Circles, crazy circles spinning round and...
Laugh lines
By Amrita Dhingra

WHEN you got back to the old flat you felt like a wet rat and your only wish was to have a long sink in a hot tub accompanied by a couple of restoratives and bed. As you lug your overnight bag into the lift, after soaking a considerable portion of the hallway carpet, there is a lot on your mind, it weighs you down and you stare at the numbers on the dial. As soon as it reaches the sixth floor where you have your penthouse flat you bend to reach for the said bags, with a quiet "ping" the lift doors open or begin to open and before you know what hit you...Bang! Something, someone charges headlong into the lift and rams you amidships.

Assuming, as lift doors are trained to do, that you have alighted in the said time or never had any intention of doing so these same doors close decorously and the lift begins its descent to the groundfloor. Meanwhile you, having failed in your duty as a lift user to alight at the appointed floor, are spread-eagled on the floor with a big shaggy overgrown rug sitting neatly on you.

As you push your way past blind terror and pure panic and the weight of this rug, you realise that it is a very determined, overly affectionate sort of rug. Overly affectionate because it has just proceeded to plant a very wet lick across your cheek. Pushing past more fur you find yourself looking face to face at a St. Bernard who is firmly planted on your chest.

As you and the said St Bernard stare each other in the eye, you with the wrath of one who doesn’t like St Bernards taking up residence on you and him with the affection of a longlost pal, the lift doors do their open sesame act again. This time to admit a prim old lady with a neat pink hat sitting primly on her snow white hair. The look she gives you could have caused a punk to give up dying his hair purple. "These young rascals" — you can literally hear her say as you haul dog and self off the floor.

"Sorry about that," you smile, "he can get quite excited at times." You take a firm grip of his collar and try to think of ways to explain that you’ve never seen this animated rug before. What makes your predicament worse of course is the fact that the dog having done his flooring act is now standing next to you and is about as excited as a piece of furniture. His tongue is lolling out jovially it’s true, but beyond that peace marks him for her own. Giving you another quick glance that says young men aren’t what they ought to be anymore and sparing a look of sympathy for your erstwhile assailant, the old lady gets off at the fifth floor.

The sixth floor landing finds you alighting at last with an overnight bag on one arm and lugging a 200 lb. dog with the other. No doubt you would have liked to mop your brow and rest awhile after your recent ordeal but fate decrees otherwise.

"Hello there old chap!!"

You wheel around on your heel letting go of both dog and bag. "Frank!!"

This was followed by much back thumping and how-are-you-doing-old-man stuff.

"Sorry about Comet."

"Comet?" for an instant you wonder if he’s gone a little loony and is apologising for some comet that no doubt he feels is mucking up the universe, but then you see he is looking down at the St. Bernard.

"This piece of cosmic wreckage belongs to you? Don’t take it hard old chap but he nearly crushed me to death and I missed a myocardial infarction by a whisker!"

"Sorry about that you see he well sort of likes doors and when I get in back home he sort of loves to jump up from behind it and bring me down. It’s a game," he ended helpfully.

The dog Comet had meanwhile been busy in trying to wrest your bag off the floor, in an attempt no doubt to be helpful, but succeeding only in tearing off one handle.

"I see. Yes, quite," you say forbearing to mention that your friend has been utterly lax in this pup’s upbringing and all the rest of it, while trying to wrestle the handle out of the dog’s mouth. An entirely wrong approach to take of course because Comet thinks it’s a game and proceeds to demonstrate his skills at the tou-of-war. Comet, you are coming to realise thinks everything is a game.

"Well Frank old chap, just like the old days, eh?" you say as you let them into the flat, referring to the times when the two of you had resided in adjoining rooms at the alma mater.

"Yes," says this old pal of yours, kicking a nearby sofa leg in an absentminded way.

