It had now been 4 months in the Academy for her….and she had completely ‘reversed metamorphosed’ from an elegant, delicate and pretty girl to an edgy, brash, near boy- looking person.

The first casualty was her Hair. She had cropped it short in the 2^nd week of the training cos she had realized how important a few winks of extra sleep were. You may ask how does sleep correlate to hair. It does….big time in the Academy…specially when you have longer hair and you have to get up 15 mins early to make the ‘figure of 8’ and put 10000 clips in your hair so that not even a strand comes out of your head-gear. Hmmm….she could not compromise on the few minute of extra sleep, so she went to the Academy ‘Nai’ (Barber), steeled herself and told him to razor it off! He happily did what she asked. When she opened her eyes and saw the finished product , the face staring back at her was definitely not hers!! It belonged to some 7^th grade boy !!! I think that night she cried.

The second casualty was her Vanity. She soon realized that there was no avoiding the Sun and no amount of sun screen would protect her skin from tanning and freckles and future wrinkles. So she promptly chucked her sun screen in the bin and moved out wherever was required without any face protection. As the days went by the 7^th grade boy started looking darker and darker and darker…and finally she stopped looking in the mirror. She realized 5 mins infront of the mirror combing her hair and applying face cream were 5 mins wasted….she could sleep for that period. So everyday after getting 15 + 5 mins of extra sleep, she would get up , freshen up, change into the required gear , and rush for breakfast…simultaneously smoothening down her 1 inch hair with her fingers.

The third casualty was her Pride. The GC’s , the ‘Ustaads’ and the DS (Directing Staff) made sure that you didn’t have a shred of pride left in any fibre of your body once they were finished with you. How did they achieve this? A crazy thing called ‘Punishment’, which was given out liberally for any act done……sometimes as simple as a few specks of dust on your shoe, or an improper knot of the tie, or the crease of the pant not being ‘razor sharp’. She (and others of her kind) used to steel themselves when they stepped out of the protective shelter of their barracks…..because by the time you reached the Mess (which was a mere 500 ft away) , you could be subjected to innumerable punishments by innumerable ‘benefactors’….as a result of which that meal of the day would have to be sacrificed for you could NOT afford to be late for the class scheduled thereafter (God save you if you were!). Even the ‘Ustads’ (instructors from the ranks ) were no less . She can never forget the 6ft 5 inches tall Haryanvi Jat Ustad….who was a terror to all GC’s and LC’s alike. Never had anyone seen him smile. One of his favorite ‘punishments’ on the drill square ….if you happened to even smile……was to thrust the round of his baton into your mouth and make you run around the drill square. Or if the smile had been broader, he would thrust the SLR Magazine into your mouth (imagine that!)and make you run around till he was satisfied that you were serious enough to join back in the Drill practice. She was saved this humiliation cos she could never get herself to smile in his presence………how could you smile when ‘Death’ stared you in the face?! Another popular form of ‘Punishment’ which seemed a favorite with all life forms in the Academy was the P-Hill. God….only if that mistake of nature had not been there she (and her kind) would have been saved such torturous-long-endless hours of third degree!! The P-Hill (Punishment Hill) was placed right in the middle of the Academy by Gaia (Goddess of Earth) herself it seems…..wicked Gods and their wicked humor! Innumerable times, this tender flock of the scared 64 was led there and commands hurled at them “ LC’s up the P-Hill and back in 5 mins!!” Mistake not, it was a huge rocky hill and she and her kind had to scram up…. slipping, falling, getting bruised…touch the top and then run back . The running back was riskier because of the loose rocks , pebbles and stones on the hill, as these would roll under one’s feet, ensuring that that poor LC landed on her nose somewhere close to the bottom of the hill…get up, dust herself and run the remaining few feet to be declared the first returnee!! It would be a feat and a saving grace…cos that particular LC would not have to run up the ominous P Hill again, whereas her counterparts would have to do so again and again and again and …..yet again for returning ‘late’.

The fourth casualty was her Sense of Propriety. Abuses were a thing of common parlance. The first time she heard someone using the ‘F’ word in addressing the female gender…..she thot she had misheard. But when the same word was repeated 5 times in one sentence….there was no room left for doubt. “Who the ‘F’ do you ‘F’ing LCs think you are…the ‘F’ing Queen of ‘Mother ‘F’ing country called ‘F’ing England??” Did he just say all THAT to us???? She remembers all 64 of them standing there with gaping jaws. “What the ‘F’ are you all ‘F’ing gaping at me for”. Clam Shut….you could hear the Clam!! Hadn’t her dad told her that Gentlemen never abused infront of women? And here were all these ‘Gentlemen’ abusing women on their faces with such unpardonable language!! What world was this? Obviously, as the months went by, her vocabulary also got enhanced and the usage of such words (Fu2k, screw, MC, BC, C, etc etc) became a part of her daily routine. Welcome to the Academy.

The fifth casualty was her Gender Myths. She was small and petite and was sure that they would not expect her to do things like a 14 km route march with 20 kgs of load on her back! Well, they expected it and they made her do this and more. She quickly realized that no matter how frail she was, she had to complete the tasks as well as the other person. Initially, even walking in the DMS boots (weighing 2 kgs) was a nightmare……but she soon learned it was part of her daily gear ….add to that the combats, the belt and the rifle!! Breathe baby, breathe. Worst was when they had the Weapon Training classes and had to wear the darned helmets also…….these were invariable 3 sizes bigger than her head and kept falling on her eyes every time she tried to aim at the target! Result….the bullets would never hit her target but her neighbors, and sure enough another round of ‘Punishments’ would start, in the heavy weaponry gear! It never ended…..just got better with each day of training.

Even now, she sits back and thinks “ How the hell did I manage to do all that craziness and get Commissioned?” Well, the key lay in mentally switching off and doing what she was told. The power of reasoning no longer existed….becos the more anyone tried to reason, the more expeditions up the P Hill were scheduled! The body just became a receiver of commands….and obeyed whatever was barked at it.

What days! Its funny, that even now when she thinks about those days…..there are twin simultaneous reactions. One, a smile comes to her face and the other, a shudder goes down her spine.