The Knight in White

Act 1 Scene 1: Officers’ Quarters, Navy Nagar, Mumbai

‘I’m going down the memory lane’, said the captain looking at the mirror to his lieutenant who looked at the steely-eyed, 6’3” tall warrior with a child-like admiration. ‘Do you know, son, which is the roughest sea that you will ever navigate?’ ‘The Sea of Hocus, sir’, said the lieutenant who had always dreamt of being a ‘scholar warrior’. The captain shifted his gaze to the young man, and unlike his usually stoic face, his lips moved a bit to let a smile get the better of him. ‘It’s the sea of thoughts, lieutenant. Several of us who have spent a lifetime at unchartered waters can be sick at this sea in seconds. And unlike our ships, the ship of life often makes you turn port where nothing is left or turn starboard where nothing is right.‘

The lieutenant wondered if his boss had been into philosophy as a freshman. He remembered reading the captain’s interview where a journalist asked him if being a polyglot was a prerequisite for a career in the Navy. The captain full of wit in his husky voice replied, ‘No ma’am. Not unless you are going there to talk’—breaking the audience into applause.

At 37, Captain Samarth Singh AVSM, SC, NSM, was the kind of man who could shoot, heal a wound, plan a voyage, order from a French menu, swim the roughest seas, write a play, balance accounts, embolden his folks, tell a joke, laugh at himself, co-operate, act alone, play the guitar, throw a dog a stick, cook a tasty meal, distill single malt, fire torpedoes, love heartily and fight effectively. For someone who’s lived his life following orders, his capacity to serve on various committees and speak on Navy’s behalf without actually saying much had won him compliments. But true to his blood, his source of adrenaline lay in leading his ‘boys’, guarding the shores, patrolling the oceans, swimming with the sharks, and saving civilians affected by floods and cyclones. He was a broad-shouldered man, difficult to impress, extremely difficult to rattle; a man with balls as big as the frigate he commands.

He looked at himself in the mirror. The theme of the high school reunion was retro. But the captain loved being in uniform. So there he was in a white tunic with shoulder straps, guilt buttons, medals, ribbon dress, name tally, chest badges, white trousers, white socks, and white shoes. And of course, the sword that had to be compulsorily worn by commanders and above ranks. His short trimmed hair was as disciplined as he was, but his clean-shaven face had a cut, which was rather unusual for a man who shaved every day, and in the evenings too if there was a function.  He wore his peak cap that covered his hair and the scar on the left side of his forehead left behind by an injury during a rescue operation in the Maldives. A smile escaped his lips as he thought to himself, ‘Had he been alive, Major Karanjeet Singh would be so proud of his son.’

He was brought back when the lieutenant said, ‘Sir, the chauffeur has arrived.’ The captain took a look at his wristwatch it was five minutes to six on a cool December morning. ‘I wish you a great drive and a wonderful day,’ as the lieutenant folded his right arm in salute. The captain responded with a salute himself and made a move out of his staff quarters in Navy Nagar, Mumbai.

The drive to Ferguson School, Pune was three-hour-long. Sam preferred to drive himself, but he knew this drive would be different. He had stories to remember, confessions to make, and convince himself that he was everything that he wanted to be. However, he would also wonder the irony of carrying a tab and journaling his daily life just to prove a point that he had made it and that he was happy. Deep down he knew that there was a chink in the hull. That his sense of himself was breached, twenty years back when he was not a decorated soldier but just a martyr’s son.

Soon he crossed joggers and cyclists who were enjoying the early December morning in Mumbai that was both cool and warm by just the right degree. Bikers in their biking gear, couples posing for a selfie on their bikes, kids making their way to the cricket grounds—he crossed them all. And soon he was headed on the Mumbai-Pune highway, wondering if she would make it to the high school reunion. What if she didn’t? And if she did, what would that meeting be like? He took a deep breath remembering his fathers’ words, ’Things are rather easy in the military. You always know which side the trouble is one.’

Act 1 Scene 2: Hotel West Inn, Pune

‘No, I won’t be back until Monday evening. I plan to stay back after the reunion today and catch up with a lot of batch mates who I haven’t been able to meet in a long time’, said Sia, almost breaking into a smile. ‘Yes, babe! This was long due. If the medical council did a survey on the most overworked doctors in Delhi, you would beat them all hands down. When was the last time you went out! And yes, when was the last time you smiled at a man and accepted his invitation to a date! By the way, is there a batch mate of yours who’s a doctor and also single? The two of you could discuss work, said the voice on the other end of the call, before breaking into a laugh. Sia didn’t respond to that, and Ann at the other end was quick to pick it up. ‘Sia, make the most of this trip and come back a happier woman’, said Ann. I’ll see you soon, said Sia, and they hung up.

