Memoirs of a Lost World- 6

The ‘Hansa’ flew and Friends

During my posting in Bengal, on my visit to the District Judge’s office of one of the districts I saw that our law teacher Prof. Dada Banerjee had been posted there long back. I wonder what could be the reason that he joined Academics when he would have reached the High Court at least. But people make choices in profession and in their lives which they alone know better.

But in Mussourie I was more worried about my horses and had left it upon life to monitor my learning under its careful supervision. And that evening I was again trying to improve my riding skills and there was a golden opportunity. We were moving to another huge sports ground (where our sports events used to take place). The instructors were interested in taking us there as the March past during the sports meet were held there.

The route was also beautiful- we passed through a Buddhist School and monastery with thousands of small colourful flags on its top. Then we had to take a u-turn on a mountain turn where the horse shoes were slipping on slippery stone-road. As the space was less we had to move the horses on the outer edge of the road and just on the right was a deep valley. We were told to keep the horse pressed from the right by our right leg so that even by mistake it doesn’t make a movement on that side. This was a sensational and I felt a feeling of fear.

Then as we entered the huge field we were taught the ‘next gear’ of the horse and that was ‘CANTER’. Since Trotting was an uncomfortable, bouncy and slow movement, we were eager to learn something about this faster movement. The trainers demonstrated to us a stepping in which the rider does not have to rise and sit with every footstep of the horse (so much relaxation for the thighs). The movement was what we had been waiting to learn all these days because this actually was the ‘run’ or ‘race’ of the horse.

We were also told that the next gear would be ‘galloping’ where the horse moves at maximum speed. The cantor probably was slower but it still made the horse and its rider a pleasure to watch as they ‘flew’. But none of the Officer trainees could make the horse walk in the right gear that day, for which all of us and our trainers were disappointed.

On the way back, I could notice that my horse ‘Hansa’ was eager to say something to me. As the trainer in front of me again made his horse to ‘Canter’, I being second in the group also tried to put Hansa on cantering pace. Somehow the horse (the best one in Academy, I believe) which had been unable to coordinate with my instructions whole evening got it right this time. I could feel his feet movement change, it accelerated drastically, the bouncy trotting had stopped. I didn’t need to lift my body again and again and as I could feel the ‘weightlessness’ Hansa gradually began to soar on the steep upward slope.

And as Hansa was speeding on the slope, vigorously moving and jerking his head, I knew that he was enjoying himself. What I was realizing is that either I could stay saddled or even if I rose on my feet in the stirrup, the body remained balanced. And was it my excitement or the chill air coming in my face or the ‘Ahir’ in me, I stood in the stirrup with my knee bending (you feel it, the correct positioning, nothing can be taught) and the torso bent forward as I felt that was safest for me and fastest for my horse.

The first two horses cantered all the way to the riding field. Once the whole group was back, our second Master trainer who was next to I in the array was very happy, as he told Hansa had a perfect canter run. Their training had been successful. And it was then he told me that I was standing in the stirrup. And when I asked if it was wrong, he said that it was text book perfect because the horse was climbing the slope and then the shifting of the body weight to the shoulder of the horse makes the horse comfortable to carry the rider. And thus the super fast speed generated by Hansa. I went to the stable of the horses to leave my horse back that evening. I fed him with ‘jaggery’ by my own hands, removed the saddle and the stirrups and the horse was all sweating and so was I in that Mussourie winter.

Finally I came back running, excitedly climbing steep slopes of ‘kachha’ hill tracks until I reached the Computer Centre. And I was so delighted that instead of going to my room for a bath, I ran to our ‘common room’. In the evening so many people used to sit and play carom or chess or just listen to music in the common room and I wanted to tell mt friends about my evening ride. There I was attracted by a large group where a palmist in our batch was reading the palm of a beautiful young lady.

Most of the lady OTs used to wear Salwar suits or Sarees in the classes and on the campus. But the lady whose palm was being read was one of those rare persons who had a much ‘bindaas’ dress code and attitude. And the palmist was reading just that as I could make out, ‘An outright extrovert’, ‘You want to make a lot of friends’, ‘Not hassled by what the world says’, ‘A very worldly lady with little space for emotions in your life’, etc. The lady was smiling and nodding her head slowly in affirmation every time and all the viewers cheering the palmist and his predictions, some shouting to be the next for getting their palm read next.

