The Boy With Eighty Rupees

From the testimony of Commodore Simon Mathai — Indian Navy, commissioned 1990

Commodore Mathai spent more than fifteen years at sea. He commanded warships — including, for a time, one of the oldest ships in the entire Indian Navy. So when I asked him for the one story he most wanted kept, I expected a storm, or a command, or a long night at sea. He chose, instead, to tell me about the time he was sixteen, alone in Bombay with eighty rupees, and had to find his own way home.

He was a cadet then — goalkeeper for the academy football team, travelling with the contingent to a sports meet in the north. They had a few hours free in the city. The train, he was told, left at 1700 from Bombay Central. Somewhere between hearing it and remembering it, 1700 became seven o'clock in his head. He went to see a cousin, and returned to the station at half past six — early, and rather pleased with himself for being early. The train had left ninety minutes before.

Picture what he had. Eighty rupees. No phone — this was the late 1980s, and there was no way to call anyone, no way to say hold my luggage, I'll get there somehow. His bag had gone ahead with his friends. And one cliff-edge fact: if he simply went back and confessed, he would likely be relegated — held back six months. To a cadet, six months is an eternity.

He decided not to go back. He decided to chase the train across the country.

What follows he tells almost lightly, the way you can only tell a thing you have survived. He asked for the first train heading north and climbed into an unreserved compartment — ticketless; he admits it freely. It carried him as far as Jhansi, where it stopped. He jumped onto another bound for Delhi and talked his way into the military compartment with his cadet's identity card. At Delhi he spent forty of his eighty rupees on a bus to Dehradun. He arrived in the morning, unshaven — and knew that turning up haggard would give him away. So he found a barber, spent five rupees on a shave, took a three-wheeler the last stretch, and slipped back into the crowd at the academy as though he had been there all along.

Thirty-six hours, start to finish. A boy, a country, and almost no money.

I love this story for a reason that took me a while to name. He could have chosen any of the grand things — and he chose the smallest, because the smallest is where he learned the thing that made all the grand things possible: that when everything goes wrong and no one is coming to help, you can think, you can improvise, and you can find a way out. The man who would one day be trusted with a warship first had to get himself from Bombay to Dehradun on eighty rupees.

"It taught me to think on my feet. And it taught me the value of eighty rupees."

The journey took place around 1987–88, when the officer was a cadet at the National Defence Academy travelling to an inter-academy sports meet. "1700" is the twenty-four-hour clock's way of writing 5:00 p.m.

I.An Education That Starts at Eleven

InterviewerSir, you joined RIMC at the age of eleven. Do you think childhood ends earlier for children who grow up inside an institution like that?

OfficerIt's an interesting question, and I can't entirely deny it — though I don't fully agree either. The moment you join any residential school, not just RIMC, there is a discernible shift in your environment. You are out of the cosy comforts of a sheltered home and placed in a peer-intensive surrounding, and you have to adapt. We associate childhood with being carefree, with innocence, with a systematic shielding from responsibility — your parents and elders carry it for you. In a residential school you are out on your own, among your peers, and you take on responsibility much earlier. To that extent, yes — you might feel you've been robbed of some of childhood's small pleasures. But you gain some to lose some. What are parents and teachers finally doing? Gearing you up for life's responsibilities — only giving you a softer landing, shielding you to a point and then handing the responsibility over incrementally. Here, that process is simply accelerated. You are thrust into it earlier — but you are ready for life's battles that much earlier too. You get a head start. And if you look at how Rimcolians¹ perform once they leave, the benefit of that head start is fairly evident. It works both ways.

InterviewerHow was the transition from RIMC to NDA²? You were the senior-most at RIMC when you passed out, and then arrived at NDA reduced to the junior-most again.

OfficerThis process is cyclic. From RIMC we went to NDA and became sixth-termers; after that we joined as sea cadets — what the Navy calls "the lowest form of marine life."³ Then you become a midshipman⁴, and you evolve, you become senior again. You learn to deal with it because it keeps happening — and what it actually does is prepare you for increasingly responsible roles. It gives you time to reflect. As a junior again at NDA, you watch your fifth- and sixth-termers and recollect how you were as a senior cadet at RIMC — did you do everything right, or could you have done better? It's a fascinating process. It helps you calibrate yourself and grow.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · Rimcolians: Alumni of the Rashtriya Indian Military College (RIMC), a military preparatory school in Dehradun founded in 1922.
2 · National Defence Academy (NDA): The tri-service academy at Khadakwasla, Pune, where future Army, Navy and Air Force officers train together.
3 · "The lowest form of marine life": The Navy's traditional, self-deprecating nickname for a newly joined sea cadet.
4 · Midshipman: A trainee officer grade in the Navy, ranking above cadet and below sub-lieutenant.

