Taking the liberty to post some of RayC sir's better stories - hope he won't mind. Enjoy!
THE QUARTERMASTER AND THE BONDAS The unit was located in Naushera in J&K and was deployed on the hill sector along the Line of Control.
The Corps Commander was visiting the unit. This was not a normal event since Corps Commanders are very senior officers and three levels above the unit level.
Army, being over-reactive about their hierarchical pecking order, such events traumatised the protocol infrastructure and each level of command took hyperactive personal interest in ensuring that the visit went off flawless. None wanted their heads to roll. Each level of the hierarchy ensured so by checking, re-checking and re-rechecking ad infinitum right down to the ground level that all contingencies had been catered for and nothing was overlooked. In short, such visits were a torment to those being visited. Interestingly, Parkinson's Law always, without fail, did not fail to apply itself during such visits!
On the momentous day, every aspect of the visit of the Corps Commander to the unit was picture perfect. However, Parkinson's Law, right as rain, applied itself. The Corps Commander, who was to arrive at the unit Tactical HQ by helicopter, could not do so as the weather was foul. Hence, he landed at the Divisional HQ and was driving down to the unit. The drive would take about two hours and so there was ample time to react.
Everything had been catered for. However, what supposing the Corps Commander wanted to wash his hands, after the two hour journey, at the unit Base before commencing the ride up the hill to the Tactical HQ?
The Commanding Officer {CO} was a man of details and this aspect was bothering him intensely. He was a person who liked preciseness. He wasn't at all comfortable or happy about the departure from the set-piece programme of the Corps Commander with this driving down instead of landing by helicopter at the unit Tactical HQ.
The Quartermaster {QM} was at the Base. He was a pleasant, happy go lucky, rotund young officer with a bagful of initiative and a "never say die" attitude. The CO rang him up and told him to ensure that the Officers' Mess, at the Base, was shipshape, the toilet spankingly clean and to keep a safaiwala [janitor] ready at a moment's notice in the vicinity. And of course, some light refreshments were to be at hand that could be served so that the Corps Commander knew that the unit was "on the ball". Having ordered so, the CO went back to the practising of his Briefing for the 189th time!
Parkinson's Law didn't apply this time. The Corps Commander stopped at the Base to "wash his hands". There was the usual hustle and bustle of his personal staff, the Divisional and Brigade HQs staff who were accompanying and the Mess staff including the QM. They followed the Corps Commander towards the Mess as if being pulled by the vacuum created in his wake! It is only in the Army that a VIP relieving himself by answering nature's call is given the reverence normally associated with an event of national importance!
The Corps Commander entered the Mess. He looked at the QM and gave a shake of the leg as if shaking a boisterous housefly off the trouser. Bending at 80 degrees to the perpendicular, the Corps Commander wiggled his little finger of the left hand as if seized by an involuntary twitch and said "Which a-way to the Loo, old boy?"
The QM had never ever had the good fortune of a Corps Commander speaking to him. He was awe struck! He thought that he too had to answer in a fancy way and so he said, "That a-way sir" and before he could copy the Corps Commander's leg shake which he thought would be appropriate, the Corps Commander, fortunately for all, was on his way.
The Divisional Commander [next in the hierarchy] was taken aback by what he thought was the cheek of this junior officer to copy the Corps Commander's syntax. He would have been hopping wild had he realised that the QM had attempted the Corps Commander's leg shake. To him it appeared as if the QM had slipped on the water that had by then settled on the linoleum from the clothes of the various personalities [who were wet from the light drizzle] crowding the alley leading to the "Men’s’.
The Corps Commander had moved into the ‘Men’s’. The Divisional Commander decided to have another "dekko" at the arrangements. He stood aghast as his eyes laid on the savouries to be offered to the Corps Commander.
"Bondas?"
he asked querulously and fixed a horribly immobile stare on the QM, who was beaming with delight that the Divisional Commander had observed the savoury that he had had prepared for them.
"Bondas?"
echoed the Brigade Commander peevishly on cue as did any other officer worth his salt. All were aghast and all spoke in unison, so much so, the statement resounded like the Onida Bass Surround TV (Note: Back then Onida was a well-known brand of Television with big speakers). It was a different matter that they did not understand why the Divisional Commander was horrified and grouchy at the sight of Bondas.
"Are you aware that the Corps Commander is an Armoured Corps chap?" "and you have the temerity to offer Indian savouries and that too the type that would be found in a cheap halwai's shop?", bellowed the Divisional Commander, a decibel lower that what would reach the ‘Men’s’ where the Corps Commander apparently had nestled.
"Yes sir. I know that the Corps Commander is an Armoured Corps officer and they are reputed to prefer crumpets and strawberry in cream with their tea. However, sir, I don't know how to make them and also, sir, what could be better than hot hot bondas on a rainy day like today?", the QM said with a radiant smile that annoyed the Divisional Commander no end and even more, the Brigade Commander.
"Bakwaas!! You village bumpkin.
You are the biggest idiot I have seen. A rum ball with a hot rum punch would have fitted the occasion and the weather; not these stupid, smelly, oily [he was spluttering in anger and had apparently run out of adjectives] bondas. Have you seen the size of the bondas? They are as fat and big as you are. How can he put them ever so gently in the mouth? You have no sophistication. You are a real rustic!", the Divisional Commander thundered. He, it appeared, was by now immensely inflamed and frothing at the mouth.
The QM cringed.
However, Divine intervention saved him from a further berating. The Corps Commander had emerged from the "Loo" and was looking definitely much relieved. He seemed to be in the best of moods and was genially smiling as he emerged.
His eyes fell on the Bondas. The Divisional Commander and his 'faithful echoes' froze!
The Corps Commander took two steps towards the Bondas and stopped abruptly, practically screeching to a halt! A cold shiver went down the spine of the Divisional Commander.
"Ah, sir...", and whatever the Divisional Commander wanted to say was drowned in the shriek that emanated from the Corps Commander. All froze with fear waiting anxiously for the Corps Commander's inevitable indignation that was expected at this spread.
The Corps Commander pounced towards the table in what appeared a leap, swiped the largest Bonda,bit a massive chunk,.....and literally gloated, more like a cat which had filched a platter of milk.
"What a capital idea! Hot hot Bondas on a rainy day. Well done and well thought of, old boy!
", the Corps Commander was definitely rapturous as his gaze twinkled towards the QM.
The Divisional Commander and his gang emulated the Corps Commander's leap, swiped the Bondas, and echoed, "A wonderful idea indeed, sir!" They too beamed but definitely not towards the QM.
The broadest smile was on the QM's face.
He had had the last laugh and damn the strawberries, cream, and crumpets!
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As I have said before, I am not qualified to comment on the man's abilities. Also, I respect the need for marketing your skills. 