Sia had flown down from Delhi for the high school reunion. In the past 20 years since graduation, she had come to Pune before, but not once did she go back to her alma mater. She kept making those excuses that everyone with a busy life makes. But she did keep a track of the affairs in the school. She had longed to be there at once when she read in the school newsletter that Captain Samarjeet Singh AVSM, SM, NSM from the 2000 batch had delivered the commencement address. Her lips touched each other as they involuntarily uttered ‘Sam’ while she rolled her fingers on the photograph of the captain speaking at the lectern.

In the year 2000, at the age of 17, Sia Roy, daughter of Dr. Pranab Roy was the student the school and the parents had been proud of. Needless to say, she, like her father, ended up being a doctor. But much to his chagrin, she didn’t end up being married. When she was not able to evade any more questions from nosy relatives, she decided to move out of Pune, to do what she did the best—care for her patients and lead an independent life. And now in 2020, after 15 years of being a neurologist, there she was at the reunion—to break hearts and perhaps mend her own.

At 5’9”, she was tall enough to make most men insecure of their height. With dark elliptical eyes that were always embellished by mascara, her eyes matched the momentum of her parted full-bodied lips as she spoke of the things that excited her. Although conservative with words, her voice was the thin line that distinguished the words ‘husky’ and ‘sultry’ in a thesaurus. Usually dressed in a saree, she wasn’t into gold, but she had a pair of diamond-studded earrings, that sparkled as bright as her eyes every time she spoke with her patients. At 37, she had really taken the pains to both feel and look fit. But that said, she was not in the mood to don the retro look. So it was a cream white Kanjeevaram saree, complemented with a sleeveless pink blouse and pink bindi, a pearl necklace, and a pair of white stilettos. ‘This will ensure I’m the tallest’, as she chuckled and applied strawberry lip balm and just a little bit of foundation to her face. But before she grabbed the keys to her car, she wore her goggles, clicked a selfie, and sent it out to Ann with the caption ‘From Pune, with love.’

Act 2 Scene 1: Fergusson School, Pune

Pune, the Queen of Deccan, was developed as a satellite town of Mumbai. Before being the Technology hub that it today is, it was a city that people retired to. With the National Defence Academy, cantonments, and colleges all around, Pune has an air of nostalgia for many people. With warm people, the weather is cooler than it is in Mumbai.

The school is located in the outskirts of the city, on a hilltop. During monsoon, one could actually touch the clouds. This meant the weather was often pleasant giving a breeding ground to writers, lovers, or both. The building was an imposing monolith that had the aura of a medieval citadel. The main gate was as majestic as it could get. And as one took the serpentine ghat roads to reach the hilltop, you would have a question that most visitors had, ‘How can one study when there was so much more to be enchanted by?’

As Sam’s car reached the hill base, the security personnel at the gate approached the car. They were mostly sentry who had retired after completing their service in the Army. So the moment they saw the stars on the black number plate, they folded their arms in a salute. Always the follower of the standard operating procedure, Sam gave his details to them before driving along the ghat road. That was the moment when all the volley of memories hit him. Memories of bunking classes, filling in for a friend who didn’t wake up on time, cycling 15 km in the rains to get hot pakoras for Sia, holding her by the waist during the dance rehearsals, the proverbial batch wars—

everything that made him remind of the time when apple was just Sia’s favorite fruit, the only thing that could break was her hair clip, and the only thing that hurt was when she had accidentally stepped on his fractured toe. With all the military honours behind him, there have been umpteen instances when his nerves were tested, but nothing really ebbed him of his calmness than the mere thought of seeing Dr. Sia Roy. He knew she was unmarried, but didn’t know if she would converse with him. With Sia he knew she would not speak a word if she didn’t want to. She could stay mad at someone for ages. That was her way of telling someone how much she cared. Also, he had no clue what she looked like. The thought of looking for her on Facebook did cross his mind, but he shut that thought down with the words ‘bad manners’. He just hoped she had read some of the school newsletters that featured him, and that she would recognise him for the lanky seventeen-year-old who was funny and intelligent, brave and kind, and worshipped the earth she walked on. Moreover, his service rules did not allow him to be on any social media platform. But nothing of this would make any sense if she didn’t make it to the reunion. And that was a big if.

