RETIREMENT: THE PERENNIAL DREAM ANNUAL LEAVE

 Life after retirement was supposed to be a challenge, I was made to believe that, after almost four decades in uniform, a hectic schedule and suddenly, there are no deadlines to meet, no rush for the office, no ppt to be presented, sort of that fictional annual leave when no one rings up to bother you about some forgotten paper, office memo or an urgent response to the higher HQ. I was supposed to be entering a sudden void, a vacuum which could be unnerving, at times even depressing and in worst case being reduced to the status of the ‘go-getter’ (go to the market and get this that and the other, as per diktats of the lady of the house). Well frankly it’s been nine months now, high time I should have been suffering from some sort of postpartum anxiety at least, after all we were in a cocoon ourselves, a womb of sorts, shielded from the world, living in our own universe. Postpartum depression of course is supposed to be afflicting mothers, so may be the mother organisation, the Army should be feeling it, we, the children are in a state of bliss. 

During the service, we all suffered some bosses who were extremely stingy when it came to permitting any leave of absence. Every time, a leave application was put up, he would become grouchy, a dozen new tasks would invariably materialise from the blue, which would put paid to your dreams of the beachside holiday. We were made to feel as though without us the whole edifice would crumble, although we were aware that our status was essentially that of a spare tyre, not an essential cog in the wheel. An authorisation of 60 days of annual leave was like the proverbial mirage, something that we dreamt about often, but knew we would settle for 30 days any day, because that was the max that was on offer, that too in bits and pieces.  Then there was casual leave of 20 days, which was all but casual, as it also needed deliberate planning, especially the times when we were in the field areas, trying to get the prefix and suffix right to maximise and stretch a six day one to eight days where at least the travel would be covered by the prefix/suffix. Convoy days, bad weather and missing out on the manifest, there could be many a slip between possessing the leave certificate and proceeding on leave.

Today is 31st Dec, the last day of the year, when your supposed entitled leave counter is reset, and the un-availed portion of the annual one goes into the kitty of accumulated leave, the casual ones simply lapse. Some formations are lucky, where the old men do permit the carryover of leave for a fortnight at times, giving a breather to those who could not be spared due to the supposed operational exigencies earlier. The accumulated leave is akin to the fixed deposit in the bank till you reach the magic figure of 300, which most of us reached in just about 12 to 15 years of service, after that, the accumulation is simply notional, which does not bring any pecuniary benefits, just a figure of let’s say 800 days, implying that your bosses were really very fond of you. 

This year, I have partly made up for those 500 odd days, which I surrendered knowing fully well that it goes down the drain, so at least 280 days worth I have recovered. Blissful, not a care in the world, no unearthly calls, no bosses to answer to, other than the one at home, basking in the Sun and keying this one in….my idea of leisure and pleasure. So all those who have finally hung their spurs, don’t be desperate to latch on to anything and everything that comes your way. At least relax and recover those lost days  before you try to embark on a new journey.