II.The Sea Cuts You Down to Size

InterviewerWhen young officers first step aboard a ship, many imagine glory. What reality surprised you most in your early years at sea?

OfficerThrough five years at RIMC and three at NDA, our training was entirely land-based. We were seasoned "landlubbers"¹ — that's what seamen call people who operate from the shore. There was enormous focus on physical activity; we were strong, we could endure a great deal. By our sixth term at NDA we had a real sense of accomplishment — eight years of grind, prepared for any physical challenge that might come our way. And then you step onto the cadet training ship, INS Tir². A complete change of environment: no more playing fields, no more open air — you're inside a confined space. Then you go out to sea. I still remember the first time. We had joined the ship in July, and in August, after a month of familiarisation, we headed out of Cochin³ harbour in the thick of the monsoon. In harbour the ship had seemed such an imposing figure — so big, so huge. Out at sea, the water was very rough, and we were tossed around like a peanut. That gave me a sense of how vast the sea is, of the magnitude of the forces at play. The ship was rolling, pitching and yawing⁴, and the men I'd considered the most fit were bent over the guardrail, sick. We were not prepared for it. It taught me that physical endurance has many facets — it is not only strength. And it taught me, very early, that you can never challenge the forces of nature. They are too vast, insurmountable. It is best to harness them and use them to your advantage — which is something I did, gainfully, ever after.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · Landlubber: Nautical slang for a person unfamiliar with the sea or unaccustomed to life aboard ship.
2 · INS Tir: A cadet training ship of the Indian Navy, used to give trainee officers their first experience of seamanship and life at sea.
3 · Cochin (Kochi): The major port city in Kerala and home to a large naval presence, including the Indian Navy's Southern Naval Command.
4 · Rolling, pitching and yawing: The three motions of a ship at sea: rocking side-to-side, tilting bow-to-stern, and turning about its vertical axis.

III.The Measure of a Leader

InterviewerIs there a fundamental difference in how officers from the Army, the Air Force and the Navy approach their service?

OfficerI can speak from personal experience. In my last tenure, as Group Commander of the NCC¹, I worked under an Army commander in a predominantly Army organisation — and I found distinct organisational cultures. The Navy functions one way; the Army has its own set of values and ways of working, and it took me a little time to adjust. So in terms of organisational culture, yes, there's a difference. But if you speak strictly of personal values and leadership attributes, I think it is the same across all three services. What it takes to make a good leader is pretty much the same.

InterviewerWhat do long years in uniform do to a person — does the service harden people, or does it deepen them?

OfficerThere cannot be a binary answer. The profession of arms is not for the faint-hearted; you join it with the tacit understanding that you'll embrace a tough, regimented life — a life that can take you to the edge, that puts you through stress, that demands split-second decisions. We train rigorously for victory, but we must also be prepared to absorb losses, and to bounce back stronger. To do that takes training — and in that sense, yes, it hardens you; it is required for this profession. But that's only one facet. Beneath the hard exterior of any good leader there must be a soft core — humane, empathetic. Here you are dealing with men who have entrusted their lives to you. In no other profession does a person hand you their life that way. That trust makes it all the more incumbent on you to gauge their pulse and care for them. That is where the Chetwode Code² comes in: the nation comes first, the men you command come next, your own comfort comes last. It is non-negotiable. Anyone who thinks they can lead without empathy is making the biggest folly — and I say that with conviction, because in thirty-five years I have seen leaders at both extremes. The hardening prepares you for adversity; the deepening makes you humane. It is a balance of both. I can only point to Rudyard Kipling's poem "If—"³ — it sits on the study table of every cadet at NDA, and it holds all the attributes of a professional soldier.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · National Cadet Corps (NCC): The youth wing of the Indian Armed Forces, which trains school and college students in discipline and leadership; its units are commanded by serving officers.
2 · The Chetwode Code: The credo of the Indian Military Academy: the safety, honour and welfare of your country come first; the honour, welfare and comfort of the men you command come next; your own ease, comfort and safety come last.
3 · "If—" by Rudyard Kipling: A celebrated 1910 poem of stoic counsel on character and composure, long associated with military and leadership ideals.

IV.The Oldest Ship in the Fleet

InterviewerYou spent over fifteen years aboard ships and commanded several vessels. Which command felt the heaviest on your shoulders, and why?

OfficerThe most satisfying and fulfilling was my command of INS Rajput¹. At that time she was among the oldest serving ships in the Indian Navy — we had just completed forty years in service. The better-known officers tend to get the newer, state-of-the-art ships. But commanding an old ship is far more challenging: ageing machinery, older equipment, and somehow you're not in the spotlight — not the Cinderella among the ships, your priorities a little further down the line. Taking up that challenge was the most satisfying thing of all. We said: we may be a forty-year-old ship, but we are no less than any new ship in the fleet — and we performed at that level. If you asked me for the single most important attribute, something I learned right at RIMC, it is team-building — a synergistic approach gives you disproportionate success compared to individual brilliance. As a team aboard Rajput we delivered every task assigned to us, so much so that we were among just three ships nominated for Best Ship in the Fleet. The award finally went to a new ship, as expected — but we gave them a good fight. And to this day, when officers and sailors who served with me on Rajput meet me, they never miss the chance to tell me how they enjoyed that tenure. That itself is a huge reward.

