Kind fans of the Venugopal's Ordeal saga have pointed out to me that I inadvertently never posted the first installment of the story nor part three of the story. So, I will attempt to rectify the error.
Here is how the whole saga should begin: Venugopal was a shy, slender, eighteen year old Tamilian. Like most Tamilians, he had smooth, hairless, velvety black skin. Although he had expressive large black eyes, his nose was a bit long for him to be truly beautiful. (When he entered the service, many a sadistic NCO would find that long nose a highly convenient appendage to twist brutally bringing tears to those lovely big black eyes.) Venugopal had piercingly white teeth which gleamed out of that youthful dark face. But after he entered the service, he quickly learned not to smile, particularly when NCOs were around. Smiling would draw your superior's attention to you and that could lead to your being punished. In the army, you were expected to meld with others, and when you were singled out, you were supposed to look straight ahead stoically not meeting the eye of your would be tormentor.
The air was full of news about the skirmishes between India and Pakistan. Swept up with nationalist excitement, Venugopal decided to enlist. When he enlisted, although NCOs barked out orders at the young men, they did not lay a finger on them. Poor deluded Venugopal thought that the thick wooden swagger sticks that the NCOs carried around with them were for pure show. But once he entered the Pioneer Training Grounds, he would soon painfully learn how useful those sticks were to his superiors.
On the first day of training, the boys were woken up with yells of abuse at 5.30 in the morning. Still half asleep, they were taken on a long jog. Venugopal was in good shape, and so he was not winded, and he even found that he enjoyed the smell of male sweat as he jogged along beside the other young men who were in training with him. At this point he hardly knew any of them, except for one distant cousin, whom he did not care for very much. When the jog was complete, calisthenics began. Seemingly for no earthly reason, the two NCOs began striding down the rows swinging out with their swagger sticks hitting boys at random. (In fact, it was their policy to begin by being as fiercely irrational as possible to cow the recruits and teach them who was boss. But Guruswamy, the older NCO, had the added incentive that he was a sadist who was fiercely turned on by hurting boys. Indeed, he was only able to come as he dutifully pumped away at his fat, ugly spouse by mentally picturing some of the boys he had tortured at work.) In the midst of a push up, Venugopal suddenly heard a cracking sound and felt a sharp wasp like sting as the swagger stick descended on his well articulated arse in its olive green shorts. Venugopal was more surprised than hurt, but he was disciplined enough to bite his lip and say nothing.
Devaya, a golden skinned Coorgi boy, two rows ahead of Venugopal, was not as disciplined. Intelligent and good looking, Devaya was also a little spoiled and responded angrily to the unwarranted punishment. "Leave me alone, sir," he cried out indignantly. "I am doing my exercise."
The NCOs immediately stopped the exercise and had the boys stand up. "Devaya," Guruswamy screamed. "Fall out."
The Coorgi youth was scared but still a little defiant as he stepped out of ranks. An NCO rushed at him and screamed in his face so loudly that he felt spittle flick against his face, "Go back again and come out on the double."
Devaya ran back into ranks and jogged out on the double. The two NCOs crowded around him screaming abuse, but even though they hemmed him in, they allowed enough space for the other soldiers to be able to see his humiliation, and for him to be aware that his fellow soldiers were witnessing his humiliation. Guruswamy caught his ear and carefully and with a great deal of relish he twisted it pulling the boy's head forward. The force of Guruswamy's pull dislodged the dark blue beret from the boy's head, and it fell to the ground.
"Pick it up; pick it up," the other NCO yelled and hit Devaya twice savagely on his arse. Devaya squirmed at the fierce stinging pain, and some of the other recruits flinched at the gun-like crack as wood made contact with Devaya's cotton shorts. Guruswamy released Devaya's ear allowing the recruit to bend down to pick up his beret. The other NCO snatched the beret from Devaya's now trembling hand, and he placed the beret on Devaya's shaved head, roughly adjusting it to fit the prescribed military hang. Then he raised his palm and thumped the beret down, the heavy clouts resounding through Devaya's skull.
[Some readers have asked which installment they read next. It's Venugopal's Ordeal Part Two. I have been enjoying re-watching Laurel and Hardy's Sons of the Desert made in 1933. At one point, when the two scamps are attending the convention of their lodge in Chicago, against their wives wishes, the other lodge members play a trick on them. They leave something lying on the ground. Hardy bends to pick up and gets a terrific wallop from two paddles wielded by two lodge members. Stanley, of course, is dumb enough to bend over again after having witnessed Hardy's fate, and he gets a terrific wallop on his arse too. Not erotic, of course, because it's played for comedy, but it makes one have pleasurable fantasies about the various strains of hazing in male lodges in days prior to our grey pc climate.]