Sailing into the Sunset

4 December is Navy Day, a day to commemorate Indian Navy’s stirring achievements in the 1971 Indo-Pak war, which the whole of India and the Indian Navy are currently celebrating with pomp and vigour across naval bases and towns. On this occasion, I want to shift focus a bit to pay tribute to an anonymous naval sailor and his small but not insignificant contribution to the Indo-Pak War of 1965.

Dada was a sailor in the Indian Navy. I often dwelt over this little known (even unknown to many who were acquainted with him) facet of his life and felt that it needed to find expression and resonance with a larger audience.

My father during the recruitment phase

My father, Subhash Ramkrishna Parulkar, passed away on 21 October, 2025 at the age of 88. Through anecdotes passed on to us as children, recollections of my mother and old photographs, I want to piece together his brief stint in the Navy, all of 15 years, before he swallowed the anchor even as I had barely stepped  into the world.  In my own way, this is homage to him.

Dada joined the Navy by chance.  Fourth in the line of five sons (people used to call them the Pandava brothers) living in Wardha (the one of Gandhiji’s  Sevagram Ashram) near Nagpur, he was leading a ‘normal life’ until fate intervened.  With their father’s premature death, the mother of five teenagers had no option but to despatch three of the younger sons each to the Army, Navy and Air Force, at the behest of their Uncle who helped fill their application forms! Thus, with no idea of what military service or life at sea was, a young lad of 16 was rudely pulled out of the comfort of home into the ‘Big Bad’ world of then Bombay for recruitment. Often, Dada used to narrate how he left home to board a train to Mumbai with just a few rupees in his pocket, a clutch of clothes and a tiffin of roti-sabzi.  We are talking of circa 1953. 

Post recruitment, with no inkling whatsoever of what he was getting into he found himself in INS Circars at Visakhapatnam for Boy’s Training (the lowest rung of the hierarchical ladder where new recruits begin their career and training for specific duties). Losing his father at a young age, being uprooted abruptly and landing into alien territory must have made him a ‘Man’ overnight. 

While still wet under the ears, Dada was smart, handsome and quite intelligent. His dedication and technical proficiency got noticed early on and he was fast-tracked into being an Electrical Artificer (trained for maintenance and repair of electrical and radar equipment). Not all Boys in the Navy became Artificers, I am told. Thus, when he retired, he was CHEAR (Chief Electrical Artificer Radio) which allowed him to make a smooth transition to higher echelons in Mazagon Docks Limited (MDL), India’s premier shipbuilding company.

SR Parulkar, CHEAR (extreme left) with his coursemates in INS Valsura in the 60s

My brother and I were toddlers when Dada had already moved to MDL in the ‘officer’ category so we did not connect with his naval avatar. Then too, whatever little we gleaned was from the titbits he shared rarely, taciturn and reticent that he was by nature.  In an expansive mood or over a drink he would tell us how he and his friends would roll up a paratha or two, put it in their pocket and head for movies on ‘liberty’. His younger cousins recall how Dada used to pamper them with goodies from the Ship’s Canteen. 

It was in the Navy, he discovered that he was a natural sportsman, particularly excelling in Hockey. Thus, we were the rare kids on the block who owned hockey sticks besides the more popular cricket gear, and taught to dribble. Of course, this was much later after his naval service.  It was through his example that we learnt to make our beds neatly, iron our own clothes and polish our shoes, early in life.

He loved the finer things in life especially where it came to food. He taught us to scoop and savour a half-boiled egg rested daintily on an egg cup and introduced us to cheese when Amul was still nowhere on the scene.

Dada left the Navy in 1968. That was the time, the Indian Navy was hugely invested in warship building for the Nilgiri project and MDL was looking for highly qualified and experienced personnel on electrical/electronic equipment for their indigenisation programme. Dada was quick to heed this ‘call’ to work on prestigious national projects as a golden opportunity for upward mobility and stability in life. It also gave him a chance to spend a year in Newcastle in England to learn the ropes of the new equipment and their fitment, where he took us all in tow. 

Dada (extreme right) with his colleagues around the time he retired, in INS Valsura.

The interesting time of his naval career though comes from my Mom’s treasury of recollections. Married in July of 1965, Aai found herself in Jamnagar, in Gujarat when Dada was posted in INS Valsura (the training establishment for electrical engineering) as an instructor.  Barely  had she settled in the naval station with its community living (beginning with sharing accommodation with another family due to shortage of housing) Pakistan went into an offensive with air raids in September of 1965. Aai recalls that evening vividly. She was out on a walk with other ladies when, out of nowhere, aircrafts whooshed overhead. Though the Indian Air Force unit was across the naval base, they realised something was amiss. 