I think I should have kept quite that day and moved away from that place and should have taken a bath. But I ended up saying that all that was said there was seeing the face of the lady and not her palm. The lady burst into a giggle and had immediately moved her palm towards me. I had said very limited things and they are fresh in my memory as ever, first the lady should have problems with her eye sight, second she was extremely emotional and would actually find it very difficult to express her feelings in life and third (probably) she was ‘Sad’.

The reasons were easy to explain, an island on heart line under the Sun finger (eye problem), Head and life line connected to half the palm’s width (very sensitive person, dependent on others) and Saturn finger bent over the Sun finger giving the melancholy feelings.

The lady had stopped wearing the contact lens from the next day and wore spectacles. Her dress code had changed and over the next some sessions, she had so much more to ask me and tell me. She told she was a member of a religious group to which her family belonged, and about the bindings on marriage outside the group, and about the ‘friends’ whom we trust at some point of time.

But, then, palmistry was a skill cultivated by me due to my mercurial curiosity for every thing unknown. I was myself discovering secrets of life. I learnt that people are not what they look on the face value, they NEVER are. One should always be patient in life to discover the realities of life, as they are always exposed sooner than later. Friends often turn out different from our expectations and it is better to develop friendships slowly. I was discovering that ladies are more vulnerable than men and the smarter ones are most vulnerable. However they refuse to accept it in the beginning and no one can teach others, only life does. May be people who showed their palms to me had specific queries and were not generalizations but over the years I have come across such cases in life very frequently.

And I had started rediscovering myself. As for me till then ‘Academics had been extracurricular activity and rest everything was fun’. But people were beginning to look at me with a lot of expectation. And their belief was forcing me to seriousness and sensitiveness, where I was expected to offer more than shear excitement on the sports field.

Memoirs of a Lost World- 5

Understanding Human Relations

It was early October and we had been given an option to either go for jogging or for horse riding in the morning. That there were about 15 horses in the Academy shows the low preference of riding amongst a 220 strong batch. The reasons were obvious, already a few persons had fractured their bones by falling from the horseback, and those who escaped with minor injuries were in much larger numbers. But I liked riding to the limit of madness.

From the horseback I felt I was the lord of the earth. Controlling the horse is not easy; the reason is that the horses don’t believe that the rider should ride them. It had happened on a few occasions that the horse ran away with the rider, breaking from the group, towards the sheds. At times, in the process the riders had fallen from the horseback. Some horses were naughtier, as they could change their stepping to produce more jerks and would toss riders off their back. The moral of the story was that all the riders who had gone to riding ground with romantic thoughts of riding horses while whistling a song had been terribly disappointed, if not hurt.

On the other hand, our quest to tame the animal had just begun. As I already had had pet dogs at our house, I knew that the animals have their intelligence, pride and ego. And in case of these horses I discovered, since they had been ridden by officer trainees, they had come to realize that many riders were not up to the mark. So we were handling a huge animal that was continuously contemplating strategies of throwing us off its back. So there was no friendly relationship between the horses and the riders. And if anyone had to be seated on the horse back, he/she had to establish his superiority over the animal.

With that realization there was a stiff struggle between the riders to identify the better amongst the horses and defend their ownership. I instead was always slow to develop an understanding and so was riding a new horse every day. With all that said and done, I actually was enjoying whichever horse I was riding. The biggest reason being that I hated jogging in the cool winters and drowsing on the horseback was any day a better alternative, even if being riskier. And when we crossed the joggers some would even push their backs to the mountains while making way for us, because that was the farthest they could go from the horse.

I, for one, always felt like offering lift to those who hated jogging, as I did, but it was not possible. So we would pass the joggers in a flash of seconds and leaving them huffing and puffing. While some used to have signs of appreciation in their eyes, others had that of jealously. And jealously there was for certain, because we had automatically been identified into a group that was seen as more daring and macho. There were many who had objections to that but the only way to deny that was to join the riding team and mastering a horse and that was ‘dangerous’.

Another advantage that had come across us was that we were exploring much larger geography compared to the joggers. There were different tracks for the riders through unknown mountain roads and we would often go to some old school or bungalow and break for a cup of tea.

