The Bold Brave and Fearless

About the Book

Prologue

    The two pairs of soldiers, walking on the pavement, came face to face about fifty yards away from each other. The Indian soldiers were from a local Infantry Battalion of the Sikh Regiment. The British Soldiers were from the CMP (short for Corps of Military Police), commonly called the MPs.
    The Indians looked at each other and realized that the situation was of one pair being on the right-side or the wrong-side of the road. They made up their minds individually.
    Said the first one to his friend,"The bloody Goras (the Whiteman is called a Gora) are on the wrong-side! Why should we get down to the road from the pavement?"     His friend replied with emphasis,"That's right. Why should we?"
    After a pause,he added with more conviction, "We shall see today! The Firangies (foreigners) don't enforce the same rule with British troops."
    "Let's see them today. We can bear the consequences later," said the first one with emphasis.
    Both the Indians braced up. Raising their heads they walked as though fully prepared for the confrontation which was by then just thirty yards away and approaching fast.
    The MPs also raised their chins. Without looking at each other,they exchanged words.
    Said the taller one to his slim friend," Those damn Indians are right in our way. I think we ought to give them a good dressing-down if they don't get down from the pavement."
    "Bloody right, mate. They should not have been here in the first place," said the slim one while transferring his right-hand to the grip of his cane and removing it from under his left armpit. Instinctively, his left-hand went to his right pocket and unbuttoned the flap so that he could pull out the whistle quickly. That was like a routine drill movement for any MP when he realized the need to blow the whistle-mainly as a warning to a defaulter and also to alert others of his profession.
    By then both the pairs were about ten yards apart. The Indians showed no sign of relenting and the MPs thought they had a duty to perform. Seeing the cane being transferred to the right-hand, the second Indian muttered to his friend,"He may hit one of us. That is my gut feeling."
    "If he dares! This puny fellow had it, today. I'll cut him to pieces,"said the first one in the same low tone muttered through his clenched teeth.Punjabi language can be very forceful when it comes to emphasising a point, as was the Pushtu language of the local Pathans tribals, since they were neighbors.
    As the distance between the pairs became less, their speed of paces slowed down. The Indians had made up their mind to confront the MPs. Since a Sikh never starts a fight, they were waiting for action from the Goras.The two MPs were slightly taken aback at the audacity of the Sikh soldiers.
    By then they were just a yard apart.
    The pavement at that point was slightly wide. Both the Sikhs tried to stay on the pavement and made way for the Policemen by edging closer to the hedge. The first one was on the right of second one and thus closer to the British. The MPs reluctantly edged towards the road while definitely staying on the pavement.
    The aim was to stay on the pavement.
    The slim one was on the right of the tall one and thus closer to the first Indian. As he came next to them, his face turned red with disdain seeing the damn Indians conveniently edging towards the hedge thus taking up a slightly higher and superior position, rather than give way to the British masters by stepping down on to the low road. That was a challenge to the self respect of any British and that too of a Corporal of the Military Police seconded from His Majesty's Royal Troops.
    The first Indian was now next to the slim Britisher and tried to cross him as far away as possible without the slightest attempt to rub against him. But the sleeve of his mufti shirt seemed to be heading for the red sash on the right arm of the British.
    The slim Britisher moved his right-hand to the left. While doing so, he raised his voice and shouted, "Get out of my way you damn Indian." His hand whipped to the right, hitting the first Indian on his buttocks, with the cane.
    The slim Britisher thought that he had done his duty well and was in the process of complementing himself. He did not turn to look towards the victim and continued to move forward.The attitude of his companion was the same as though they had done their duty very well and could tell their companions how they had beaten up two Indians, that day, to pulp.
    By the time the words were said and the cane had hit his buttocks, the 'damn Indian' had just crossed our slim Britisher. Since his mind had been made up, the abusive words of the British soldier and the hit with the cane were the final catalyst to goad him into reaction. A reaction which was unheard of and never anticipated by anyone, least of all by the British Military Police.
    The reaction of the Indian was electric, fast and most unexpected, even by his friend.
    His right-hand went into a convulsion. The fingers tightened into a fist. A fist so powerful that it was like a hammer. He checked the inertia of his forward movement with his left foot, simultaneously swinging his right hand to the right, like a backhand strike in tennis.
    In Punjab,if a fight was to develop,the opponents would threaten each other with backhand strikes saying, "Putthe hathh the paegaye taan nani yaad aaj-ayu!" Literally meaning - if you get one backhand strike of mine, you will remember your mother's-mother. It could be very powerful and yet so easy and casual.     The fist hit the thin Britisher on the left part of the head, under the ear.The knuckles remained implanted on his cheek for a moment before heading into thin air.
    The effect on him was very forceful, partly raising him from the ground. His body took off and swept over the hedge. Such was the force that he did not wait to weigh down the hedge like a sack of potatoes would have done.
    He landed on his head, stunned.

Review
by Jaswant Singh
The Tribune from Chandiarh
Spectrum Section
August 24

This novel depicts tension between British and Indian troops in a cantonment in the mid-thirties of the last century and also a modern-day romance between an American salesgirl and a strapping Sikh youth in a small US town. The two tales are woven together with a thin thread of coincidence.

The army tensions show up in Peshawar Cantonment, where the British are planning a major offensive against unruly frontier tribes. A corporal of the British Military Police hurls an ethnic abuse at a Sikh naik and hits him with a cane. The naik retaliates with a heavy backhand swipe that sends the corporal reeling over an adjoining hedge. At an identification parade the corporal is unable to recognise the Sikh naik.

Then follows a chain

About the Author

They say of a young flier.
Kicks aircraft tires to gauge pressure air,
to roar runway down lights the engine fire,
toys a joystick to zoom to world free,
there his community and birds roam free.
For an ex-fighter-writer a dream come true.

    Penning down his feelings and indulging in spontaneous graphics and poetry was an obsession since his younger days. Even when he was a prisoner of war, he sketched his captor's portraits and made them relax their guard while he continued to scribble his experiences in captivity. When three of his colleagues managed to escape, those bits of paper were thrown away as wastepaper by an unsuspecting guard who searched him. Undaunted by that setback he remained faithful to his creative faculty to pen down this story after he retired from the cockpit. He draws inspiration from real events and the mosaic of his work is interspersed with tiles of anecdotes from history.
    He lives in New Delhi.