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From an Air Force Son to an Army Dreamer: My Review of The Curious and the Classified by General Manoj Naravane

  • Writer: Sameer Gudhate
    Sameer Gudhate
  • 2 days ago
  • 3 min read

Military institutions often appear distant to civilians. They never did to me. My father served in the Indian Air Force, and growing up, the Armed Forces were never just uniforms on Republic Day or headlines after a conflict—they were part of the conversations, values, and discipline that quietly shaped my childhood. I, too, dreamt of joining the Indian Army. Life took me elsewhere, but that curiosity never really left. Reading The Curious and the Classified: Unearthing Military Myths and Mysteries felt less like discovering an unfamiliar world and more like finally understanding many of the traditions and stories that had lingered at the edges of that childhood fascination.

 

General Manoj Naravane approaches this world with the confidence of someone who has spent over four decades inside it. That perspective gives the book an authenticity that no amount of archival research alone could achieve. Rather than attempting a chronological history of the Indian Armed Forces, he assembles an eclectic collection of military folklore, forgotten anecdotes, curious phrases, legendary personalities, traditions, insignias, call signs, and institutional quirks. The result resembles a guided walk through the cantonment's back lanes rather than its parade ground.

 

Some of the book's greatest pleasures lie in its refusal to separate humour from honour. Stories behind expressions like "chak de phatte," the origins of military slang, the tale of Badluram, the enduring presence of Baba Harbhajan Singh, the tragic legacy of INS Khukri, or the unexpected heroism of Pedongi, the military mule, all coexist comfortably. None of these episodes is treated merely as trivia. Each becomes a small window into how military communities remember, mourn, celebrate, and preserve themselves.

 

That is perhaps the book's most enduring contribution. It reminds readers that institutions are not sustained by regulations alone. They survive because people keep telling stories. A regiment's identity is shaped as much by its legends and shared vocabulary as by its operational history. Traditions that may appear eccentric to outsiders often serve as emotional anchors for those expected to function under extraordinary pressure. In that sense, folklore becomes an operational asset.

 

General Naravane writes with an ease that consistently lowers the barrier to entry. Military writing can sometimes intimidate readers through excessive technical detail or strategic analysis. Here, the prose remains conversational without becoming simplistic. His gentle humour, personal recollections, and carefully chosen illustrations soften subjects that could otherwise feel overwhelming. Even readers unfamiliar with military terminology are unlikely to feel excluded.

 

The book also arrives at an interesting cultural moment. At a time when public conversations increasingly reduce institutions to headlines, viral videos, and polarized debates, The Curious and the Classified quietly argues for curiosity over certainty. It invites civilians to see the Armed Forces not simply as symbols of national security but as living communities with their own language, rituals, humour, and emotional memory. That shift in perspective feels valuable because understanding often begins with noticing the details that official histories overlook.

 

Its abundance, however, occasionally becomes its own limitation. The wealth of anecdotes, historical references, and military expressions can sometimes overwhelm the narrative momentum. Certain sections read more like an engaging repository than a continuously evolving argument. Readers looking for deeper exploration of why some traditions endured while others disappeared may occasionally wish the author lingered longer instead of moving briskly to the next fascinating story. Ironically, the book's greatest strength—its remarkable range—sometimes leaves individual subjects feeling just slightly underexplored.

 

Yet the accumulation itself produces an unexpected effect. Long after individual anecdotes begin to blur, a larger portrait emerges. One gradually understands that military culture is built not through grand speeches but through countless shared experiences repeated across generations. The smallest story often carries the greatest weight because someone chose never to let it disappear.

 

Perhaps that is what stayed with me most. Not a single anecdote or military phrase, but the realization that every tradition exists because someone believed it was worth carrying forward. My father wore the blue uniform of the Indian Air Force. I once hoped to wear the olive green of the Army. This book reminded me that, regardless of the colour of the uniform, what ultimately binds the Armed Forces together is not just duty or discipline, but the stories that quietly pass from one generation to the next. Years from now, readers may not remember every acronym, battle anecdote, or military expression collected here. They are more likely to remember something quieter: behind every perfectly aligned uniform stands an imperfect, deeply human tradition of stories that refuses to fade.

 

 

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