The Fighting Forces....

This has been retrieved from the past, for your reading pleasure……
The News channels on television those days had been repeatedly telecasting the arrival of the fighting forces, aptly called ‘Sena’, the symbol of a country’s security, but now used and abused by the dregs of society to fight their own causes! There were Senas of all kinds, for different causes, launched by various people. But the ulterior motive was the same- to go to war on people with contradictory views and beliefs or as a show of might by the minnows. As he idly sat pretending to watch the News Hour his father was glued to, Johnny’s mind was a beehive of activity, a cauldron of churning ideas and plans of future action.

Images of men beating up girls flashed on the TV set accompanied by the repeated use of the word, ‘Sene’. He was disgusted by the beating of women but all the same he hit upon a brilliant new thought, why not launch your own ‘Sene’ to fight the evil such as beating up of girls in society?

Johnny being all of eight years, had a group of his friends to fall back on at such portentous times. They were a band of brothers with nine year old Kevin in the Commander’s position. Often they had been caught playing mischief like stealing raw mangoes from Aunty Maud’s garden or smashing the window panes of Uncle Willie’s bungalow with their cricket ball. Of course, they raked the litter of leaves in the garden in return for a basketful of ripe juicy mangoes aunt Maude reserved for ‘the Pereira brood’.. As for poor Uncle Willie, he had seen a Tendlya in the making in the pint-sized, curly-mopped batsman and his glass- breaking Sixer and rewarded the group with a fistful of loose coins for candy, in return for walking Kaiser, his Doberman.

Now that a germ of an idea had taken root in Johnny’s mind, he would call a meeting of his group and discuss it with them in what the adults referred to as , ‘a Demo- grate’ way. Forming their own army would appeal to all of them and imagine the fun they could have during the summer holidays- marching up and down the shady lane, just the way Crasto sir in school taught them!

So the friends cancelled one field trip to the Bandra Fort and assembled one day at the back of the Bothello house under the shady Coral tree to sort out the ‘minor details’ of launching an army. First on the agenda was the cause or the purpose for which it would fight. Mike the mischievous glibly suggested that they better have a plausible excuse for missing class and going on the ‘ram-page’. “What is rampage?” Billu the Barbie wanted to know. Dressed up in a pink frilly dress with her brown curls in two ‘pony tails’, at the age of five she spent more time playing with her dolls than watching the latest developments on the television. “Do not interrupt, Billu you are a girl and girls cannot fight. They get beaten up easily. You are demoted to the lowest rank in the army for speaking out of turn.” shouted Commander Kevin above the noise his army was making! Being a year older to most of them, failed to procure for him the respect and obedience the foot soldiers normally accord to their boss. Oh never mind, at least they were loyal to him!

So the discussion heated up till at last Shane, Sammy’s older brother, still preparing for his exams came to investigate the raucous noise behind the house. More to put an end to the discussion than to dictate the manifesto, he suggested that they form the army ‘to protect the culture’. “What is culture?” Billu whispered as soon as the visitor’s back was turned. Her hushed tone had the desired effect of a noisy gong. Everyone went still, concentrating on finding the answer to Billu’s question. So what was culture? Was it a cousin of vulture, or some masala for curry?

When the elusive answer refused to come for a long time, Brian, the brains of the group came up with a most satisfying answer, “I know what culture is. While watching News on the TV the other day I heard Gramps saying that talking about culture means hippo is crazy.

This bombshell took some time to register. Now that the hippo had plodded into the plot under the guise of ‘Demo-grate’, utter confusion prevailed in the minds of the military strategists. It was pure luck that Shane once again came to investigate the increase in the cacophony, he was just unable to concentrate on his studies. It is not that the hippo is crazy it is Hypocrisy which means you can tell others what to say and do but you do not have to say and do the same thing, like saying, do not practice what you preach”. He explained further, “you can beat others for wearing Jeans, but you yourself can wear them. And please, do you guys have to tell the whole of Bandra of your plan?” Billu’s screechy voice from the lower ranks was too loud for comfort- “What is preach?” The whole regiment turned to glare at her audacity in speaking out of turn. The secret was that they had to hide the fact that most of them did not know what ‘preach’ was!

So they decided to forge into a group of warriors in the name of some saint or the other….the news channels had been kind enough to announce the names of various Sena groups in the name of all the possible gods and kings of the land. So the first task was to find a name for the army of class 111, before they recruited more soldiers. Various suggestions were forthcoming.

Why not name the army for St. Francis, suggested Francis Jr. whose father being in the police force made him an appropriate candidate for the Sena. “Which St. Francis? There were many you know, one was St. Francis Xavier and the other was St. Francis Assisi. There was one more named St. Francis de Sales…” This was Xavier’s territory; he topped the class in Sunday school and could count the Saints’ names on his fingertips. But it was news to most of them, but they decided to choose any one St. Francis as their patron for their Sena. De Sales was dismissed for the simple reason that it was their school principal’s surname and it would not be fair to drag Fr. De Sales into their regiment. Assisi was also rejected because the way the boys pronounced it, it sounded more as ‘as easy’ than Assisi. And was he not the one who spoke to animals and fed the birds out of his hands? How could such a gentle man of peace lead an army, what did he know of fighting?

The last I heard the army was stuck at the first hurdle and not proceeded to the battleground at all, which made Sammy’s mother heave a sigh of relief. That the children may get into trouble had been worrying her since her elder son had reported of the goings-on behind the house. No wonder she was seen on her knees in the chapel, her eyes closed in prayer for her small boys seeking to know what the culture of the land was!