InterviewerWhich was harder — commanding men in operations, or shaping the officers who would go on to command after you?

OfficerBoth had their challenges. I also commanded INS Dronacharya², the Navy's gunnery and missile training school — a shore command, with its own set of demands. But strictly speaking, I found commanding a ship the most rewarding, the most satisfying and the most challenging, all at once. We'd be out sailing for days, weeks, sometimes in rough seas, sometimes with serious machinery breakdowns, and we had to fend for ourselves — we couldn't simply turn back and sort it out. We learned to handle most things ourselves. That was good.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · INS Rajput: The lead ship of her class of guided-missile destroyers, commissioned in 1980; for many years among the oldest serving major warships in the Indian Navy.
2 · INS Dronacharya: A shore establishment at Kochi that serves as the Indian Navy's gunnery and missile-warfare training school.

V.What Changes, What Endures

InterviewerWhen you look at the Indian Navy today, what can you simply not recognise from the service you were commissioned into in 1990?

OfficerIt is very, very different — and the transformation runs through every facet, professional and personal. Let me give you perspective. When I joined as a sub-lieutenant¹ in 1990, my pay was just over two thousand rupees. As young sub-lieutenants we aspired to buy a bike — an RX-100 or a KB-100² was the in-thing — and it cost around twenty thousand, roughly ten months' pay. A meal in a five-star hotel was beyond us; a trip abroad, flying, all behind us. Today a young sub-lieutenant starts with a net salary of a little over one lakh; some own cars, some are buying flats, some travel abroad — a heartening change, a better quality of life for the average person in uniform. On the professional front: we navigated largely by visual means; at best we had a Decca³ set or a very rudimentary satellite system called Satnav⁴, and it could take six to eight hours to get a satellite pass to fix your own position at sea. Today your position is given, 24/7; it is never a worry. "Raising a lighthouse"⁵ — sighting a coastal light after long calculation as your ship made landfall — used to give us such pleasure, because it confirmed you'd calculated well. Those small joys are gone now; everything is equipment-based. The Navy is completely networked. We relied on radio broadcasts to learn where other ships, or likely adversaries, were — never real-time. Today you have complete awareness of the battle space around you at all times, an enormous advantage in how you fight. We've seen changes in uniform, in the naval ensign⁶ — there is no area untouched. But has it been a tectonic shift? No — an incremental, evolving one. Because you've been a participant in the journey, it never felt abrupt. The young leaders of today inherit a rich legacy, and it is entirely upon them to carry it forward.

InterviewerFor a young person drawn to the Navy — perhaps still weighing it against the Army or the Air Force — what would you say?

OfficerI won't belittle the other two services; you have to be in it to know how good it is. I myself was inclined towards the Army through my RIMC years, and joined the Navy almost by default — I'm from Cochin, and my parents felt naval postings would keep me nearer home. I even opted for naval aviation; I cleared the PABT⁷, but my eyesight — a very marginal power — stopped me from flying. At different stages I could have ended up anywhere; it was chance, and how things were charted for me, that I found myself in the Navy. But looking back, the Navy has been a fantastic service — no regrets, only immense pride in serving thirty-five years, and gratitude for the prestigious appointments it gave me and the exposure that groomed me, professionally and personally. Navy, very good. Army, very good. Air Force, very good — I won't differentiate one from another. The armed forces as a whole give you a great quality of life. It is not for the faint-hearted, and not for anyone chasing money or material pleasure — but if you're looking for good friendships, great challenges and an adventurous life, there is no better profession.

InterviewerLooking back — did the Navy shape your personality, or did your personality shape the way you served?

