March-in, the Broken Key and No Honk-Honk

            After spending two days at the motel doing nothing except eating the medium sized pizzas, we got bored and wanted to do something more exciting – we didn’t go there just to eat pizzas after all. So with some effort, I managed to find the Staff College duty officer’s number in the huge three volume telephone directory and convinced the motel owner to let me make the call from his office phone. On getting through, I identified myself and enquired as to when we will be taken to our house (13, Sara St, Pt Lonsdale as told to me by my predecessor Ranvir Yadav from the KUMAON Regt). The person at the other end, after referring to some papers with him, replied, “Sir, your march-in is on, Mundie (Monday).” This got me seriously worried as ‘march-in’ in Indian Army meant being marched up to a superior officer for either a ‘dressing down’ or being awarded a punishment and to the best of my knowledge I had not committed any offence on the Australian soil as yet. So I asked the person at the other end as to what dress and time I had to be present outside whose office and also informed him that I did not have the articles of my uniform with me as my unaccompanied baggage was yet to land down under. At this he laughed aloud and told me not to worry as I would be marching in the house allotted to me and not up to a superior officer (as yet). With a great sense of relief, I also asked him if I could be provided with a transport for the ‘march-in’ which, he assured me, will be looked into and disconnected the line.

            Luckily, ‘Mundie’ was on the next day and we were able to complete the formalities of moving into our house for the next one year by mid-day and started settling down. My predecessor had very kindly sold his ‘fourth-hand well used 1969 Toyota Corona’ to me in an ‘All Rupees deal” for a princely sum of Eight Thousand Rupees deposited in his Indian Bank account before I left India. The car was parked inside the garage of the house I had just ‘marched-in’ and the keys were in an envelope kept at the Guard Room of the College. I requested the NCO who had come to ‘march me in’ to give me lift up to the College and back for me to fetch the keys which he very kindly did. I was back at our house with the garage and car keys after about half an hour and decided to take my first four wheel ride on Her Majesty’s land Down Under in the true ‘haath kangan ko aarsi kya’ fashion.

            The garage door had a rolling shutter. That was not a problem as I had handled a few MES shutters back in India and had preconceived notions about the body posture and force required to open them. So I inserted the key in its slot which was roughly in centre of the door – both vertically and horizontally; failed to read the warning pasted below the slot by the previous occupant (REMOVE THE KEY FROM THE SLOT BEFORE OPENING THE SHUTTER); bent my body forward from waist upwards till my forehead was square to the lowest part of the shutter; grasped its underside with both hands firmly – ‘chaaron anguliyan andar aur angutha bahar’ and heaved applying all the force that I could muster. The gate went up ‘phatak’ without offering any resistance or making any noise in a fraction of a second shearing the key clean in two halves – its head falling at my feet and the tail remaining firmly inside the slot. That was the second time the fact was reinforced to me that things are definitely different in Australia – the rolling shutter was made of aluminum and could be opened easily with the push of a finger itself.

            Next, I went for a trial round of my ‘new’car. As a well trained Indian driver, I would honk the horn at every turn. I was rather pleased with myself that there were hardly any other cars I the neighbourhood and so there was nary a chance of a collision. So I returned home safely. Later in the evening, a officer came visited our house and asked me if I was the new occupant of the house from India. I was very impressed with the promptness of the police in coming and inquiring about the welfare of a new resident and confirmed to him that indeed, I was. He smiled and said, “Sir, welcome to Ocean Grove, but may I advise you to refrain honking your horn?” Later, I was told by an Indian well wisher settled there that honking the horn unnecessarily was illegal as it causes noise pollution.

Within three days of my arrival I had force discovered three stark differences in life ‘Up Above’ in India and ‘Down Under’ in Australia – those in ‘sizes’, ‘English usage’ and ‘driving etiquette’.