Notes from a CO Who Knew When to Nod
During my tenure as a Commanding Officer, I served under three Division Headquarters, each more ambitious than the last when it came to mascot myth-making.
One had a Kharga, another a White Tiger, and the third, believe it or not, a Ram.
Now let me be clear: I didn’t design these creatures. That was the domain of the General Officer Commanding—a man of vision, budgetary discretion, and precise aesthetic preferences. My role was simpler, and older in origin: I nodded smartly.
The Tiger That Needed a Meal
The Tiger Division was going through a redesign. The GOC wanted something ferocious. What he got was a draft that looked… unwell.
Someone whispered, ‘Looks like this tiger’s been fasting through two monsoons.’
The General frowned. ‘No, no. I want him pouncing. Claws out, teeth bared—the moment before the kill!’
The artist said, ‘But Sir, anatomical accuracy—’
The General said, ‘Anatomy? This is warfare, not zoology.’
We nodded.
The final sketch was dramatic. The Tiger mid-pounce, eyes aflame, tail like a whip. Budget was sanctioned. Posters printed. Morale, like the tiger, soared—at least till the next fiscal quarter.
The Ram Who Wouldn’t Look Down
Then there was the Ram.
‘How big is a Ram, anyway?’ the GOC mused during the meeting.
One officer offered a meek answer from the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Another, braver, said, ‘Sir, it’s not about size. It’s about attitude.’
The General smiled. ‘Exactly.’
We spent a full day debating horn curvature and jaw angles. The solution was a stylized brass-cut Ram’s head, eyes staring far ahead, not down—the thinking Ram, if you will, a philosopher of forward momentum.
We nodded. Smartly.
The Kharga General
Ah, but my favorite was the Kharga General. He didn’t need a redesign. He was the redesign.
From nowhere, he would appear—running.
Yes, running—arms pumping, gait vigorous. His entrance was electrifying. Troops stood straighter. Subedar Majors looked inspired. The Kharga himself had arrived.
But once past the action, past the sightline of inspection-worthy activity, he’d slow. His shoulders would sag slightly, the legs splay outward in tired geometry.
A practiced choreography.
We watched. And nodded. Admiringly.
Final Reflection
Looking back, these beasts weren’t just symbols. They were projections. A Tiger to leap. A Ram to charge. A Kharga to gleam.
And perhaps a CO’s real role was not to create, but to observe the play, know when to straighten the back, and master the sacred art of timely nodding.
Because sometimes, in the army, nodding smartly is the highest form of contribution.
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