Soon his car entered the school premises and he got out. The student volunteers almost stood still as if they had just heard the national anthem play. Men from other batches dressed in sleek black suits suddenly felt less good looking in presence of the white uniform, their bulging biceps almost going limp with those shiny medals firmly tagged to Sam’s chest. He nodded his head in acknowledgment with a feeble smile to his otherwise strong personality. He almost heard one of them say to the other,’ he is the guy she told you not to worry about.’ He started walking towards the convention center with firmness in his step and the confidence of a man who knew he could save Sia if at that moment there was a flood there. He was assisted with the registration formalities and given a seat in the front row. ‘Hardly anyone from my batch is here.  I hope they do turn up’, he thought to himself.

But following him up all the way from the terrace was a pair of deep-set eyes; the eyes that would blink in agreement when Sam would ask her if he could borrow her notes, and disagree if he sent a letter asking for a movie from across the classroom. ‘Is it really him? Or am I hallucinating,’ Sia wondered. ‘No, that’s indeed Sam. That unmistakable walk, though it’s more of a march now. Those broad shoulders, I’ve rested my head on and slept so many times during those bus journeys.’ She felt butterflies in her tummy exactly how it felt in 2000 when he had kissed her for the first time. That made her blush like she never had in ages. Her supple cheeks just stretched out involuntarily. Boys and men had always hit on her. She was polite in all her rejections, and most men did treat her the way a lady is supposed to be treated. But it was only Sam who could take her back to being a 17-year-old even when she is in the prime of her middle age. She felt femininity oozing out of her curvaceous flesh as she saw the brawny musculature of Captain Samarth Singh. I am head over heels in love with him, perhaps even more attracted to him than I ever was. No wonder I cooked up those Valentine’s Day stories of going out with other guys in college out of peer pressure. The fact is there was no chance I could feel this way about any other man. I don’t think I can face him before my speech. And if I do, I’ll collapse on the podium, only to end up in his arms. Gosh! That sounds romantic as hell’, she giggled like an excited teen who had just discovered the wonders of chemistry between a man and a woman. It is ironic how a neurologist has her nerves exploding with estrogen at the mere thought of breathing the same air as the man she is in love with. ‘Definitely not before the speech’, she said to herself before going down to the restroom and trying to get her composure back although it looked like a futile attempt.

Meanwhile, alumni from the 2000 batch had started coming in and catching up with each other. Always the conversationalist, Sam engaged his friends with tales from his time at sea. It was hard to tell that he was a man who didn’t have a world outside of the military. He could talk on any topic except for marriage. But he was quick to joke about it and difficult to rattle as always. He seemed to be in sync with his friends who were all civilians. And they often took the privilege that lay with only civilians —

the privilege of calling him names, taking a dig at his sex life, proclaiming that he was gay and not attracted to women. He would laugh heartily and enjoy the frills of some carefree time away from work. But deep down he was waiting for one of them to mention the name Sia. Rather, he wanted her to just walk into the convention center so that he could see her at once.

‘Ladies and gentlemen there is an announcement. We request you to take your seats as we are to begin the proceedings shortly. We also request Dr. Sia Roy from the 2000 batch to come to the green room. Dr. Sia from the class of 2000 please come to the green room.’ The voice said. Sam’s reflexes shot up as if he was just tasked with locating a sniper. He pretended to be engrossed in a conversation, although he overheard someone saying, ‘Yeah, man! She’s a practicing neurologist in Delhi. They’re conferring her with the Star Alumna award.’ Although Sam wanted to dash to the green room, he resisted the urge. Frankly, he was unsure of her reaction. But he was delighted that she’s already there and that he would get to see her speak after twenty long years.

Act 2 Scene 2: Film City, Mumbai

‘Sir, the shot is ready’, said the Assistant Director who peeped through the door of the Vikram’s vanity van. Vikram Khanna, the mega movie star, was engrossed in Satya’s script narration. He just stood up in a bit, extended his right arm, and shook Satya’s hand saying, ‘Let’s do this! It’s been long since I’ve essayed the role of a soldier. Please speak to my manager for the dates. And let’s catch up tomorrow again for completing the narration. Satya was overjoyed on hearing this, and could only manage to say, ‘Sure, sir!’ ‘But are you sure you don’t want Sam and Sia to be together? And why do you want the Navy to strip Sam off his honours’, asked Vikram looking at Jaggi. That was Vikram’s way of saying he would want his comments to be addressed in the script. Jaggi, the producer, was quick to add, ‘Don’t worry, sir, Sam will continue to stay a hero. We can discuss this tomorrow.’ ‘Alright, 10 am at the set tomorrow. Let’s freeze the script’, said Vikram and went off for the shoot. Satya was on cloud 9. The stage was set; it’s lights…camera…action!