GAME
OF THE NAME
Brig VK Singh
What's in a
name? After all, it is just a name, isn't it? A rose, called by any other name,
would smell just the same. I was once thrown by a horse, with the misleading
name of Grace, and had to spend a month in hospital. On the other hand, I have
a dog called Captain Cook-he has a black eye patch-who is a thorough gentleman.
Yet, names are important to human beings. Film stars have to change their
names, if the ones given to them by their parents are not glamourous enough.
Fortunately, we are not very particular about names in the military profession.
Of course, it helps if you have one that can be hummed, or sung, like a ditty,
as I discovered on joining the NDA.
I know several
people who have names which are a mouthful, which have to be repeated three or
four times during introductions. Some have names which are prone to distortion,
or manipulation, causing no end of embarrassment to the owner, who can't do
much about it, except wonder at his parents' sanity. When I was at school, I
often felt sorry for my friends, like Screw Walla, Kala and Futehally, whose
names were twisted out of shape, by all and sundry. I thanked my stars that I
did not have to suffer like them. Singh was a common enough surname, and the
initials VK were almost innocuous. My first name, Vinay, was not very common,
and unlikely to be duplicated. It was not very long, and I did not have to repeat
it, like some of my friends with five syllable monstrosities, such as
Nellekkapilvil Kaluparambil Balakrishnan. It saved time, while filling forms.
Best of all, it could not be mutilated or amputated, as happened with Randhwa
and Garewal, who always became Randy and Gary.
The first signs
of trouble came in 1972, when I was posted at the MOTE. One day, I met Lt Col
KPG Kurup, who was doing the SO course, I think. In 1967-68, he and I had
served together, at Gangtok and later at Kyangnosala. He was the Second in
Command, and I the Adjutant, and we
shared the same office. So when I saw him, I went up to him and wished him a
good evening.
“How are you,
VK,” he said, pumping my hand. “And how was
your tenure at the NDA?”
“NDA, Sir?” I
replied. “I was never posted at the
NDA.”
“But how can
that be. About two years ago, I myself got you posted there.”
“Must be someone
else, Sir.” I said.
And that was
that. Or so I thought. When I discussed the incident with my cronies, I discovered
that I did have a namesake, who was even then, posted as a Divisional officer at
the NDA.
Over the years,
Vijay and I came to know each other well, of course, we were different, but the similarities were confined
not only to our names. We both came from Lucknow, where his parents lived on
Butler Road, while mine were in Butler Palace Colony. We had different IC
numbers (thank God for that), but were both of the same seniority (1965). What
is worse, we seemed to be following each other, on courses and postings.
In November
1975, I took the Staff college entrance examination. After a few months, when
the results were announced, someone telephoned from Delhi to congratulate me. I
asked him to confirm if it was I, or the other VK, who had passed. After some
time, he rang up again, and told me that the IC number tallied with mine. It
was only than that I could start celebrating. After the staff course, I was posted as DAA
& QMG of a brigade, whose HQ was located in J & K. Vijay did the staff
course two years later, and was also posted as DAA & QMG of a brigade.
Guess where it was located? At same station! While he was doing the
course, many of his letters were redirected to me, from
Wellington. The situation was remedied only after he told everyone to start
writing his locker number, which differed from mine.
After my tenure in J & K, I was posted to an Armoured
Division. Vijay was in another Armoured Division. There was little cause for
worry, as the two Divisions were located at different stations seven hundred
kilometers apart. However, when we went for an exercise, the situation changed.
We were both doing the same job in our units, ie OC I Company. Often, he would
get my calls, and I would get his. One day, the SO2 (Sigs) at Corps HQ rang up
for some important information. Since I did not have it readily available, he
said he would call back after an hour, if he did not get it by then. After an hour,
the call came, but to the other VK. There were some hot words exchanged, before
the matter was cleared up.
Naturally, we were screened for promotion to Lt Col
together, in 1982. Fortunately, both were approved. Fortunately, we were sent
to different sectors to command our units. He went to 19 Infantry Division,
while I was sent to 33 Mechanised Division. After finishing our tenures both of
us were posted to Delhi, at the same time. In fact, we took over our houses in
Arjun Vihar on the same day. Vijay was in 359, while I too was in 359. Both
were third floor flats in adjoining blocks, 27 and 28!
The problem started with the bus,
which we used for commuting to office. When I sent a cheque for paying the
subscription, I was told that it has been already paid. Next month, when Vijay sent his, he was told
that he had not paid for the previous month. As it turned out, his cheque had
been credited to my account. After about a year, Vijay asked me casually if I
had ever checked my rent bills. I shook my head. He smiled, and asked me to do
so. When I did, I got a shock. I had been paying rent, electricity and other
charges not only for my house,
but also for
his! Next morning, when I told him. he laughed. He had not
been getting his rent
bills and had
gone to the CAO to find out the reason, where he discovered the mistake. Next
day, we went to the CAO, and sorted it out. I got a hefty refund, while Vijay
had to pay a years arrears of rent.
One day, the bell rang. When I opened the door, I found a
young man at the door. He introduced himself as Captain Singh, so I invited him
to come in, and sit down. I offered him a cup of tea, and we began to talk.
After some time, he asked me when Col VK Singh was likely to come home. I was
surprised, and told him that I was already at home. Now it was his turn to be
surprised. He was Vijay's younger brother, and having seen the name plate on
the door, presumed that it was Vijay's house. I sent him to the right address,
after telephoning Vijay.
Vijay retired from service in 1991, and was re-employed
in the United Services Institution. In 1993. he was awarded the VSM. At that
time, I was posted at Jodhpur. I must have received dozens of letters,
congratulating me for the award. I had to redirect them to Vijay, after sending
a polite reply to the senders, thanking them for their sentiments, just the
same. However, this was not the last I heard of the VSM. In February 1996, I
had gone to Jabalpur, to attend the Corps Reunion. When I entered the Corps
Museum, I found my name, along with my IC number, on the board, showing the VSM
awardees!
Vijay has now left the USI, after his four years term was
over. While he was there, he often rang me up, to tell me about a new book, or
an interesting lecture or seminar. Now that he has left, we rarely meet, though
we do keep in touch by telephone. Of course, the comedy of errors has still not
come to an end. A few months ago, I received a signal, asking me to give
evidence in a Court Martial, as a defence witness. I was surprised because I
had never known the officer who was being tried. When I read the signal again,
I saw the light. The IC number of the person who was required was 18399. Mine
is 16318!
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