It was early May 1961. INS Kistna had sailed through choppy seas, crossing the Bay of Bengal twice. Thirty naval cadets, mostly ex-19th course NDA, were trained by Petty Officer, PO Jayanand. It was their turn to prove themselves as an exceptional lot on one  hand, while being treated like dirt on the other. We had just entered Madras, after four months of rough, continuous sailing. We were eager to feel Mother Earth under our feet. We were rudely detailed off for 'clean-ship'. We were told to wash them down with soap and water, after emptying the boat of all the 'movables'. Not happy with the results of our efforts, we were also given demonstrations in washing down, by the demanding PO Jayanand. He was in the habit of detailing us in pairs, pointing at us with his index finger, saying, "One & choo - go do toilet"….Translation: "One and two--Go clean cadet's toilet." Naturally, 'One and choo' became our code word for him! Strangely, naval cadet Suresh Chand was close to 'One & Choo'. He was coaxed by us to find out the reason for this most unexpected turn of events. Sure enough, a whisper went around that the CNS, Vice Admiral R D Katari was scheduled to arrive by air from New Delhi in an IAF aircraft that evening, and was to be onboard just before sunset. After three inspections of 'clean-ship' and two rejections, we were told to get ready for the big event.

It was already 1730 hours, and we were excited at the prospect of meeting our Chief face to face for the first time. It was only then that we realised that the 'waterboat' had still to arrive alongside our ship. One & Choo, in his own enthusiasm had done his bit by directing us to aim the water jet, full force, at all the places he wanted cleaned. Fresh water reserves were already at the rock bottom onboard the ship after the long sailing. We all went into the 'baths' and came out with the most unpleasant feeling-of itchy soap film on our skin. Nevertheless, following our efforts to spruce up for the occasion, the 'smarter' of the lot were detailed off; and the rest were told to report at quarterdeck to form the naval cadet's reception party for the CNS. The Boat crew consisted of S K Sriram (Coxswain), A S Krishnan (Bowman), A K Bose (Sternsheetman), and L Thikpurlikar (Boat Mechanic). The escorts were U Deshpande and myself. S C Makhija was specially detailed off to be the Quarter Master for the evening. Finally, we could hear the roar of an aircraft. The Dakota appeared from behind the dark clouds, flying towards the airport as the sun started setting over the harbour. Our worry was now genuine. We knew that the CNS would be arriving after sunset.

We intuitively felt that if the boat was hailed with the CNS onboard after the sunset, the "aye ayes" and "nay nays" would not do this time, and we were ignorant of that important magic word we needed to know. We were starting to feel quite nervous. A sailor (our mailman) appeared to be our saviour, as he arrived at the jetty with the bag, ready to return to the ship with us. On being asked about the magic word, he assured us that the boat would not be hailed at all. His reassurances soothed and calmed us down as he reasoned that those were no "bunch of fools" assembled at the quarterdeck who were expecting the Chief of Naval Staff onboard. Well! That sounded very convincing indeed! The wait was long. Our bodies had been itching due to the showers sans water. We were scratching ourselves all over to no end, praying for the tortuous evening to be over soon and dreaming of the water-boat, when we saw the motorcade appear along the jetty. The CNS had arrived! As the forerunners of the evening's events onboard the ship, the escorts swung into action. I acted as a doorman, whereas U Deshpande stood his ground opposite the CNS car door. As the CNS stepped out of the car, Deshpande sprang up giving his all in his salute…his very first salute ever to the CNS!

Suddenly, a very funny snappy noise was heard, and I saw the badly scratched and bruised bare chest of my friend, peeking out from under his smartly starched white tunic, his two brass buttons having flown off. I could promptly guess the reasons…matchsticks and soap had done the trick! In the hurry of putting on our tunics and getting ready for the quarterdeck reception, we all had grabbed the first buttons and retaining brass rings we could find lying around in the "chest flat" (dormitory). It mattered not, whom they belong to. U Deshpande was the last to get dressed. He was lucky to find his brass buttons, but the retaining rings were gone. Apparently desperate, Deshpande had found a creative use for the matchsticks! Thankfully, the CNS was magnanimous, and graciously ignored the flying buttons. We all piled up in the boat for a quick ride back to the ship. "Let go for'ard" shouted Sriram. Through the corner of my eyes, I looked at the CNS, as I heard the anticipated "pip-pip-pip" behind me. "Pip" was the next sound made by S K Sriram's vocal cord. A quick burst of seawater appeared in front of the boat as the boat moved astern with bow to starboard, and then, it stopped. We were casting off the jetty, and it worked 'so far - so good' without whistle. The CNS looked straight into Sriram's eyes slightly raising his eyebrows in surprise, obviously on listening to vocal cord sound in lieu of whistle and meaning, "What the hell is going on here?" Sriram just shrugged both his shoulders with a little tilt to his head and made a sound "pip-pip" while still looking at the CNS, as if in reply, followed by additional "pip-pip--pip-pip". Yes! It worked! The boat picked up speed from slow to full ahead, as expected.

The only person, who was enjoying all this to the hilt, was Thikpurlikar - the boat mechanic, tucked under the boat canopy, next to the engine. I could see him bent over, holding his stomach with his left hand. I knew instantly that it was not because of a stomach ache, for he had his right hand cupping his mouth, frantically trying to hold in his laughter. As for the CNS, frankly I do not know the thoughts that had passed through his mind. As we closed in to the gangway, we all could see the ceremoniously dressed reception party on the quarterdeck, starboard side to, overlooking our approaching boat. The group included Captain E C Kuruvilla (the Commanding Officer), Lieutenant Commander M N Mulla (the Executive Officer) and Lieutenant M N Vasudeva (the Navigating Officer). However, the Cadet Training Officer, Lieutenant Commander Dinkar Rao was standing nearer the cadet Quarter Master, for reasons of his own. A hushed silence prevailed on the ship. All was quiet on the eastern front, and then, suddenly……."BOAT AHOY!" Nothing can describe the embarrassing silence nor the state of affairs at that moment. Bowman tried to play it cool, acting oblivious to the hailing. He abandoned the drill midway while the Sternsheetman continuing with the same! Lieutenant Commander Dinkar Rao nudged the cadet Quarter Master, and out came a throaty….."BOAT AHOY!" from Suresh Makhija for the second time. This time the silence was short. For reasons we could not think of in our wildest imagination, we heard the reply, loud and clear, from A S Krishnan……."YAHOOOoooshSH !!! Taken aback, the CNS turned around towards the Coxswain, inquiring after what the Bowman had said. "I do not know, sir, but I shall find it out!" came the crisp reply. The Coxswain was busy taking the boat alongside the gangway and he was spared further questions from the CNS, for which he must have thanked his stars.