To caddies & golfing buddies

Lt Gen KJ Singh (retd)

With life limping back to normalcy, golf is one sport that was easy to start, albeit with Covid-appropriate protocols. Missing in action has been the proverbial ‘Jeeves’ of the course, the caddy, forcing an ‘atmanirbhar’ variety of golf. Suddenly, you realise the value of his utility — carrying the bag, helping in the selection of the club, retrieving seemingly lost balls and practical tips for putting. The sale of golf carts, trollies and balls has picked up, consequently.

In my golfing journey, I owe a lot to soldier caddies, called ‘golfing buddies’. Most Army courses didn’t have civilian caddies due to security requirements, and also sparse civilian population. In Hisar, we had wonderful arrangements, half a litre of milk and a packet of glucose biscuits for buddies after every round. They were given T-shirts with the ‘golfing buddy’ logo inscribed on them. Different courses had different arrangements.

When I got through staff college, my CO forced me to buy a half-set from canteen, but I remained focused on riding and hunts at Wellington. The real kick-start came from Col Pipps Dhillon, Deputy Commander in Patiala, who still continues to blaze the greens in the tricity, winning tournaments. He made me in charge of the course and left no real choice. The next shove came from office-runner Ram Singh, doubling up as golfing buddy. He would leave office early and meet me on course with a dozen-odd balls, retrieved from ponds and roughs, making up my inventory. His advice used to be, ‘khulke maro, BM sahib, ball main khoj launga’ (tee off without fear, I will retrieve the ball). Thanks, Pipps Sir and Ram Singh for adding this wonderful addiction to my life.

The power of the golfing buddy got underlined again in Hisar. Our Army Commander, in the learning mode, was playing a round during his visit. With the thick, early winter morning fog, it was more like night golf. The Army Commander had a great round till the last hole, when the fog lifted, but overall, he was thrilled with his golf and the intelligent caddy. Later, when I met the English-speaking Thambi from Madras Sappers, his explanation was simple, ‘The Army Commander is our guest... I only wanted to contribute and maintain his standard.’ I could only smile and appreciate his loyalty and simplicity.

Our gratitude for this simple folk, specially for civilian caddies, many in teens, needs to be translated into an action plan customised to local needs. At Sukna and Chandimandir, we experimented with some vocational skill building, but more needs to be done. The team at Chandimandir devised an excellent subsidised, wholesome lunch for caddies, at mere Rs 5 per head. Their tin-shed tea shop was replaced by a two-storeyed cafe inaugurated by Hemendra Gupta, a local caddy-turned-pro. Above all, it was named ‘Sampooran’ (complete), for there can be no finality till we give it back to our golfing buddies and caddies.