By Shiv Kunal Verma
The worst part about growing older is the loss of parents, families, friends and people who helped shape and define your life. Losing a teacher is almost akin to losing a parent, for even though after school one moves on, there are some bonds which can never be broken. We lost Mr RD Singh last week, and though he was 90 years old, his departure created a pall of sadness among all of us who had the privilege of being his students either at The Doon School or in Mayo College.
RD Sir was a friend of both my parents. He had been in college with my mother and even though he was a few years senior, they knew each other fairly well. My father was RD’s ‘shooting friend’ and I remember being bundled into his open jeep with Sona, our female yellow labrador retriever. My father had trained Sona superbly, and she rarely missed retrieving a jungli murgi or a partridge, even if it was a runner. In those days, labradors were a rarity and we had got Sona and her sister, Sandy, from the US Military Attaché, who had done a course with my father at Ft Benning in 1969. RD being one of the favoured few in my parents’ books, was given two puppies in 1972 when Sona littered. Begum was the female I think, and she went to RD’s sister… Nawab, the male, and yours truly then arrived at school more or less together.
RD was the housemaster of Hyderabad A while I was put by the sorting hat upstairs in Hyderabad B. It was quite cold in February and after a couple of days, I felt a wet muzzle as Nawab somehow found me and shoved his head into my mosquito net and razai. He needed little encouragement and soon he was curled up at my feet, fast asleep. A missing puppy in the middle of the night must have been a nightmare, but eventually RD found Nawab tucked in with me. I don’t know what happed to the pup, but I got my ear pulled and was called a ‘bloody ullu’!
He would call me an ‘ullu’ a few more times over the next five years, and in the process, I would learn one of the most important lessons in life from him. Miffed at not being included in the Hyderabad House tennis team simply because my inclusion would knock out the tennis captain’s younger brother, I led the Tata House cheering squad against my own house. I was just getting into the groove of things when RD Sir appeared and asked me to walk with him. ‘You know what happens to traitors on the battlefield?’ Without waiting for me to answer, he answered his own question: ‘They’re shot!’
It was obvious he knew the background, including the fact that I had beaten the house tennis captain fair and square in the selections. His tone changed a bit, and he put his hand on my shoulder: ‘I’m not your housemaster, so I cannot interfere. But remember, whatever the provocation and the injustice, you never, ever, let your own side down!’ He started to move off, then turned and added: ‘Don’t ever walk away from a fight if you feel wronged but handle your own demons. Prove them all wrong by raising the bar. But fight within the system, not outside it.’
I would go on to captain the Madras Christian College tennis team in my second year itself, in a competitive environment which was perhaps the best in the country then. Life deals you plenty of unfair cards as we get on in years, but I never forgot RD Sir’s words. I met him at The Doon School Founders in 2019 and was sitting with him at the ‘Rosebowl’ listening to Vijay Amritraj’s address. I couldn’t resist it and asked him if he remembered what had happened 43 years ago. His eyes twinkled and he laughed, ‘You were a bloody ullu. I hope you never let your side down!’ I was amazed at his recall, and today join the thousands whose lives he touched in remembering him.
(Shiv Kunal Verma, with his roots in the Doon Valley, is considered to be one of India’s foremost military history writer and film maker.)