In the evening also the horses would come to the riding ground and the more enthusiastic one’s like I was, would go out again. And since there were few academic assignments- after the riding I would invariably end up in badminton or squash court. The Director, Joint Director and all the Deputy Directors were continuously asking the Officer Trainees to be on the sports fields in the evening.

So one of those evenings when I was sweating on the badminton court and as usual was one of the few who would Lord over it, we had a new guest to the court. She was one of the toppers in the Examination. The lady had come with one of our batch mates and wanted to play singles with him. As we were already out of the steam, it was a good offer and we sat by the side of the court and watched them play and wait for our turn. Somehow their game was not building up as the gentleman was one of the better players in the batch so he offered to play doubles instead and asked me and my partner to play with them.

The game was sort of into few points when the lady suddenly walked out of the court with her friend shocked and chasing her. Owing to my utter ignorance I asked my partner that why did she leave. He had only said, ‘You took her name’. And then when I could not make out head or tail out of that also, he explained, ‘Didn’t I tell you some of the toppers are talking only amongst themselves and obviously she doesn’t know your rank and you took her name to address her’. True, there already were discussions that some of the toppers were not willing to ‘descend’ to talk below a certain AIR or were talking within their service only. But then I had no such complexes and wouldn’t address anyone ‘Ma’am’ and anyway I was ranked 15th, so she had missed to identify someone whom she should have known by her own logic.

It was one of the important lessons I learnt about a profession identified as highly snobbish in attitude, that people had started believing they were superior only due to certain ranks in an examination. If religion, regions and castes were not sufficient- services, cadres and ranks were forming new invisible barriers. Not surprisingly some people posted in distant and difficult states (cadres) were feeling cold shouldered. And people in better cadres were drawing maximum friends from those from distant cadres. I learnt that in the All India Services (AIS) there is a provision called the Cadre Based Marriage (CBM) where if both the spouses are in the AIS then they can be allotted a common cadre. And hence this popularity of the better cadres or the people posted there or the meanness of human relations.

But as carefree I was at that time, I and my friend were by then moving to the basketball court. It was a challenge to us as we had been told that the previous evening a few basket ball players of our section had been hurt on the court, as a gentleman in the other section was playing rough game.

But on the court who drew my attention more was a lady of their section who was shouting at the pitch of her voice, trying to motivate her team as she played (meddled with) the game. More then her game her spirit was worth noticing. And as the fate would have planned the lady IPS officer was by the next year to become my real sister in law, whom my elder brother would marry during their training at Sardar Patel Academy at Hyderabad. Though that day on the court she was very upset with me for my rough game but in future I was to make amends by introducing her to my brother. While another lady who had just walked out of the badminton court had actually walked out of the life of a person as soon as she had entered; someone whom she was so desperately to need in days to come.

Memoirs of a Lost World- 4

LAW

Our classes had begun in full flow. We were being introduced to the minute nuances of the Public Administration, Law, History, Computers, Management and Economics. Our course coordinator and her husband were both from the same cadre. While Sir used to join us on the morning jogging and PT, madam used to come before each class in the first week and introduce the teachers for the class, for the first time they took the class.

In law we had three faculty members, two from the legal field and one from the Administrative service. And all the teachers began their subjects, for example Dada Banerjee introduced Law, Criminal Procedure Code, Indian Penal Code and Indian Evidence Act to us. Our computer classes were very useful. Actually the courses were designed more to develop working efficiency instead of Pass it- Forget it Approach. The basics of Word, Power point and Excel taught to us meant that any communication which I really wanted to be confidential has remained as such in my career so far. Also the location of the computer classes was a fun journey. We had to pass a long distance down the slope covered with thick trees on two sides with a large number of monkeys sitting on them. And the teacher was a Bengali, I developed friendship with him quite early as he was keenly interested in West Bengal cadre probationers.

For management our Guru was an IAS officer with a degree in MBA who later joined the Office of the Prime Minister in his next posting. And our Economics Professor was the ‘cutest’ of them all. A bachelor of over 50 years of age, he had traveled extensively across the world. In the first week he had received the nickname ‘Ricardo’ for his oft quoting some economist by that name.

