By Ratna Manucha
I’m sure you have all heard the very popular saying, ‘You can take the man out of the city, not the city out of the man’.
Let me rephrase that, so you understand the context as I narrate my story.
You can take the man out of the army but not the army out of the man. Got it?
So, in this case, let’s presume our man in question is retired, superannuated, has hung up his boots…and is now called a veteran. Sigh!
For him, the uniform may be a thing of past glory, not quite within his reach, but he will compensate for it in other ways. He will wear caps which he keeps getting when he visits all the formations, during their annual reunions, where he had served. You see, that is the elixir that keeps him going, and these caps with their flashy logos, well, those are manna from heaven, to be preserved and kept in safe custody since they are more precious than his wife’s jewels and which give him a sense of belonging which even his surname does not!
Now, just the other day, our man in question, was feeling a tad queasy so he decided to pay the hospital a visit. The good doctor there decided to hold him back and admit him for a night just to make sure all his vitals were in good working order. And now begins our story…
So now our veteran is admitted to the Military Hospital where he meets all people of his fraternity…the doctors, nurses, nursing attendants and even some fellow patients. Guess what? In no time at all, he seems to be feeling better! Since he was admitted at night, dinnertime was over, but the kind cook rustled up some leftovers which he heated in the microwave oven and presented to our hero with a flourish. Our hero, who by the way, has always displayed a vociferous dislike for microwave heated food, lapped up everything gratefully.
‘It’s delicious,’ he commented to his better half, who stood there wondering if she had been hit by a sledgehammer.
Cut to the next morning. The wife’s phone beeps. It’s a message from our Man of the Moment.
‘Don’t be in a hurry to come and get me,’ it reads. ‘They are ready to discharge me but the cook came to meet me at breakfast time. He insists I go after lunch. Just imagine. Where will I get so much love and care?’
An invitation to stay till lunch! And from the cook himself! Life couldn’t be sweeter!
The good woman almost began to type a steely retort, but then thought better of it and let it go.
Picture the scene at the hospital when the wife turns up, where our hero is chatting away with the nursing assistant and the nurse, who peeps in at intervals to check on him.
‘I’m having such a nice time,’ he beams. ‘Did you know, the day nurse actually belongs to Doon, too!’
As the wife begins collecting his belongings, he comments, ‘They’re still preparing my discharge slip. I’ll leave after lunch’.
So, the hapless woman sits outside on a bench, twiddling her thumbs, while our hero regales his audience of one (occasionally two) about his years in the army.
Finally, the cook walks in with a flourish, carrying a plate with the day’s lunch. The wife gets up from her seat and follows the cook inside. She needs to see the hero’s reaction…
And she wasn’t disappointed. He accepts the plate with a grateful grin and begins polishing off the food almost instantly.
‘It’s delicious,’ he comments between bites. ‘You want to try? This karela is amazing. I never knew it could be so tasty.’
‘That’s because you’ve never eaten it,’ the wife opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it again. By now she was beginning to look like a goldfish…open mouth, shut mouth…
Our hero, who ate one chapati grudgingly for lunch every day, had eaten three, along with some rice…
Lunch over, our hero gets up, dusts his clothes, shakes hands with everyone and is ready to go.
‘I’ve never felt better in my life,’ says the veteran. ‘I feel as young as a 30-year-old,’ he beams as he gets into his car and drives off, wife in tow.
He retired from the army.
Unfortunately, the army stayed behind.
(Ratna Manucha is an educator, author and columnist. She lives, dreams and writes in Dehradun , her happy place.)
