Initially, we were all very home sick. There were no phones available in the wings, even for receiving calls. We had to run all the way to post office to attend the calls from our family. The atmosphere of the post office was always very gloomy as everybody talking to his family felt like on the verge of bursting into tears. A letter from home was considered a boon from heaven, especially if it carried a fifty rupees note. Come on; it was a time when a bottle and a burger cost you five rupees at Qazi's canteen.
Life in the dormitories was full of events and something was happening all the time. Our seniors were sadist by ideology and used to take immense pleasure in creating problems for us. The moment any of us falters, he was slapped with penalties like extra-duties, front rolls, etc. But before that, we were given a due hearing in line with the principles of natural justice. For the so-called hearings, we were called 'after lunch' or 'after dinner'. We were supposed to stand before the tables of the concerned senior, our hands at the back and our heads down. I still remember standing sometimes for hours in the same posture while the Bhaijan strolled out with some friend, forgetting the fact that reason I was standing there because he had called us. And the young souls (we) were not allowed to even move unless authorized.
But then there were clever souls among us as well. Ijaz Hussain (32nd entry, now works for an IPP) the evil genius of the lot, had some problem with his ears and used to listen loud. Still, that didn't stop him from listening to even a whisper when something favoured him, but ignoring the yelling seniors when he was not interested. The seniors were quite frustrated with him as they could not do anything as Ijaz had a medical license for such disobedience.
The best time of these new entrants was spent to plan conspiracies against their tormentors. Once I along with Furqan Habib (32nd entry, works for Army Aviation) switched on the ceiling fan during one of the freezing nights of February. Our 'touch-me-not' senior got some flu in the morning and resultantly the whole lot of us was called to explain their position. We were mentally and physically tortured for quite some time to point out who has done this mischief. To our amazement, Ehtesham Hussain stepped forward and announced, "Bhaijan, I saw Ijaz doing it in the night." It was of course safe and selfish for us to keep our quiet but what Ijaz Hussain went through was terrible.
Time flew by. I remember the time when we were seniors and had taken over as new death angels. Imdad-ullah (32nd entry, presently a civil servant working for Government of Punjab) having lost his temper, along with Iftikhar (32nd entry, work for Army Medical Corps), thrashed a junior for something and were complained against. In the resultant situation, we had to take sides; should we support our comrades or the administration?
I along with few others stood with Imdad while others deserted us and that became a defining moment in our friendship. It is never the good time that keeps you together but the test of worse times.
And how can we all forget our annual detours to Murree or Peshawar. It used to be a high time in our college life. Nobody really cared where and in what conditions we were staying. It was all fun for two days in mere fifty to hundred rupees. It was fun sitting in the lobby of good old Lintotts and sipping tea. However, the actual reason was usually the call of nature for which one-by-one the boys would slip into the washroom. And while coming back we were supposed to bring that doggy 'Sea rose' burger from the Sea Rose Cinema in Rawalpindi. It was always a delicacy for those sitting behind in the college. A delicacy for mere three rupees - good old days.
Thursdays used to be a movie day and that brought a one-day-a-week life to Abid Majeed Theatre. After dinner, cadets used to rush to canteen to buy chips and juice for the movie session. That reminds me of Furqan, along whom teh two of us stole chips of Ijaz and Usman Tariq (32nd entry, works as an engineer for PIA) in the night and put the empty wrapper back. The theft was of course blamed on the seniors!
The morning drill and especially the P.T. was always a pain in the neck. All the boys without the discrimination of seniors and juniors, used to plan how to avoid it. One way was usually to announce some illness and go to see the doctor in the hospital but that usually brought you a one-day relief and one could not use the option frequently. The real achievement was to get a 'B' leave for 3-4 days after impressing the doctor with some theatrical performance.
I can still remember Tahir and me strolling in the playing grounds with onion under our arms so as to get fever. For some odd reason, the attempt failed!
The high point during the morning drill was preparation for the annual drill competition. Months before the competition the preparations used to start. The movements of the hands and feet were perfected. Uniforms startched, shoes water-shined, a technique especially known to cadets, the complete uniform was inspected again and again with utmost care as it was the honour of the wing. And on the final day, the cadets looked elegant in their stiff outfits. All wings performed their best with extra emphasis on how much sound the heels make. Still feels like just yesterday when all of this happened.
It was an annual ritual to renovate the 'Welcome to C.C.H' on the hilltop behind the college. Any opportunity to break through the normal rigorous college routine was considered a treat. Every year just before the annual parent's day, on one fine Friday morning, a group of about fifty cadets under the guidance of Mr Abid Chaudhry would be seen making a beeline along the cafeteria and walking into the green valley at the back of college. The trek used to be scenic. On the way, one used to cross the perennial Wah stream. Years before, another team of young cadets had arranged small rocks in the form 'Welcome to C.C.H'. The stones were later white washed so that they can be viewed from a great distance. Every year the new teams would re-arrange the disrupted rocks and white wash it again. I hope that the practice still continues as the driving force that is Mr Abid Chaudhry, is still there.
Then there was a traditional element of pride associated with bunking from the college. The usual attempt was to go to the Adda the main bus stand of HasanAbdal or the Silver Spoon restaurant on the G.T. Road. The attempt was also linked with expulsion, if one is caught so there was an element of teenage adventure associated with going out-of-bounds. We were in Matric when Furqan, my usual companion in all such illegal activities, planned for an attempt to 'Silver Spoon Restaurant', one spring evening just before Iftari. We stole our way to the place and brought back chips and juices as a proof, in a thirty-minute thriller action.
However, just two days later, a couple of our colleagues were caned by the Principal and warned with expulsion for the same thrill in front of the whole college. We could not sleep for many days with fear of being caught.
One fine morning, when Mr Abid Chaudhry left the class room, me and Mudassar Yakub (32nd entry, a chartered accountant now works for a multi-national) found car keys of the professor's new car. Without a serious thought for the consequences, we hid those keys. Only one person knew it besides us and that was Imdad.
Soon, the whole administration was looking for the keys of the car parked in the parking lot near the Administration Block. Slowly the gravity of the situation dawned on us that if we were caught, it would mean an immediate expulsion. Days passed and the car stayed on in the parking.
After 3-4 days we decided to end the drama by dropping the keys near the Biology Lab from where the keys reached its rightful owner. We kept this mischief as a closely guarded secret all through our years in college as the spectre of the secret leaking out always haunted all three of us.
Today Cadet College HasanAbdal is celebrating its fifty years of existence. It is the time when we should pay our humble thanks to all those who help created this wonderful institution which we all are proud of. These selfless men like Mr Catchpole, Mr Shaukat Sultan, Mr Dilshad, Brig. Naseer, Mr Zafar Ali, Mr Rauf, Mr Mehfooz, Mr Saleemi, Mr Abid, Mr Husnain, Mr Ramzan, Mr Bokhari, Mr Qayyum, Mr Khizer Hyat, Mr Faqir Ch., Mr Ayub, Mr Nasim Aadil, Mr R.B.R., Mr Farooqi, Mr Shafqat, Mr Mujeeb, Mr Saggu, Mr Razi, Mr Muzammil, to name a few along with many other equally respectful devoted teachers spent their lives for this great institution. We are all grateful to them. Abdalian for once, Abdalian forever.
