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A minor oversight of a 'retired Major'
When retired Major Anand Prakash Raichaudhary's funeral procession went round the village, people were surprised to see a shrunken five-foot nothing body on the plank
- By Suchitra Bajpai Chaudhary, Senior Features Writer, Friday
- Published: 00:06 June 15, 2008
When retired Major Anand Prakash Raichaudhary's funeral procession went round the village, people were surprised to see a shrunken five-foot nothing body on the plank.
The man seemed like a mountain, towering over the village even in his 82nd year. Having retired from the army 40 years ago owing to a nagging foot injury that deprived him of glory in his infantry regiment (that is what he told the villagers), the Major had appeared suddenly one chilly winter morning in the village.
He had settled in this little mountain hamlet, married a spinster his age and seemed to have blended with the people like the panoramic scenery around.
He never had a child, but he more than compensated for it, being childlike himself. His fine handlebar moustaches were the subject of many discussions at the village tea house and he insisted on always being in uniform.
He would always appear in a neatly starched khaki uniform with half a dozen medals hanging from his lapels, smart red ribbons decorating his front pocket and his handle bar moustaches bobbing gently in the wind.
His hair would be neatly combed, boots gleaming like mirrors and he would always walk as though he was leading the Republic Day procession.
On some days a string of empty cartridge shells would be strewn across his chest and he would carry his rusty old double barrel gun for special effect.
One never ever thought of the major's height because his personality was so towering but the real icing was his booming voice. He was most useful in driving away the local hoodlums that made him a favourite with all women.
During times of grand hearings at the panchayat (village council), over issues of sharing the river water with the neighbouring village, it was the major who was the trump card for the villagers.
They would allow him to lead in his impressive uniform and thundering voice that the opposition would easily be cowed down by.
But he was a just man with a twinkle in his eyes and never short-changed the people from the neighbouring village.
During winter evenings he would sit at the community bonfire regaling men and young boys with old legends of valour and adventure that he had undertaken during his salad days.
It would be wrong to say that the Major was a braggart, because he was what he was and had no other vested interest than being a responsible and involved member of the community.
Bidding farewell
When the major's wife died, the entire village offered him a collective shoulder to weep on. That was 10 years ago and after that he became the responsibility of the villagers.
Women would take turns to make his meals, wash his clothes and keep his little home clean.
Kids would work hard in his backyard to plant his runner beans, potatoes and capsicums. The local milkman thought nothing of delivering half a litre of milk to him for free.
And now that the major had passed away in his sleep, the villagers took the responsibility of saying a profound farewell to the uncrowned patriarch of the village.
It was only later when people thought of writing back to the regiment to inform them about his death, did they learn the truth. There was no such major in that regiment.
The faintest memory the regiment had was of a young subedar (soldier) by that name who had deserted his regiment decades ago and had been untraceable since then.
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