The Broken Flower Pot
A Military Fable
Sometimes a little imperfection is a good thing
This is a story related to
me by a retired Major of the Indian Army; he was in a Medium Gun battery in the
regiment of Artillery. The context was an argument that I was having with
someone over some harmless typos in an important document. Those were the days
before PCs, MSWord or Spellcheck; that’s to say, it had been banged out on an
old Remington mechanical typewriter. These machines didn’t allow much for
error. The Major, bless him, overheard and butted in. He then told this tale,
which (he said) was his actual experience. I’m more inclined to think it is one
those old soldiers’ yarns which get passed on from generation to generation.
The story goes like this…
One day the Major was
summoned by the Colonel, “Look, the General is going to come and inspect our
unit in a few days. Go and get everything in proper order!”
The Major saluted and
said, “Yes Sir!”
The Major went to the
Subedar, “Subedar sa’ab,” (Subedars have long years of service behind them so
even Commissioned officers address them as ‘sahib’) “The General is going to
come and inspect our unit in a few days. Go, get everything in proper order.”
The Subedar saluted and
said, “Yes Sir”.
In a few days time the Subedar
told the Major that everything was ready for inspection. The Major did a dry
run of the inspection to see things for himself.
The visiting dignitary’s
flag car goes to the Quarter Guard, where the Guard presents arms and he
inspects them. The start-off point of the inspection, so to say.
The Major drove his jeep
to the Quarter Guard and alighted. The Guard fell in smartly, the Quarter Guard
commander barked orders, the guards’ rifles snapped and clacked in satisfying unison
as they presented arms. The Major went to inspect the Quarter Guard and.. hey!
What’s this? One of the flower pots near the flagpole had a piece broken off.
“Look, sa’ab, that flower pot is broken. We can’t have that, at the Quarter
Guard, of all places!”
Everything was spick and
span. Anything made of brass had been brassoed and gleamed, seemingly with a
light of it’s own. Everything in line was ruler straight. Everything white was
freshly limewashed. Even the trees seemed to be standing at attention.
“Subedar sa’ab, everything
seems OK,” said the Major after his inspection, “But see to that broken flower
pot at the Quarter Guard, will you?”
The Subedar saluted and
said, “Yes Sir”.
The Major reported to the
Colonel that everything was ready for inspection. The Colonel decided to do a dry
run himself.
The Colonel’s jeep roared
up to the Quarter Guard. The Colonel got out. The Guard commander shouted his
commands. The rifles snapped at present arms smartly as before. Then the
Colonel bristled, “So this is your readiness for inspection, eh Major? See that
broken flower pot”.
The offending flower pot
was still in its old position.
After the inspection the
Colonel told the Major that everything looked all right, but do get rid of that
broken flower pot.
The Major saluted and
said, “Yes Sir”.
After the Colonel had
driven off the Major turned on the Subedar, “Sa’ab, I’d told you to get do
something about that damned flower pot. It’s still there!”
“Sa’ab ji, I must have
forgotten about it.”
“Subedar sa’ab, please
don’t forget this time. I do not want to see that blasted flower pot again.”
The Subedar saluted and
said, “Yes Sir”.
The great day arrived, and
so did the General, punctual and on the dot, followed by the Colonel.
The General, as usual,
went to inspect the Quarter Guard. Shining badges, uniforms with knife-edge
creases, rifles with not even a nano-particle of dirt. And then, “Colonel, what
the devil is that broken flower pot doing at the Quarter Guard?” The Colonel
turned purple, the Major turned pale.
After the inspection the
General couldn’t resist a parting jibe at the Colonel on the state of one his
Quarter Guard flower pots.
The Colonel waited till
the General’s entourage was out of sight and demanded to know What The Bloody
Hell etc.
After having let off steam
the Colonel stormed off. The Major was understandably miffed and went to the
Subedar, “Sa’ab, that flower pot was still there. Now tell me, what is the
meaning of this.”
“It was a mistake sa’ab
ji, I forget again” said the Subedar, looking into the middle distance.
The Major now switched to
the Subedar’s native Punjabi and said, “I’ve served with you long enough to
know you don’t make silly mistakes. Now tell me, what is the reason for that
broken flower pot? Is it some superstition, good-luck charm or something? I’m
sure it was placed there deliberately”
“Sa’ab ji, you’re right.
It was placed there deliberately. In fact, I put it there myself. And the
reason is this: anyone coming for inspection first goes to the Quarter Guard.
Whoever is coming to inspect hopes to find something wrong. When he sees the
broken flower pot, he is delighted. ‘Aha! A broken flower pot!’ he says. And in
the end, when the report is typed out, what is the most he can write? ‘I found
a broken flower pot at the Quarter Guard’. Now if he didn’t see that broken
flower pot, he would still be determined to find something wrong. What if he
checked our MT?” (Army speak for Motorised Transport, the ordinary sort of
Transport still presumably means horses and mules). “This is the Army and our
business is fighting wars; it is not gardening. One of our tractors, for
example” (the artillerymen term their big 6x6 trucks used for towing artillery guns
as tractors) “One of them doesn’t start as the mechanics still haven’t figured
out what’s wrong with it. And one of the jeeps has got it’s tailgate bashed in
because a Lance Naik put her in Reverse instead of First. And what if the
General wanted to go into the Quarter Master’s stocks? There are thousands of
items in the Quarter Master’s stocks, and some item in the register or the
other doesn’t tally with the actual numbers in stock. Now that’s a serious
defect; it can even put someone’s career on the line. But now what will the
General’s report say?”
“Yeah, we found a broken
flower pot in the Quarter Guard. Meaning that everything else is fine. Subedar
sa’ab, you are a very wise man, and I’m lucky to have served in your unit.