Ironically, we did not hear these stories from Dada. Aai was the raconteur. Like a record on loop, she used to recount incidents time and again as a result of which they got etched into our memories as children. 

Recently, trawling the Internet for information on the 1965 Indo-Pak war and the Navy’s involvement, I came across an article by the then Commanding Officer of INS Valsura, Captain B C Chatterjee, AVSM, titled: INS Valsura in the 1965 War! He wrote, “On 6 September 1965, an Intelligence message was received from the local Air Training Wing (ATW) of the Air Force of a likely attack on Jamnagar that evening. Valsura was immediately put on alert and all field games were cancelled. All personnel were instructed to remain indoors or near covered shelters. Black-out to the maximum possible extent was also enforced. True to intelligence prediction, two Pakistani B57 bombers flew low over Valsura and carried a number of sorties over ATW, dropping bombs."

As soon as the bombing started, the families were familiarised with black-out protocols and measures that were put in place. Less than two months into marriage, with not a clue as to what Navy was all about, Aai had found herself in the thick of war! Dada thought it wise to send her back to her parental home as he had to answer the ‘call of duty’ and would be away round the clock. Along with Mrs. D’Souza, the lady with whom she was sharing accommodation, Aai set out to Jamnagar Railway station to depart to Jalgaon (her home town) via Mumbai.  The scene at the railway station was straight out of a war movie. Anxious crowds milling around to take the first train out of town. Aai managed to get tickets but another adventure awaited as they had to make a night halt at Viramgam Junction for a changeover, en route. The connecting train wasn't scheduled until the next day and both ladies, in their twenties, had to spend the entire night huddled on an alien platform even as a blackout was underway! 

Meanwhile, back at the base all personnel and sailors would be ‘stood to’ with various tasks assigned to them.  In the words of CO Chatterjee: “On the following days (after the first raid on 6 September), we got ourselves better organized to meet the exigencies. Trenches were dug with the help of our sailors and stringent blackout measures were introduced. The Pakistani air raids were repeated during 12 and 18 September.

To stem the continued air attack, I persuaded the Group Captain in charge of the ATW to fly the day-fighters at night, with runway lights temporarily switched on, under the cover of Valsura’s Long-range Air Warning Radar set. This makeshift arrangement of IAF day-fighters assuming the role of night-fighters worked wonderfully well. Every time the enemy aircraft was picked up on our radar screen at about 100 miles, our fighters immediately took off and closed in on them. Soon thereafter, the radar screen clearly showed the enemy aircraft turning back. The enemy bombers did not venture to risk themselves after spotting our fighters. Our W/T (Wireless Telegraphy) Communication network functioned very satisfactorily during these operations for maintaining effective communications with ATW and airborne fighters.”

Apart from other supervisory roles as a Senior Sailor, Dada was mainly involved in maintaining and operating the radar and radio operations in Valsura around that time!

Dada spent more years in MDL than in the Navy, where he retired as Chief Manager – Shipbuilding Quality Control, but it is his life and times in the Navy that stayed with him always. His brief naval career was immensely transformative and rewarding for which he remained forever grateful. 

On his passing, we received a heart-warming note from Commander Jasbir Singh, VSM (Retd) and Lieutenant Commander MS Negi (Retd) on behalf of all course mates: “The news of his passing away took me back seven decades, to our time at INS Valsura. I vividly remember the batch of thirteen of us who were first brought together by the Navy and destiny. We were the young men allotted to the Electrical Branch. We fondly remember the young, bright boy who had joined the Navy and was already marked for his dedication.

While our professional paths diverged after 1968, he always remained the spirited Chief EAR and dear course mate who moved to Mazagon Docks; we always held the highest regard for him. To hear of his illustrious career there where he contributed to landmark projects– Leander and Godavari classes– filled us with immense pride. He served the nation with distinction, both in uniform and out of it.” 

At his funeral, a wreath was laid on behalf of the Indian Navy in accordance with its rich tradition of venerating departed veterans for their service to the nation. It was a poignant part of his last rites. Dada had the privilege of being thus honoured. That singular gesture would have meant the world to him on his final journey. 

Fair winds and following seas, Dada. 

P.S. The author penned this tribute on Navy Day, 4 December 2025.