the land of Guns and Roses! Ours was equally desolate, heights were similar and it was horrifyingly stimulatingly exciting environs. It was also excitingly horrifying to helicopters in the vicinity.
    They kept far from our location. This, however, did not deter all and sundry – the ‘war tourists’ in their pursuit of the ‘been there, done that’ rubber stamp! The only rider (caveat) being was that the war tourists, desired ringside vistas.......but from safe distances!

    The intensity of firing reached the crescendo at night and the ‘tourists’ were gone by then!

    The GOC was one who had to visit, not because he liked to be in the line of fire, but he was conscientious enough to do so in the line of duty. To be fair to him, he did visit even the forward most post, when the preceding unit was there, though on that occasion, he was wounded – not a battle casualty in its strict terms, but he could have claimed the Wound Medal, since it was a North Indian unit he was with. And we all know that the North Indians do mix up their ‘W’s with ‘B’s, like Bapas, for Wapas. And so 'Wound' would be pronounced as Bund. The said GOC had been injured while attending his morning ablution because of a jagged used fruit tin as there was no standard toilet at those places and was wounded in the you know where!

    Of course, the GOC was not too pleased at the experience. Though he did not claim the Medal as the Citation would be too revealing, he did give a diktat that the ‘quality of life’ had to be improved. The improvement started when my battalion took over and there were Field Flush Latrines galore. It was in such abundance, that it did not matter even when one of them toppled under enemy fire with a boy still inside at the act!

    The GOC was to visit us. To top it all, he was to have lunch. It was not that we were stingy and did not want to host the GOC; it was just that our Regimental Centre, then being commanded by a soldier Brigadier, thought that our unit required to be real battle hardened under strict combat conditions – and so he had posted out our Mess Cook, and to add insult to injury, also the masalchi (the condiment grinder man) to Ferozpur so that they exercised their culinary delights for a Brigade Commander! This left us at the mercy of Joe - who actually was borrowed lunger (troops’ cookhouse) marvel. His name was not Joe. We called him so, to assuage our ego, and what could be better than a cook with an English name?! It also gave him the personality fillip, wherein the food was still of the 'lunger’ class, but the English name ensured that his enthusiasm for dousing his culinary marvels with an overdose of condiments, though less on chilles to appear very officer like meal!

    Under these circumstances, the Pakistanis were easy meat to challenge compared to hosting a lunch for the GOC. And as they say, a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, we decided this was the best weapon we had and our GOC was reputed to have an ample stomach!

    When a GOC wants to break bread, it becomes more serious an operational problem than the Pakistanis peppering shots at random and into the blue. As is normal in the Army, when people are clueless, they hold a conference, and we were clueless how to organise this lunch! The Second in Command, true as rain, suggested a Conference and herded the officers of the Battalion HQs, namely, the Adjutant and the Quartermaster (QM), for their ‘valuable’ suggestions. I presided, being the Commanding Officer. And yes, forgive my memory relapse, to put the records straight, our post dog, William, also attended. He was an honorary member of our Mess, having the right as he consumed the major portion of Joe’s culinary marvels that were actually unfit for human consumption!

    It was decided that I was the best cook. My qualifications? I survived on extra messing of the lunger version of scrambled eggs – bujiya. Hence, not having tasted Joe’s own, I was definitely the sole one who understood food as it was eaten in more respectable and congenial environments. The QM, rotund that he was, was selected as the masalchi, since he did not have the rank to outmatch me, and because he was a gourmand, living to eat and not eating to live!

    The decision taken, the QM and I hotfooted it to the Officers Mess kitchen – an underground bunker, dark, damp, dismal and squalid! The Second in Command, the honorary Officers Mess Librarian since he controlled the finances, helpfully brought the book, ’Maharaja’s Cooking’ written by some minor Raja of Madhya Pradesh. Very apt title, but were we the ‘cooking staff’ up to it?

    The pages of the Maharaja’s were frantically turned. “Jungle Roast” appealed. It was the easiest and yet the most exotic! It was a capital idea, sirjee! The GOC having been feted at a surfeit in Messes, his palate could only be jiggled with surprises that separated the class from the crass! The recipe was simple. A hole in the ground, a chicken well marinated, wrapped in leaves, covered with wet mud and left to roast in a slow burning charcoal fire, turning it occasionally. Viola! But no, the problem was that we lived in stark surroundings and there were no trees and so there were no leaves. So, that was out.

    More pages were furiously thumbed. Nothing seemed to click. Some condiment or the other was missing from our larder. No fault of ours either. We were not the ITC of MaJor Rehman nor the Taj or even being impoverished Mahrajas writing cookbooks to keep the home fires blazing and warm!

    We were at our tethers end.

    I took a calculated risk. I wanted to surprise ourselves and leave the GOC surprised and guessing as to what Fate deemed his way! And one cannot challenge Fate, can one? So to Fate we let the GOC stomach lie!

    The masquerading mess cook Joe cut the chicken dexterously, he having been cautioned earlier that it had to be cut Officers mess style, where the chicken could be recognised to be so and not mistaken for crow.

