A few years ago, when I lived and worked in Newcastle upon Tyne (England), I woke up early one morning on a weekend and decided to walk towards the city centre. There is some charm (read ASMR!) in watching shops, cafés, and other establishments open up and get ready for the hustle and bustle of the day.

I made my way to the city centre accompanied by the occasional din of passing cars and footfall of early risers. I remember it was a crisp, sunny and a cold morning. I reached the war memorial at Eldon Square and decided to sit down on one of the benches situated around the periphery and wait until some café opened up.

While I waited, an elderly White British gentleman with a limp, wearing a brown overcoat, with what appeared to be war medals pinned to his chest walked up towards the monument. His eyes met mine and he eagerly started walking towards me. Until then I was slumped on the bench, lost in thought and savouring the silence, but immediately perked up and sat upright as a mark of respect. He came up to me and asked, “Are you with the Madras Sappers?”

My mind quipped -“YES” but my mouth blurted a “No”

I was shocked and managed to mumble “No”, he seemed disappointed at first but smiled and walked away and sat on a bench adjacent mine and his eyes fixed on to the memorial.

My heart was racing as memories from decades ago started pouring in. I transcended from shock to surprise before I calmed down. I was shocked because in a country, thousands of miles away, in my city of birth – Bangalore, now known as Bengaluru I was indeed associated with the ‘Madras Sappers’ in the most minutest way and not the way the gentleman would have wanted.

The image above was taken decades ago (sometime in 1983) and the scrawny-looking kid in the lower middle and kneeling was me! I used to attend the kindergarten run by the wives of the military officers of the Madras Sappers of the Indian Army. The memories from that era are sparse, but I remember the days spent in the tiny school in the corner of the lush green headquarters of the Madras Engineer Group (MEG) campus. It had immaculately manicured gardens up front and a few acres of trees and overgrown grass at the back of the campus. I remember the entrance to the headquarters was through these massive gates guarded by soldiers in spotless-looking uniforms, and once you entered the campus, it felt like entering a whole different universe—fresh air, cool weather, and always under the shade because there were so many trees. The school is long gone now, but I did manage to make a friend from that group of kids with whom I am still in touch, albeit rarely.

So I did study in that school, and that was my only association with the Madras Sappers, but for two strangers from two different continents to be present on that singular morning and be joined by a specific thread of inquiry was quite a startling event for me. I might just pick up the book, ‘The Improbability Principle’ by David J. Hand after this post!