Armyman’s House

Last year, on our way from Mumbai to Bangalore, we made a night stop over at Belgaum. We took the opportunity to visit one of my close friend’s parents. While her mother was a home maker, her father served in the military and retired couple of years back to settle in Belgaum, a small city in North Karnataka (close to Maharashtra border).
It was my first visit to a military personnel’s house. However, it didn’t take much time to figure out how their houses are different from an average civilian’s home (and now I know why, for them (may be not all), the society is divided as military and civilians). Every single thing was not just at it’s right place but also placed in the most correct manner.
The living room also had a wall loaded up with all the medals and honors received during the military years along with photos of those proud moments when they were conferred. And as you watch it, you feel the sense of pride for having these countrymen ready to sweat out in Jaisalmer or fight the freezing Siachen to ensure we sleep in peace. You don’t see such walls in a regular house.
As we got ready for the dinner, uncle asked if I would like to have something to drink. For the first second, I wondered why so early? Normally, we have ice tea, juices, colas along with the food. And then I realized where I was. The collection of spirits in that bar cabinet was exquisite, something which I decided to have at least once in my life time (besides Robert De Niro’s wardrobe in The Intern).
Another most noticeable virtue was the commitment to cleanliness which sees no exceptions. Right from ensuring no walking without slippers inside house to placing shoes at the right place and in right position, there were intricate details. For me, that was perhaps the most commanding task for house members, especially when it is more preventive than curative. Maintaining such a large house in an impeccable way is no child’s play. My own perception of me being cleanliness freak went for a toss.
My interaction with uncle was amazing and reminded me of my conversations with my father, on totally different topics though. During his military years, he had spent some time in my home town (Ahmedabad) as well, so it didn’t take much time to find topics for discussion. The dinner was very homely (obviously) and we took some cooking tips from auntie on the North Karnataka cuisine too which we implemented later on.
We didn’t discuss much on the army anecdotes which I would have loved to. But this short visit of perhaps just about 12 hours is something I will cherish for time to come with hope that I get another such chance.
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