RD. RD. RD. That was all we cadets could think of those days. In our second year at college, we were training for the prestigious Republic Day selections. We were told that it was the toughest thing that could happen to us. Insults, blisters, welts under arms, sunburns, aches and pains would be things we needed to get used to -- like breathing or walking. All a necessary part of winning the battle. Being part of the National Cadet Corps, to represent our state at the Republic Day parade was a distant dream. A golden apple beyond our reach, unless we pushed ourselves to the brink of physical endurance... So, every waking hour spent in the seven training camps held by the Karnataka and Goa contingents went towards it. In grooming us, training us to bag the trophy at the prime minister's rally for the Best Contingent. Our individual dreams as cadets were to make it to that contingent, to bring pride to ourselves, to our state, to our college. Unfortunately, I was overweight. I had to lose 10 kilos to get selected. Worse, at every break on the marching ground, we were served a banana and boiled eggs! On one hand, I had to eat for fear of collapsing. On the other, if I weren't slim enough I wouldn't even be given the chance to collapse at the next selection camp! So I learnt a lot about calories, and eagerly awaited punishments as a chance to burn off a few grams of fat. One never really realises the kind of sweat and tears that go into the smart turnout of cadets. Marching to perfect synchronisation, with intense concentration, every cadet does her bit to make the parade perfect. Perfection is an army word that gets drilled into every cadet's psyche. "Even if a snake bites you, you should remain standing till you are commanded to do otherwise" is a common instruction. And one that at the end of the camp you are absolutely prepared to do. Such is the mental and physical conditioning that every cadet undergoes. I remember the pre-RD camp at Jalaharlli air force station on the outskirts of Bangalore. After the first 10 minutes of warm-up (spot-running with knees hitting our outstretched palms at chest level) six girls, including I, fell out. Having spent the previous night in a bus, we were exhausted and struggling to acclimatise ourselves to the cold Bangalore winter. The last thing we wanted after three rounds of quick jogging around one of the biggest grounds ever seen was a warm-up of this kind. Our trainer was a giant of a man, with a huge moustache and scary eyes. He always carried a thick stick, which he never shied away from using on us (even girls!). Instead of sympathy, we were told that we could show we were sorry by running five rounds immediately. Or packing our bags and leaving. We promptly decided that pain was wonderful, and completed our rounds as if our life depended on it. Cadets of the opposite sex were forbidden to speak on the field. And waving while pretending to scratch one's armpits was a common trick. We girls had our favourites. We especially liked one tall, lanky cadet with an unusually long face and broad forehead, whom we referred to as 'Camel'. Once Camel got caught grinning at us. He was made to crawl 4 km on his haunches, his rifle in the air. We cried that night. Homesick, lonely, and unaccustomed to rigid rules, our morale was crumbling. But the next day Camel was grinning again. That was so amazing that all of us decided to 'grin and bear it'. There was no way we would go back without getting selected! And once you decide and have supporting friends, you can really do anything. Because, you see, all the barriers are usually between your ears! If one of us made a mistake all were punished. This happened very often. After a point, running to touch this faraway tree or that faraway pole or holding our rifles in the air for indefinite periods was no big deal. We saved our energy and did not even crib. Every drop of reserve was needed to get through each gruelling day. Often we would feel drowsy during practice because we had had only 3-4 hours of sleep. At the pre-RD camp, things were especially tough: dropouts were needed because the most who could be taken to Delhi were about 22 girl cadets. Which meant that eight of us were to be rejected from a team of 30. It was quite difficult to have a team of 100-odd cadets making just one sound when doing 'savdhan'. You had to get used to stamping your foot flat, really hard, making one sharp sound. I must say that it really takes some time to get used to! Every day, one could observe body salt making a thin layer of white on our khaki uniforms. Sometimes there was just one cadet late. Nonetheless, all of us would be made to run around the ground, fall in, and repeat the process till we were absolutely 'perfect'. And exhausted. The whistle announcing a break was music from heaven. It was ecstasy having a minute to sit, without anyone breathing commands down your neck. In the last few camps, we had numbers in bold on a white cloth around our shoulders and waist. Having someone yell your number was horror. Punishment was certain, public shame inevitable. Once, my contingent commander came right up and threatened to slap me. That was really scary. He thought I was shamming. I thought I was dying. He said I had so much potential and yet was so lazy. After I got over that humiliation, fainted, and came to, there was no stopping me. And I did get selected. Colonel Achappa, our commander, was from Coorg. He later told me, in his endearing, jovial manner, that I was a good 'shammer'. He was our hero. We vowed that after so much determination and sacrifice on his part, we just had to get that coveted first place. We had to be perfect at making our beds too. By the time we reached Delhi for the parade, our beds were a photographer's delight. No creases, cots in perfect line, pillows in perfect line, plates and glasses placed on them with mathematical precision... The training camps had helped us bond closer as friends. The teamwork was absolutely amazing, and we received second place at the PM's rally. The big event, however, was a disappointment. It was on January 27, I remember. That was when the trophies were handed over. Prime Minister P V Narasimha Rao did not even look at us. He just walked past, at a very safe distance, with two handsome bodyguards. I didn't blame him. He probably had to look at a few thousand 'Guards of Honour' and perhaps felt terribly jaded with receiving the rifle salute. I remember feeling let down then at what was supposed to be a high point for me as a cadet. But I must confess that I felt very important when security personnel checked our rifles, our person, and made the dogs smell us. Especially when a really huge Alsatian jumped on me and licked my face! That was the cutest thing that happened to me. And I loved it. We never really used to fuss with baths in the cold Delhi weather. The most hilarious thing was my best friend checking under her socks in the night for fungus. She actually found some, which she cleaned off with Nivea cream on cotton. I still remind her of the ugly things we took in our stride. We laugh about how we bathed regularly, nearly every 10 days. Believe me, the long queues in open air at 0430 hours in three-degree winter were just not worth it. After all, it was more important not to have fever than to smell like flowers. After the parade we were brought back for 'debriefing' to Bangalore. We were invited for parties and treated like royalty. We also went for dinner at the Banquet Hall of the Vidhan Soudha. But truly, the best thing about the RD parade was that I learnt the importance of discipline, of being mentally strong, of being optimistic and happy -- even when you have fungus on your feet. Colonel Achappa, I owe you a lot. Thanks to that fearsome speech and rigorous training, I became not just a smart cadet but a better person as well. Cleona Lira's prayer is to march through life with a smile for everyone.
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