ISSUE 75 : Mar/Apr - 1989 - Australian Defence Force Journal

36 DEFENCE FORCE JOURNAL No. 75 March/April 89magnificent pieces of silver, crystal goblets andcandles glowing. During the four course meal,1 looked over my shoulder to thank the Bearerwho was serving and found our Mohamedbeaming back at me. He had come with ourchina — by Servants' gentleman's agreement.British army life, pay and unknown fellowofficers were discussed. After dinner, the ladiesretreated to the fire for coffee, liqueurs andmore of babies, ayahs, children, servants, untildulled or lulled to silence. The men lingeredover port. 1 sat there hating being separatedfrom what might have been more interestingconversation.When it was our turn to be hosts, we consideredcasual dress but Mohamed was quitedistressed. 'Not right Sahib.' After dinner.David, prompted by me, asked the gentlemento join the ladies for port. The officer fromthe Queen's Bays remarked, 'Of course, wedon't do this in our country.' Colonials still.Dinner with the Bengali Ikramullahs was quitedifferent. Their quarter was sparsely furnished.Like many, they had lost most of their possessionswhen fleeing to Pakistan after Partition.However, Japanese scrolls, an Edinburgh plateand Toby jug told of our hosts' overseas travels.We all drank orange juice except David whowas plied with expensive whiskey. At dinner,ladies sat at one end and the gentlemen theother. From a sideboard we selected khebabs,grilled mutton, curried eggs or delicately spicedliver. Dessert was a coconut ice covered ingolden syrup. We ate everything pressed on us.Afterwards we were introduced to pan —betel nut and a bitter lime paste wrapped ingreen leaves (not an easily acquired taste). Theothers chewed happily all evening as we discussedMuslim versus Christian marriages whichthey thought 'Flippant: married one day, divorcedthe next.' They played us a favouriteUrdu song about the lady and her dupatta (veil)which falls romantically at the feet of a farmer.That night we returned home exhilarated. Thiswas more like the real Pakistan which we wereso keen to discover.On Republic Day we wrapped up warmly tosit in the main street and watch unit after unitof Pakistanis march by, their leaders turningby mistake to salute David — the red felt onhis 'blues' cap making him look like a general!That night the Officers' Mess held a ceremonialdinner. For the last time, the officers toastedHer Majesty the Queen and David saw tears inA Powinda family on move.the eyes of many Pakistani officers; then greatpride when a toast to Jinnah, President of theirnew Republic was called, thus signalling formallythe end of the Raj.Spring came and my strange dry garden suddenlyblossomed with hyacinths, verbenas andmarigolds. With the weekly ration of an hour'sirrigation water, 1 couldn't resist joining theMali (our gardener) paddling barefoot as wechannelled and blocked off water for the (lowerbeds. Mohamed watched me disapprovingly.The month of Ramazan coincided with thefirst really hot weather. All good Muslimsneither ate, drank nor smoked from sunrise tosundown and everyone's work suffered. Ourstaff moved in a daze and serving meals wastorment for them.It was hardly the best time to go for a drivinglicence, but a sick friend had briefly lent us hiscar. We found offices closed with no explanation,or staff too tired to understand our questions.Finally we discovered the Superintendent.He asked many questions. 'What would you bedoing if your brakes failed on a steep road with