In the mean time we had become quite acquainted with our surroundings on and around the campus. But our second law class was to unfold before us as a revelation. During the introduction of Professor Banerjee to our class our teacher had already informed that Dada had been the most respected and preferred teacher amongst the officer trainees over the years. But the weekly session-wise feedback of our class had probably gone haywire somewhere, probably we had found LAW too theoretical or monotonous. But today I understand that like an ordinary Indian it was our lack of sensitivity to the law that had made our reaction so cold to the subject.

Today when I compare Civil Services to other careers there is atleast one very big edge that it offers and that is the freedom to act independently. Civil services were not something where dignity of individual and survival was to depend on the whims and fantasies of the boss. We were told that we were appointed by the President of India and he alone could remove us from duty. Rest all was excuses of the spineless or the corrupt to defend themselves. It was discussed amongst Officer Trainees that in our course team we had a lady officer who had welcomed the political master with her sandles for unbecoming behaviour and still such officers had managed to be the most effective officers in the service. But law was to be the base for the success in the service and when such team had felt perturbed by our feedback; there must have been reasons. For they were all taught by Dada and were his diehard fans first and students later.

So when Ma’am was back again with Professor for second time we realized that everything was not OK. The course coordinator made it clear to us that if Professor Banerjee could not develop our liking for law, none would. And that a large number of officers owed their success in career due to their knowledge of law and most credited it to our law teacher. When Professor Banerjee began the topic, he had changed the subject of the session. The topic selected was ‘Crime against women’ and it had set smiles on many a faces.

It was a one hour session during which we had covered the relevant sections of CrPC and IPC and some cases. We had traveled in an hour through the trauma of a rape victim, reluctance of the family and society to come out against the crime. Maladies and weaknesses of the law, role of medical reports, time delays in investigation and judgments, the role of the witnesses and the hostile witnesses along with the role of police, evidences were discussed. The coverage of the inquest of the dead body of a woman dead within seven years of her marriage was also explained, as we were to be directly involved in this as Executive Magistrates.

Professor Banerjee told that truth sits on the lips of a dying person, as he/ she can see the death from his eyes. So the dying declarations were very important to take the guilty to the gallows and for saving the lives of the innocent wrongly implicated. The procedural accuracy was very important otherwise the procedural mistake by a Magistrate could be used as a loophole in the law. Also recording dying declaration was crucial because any neglect or delay by the magistrate/ police or the doctor could mean that the victim may die before giving the statement. In one hour we were told so many things by our Professor who in his shear excitement was at times speaking the statements of some of the victims and at times shouting the call of the helpless to the public from the cases he must have handled first hand.

That one hour of our life, where we were taught by our Professor with tears on his eyelashes, had most of us stunned and shivering at times due to the excitement. We had grown in years, in age and in responsibility, in that one hour. We had matured as persons and had taken a giant step towards becoming the Magistrates. We were lucky to say the least. Law was no longer to remain bore and dull for us.

A visit to my home town

You can only write when you are in a mood to write. At present I am not, but still I love to talk to myself and writing is one way I do it. It was a long time since I stayed at my home for such a long period (about 8 days). May be it was over 7 years. And to be back to your home is always wonderful. And I could not help myself being back at the house’s rooftop with my kites. It sounds so funny to me too, but really, home is where your childhood comes back.
This time my visit to Agra was full of small journeys, had to go to Election Commission twice. It was nice to see that people still want me there. I also went to Meerut and some Government offices. Luckily the things were taking place very smoothly. I realize the difference in the treatment, than the one, I used to get in these offices when I used to go to collect my TC or some other certificate as a student. I wish every one gets the same treatment in Government offices, but all your wishes don’t come true and this one won’t.
As a good news, on this 14th November (Children’s day), my mother was an invitee with some 20 other authors of children literature for a meeting with the President of India at the Rashtrapati Bhawan. She did not take me with her and I kept on complaining (joking). As a kid I used to go to her college with her on 15th August and 26th January and the staff used to give me sweets. This time I told mom that one day if my writing improves and if I get a prize then I will not take her to the award ceremony. She laughed, as we all know that I will never ever get a prize for writing, but I am proud of my mother. She has been awarded prize and memento by both the Prime Minister and the President now.
Now in Ahmedabad- Back to academics or back to classroom and to the ‘great’ professors’ wisdom. May be here I will get more characters and plots for my writings and, one never knows, may be some day one of them will get me a prize for writing. And yes, I have written some more of my LBSNAA memoirs but it's too much to type.

