If the shine of the shoulder badge dazzles you, and the spick and span of the boots and belts charm you, visit the SSG campus on the day of the inter house drill competition!
A week before the event, the smell of the burning candle and the ‘shoe polish’ pervades every House, and every room and spills over into the corridors. And a day before the event the smell of Brasso adds to the spice as we start polishing the metal parts of our uniform – the belt locks, the shoulder badges, the cap badge and the innumerable badges, some earned and mostly for the glitter.
And a month before the event, we hear the familiar noise of the commander, ‘Left right…Left right…Heel Dig, Shoulder tight, Left Right..Left Right…’ The digging of the hard heel of our boots would soften the dry earth beneath and bring out the water to the surface. Every house cherished for the ‘Drill Trophy’ and it was pretty natural to hear the familiar commands erupting from each house, and at times, even at odd hours of the night.
The point system in the Drill competition ensured that everything was looked into, starting from the turnout to the marching and from our haircut to the crispness of our uniforms. Udaygiri House had won it for several years in succession, until it was snatched away the previous year. Legend has it that ‘ghosts’ or ‘spirits’ used to come and guide the Udaygiri house team during the practice sessions. It seems funny to realize that we actually were ready to buy such ideas.
The previous year, Lachit House shocked us all by coming up with this unique surprise. On the day of the event, as we faced each other, their shining boots made our boots look pale, in spite of going through all the strict traditional process of smearing them with candle, and then with shoe polish, and then the adequate strokes from the hard brush and the soft brush. After the drill was over, news came that, Lachitians had painted their shoes with wood paints. I envied their boots, as the shine remained even days after the event. And then a time came, when the paint started to crack, and no shoe polish could fill those cracks and they started to look ridiculously old. The black paint nonetheless did its job, as Lachitians at least gave a stiff competition (I don’t remember if they won the trophy that year).
It so happens that we always practice for the drill in a different pair of shoe and keep a fresh one for the D-Day. Alongside the drill practice, I was also occupied with some paper works as I was the office bearer during that particular year. So, I finally took out my fresh pair on the night before the D-Day and tried them on and a sense of horror struck me! It was too small for my feet.
I summoned a junior and asked him to find a ‘fresh pair’ of boots for me. After a tense hour or so, he came back with an unused pair. Now anyone who knows leather understands how difficult it is polish an unused and never polished piece of leather and more so, if one had to wear it in the drill. I raced my mind and was struck with an idea. I managed to find a half filled container of black paint and splashed it generously on the boots and left it to dry over night. I kept checking its dryness, sometimes merely looking at it, or at times pressing my finger on it. So by the dawn of the morning, there were several finger prints on the shoes to my horror! And it was yet to dry. As I left for classes, the bright sun suddenly turned gloomy and ominous dark clouds came up from nowhere. After a tensed day of classes, I had a quick lunch and came running to check my boots only to put yet another impression of my finger on it. The mess bell went off marking the time to leave for the Drill competition. I slipped my feet carefully without bothering the half dried paint and joined my team outside the house, as some of us chanted house Slogans, and get countered by slogans from other houses. We started to move towards the ground.
Half way through towards the ground, I felt a sense of sponginess on my feet and I looked down and Oh my God, the half dried paint had befriended some dried twigs, loose grasses and pounds of dust clung around it.
I felt like screaming, ‘Lachitians you dint warn me about this!!!’
A week before the event, the smell of the burning candle and the ‘shoe polish’ pervades every House, and every room and spills over into the corridors. And a day before the event the smell of Brasso adds to the spice as we start polishing the metal parts of our uniform – the belt locks, the shoulder badges, the cap badge and the innumerable badges, some earned and mostly for the glitter.
And a month before the event, we hear the familiar noise of the commander, ‘Left right…Left right…Heel Dig, Shoulder tight, Left Right..Left Right…’ The digging of the hard heel of our boots would soften the dry earth beneath and bring out the water to the surface. Every house cherished for the ‘Drill Trophy’ and it was pretty natural to hear the familiar commands erupting from each house, and at times, even at odd hours of the night.
The point system in the Drill competition ensured that everything was looked into, starting from the turnout to the marching and from our haircut to the crispness of our uniforms. Udaygiri House had won it for several years in succession, until it was snatched away the previous year. Legend has it that ‘ghosts’ or ‘spirits’ used to come and guide the Udaygiri house team during the practice sessions. It seems funny to realize that we actually were ready to buy such ideas.
The previous year, Lachit House shocked us all by coming up with this unique surprise. On the day of the event, as we faced each other, their shining boots made our boots look pale, in spite of going through all the strict traditional process of smearing them with candle, and then with shoe polish, and then the adequate strokes from the hard brush and the soft brush. After the drill was over, news came that, Lachitians had painted their shoes with wood paints. I envied their boots, as the shine remained even days after the event. And then a time came, when the paint started to crack, and no shoe polish could fill those cracks and they started to look ridiculously old. The black paint nonetheless did its job, as Lachitians at least gave a stiff competition (I don’t remember if they won the trophy that year).
It so happens that we always practice for the drill in a different pair of shoe and keep a fresh one for the D-Day. Alongside the drill practice, I was also occupied with some paper works as I was the office bearer during that particular year. So, I finally took out my fresh pair on the night before the D-Day and tried them on and a sense of horror struck me! It was too small for my feet.
I summoned a junior and asked him to find a ‘fresh pair’ of boots for me. After a tense hour or so, he came back with an unused pair. Now anyone who knows leather understands how difficult it is polish an unused and never polished piece of leather and more so, if one had to wear it in the drill. I raced my mind and was struck with an idea. I managed to find a half filled container of black paint and splashed it generously on the boots and left it to dry over night. I kept checking its dryness, sometimes merely looking at it, or at times pressing my finger on it. So by the dawn of the morning, there were several finger prints on the shoes to my horror! And it was yet to dry. As I left for classes, the bright sun suddenly turned gloomy and ominous dark clouds came up from nowhere. After a tensed day of classes, I had a quick lunch and came running to check my boots only to put yet another impression of my finger on it. The mess bell went off marking the time to leave for the Drill competition. I slipped my feet carefully without bothering the half dried paint and joined my team outside the house, as some of us chanted house Slogans, and get countered by slogans from other houses. We started to move towards the ground.
Half way through towards the ground, I felt a sense of sponginess on my feet and I looked down and Oh my God, the half dried paint had befriended some dried twigs, loose grasses and pounds of dust clung around it.
I felt like screaming, ‘Lachitians you dint warn me about this!!!’
1 comments:
Interesting :-) .. to that i will say 'Let no one ever come to you without leaving better & happier'.College days can't ever come back , they can just be cherished.
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