You are, of course, the last man who could be accused of being critical but there seems to you to be a certain lack of ebullience in his manner. You do not know what the exact-degree-of-warmth-to-expect-when-being-greeted-by-an-old-schoolmate is according to these books which suggest degrees of warmth for everything, but you feel sure that old. Frank is missing the mark by a couple of degrees C. Still, maybe he had something on his mind. You had a lot on your mind — Amanda, Stokes, Carrie and C.E. Calloway — but somehow you bore up even after your acquaintance with Comet, still you were never one to buckle easily under pressure.

"Frank," you say, prepared to be understanding and sympathetic," something bothering you old man?"

"...bothering?...oh no, no certainly not," says this pal of yours, with whom you were apt to share the latest edition of Superhero comics, administering another moody kick to the table, "I say dash it man I want to marry her!"

"An admirable sentiment," you say in keeping with your policy of being understanding and sympathetic, "but who do you want to marry?"

"Carrie Calloway!" All the wistfulness of a mangled heart, fresh from the emotional wringer pours forth in these two words.

"Carrie Calloway!" Your tone was quite different, more of a cat on a hot tin roof in it.

"You know her?" For a moment a solitary ray of hope lightened his map, much like the member of a fan club meeting up with another junior member.

"Quiet well," you force yourself to say, the disclosure made by Frank has left you shaken to the core. In fact you feel quite up to clutching your head in despair.

"How well?" The Othello in Frank awakes with a quick jump.

"Just met her a day before yesterday," you hasten to add, "at Fiona’s place. She’s there with her father vacationing."

"I hope you didn’t get fresh with her?" said Frank adopting, what you feel would be, the correct manner for a member of the force investigating the activities of a known offender.

"Fresh? Certainly not! I went there for a bit of peace and quiet not to get fresh!" You find that it always helps to heave in a bit of the old indignation when lying, especially when lying through one’s back teeth. And for the life of you you couldn’t bring yourself to mention to this comrade of yours that if things went as forecast you would shortly be waltzing up the aisle with his girl. Your heart may not be in the waltzing but all the same you will be waltzing up the aisle with her.

"That’s all right then, but do remember I am going to marry her." He said giving you a free demonstration of cold resolve and fervent passion.

"Right ho! Whatever you say old man," you handover a glassful of the whiskey and soda to him prior to partaking of one yourself.

It is widely recognised by those who know that given the circumstances what a man needs is a stiff drink and time to think. Having helped yourself to the first you try and give yourself some of the latter by suggesting that Frank refresh himself after his long travels etc. There are after all things worse than going around in damp clothes. Given that the conversation with Frank was turning out to be remarkably like walking in a minefield, where one doesn’t really know when the beastly things are going to turn up and go boom in your face, you decided that letting him have the first use of the hot tub was not too great a sacrifice.

You had been thinking hard for around two minutes when the dog Comet who had hitherto contented himself with roaming around the flat in a desultory if slightly disapproving fashion, as if to say he had nothing in particular against yours just flats in general, started to howl. Simultaneously with the telephone.

"Wharfoooooooo.....wooooo" he bayed.

With Frank presently out of the picture and unable to provide footnotes on Comet’s behaviour you presumed that this was another of Comet’s games and that no doubt he thought it amongst his sacred duties to urge you answer the phone.

Urging him to "shut his mouth"you lift the receiver.

"Darling don’t be naughty," an oversweet voice croons over the line.

"What? Who is this?" It takes a while for you to get your faculties together.

"Oh darling you it’s me." She giggles and you recognise her with a sinking of the heart.

"It’s I," you correct automatically, wishing for all the world it wasn’t her. "Something you forgot to say?" you ask hoping she’ll say it’s all off.

"I’ve missed you terrrriiibly, did you miss me?" She dashes your hopes to a million pieces on the floor.

"Yes, yes rather, quite."

"I’ve booked us on the Titanium!"

"You’ve what?" Here she has you foxed, out of your depth again.

