Field Marshall S H F J 'Sam' Manekshaw, India’s greatest
military commander, would have turned 100 on April 3, 2014.
To mark the occasion and to celebrate a brilliant mind,
we reproduce some of the articles Rediff.com had published over a period of
time on one of India’s most-loved soldiers.
Here Nitin Gokhale recalls an encounter with a driver who
drove one of India's most-loved soldiers, Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw, for 22
years.
On April 3, 2014, Field Marshal S H F J 'Sam' Manekshaw
would have turned 100. He passed away six years before his centenary.
But in Wellington, the quaintly beautiful cantonment town
in the Nilgiris, where the field marshal retired to, his memories live on.
Each year when I go for my annual lecture to the student
officers at the Defence Services Staff College located in Wellington not very
far from Coonoor and Ooty, at least one anecdote about Sam Bahadur the Legend
gets added to my stock. In 2012 I garnered more than my usual quota because I
came twice in close succession!
Nothing prepared me for my trip this time though!
As I came out of Coimbatore airport, an LO (Liaison Officer)
in his crisp Madras Regiment uniform was as usual standing with the customary
placard to receive me.
As we walked to the black Ambassador staff car, shining in
the bright 30 degree sun, a tall man, his hair neatly combed and parted,
wearing the chauffeur's khaki uniform, greeted me: "Good Morning Sir! I am
Kennedy!"
I wished him back distractedly since I was busy looking at
messages on the mobile after a two-hour long flight.
As we started our drive to Wellington, Kennedy asked:
"Shall I put the AC on Sir?"
After replying the affirmative, just to be polite, I tossed
a remark: "Have we met before, Kennedy?"
He said: "No Sir, but I have seen you on TV and last
year I also saw you at the function in the field marshal's honour!"
Impressed and flattered at the same time, I ventured to ask
Kennedy how well he knew the field marshal. "Sir I drove him and Madam
around for 22 years!"
My mind snapped back to attention from the numbness that a
long flight induces.
Here was a variation of a situation that I encounter almost
every fortnight: the talkative taxi driver who wants to impress you with his
knowledge and wisdom. But this was different.
Here was a man who saw the field marshal closely for over
two decades!
You would be foolish to let go of this opportunity Nitin, I
told myself.
The planned short nap be damned. The inquisitive reporter in
me was now wide awake!
So what is your most significant memory of the field
marshal, I shot off the first question, my pen poised over the small notebook I
fortunately still carry in my shirt pocket!
"Oh, so many of them Sir," Kennedy replied. I
wanted to immediately ask a counter-question: Which one is most precious, but
years of training as a print reporter made me hold back.
After a minute or two, Kennedy, who was perhaps trying to
recall his memories, said: "Whenever I went to his house with the staff
car from the college (Defence Services Staff College), the first thing he would
tell Solai (the field marshal's batman), Kennedy ko chai pilao, bread mein jam
lagao, butter lagao! Each time, without fail, the field marshal would make me
eat the bread-butter and drink tea," an emotional Kennedy remembered.
"The field marshal had cows at home. The household made
its own cheese," he added.
And how often did you go, was my next question.
"Definitely once a fortnight. He was very particular to
use the staff car only for official purposes," Kennedy revealed.
Now there was no stopping Kennedy.
"Very often Madam (the field marshal's wife, Silloo)
would drive him to the market in her Maruti 800. He would purchase the
essentials from the market himself -- vegetables, meat -- he loved doing
that," Kennedy recalled.
"You know something Sir, he bought the plot of land in
1960 when he was commandant of the Staff College, but even as a major general,
he did not have enough money. He told me once 'Kennedy, I had to take out money
from my provident fund to buy this land'."
As we left behind the plains of Mettupalayam and started the
gentle climb up the Nilgiris, Kennedy was in full flow.
"The field marshal never said it openly, but Madam and
and other family members often made it clear that they were never happy with
the way the government treated him after retirement. They gave him the baton, 5
stars and nothing else," Kennedy said. "Not even a dedicated
car," an angry Kennedy recalled.
Now this was interesting and a little disconcerting. Was
this man sharing what he had heard and saw or was he making it up mixing facts
with gossip and innuendo?
Yes, one knew about the cold shoulder the field marshal got
from successive governments, but would he, even if he was unhappy, give that
impression to anyone, leave alone his chauffeur?
I wasn't sure, so just to change the subject, I asked him is
Kennedy you real name?
"Real name Hridayraj Sir, but I was born in November
1963, the same month President Kennedy was killed. My father -- we are
Christians, by the way Sir -- thought Kennedy was a good man, so he gave me the
name Kennedy. Everyone knows me as Kennedy around here Sir."
"What else do you remember?"
"He was a pucca soldier, Sir. He would never eat his
breakfast without getting fully dressed. Also, he always used to deliver the
last lecture for the staff course."
"Many senior officers, including chiefs from Delhi and
elsewhere, would meet the field marshal whenever they came to Wellington. Often
I would take them to the house. You know something Sir, I have driven more than
500 three star officers in my 27 years of service. I have been a driver to so
many chiefs -- General Rodrigues, General Sundarji (after his retirement
Sundarji settled in Wellington), General Malik, General JJ, General VK, General
Kapoor..." Kennedy was unstoppable now.
We were nearing Coonoor.
"Tell me more about Sam, the father and husband,"
I gently prodded him.
"Oh for him, madam's word was final. The field marshal
was a loving father and grandfather. One of his grandsons looked exactly like
him. Long nose, tall and fair. I never saw him scold any one. And he was always
kind to people like us. When madam passed away, he was a broken man. We knew he
wouldn't last long without his biggest strength," Kennedy said, clearly
choking.
Left: Kennedy poses with a staff car used by an Air Chief
"You know Sir, President Kalam was the one who gave him
more dignity than any one else. I drove the President to the hospital where the
field marshal was admitted," Kennedy recalled.
Kennedy was extremely angry at how the government treated
the field marshal in death. "No chief came for his burial. Defence
Minister Antony sent his junior minister. Is this the way we treat our heroes
Sir?" he asked.
I had no answer.
As we neared the Staff College, I asked Kennedy to share
some photographs of his with the field marshal.
And sure enough, later that evening, he came with the
photographs.
Over the next two days Kennedy drove me to the college, to
the market and to dinners, coming up with one anecdote or the other about the
legend.
As he dropped me back to Coimbatore airport on Saturday
evening, I couldn't help but envy him for having had the privilege of seeing
the legendary soldier so up close.
Kennedy has a decade more to serve, but nothing will be as
exciting for him as his years with Field Marshal Manekshaw.
Nitin Gokhale is Security & Strategic Affairs Editor,
NDTV.
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