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Horsing Around ....

An essential part of the training at the Indian Forest College was equitation (horse riding, for the uninitiated), which was conducted at the adjoining Indian Military Academy. The horses were tall, hefty creatures, none of them below sixteen hands (5 feet) at the withers. The equitation instructors were even taller and heftier... so it seemed. Our first introduction to the horses was to hold them by the bit and kiss them on the nose. "You need to know," the Major told us, "the horse is not an animal that bites from one end and kicks from the other!" My horse decided to give me a slobbery lick on my nose before I could kiss his!

Anyway, once we got over our trepidation, we were soon mounted and ready to ride! If instructions were to be believed, one was supposed to dig one’s heels into the mount’s sides to get it to trot. The only problem was that the moment the Havildar began to give the command “Trrrottttt …” the damned animals would start moving, whether we dug in our heels or not. Every equitation lesson ended up in sore bottoms – for us-- not the horses. But all of us passed, may not have been with flying colours, though!

So …… here I was in Taklech, learning how to become a Forester. Imagine my surprise when I woke up one morning to find that the DFO Kotgarh had deputed a horse and Syce for my use. It transpired that the Division had two horses for field use, but they had been put to pasture as none of the Forest Officers were using them. I guess my boss must have expected since I was fresh out of college, I would be adventurous enough to go riding. On the other hand, he might have been testing me, perhaps!

Well, I was not too thrilled at the prospect of getting a sore bottom once again, but how could I “lose face” before the staff at Taklech. Moti (for that was his name) was a mild mannered white pony – no match to the stallions of the IMA – with a mind of his own, as I soon discovered. He was saddled and led before me by the Syce, who asked me to put my left foot in the stirrup and mount. I, who had trained on the huge monsters in the IMA, had no need for instructions. I placed my hands on the saddle and vaulted into it, making an impression, I hoped, on the staff and some urchins present. Gathering up the reins, I dug my feet into Moti’s sides and waited for him to move …. and waited …. and waited, until the Syce took hold of the bridle and started leading Moti down the FRH path.

This was ridiculous …. Moti may have been prepared to be led by the nose, but I certainly wasn’t. It was a question of pride and honour, after all! I asked the Syce to let go, gave Moti a firm slap on the haunches, jerked the reins, and he reluctantly set off down the path. We left the FRH compound and moved on to the main road. “This is okay”, I thought, “He knows who the boss is now!” And then we came to the shallow stream running across the road. His front legs stiffened, his head went down, and I came down on to his neck! Try as I might, he would not straighten up from his drink. And then came the sound of a truck grinding up the slope … and perking up his ears, Moti took off at a gallop, till he couldn’t hear the truck any more. Now, that I knew what made him go, I would mount and wait for a truck or bus to come by so that I could take him out for my daily ride. It was fun while it lasted ….

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