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.