Major General Sir David Ochterlony, British East India Company’s Resident in Delhi, was conferred the title “Nasir-ud-daula” by the Mughal emperor Shah Alam II for his role in the defence of Delhi against the Holkars. After the conclusion of the Pindari War in 1818, Looney Akhter (as Ochterlony was nicknamed) established a military garrison near Ajmer. It came to be known as Nasirabad, a name derived from the title conferred on him.
Nasirabad continues to be an important military station today. To commemorate its bicentenary, the Army Postal Service released a special cover in 2018.
I went on posting to Nasirabad in the mid-1990s and took an instant liking to this quaint, well-laid-out town. Though winters were cold and summers dry and hot, Nasirabad had a healthy climate. The medium-sized market abutting the military area catered for our requirements. The most famous address in that market was that of Chavannilal Halwai. There will be a fairly long queue every morning in front of the shop just before opening time. The few lucky ones who had lined up early would be able to buy the mouth-watering kachora.
In some of the officers’ messes in Nasirabad, kachora was a popular Sunday breakfast item. “It is the elder brother of kachori, is more spicy, has a liberal dose of asafoetida, is flat like a roti and is sold not in numbers but by weight,” our mess steward explained to me.
The cantonment had wide, well-maintained roads with no gradients. As a long-distance runner, I enjoyed running on these roads. In my first week there, I noticed a dhoti-clad man in his early sixties walking briskly. He wished me and the few others on the road with a cheerful “Ram Ram ji”.
Over the next few weeks, I observed that he would come from the market area into the military area for his morning walk and would unfailingly greet everyone on the road.
One evening, I went to a hardware shop in the market and noted that he was its owner. When I wished him as cheerfully as he would every morning, he showed no signs of having recognised me. Here, he had a grumpy exterior. When I asked him if he was the same gentleman who was seen walking in the military area in the mornings wishing everyone “Ram Ram ji”, he merely grunted. As if on cue, his assistant, an equally old man said, “Yes, he is the same old miser. Our foul-mouthed Sethji uses cuss words on me all day long and the next morning he atones for his sins with his ‘Ram Ram ji’.”
Sethji let out a barrage of abuses asking him to mind his own business, energising the assistant, who looked at me and smiled meaningfully to convey, “Didn’t I tell you?”
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