SKY WAS THE LIMIT

Some years back when I was at IIT Delhi, our T shirts read SKY IS THE LIMIT. And with a lot of fire burning within us, the statement was neither an understatement nor it was a hyperbole. At best we found it to be a very reasonable statement. While there were people preparing to do the MS from the US, there were others who wanted to write the CAT and certainly there was a whole gang who was preparing for the Civil Services. While the others were almost certain of making it very big, the last group preparing for the Civil was most vulnerable. When people used to ask us, ‘What if it doesn’t happen?’ Fan is what we used to show others, for there was nothing beyond IAS which we could perceive.
Civil Services were not to be a profession for us. It was the purpose of our lives, for those madly motivated ones who had the biggest dreams in life. Reforming a system, fighting the corruption, causing revolution in the society was what we were working for, those night outs after night outs. At that time self motivation was the only way out, a self belief that even those hundreds of books were nothing compared to our caliber and what many were afraid to look eye to eye into, we were meant to take by the horns.
At least fame, name and the raw power was what we were all about to taste in our future, where ever we were and what ever we did. And then why shouldn’t SKY BE THE LIMIT. By the time the result of the Civil Services Exam was out and the Brilliant Tutorials was publishing our photographs in their advertisement, we were getting news of some of our friends getting into the gold mines of the i-banks at the IIMs. That was the time we believed, we literally had cracked three quarters of the competition and the name and fame would be automatic follow-up and that we had been able to frame our destiny, the way we wanted.
It is almost seven years since then. There was little news from any one, even the best friends were lost once they got married and they had little time to respond to your three pages long mails. The change was gradual, from long mails to smaller mails, from daily replies to weekly replies and then replies received in months. But there were some other facts of life. While almost each one was doing well where ever he was, none of us had been able to reach any where close to the sky, which continued to remain a forever challenge.
There were people in research working with noble laureates, people in IAS or IPS, people in Bank of America, Swiss Banks, doing family business but none was able to hijack the headlines of national newspapers or do something out of this world. Only some were earning more than the others while others were happier in their personal lives, though everyone was struggling like an island in self. The stage of expansion had been reached and now the people were consolidating things around themselves, building families, taking care of parents and some even beginning to plan future for their kids.
After seven years when I look back at my own performance, I have no regrets and actually a sense of satisfaction on my performance as an officer. I was the highest ranked in IAS in my IITD batch where over 90% failed to qualify and opted for other alternatives. As an officer in Civil Services, my profile could cause envy even in much senior officers. It was not only the type of postings but the performance which a civil servant dreams of but is rarely able to achieve owing to the tremendous pressure and risk. As a probationer I could improve my rank in the civil list to twelfth. As an SDO in my first posting I could sustain the pressure and threat from all ends and still go ahead and delete 2 lakh voters from 4 Assembly Constituencies when political people will not allow anyone delete even 50 names. I was there when a public sector unit was ordered closed by court and I had to ensure over 1300 staff took VRS in communist Bengal. And I had been told by the unions that even one person can be removed against their will and yet the company got closed against the will of all great and mighty ones.
I got transferred but it gave me an opportunity to handle Polio virus as well as I had handled the associations and unions. And my work was getting highlighted; I was getting noticed in the official and political circles. Despite my reluctance to meet the press, I could see that I had a tremendous image amongst the press. But still sky was nowhere to be touched. And then two cabinet ministers in the Government of India were selected for Parliament from Jangipur and Raiganj, places which had been my ‘Karmabhumi’.
And all this time I could not prevent but appreciate the Maslow’s theory. I had achieved financial stability, may be I had reached very high in power circles. After all sharing the stage and mike with Cabinet ministers two to three times a day is what people dream of as the ‘ultimate power’ belonging to the IAS. Then I was never low on spirituality. But in last seven years my parents had not grown any younger. I hardly got any time to come to home if they were not well or even during the festivals. Even when they came to Bengal, I was busy conducting night raids for collection of motor vehicle taxes. I was always motivated by targets, may be I never wanted to loose or may be those were my purpose of life or my path to touch the sky. Yet my parents never complained.
Yesterday, I went to Agra University with my mother who is a professor there. She was actually afraid to go with me. She kept on telling me that babus will not be available on the seat, I shouldn’t get angry with them. Government offices are not run the way I run them, there will be no officer in the office at 3 pm and she was correct. I told her that I used to sit in the collectorate till 9 pm and it used to be a crowd of visitors waiting to see me even till late evening until the orderlies would ask them to come the next day. And all the politicians would appreciate the revival of the ‘work culture’ in the collectorate.
But I don’t know if I was right or wrong. No value judgment as my staff and officers had tough time with me. The probationers who I worked with used to say during their farewell that they were lucky (or unlucky) to have worked with me in their first posting. May be I forced the rules and discipline into their heads and as they used to say they will never have tougher time in future having worked with the best (having worked with the worst as they would have loved to say.)
I remember last Diwali at Midnapur, even four phones were not sufficient to receive the phone calls which were coming without a break. This Diwali I got only one SMS from Bengal. I have learnt though at a cost, I can say, and that is why I moved for a study leave. I don’t want to touch the sky any more. I want to change my priorities. I was a Government Servant but I had other responsibilities as well and now I want to work for myself and my very small family also, my mother and my father to count the other two.
In Ahmedabad I learnt that there are no free lunches. For me absolute power was the reward and may be the tens of press reporters who used to sit continuously in the office of Chief Electoral Officer. For others their pay package can be the reward. In IIMA, the PGPs are having their summer placement and there is maximum competition for the Day Zero jobs. But when there can be no free lunch, what would be the cost of a One Fifty Thousand Dollar package? I can see with my experience but not every one sees what I see. As a probationer I was told something similar by one of our Deputy Director. We had laughed, we believed that the senior batches don’t want to separate with power; they don’t want the junior batches to see the real life.
Today I know that most of what we earn, we save in the bank; those are papers- a feeling of contentedness. What we spend is much less, but still people want to earn the most. Not because they want to spend more but because they believe in number hierarchy, in earning and in ranking, and they compete because they don’t want to let others win and themselves be counted as losers. And in the process we end up keeping our joy, our happiness, and our body and soul captives at times. But that is the cost one has to pay if he wants to touch the sky and certainly no one can stop others from attempting to touch the sky. And the sky remains, as it was, the limit, and even if the costs are high- the realization comes only when it is too late to recover them.