"It’s so lovely," she gushes, "you can be Jack and I’ll be Rose and then it’ll be so romantic," another sigh, "I went through all the listings of the liners and the closest they had was the Titanium, it’s all right isn’t it darling?"

"Yes, quite all right," having made up your mind early in your acquaintance not to argue with Carrie as it was bound to result in a cloudburst of tears. But it did matter and you did mind. The thought of a cold watery grave gave you the chill. You had nothing against Jack Dawson, capital chap, but there would have to be some serious introspection before you took a trip across the Atlantic with the hope of emulating his feat. Not a matter to be taken lightly.

"I say Carrie," you change the subject abruptly, cutting short her ruminations on how absolutely dreamy it’ll be, "do you know Frank Gulley?"

"Frank? Yes, I knew him once," a puzzling note of coldness creeps into her voice.

"Oh? Well, he speaks very highly of you."

"I had a passing acquaintance with him." Again the puzzling cold hauteur.

"Capital chap. A pal of mine you ought to get to know him," you infuse the note of cheerful innocence into your voice. It’s not as if you are trying, by hook or crook, to get the said chap and your fiancée together.

"Darling when are you coming back?"

"Soon," you say wondering if you will have to go back.

After that you terminate the conversation quickly, soon enough to prevent Carrie from more than suggesting that she’ll come down if you can’t get away.

You give Comet the better of your store of stern words mainly asking him to leave your bag alone and then give up. At this point the answering machine catches your eye. The first message catches your ear.

"Amanda here. I’ve left Alan Stokes in-charge for a while. Try not to be as uncooperative as usual. Goodbye." Clear, precise, slightly husky but on the whole an admirable voice.

It is the first time she’s called you at home but her message infuriates you. You dial her number, only to be greeted by her answering machine.

"What do you mean you’ve left Stokes in charge? He is a rat and an incompetent one at that. I absolutely refuse to cooperate with him!" at this point the answering machine cuts you off. You dial again and leave the latter half of your message.

"In fact, given half a chance I’ll wring his bloody neck! Anyway just where are you off to? And what do you mean for a while? Explain." With that you slam the receiver down. There is after all only so much that a man can be expected to stand with forbearance.

Apparently even the dog Comet realises this and refrains from continuing his activities as an arsonist. He gives you a look of sympathy which if he could speak would be accompanied by a "bear up old fellow". Giving him a biscuit you return to your seat on the sofa.

Choppy waters miles ahead, that’s all you can see. Between Carrie planning on your gallant end and Amanda pulling the rug from under your feet it’s no wonder you feel more than slightly giddy. An old song comes back to haunt — Circles, crazy circles spinning round and round the corners of my mind, she keeps running circles in my mind — who but you would know exactly what it means.

 
Leaving a stamp of valour

Despite the fact that conventional letter-writing is losing its popularity, what with the advent of Internet facsimile, e-mail, cell-phones and so on, philately is gaining popularity the world over. It is one of the most fascinating, educative and interesting subjects for people of all ages.

By Anil Shorey

THE Department of Posts have released yet another striking and colourful postage stamp on the Indian Armed Forces — this time on the Fourth Battalion of The Brigade of The Guards (I Rajput), now mechanised, on the occasion of its bicentenary celebrations. The stamp of Rs 6/- denomination depicts a BMP Infantry Combat Vehicle (ICV), which is the main equipment of all mechanised units and also represents the badge of the Mechanised Infantry Regiment.

However, most of the battalions of the Brigade of The Guards, although now mechanised, continue to flash their Guards badge depicted by the Garuda. In this latest stamp, a red Garuda badge is printed above the BMP. On the flanks are depicted uniformed soldiers, one attired in the old Bengal Presidency Infantry uniform worn in 1778 when I Rajput was raised, while the other is adorned in the present day Guards uniform (right).

A tremendous change for the better has taken place in the designing and production of postage stamps printed in India on various themes, to include the glorious Armed Forces. It has been quite a major transformation — from the drab, small and unicoloured stamps of the earlier period to the aesthetically appealing stamps produced during the last couple of decades.