    We wanted the GOC to realise it was a chicken and not a crow. This was some feat too, since live chicken was a rarity in these parts where food came in tins, bottles, in dehydrated form and in pills that only the famished of Somalia could relish, notwithstanding the ASC’s claim nothing fresh could be issued as everything shrivelled in the cold, including human beings. As if, someone had asked the ASC to supply human beings as Meat on Hoof, even if most in uniform were but sheep!

    That chicken was cut the officers mess style. I attacked it with a fork stabbing wildly like a cadet attempting the ‘Best Bayonet’ at the National Defence Academy.

    In the meantime, the QM, my honorary masalchi, pulverised the High Altitude rations of raisins, cashew, almonds and the works into a paste and stirred it into a bowl of milk powder turned curds. There being no chillies, he doused the mixture with Hongtu’s Chinese Chilli Paste, a welcomed gift from an officer’s wife on the Delhi – Hong Kong run of Air India! And then... into this goo..... we threw the Officers Mess style cut chickens to marinate for four hours!

    The QM went into an overdrive with the remainder of the menu since the dal and the vegetables were no problem – the Maharaja’s Cookbook proving quite adequate and the ingredients being available. Joe, remember him? - Our lunger turned officers mess cook? - He prepared the dessert, which in the Army, is known as the ‘sweet dish’. It was some exotic stuff from where he hailed and was his Mum’s favourite. We fervently hoped that the GOC and his Mother shared the same tastes!

    The marinating done, the chicken was cooked over a slow fire on a slow burning charcoal fire and once done, it was declared ready to eat.

    The main part of the battle done, we awaited the GOC.

    He arrived on a mule, helicopters being no go in our area. I cannot vouch that he had a sore bottom, but he certain did not look pleased. He had made no secret that he did not like me too much ever since the Spotterscope demand incident (another story, some other time). But I will add the feeling was mutual.

    Tea and small eats served, I launched into the Briefing. It had become hackneyed, having given it to all and sundry, be they VIPs or ‘war tourists’. I could have given it with my eyes closed and as parrot like as Long John Silver’s parrot saying “Pieces of Eight’! The GOC too had heard it many a time and so he flitted his head left to right and vice versa like some mountain bird from Salim Ali, the naturalist’s, book! Both of us played out this charade to the hilt!

    The Briefing over, the question hours was on. He looked at me as if he had suddenly discovered a worm emerging out of an apple! He blinked twice and rubbed it in, “Still hankering for that Spotterscope, what?” He chortled. “Carry on hankering. You will not get one!” He beamed having said it. As if I cared; I had already bought a Russian telescope from the moth eaten local market!

    He had no question and somewhat relieved that the charade was over.

    “Shall we have lunch”, said the GOC.

    A good point! After all, none expected him to go and man a machine gun and go on a pigeon shoot, even if it meant the Pakistanis.

    We repaired for lunch.

    While we waited with bated breath, he enjoyed every morsel! He was ecstatic over the chicken dish and went so far as to say, “The bird was fabulous”. General classify all types of fowl as ‘birds’. I believe it is classy to do so! I made it clear that though it was fowl (note the spelling and not the pronunciation), it was clearly was a chicken and not a crow by stating thus:

    “Ah yes, sir, its from our poultry, fresh live chicken, prepared just for you!”

    “My compliments to your cook and say, can I borrow him?

    I will leave the borrowing of the cook episode for another time and instead move on with the story.

    After the General had knocked off his ‘sweet dish’, I asked the General if I could smoke. He was not too fond of smoking.
    It was my mess and not his and so he grudgingly waved his arm and said, “Burn yourself for all I care”.

    The good General had been needling me throughout the lunch and so I was seething.

    I delivered the coup de grâce. The time had come for one to have a spine, even if he were only a CO!

    I clapped my hands as if I were some Sheik for the Arab world.

    The GOC beamed. He thought I applauded his smart repartee, as most CO did and do!

    Clap done and in popped Andy, the lean and tall Jat soldier, all decked up for the occasion.

    He carried a silver hookah (hubble bubble) perched on a red stain pillow with flowing tassels in gold colour.

    He handed me the hookah, took the nozzle, gave it two puffs, changed the mouthpiece and extended the nozzle towards me.

    With all solemnity and grace of a Guard Commander of a Presidential ceremonial guard, he saluted and exclaimed loud and clear – “Shariman, hookah taiyar” (Sir, your hubble bubble is ready).

    The General jaws dropped, eyes popped and he was left unceremoniously gawking!

    “Time to leave, I presume”, the General squawked. It was Veni Vedi but not Vici!

    He climbed the mule and went into the sunset as Lone Ranger does in Universal Pictures films!
     
    Last edited: Sep 4, 2012
  18. Ray

    Ray The Chairman Defence Professionals Moderator

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    That much for the so called lunger cooking!
     
  19. Kunal Biswas

    Kunal Biswas Member of the Year 2011 Moderator

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    Interesting read, Sir..
     
  20. Ankit Purohit

    Ankit Purohit Senior Member Senior Member

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    wow tasty thread ,keep posting ,

    post pics of officer mess food

    Wah Wah
     
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  21. Ray

    Ray The Chairman Defence Professionals Moderator

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    Why?

    You want to lose your appetite? ;)
     
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