CIRCA the autumn of 1997, we were attending the staff course in the salubrious climes of Wellington, nestled in the foothills of Nilgiris. There was no room for a breather for the first three months amidst the whirlwind of a hectic course schedule. The onus of shopping for our basic daily needs fell on the shoulders of our better halves. One fine morning, a small group of ladies decided to visit the staff college canteen as soon as we scurried for our daily rigmarole. Having picked up the groceries, the ladies queued up at the officers’ billing counter, with my wife at the tail of the queue. Suddenly, my wife observed a smart old man in his 80s striding in with a swagger and exuding confidence. His sharp facial features included a well-defined jawline sporting a neatly groomed handlebar moustache with an upward twirl. My better half, assuming him to be a retired veteran, offered him to move ahead in the queue out of sheer respect, saying, ‘Please go ahead – we ladies can wait’.

 

‘No way – sweetheart, you ladies have to go and cook for your dear husbands, I have all the time in the world’, the venerable gentleman responded gracefully with a mischievous wink. My wife noticed that he just had a box of chocolates to buy, whereas all the twelve ladies had their trollies overflowing with the full one month’s stock. However, the veteran waited calmly with an equipoise never seen before. At this point, my wife amusingly asked the veteran officer if he still had a sweet tooth. ‘No dear – these chocolates are for my Gurkha buddy’s small kids’, the old officer quipped with a smile. As the queue inched forward at a snail’s pace, the army personnel and the civilians manning the counter sprang to their toes and saluted the man smartly.

 

During lunch, I broke the news to my wife that Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw would be addressing the college on ‘Leadership’, and ladies were also invited. In the evening, the auditorium was jam-packed with all the student officers and instructors along with their wives. The central lectures in the evening were a golden opportunity for the student officers to doze off, leaving the field open for a few ‘Keen Kumars’ to ask a question in the end.

 

As the Field Marshal took to the stage, my wife sitting next to me tugged at me with jaw-dropping glance whispering, ‘This is the same man I met at the canteen this morning’. We all listened to his wisdom on leadership with rapt attention, peppered with interesting anecdotes of his life. Everyone was wide awake, a rare phenomenon. In my later years, I was privileged to call on the Field Marshal at his residence named ‘Stavka’ in Coonoor. No one has had a greater impact on me than Manekshaw, whose teachings I tried my best to implement during my service life. His charisma cuts across not only amongst all the armed forces personnel but also the civil strata who hold him in awe. Be it in any civil organisation or Army, we must imbibe his most cherished quality: to stand up for your organisation and subordinates- the need of the hour. He truly deserves a Bharat Ratna.