JOIN USAs we were living in Delhi we anticipated being invited for tea to Rashtrapati Bhavan.
As kids in Delhi my pals and I would often compare the exploits of our senior family members. The whole idea was to show up that each one’s relatives were superior to the others’. Majority of times the feats would be mythical or exaggerated versions. I was rather handicapped as I seemed to have comparatively sedate and unadventurous ancestors.
One friend seemed to have a super human and innovative grandfather. The old man was riding his motor cycle on a rural road when the front tyre went flat. Noticing a cart full of dry vegetation nearby, he took out the wheel, removed the tube and stuffed the tyre with straw and fitted back the wheel and roared off. If there ever was an Oscar for tall-tales this one would have been a sure winner. I was a silent and envious listener. Then the Chinese aggression happened.
All my pals seemed to have uncles and cousins who went to the forward lines to defend the country. None of my relatives had an inclination towards the armed forces. I was in a quandary.
Then my imagination went to work. I told my pals that my father working in All India Radio was in charge of all the communication from the war front to the rest of India. My reputation went up several notches. But life also has a habit of coming full circle. Immediately after the ceasefire my father was transferred to Assam because the government upgraded the radio transmitter at Guwahati to counter the Chinese propaganda.
I had one more coup. One of my uncles threw in his hat to stand for the post of President of India. He was quite a jolly man and ready for a challenge. His previous exploits included a couple of hunger strikes in front of the Vidhana Soudha. As we were living in Delhi at that time we anticipated being invited for tea to Rashtrapati Bhavan when he assumed office.
Legend goes that after filing his nomination he was to return to Bangalore. Unfortunately, the train was full. However, a first class berth was conjured up when he informed the TT at the New Delhi station that he might become the future head of state of the country. Sadly, he lost the election.
Another relation who helped me gain some mileage was a cousin who almost played Test cricket for India. He was in the 15 for the Australia series in 1959/60. His hopes of getting in to the eleven was dependent on the availability of Abbas Ali Baig.
Unfortunately, Baig did land up on time from Oxford, scored two fifties, and to boot got kissed by a female fan. This also effectively ended my cousin’s international cricket career. However, he managed to get me the autographs of some of the prominent Australian cricketers. Later he went on to become quite prominent on the Karnataka cricket scene.
Now, even in our adulthood the need for one-upmanship continues.