Incidentally, next to the former Soviet Union and a few erstwhile Warsaw Pact countries, India has produced the maximum number of postage stamps on the Armed Forces theme. The first two decades following our Independence saw very few stamps on defence. However, following the 1971 Indo-Pak War, the 70s proved to be a watershed in the history of Indian stamps on defence.

The Army came into prominence through stamps way back in 1966 when a stamp was released captioned Jai Jawan which paid glowing tribute to our soldiers following their brilliant achievement in the 1965 Indo-Pak War. However, following our resounding success in 1971 Indo-Pak War, a series of aesthetically designed, colourful stamps were released with a regularity unmatched by any other country. They paid a tribute to various army units, regiments and corps.

The first stamp on the cavalry was printed on the President’s Body Guard in 1973. Then came those on 16 Light Cavalry, Skinner’s Horse, Deccan Horse, 7 Light Cavalry, 3 and 18 Cavalry. Except two stamps which depict a battle tank (16 Light Cavalry and 3 Cavalry), the rest are based on beautiful paintings showing cavalrymen mounted on horses and standing with lancer or maces.

The Corps of Engineers was represented by a stamp on the Madras Sappers in 1980. A decade later came India’s first triangular stamp on The Bombay Sappers. This beautiful stamp colourfully depicts three of our highest gallantry awards, viz the Param Vir Chakra, the Ashok Chakra and the Victoria Cross. This unique sapper group is the home of the proud recipients of all these three awards.

The first stamp on an Infantry Regiment was printed in 1979. The multi-coloured stamp on the Punjab Regiment depicts the galley badge along with three soldiers of different eras adorned in different uniforms. Incidentally the Punjab Regiment, raised in 1761, is the oldest, regular regiment of the Indian Army. The following decade saw colourful and striking stamps on various other infantry regiments and units. The ones on the Garhwal Rifles and Garhwal Scouts, Jat Sikh and Mechanised Infantry Regiments, I Para (Commando), 2 Para (Maratha) and 2 Grenadiers deserve special praise. So do a number of stamps on the artillery, ASC, APS and many defence establishments and even institutions, the latest one being on the prestigious Defence Services Staff College (DSSC), Wellington (Nilgiris).

Amongst the portraits, the one on late Field Marshal KM Cariappa is colourful and most striking indeed, a befitting tribute to this legendary hero and first Indian C-in-C after Independence. The list of defence stamps is endless.

Coming to the Indian Navy, a stamp on the indigenously built leander class Frigate INS Nilgiri was released in 1968. In 1981 another stamp depicting the first of the indigenously designed and built warship of the Godavari series was released. In 1984, a striking set of four-in-one stamps (quardruplet) of the denomination of Re 1/- each was released on the occasion of the President’s review of the fleet. In 1986, a stamp was released on our first aircraft carrier INS Vikrant on completion of its 25 years of glorious service to the nation.

The Indian Air Force (IAF) was first represented by a set of two stamps on its silver jubilee in 1958. A stamp on the indigenously built gnat aircraft was released in ‘67 following its supremacy during the 1965 Indo-Pak War. Though a very small, innocuous looking single-coloured (maroon) stamp, it continued to soar high on our philatelic skies for more than 25 long years. In 1992, a set of two-in-one (setenant) multicoloured stamp was released on the occasion of the Diamond jubilee of the Indian Air Force. The following year saw a stamp on the No 1 Squadron of the IAF on the occasion of its receiving colours from the President of India.

Despite the fact that conventional letter-writing is losing its popularity, what with the advent of Internet facsimile, E-mail, cell-phones and so an, philately is gaining popularity the world over. It is one of the most fascinating, educative and interesting subjects for people of all ages. It covers a variety of themes and defence is just one amongst many others. No wonder it has been universally acclaimed as the king of indoor hobbies", a title it is likely to retain for many more philatelic years to come.