The Memoirs of a lost World- 3

First Day in the Riding Ground

Our first week of classes was ending. We had been asked to fill in the lecture wise review forms and we had been asked to take those very seriously. And as we tried to be as honest and judicious in our remarks, our fear was that whether we can criticize any lecture or its speaker or the topic itself. But the forms were very exhaustive and they covered all those points. There was no other option but to give our sincere opinions and wait to see the output. I had seen some sort of reviews in the past also (and may be the idea was copied from LBSNAA).

But in the educational institutions where this was done at the end of a semester, the exercises were nothing more than eyewash as no improvement to the given batch was possible and at times damages were irreparable in certain courses. But as I believe like many others, LBSNAA is LBSNAA and so we were trying our first hand at 360 degree feedback for very senior officers. This was our learning to be dignified and high esteemed in our professional dealings with the seniors also and feeling free to express our view points with conviction and courage.

Back in my room in the Ganga hostel I was sipping the evening tea and the cobbler was trying to persuade me to get a pair of riding shoes prepared. He had been coming to the hostel and taking orders since the day we had reached Mussourie. And I was slightly reluctant in the beginning as I had never done riding in my life. I didn’t knew how the experience would be like and hence trying to avoid the investment. But that was the first day of riding and I could not resist the temptation of booking an order when almost everyone had done it and was then on the riding ground already.

At my residence in Agra next to the police lines, I had seen the horse riders aligned in a march past in groups of three and what many probably did not knew was that the horses are huge and heavy animals and one looks or feels like a toy compared to them. And when I reached the riding ground, I could see that the much famed horses of the LBSNAA were bigger and stronger.