OfficerLargely it is the grooming — and not the Navy alone; there are enough stakeholders, right from RIMC. I joined at eleven, so those were my most formative years. The whole of life is a learning experience: you watch your seniors, your juniors, your peers — you see a coursemate who is more regimented, more organised, and you pick up his good practices; you watch a cadet captain who stands out and try to work out why, and imbibe it. Your personality is built at every stage; it's a continuous process. You do have some intrinsic qualities that shape how you deal with men and situations — so to that extent, yes, personality shapes how you serve. But almost ninety per cent I would attribute to how I was groomed, to the exposure I was given. That is what shows in the way you lead.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · Sub-lieutenant: A junior commissioned officer rank in the Navy, roughly equivalent to a lieutenant in the Army.
2 · RX-100 / KB-100: Popular lightweight motorcycles (the Yamaha RX-100 and Bajaj-Kawasaki KB-100) that were aspirational purchases for young Indians in the late 1980s and early 1990s.
3 · Decca: The Decca Navigator System, a radio-based position-fixing system widely used at sea before satellite navigation.
4 · Satnav: An early, rudimentary satellite navigation system that preceded modern GPS, offering only intermittent position fixes.
5 · "Raising a lighthouse": A navigator's term for sighting a coastal light for the first time as a ship approaches land — confirming the ship's calculated position.
6 · Naval ensign: The flag flown by warships to denote nationality; the Indian Navy adopted a redesigned ensign in 2022.
7 · PABT (Pilot Aptitude Battery Test): The screening test used by the Indian armed forces to assess a candidate's suitability for flying training.

InterviewerBefore we close, I'd like to ask you to share one story that has stayed close to your heart — from RIMC, or from your years in the service.

OfficerI'll narrate something — not exactly a story, more an incident, and not a very big one, but there is a lesson in it. I was in my fourth term at NDA, and I was the goalkeeper of the academy football team — an important member, because although there's a spare goalkeeper, your absence is felt. We were to travel for the Quadrangulars¹ — a sports meet between the Naval Academy, the OTA², the IMA and NDA. We'd go to Bombay and take the train to Delhi — the Punjab Mail³, or the Frontier Mail, I forget which — and on to Dehradun. This was around '87 or '88. The whole contingent reached Bombay together. I had a cousin in Bandra, and we had four or five hours free; we were told the train left at 1700 from Bombay Central, and to be there in time. Somehow, "1700" registered in my mind as seven o'clock. So I spent time with my cousin and, very diligently, reached Bombay Central at half past six — and was told the train had left an hour and a half earlier.

InterviewerAnd that would have meant being relegated⁴ — losing six months.

OfficerThere I was — sixteen or seventeen years old, eighty rupees in my pocket, my luggage gone ahead with my coursemates, and no way to reach them. This was a time before mobile phones — no communication at all, no way to say, "look after my luggage, I'll get there somehow." I had a decision to make. Do I go back to NDA — and probably get relegated? Or do I try to make it to Dehradun on my own? I decided to try. So I began asking for the first train heading north — that was all that interested me — and I got into an unreserved compartment, ticketless, let me admit that too. It took me as far as Jhansi, or somewhere near there, where the train got held up. From there I jumped onto another train to Delhi, and managed to sit in the military compartment — in those days there was a separate one. I showed my NDA identity card, said I was a cadet, and they were more than happy to accommodate me. I reached Delhi. Now I had to make it in time and without being caught — the team would reach Dehradun by morning, and the moment they realised I wasn't there, I could expect whatever punishment was coming. At the ISBT⁵ a bus ticket to Dehradun was forty rupees, so I spent forty of my eighty and took the bus. I reached the Dehradun depot around half past eight in the morning. The Mussoorie Express had brought the team in around six or seven, and by eight or half past they'd have reached IMA — and would soon notice I was missing. And there I was, unshaven — I couldn't turn up looking haggard, or they'd know something was wrong. So I went quickly to a barber, got a shave for five or six rupees, caught a Vikram⁶ to the IMA for another six or ten, and somehow reached and merged back into the crowd. It was not easy — the whole journey was about thirty-six hours, stressful, with that sword always hanging over my head. But it makes you endure, think on your feet, improvise, find a way — and it gives you the confidence that should adversity come, you will find a way out. God willing. That is the one story I thought I should tell.

InterviewerIt also teaches you to read 1700 hours as five o'clock the next time.

OfficerA mistake I will never make again. And it taught me the value of eighty rupees.

Contextual Notes and Historical References

1 · The Quadrangulars: An inter-academy sports competition contested between the four officer-training institutions named below.
2 · OTA (Officers Training Academy): The academy at Chennai that trains officers for the Indian Army's Short Service Commission.
3 · Punjab Mail / Frontier Mail: Two of the oldest and most storied long-distance trains on Indian Railways, linking Bombay (Mumbai) with the north.
4 · Relegated: In academy usage, held back to repeat a term as punishment or for failing to meet requirements — a serious setback to one's seniority.
5 · ISBT: The Inter-State Bus Terminal, the main long-distance bus hub serving Delhi.
6 · Vikram: A shared three-wheeler (a large auto-rickshaw) commonly used for local transport in Dehradun and other north Indian towns.

Commodore Simon Mathai

The full story, as I was told it

The Shape of Memory

I.An Education That Starts at Eleven

II.The Sea Cuts You Down to Size

III.The Measure of a Leader

IV.The Oldest Ship in the Fleet

V.What Changes, What Endures

The Keystone

Photographs & Service Record