The ground was on the road passing behind the Ganga hostel and actually below the Kaveri (girls’) hostel. It was a valley surrounded by hills on three side and the only side having an opening was the road behind our hostel which bisected the football and the riding ground. It was sloping down in one of the corners and the water there made it look marshy and there were two huge wooded logs which were used for obstacle jumping (by accomplished riders) and that corner looked just out of some cowboy movie. But that day there were over hundred OTs (Officer Trainees) in the ground and it was almost a fair there.

Our main trainers were from the President Guards’ cavalry unit. There were some other 15 care takers of the horses with their horses. Since I was late about 30 minutes, I could see that the field had already been segregated. A small group of 5-6 horses was walking in large rounds in the ground. There was a second group which probably could not keep with the pace of the first group and now the hoses had decided to take the riders for a ride. The horses were now moving around the far corners of the field with their riders sitting helplessly looking towards others to get them down (for which no one was worried). The third group was sitting on the horse back holding the reins and the trainers were holding a long rope of about 20 feet so that the riders could move in small circles. And the last and the biggest group was of those who had given up the idea of learning riding after comparing their sizes with that of the horse.

The trainers were trying to motivate those people to start riding by giving the information that even if half the batch would have fractures falling from the horse back, riding was compulsory in the past. Some how they were not clear as to why their inspiring words were actually de-motivating the budding riders. Then as usual there were young ladies trying to ‘befriend’ the horses just by giggling to them and trying to bribe them by ‘soft grass’. It seemed, however, the horses were not interested or some of them were mares (looking by their stern expressions).

Then there was a group back from riding which was complaining how the skin on their thighs had been peeled off by the rubbing against the horses. One person had already been thrown off by a horse from its back and it was clear that some bones were gone. In totality, it was an atmosphere of fear, disillusion and shock on the riding field in the LBSNAA. To make it worse, there were people who had been in the Indian Police Service previously and had done their riding training there and they made it official that these horses were rough.

And all this while I had been trying to convince the trainer to write my name in the list of people who would do the riding and he had been lecturing me that my shoes were not proper and riding cannot be done in PT shoes or a track suit (a thicker jeans would avoid the rubbing of the skin and peeling off the skin) and that I was late.

But then it was one of those horses which had broken away from the main group with its rider, decided to return the property (rider) to its rightful owner. When the trembling rider got down of the horse, it was clear to all on the ground that horse riding was no joke.

The trainer was however not willing to learn and in his highly enthused tone shouted for the next volunteer to come and mount on the horse. But no was willing to take risk on a horse which had just failed one of them and was now wearing a sporting look. The trainer again asked some one interested to raise hand, but worse still people were not even acknowledging that the name written on the paper was theirs. And as once again the trainer looked at the only raised hand which was mine, he literally snubbed me again, ‘Sir aapke to shoes bhi thik nahin hain, agar gir gaye to stirrup se pair hi nahin nikalega aur ghoda aapko kheenchta hua le jaayega aur hamari musibat ho jaayegi’.

But as no one responded there was only one option and the trainer Kanwar Singh nodded his head to me with a smile. And as I mounted on the back of the horse I felt I was made for it. Sitting on a six feet high horse back, watching the heathens on the ground from the top, I could feel the growing distance. A feeling of pride and arrogance filled me. I began to feel the saddle which was hard but comfortable and reigns which were to be the driving wheel and breaks and stirrups for accelerator on my latest vehicle. (This experience was better than one when I had learnt to drive the scooter, actually not having asked where the break was and using the accelerator as the break since the breaks were to be found there on a bicycle).

The trainer was giving more inputs- keep the reins short and the horse will feel your control. To take turn, keep the opposite leg pressing the horse as you pull the rein so that the horse doesn’t feel the freedom of flying off in opposite direction. The grip of your thighs is most important. The horse should feel the master on his back or he will be tempted to throw you off.

And then he asked, ‘aap gol chakkar katoge yahin par ya ground ke round loge’. The horse gave the reply as I had already pressed my heel and stirrup was goading it. It accelerated. While other horses were walking (first gear on a vehicle) behind the trainer, my horse ran in a funny style (which we were told is ‘trotting’). ‘Sir, aapka ghoda trot kar raha hai, dheere chalo’ trainer had shouted. But I and ‘Mastana’ were too excited to join the main group of learners. And I could hear the sound of a roar and claps as my horse was the first to trot that day. It then crossed the crowd as they waved to us with beaming smile.

It was the beginning of a new romance.