If wishes were horses – through a child’s mind

Riding has always looked modish and sophisticated to me. I tried my hands at riding (?) during our trip to Sikkim as a kid and later on once in Mahabaleshwar during college. When my husband told me that he was a rider, I quipped about my experiences too. He smirked calling those horse mere “tatttoos.” I had heard about his favourite horse in NDA who was called Koyal. But I was yet to know about his earnestness towards the sport. He tried encouraging me to take up the sport for quite some time. But the laziness in me took over and I could never take it up. I have been to the stables just once with my students of UKG from Army School. It was then that got me thinking about the horses and their breeds while the care taker started explaining them to the children. I started reading on horses, after all, I had to explain to my children and face any question they came up with the next day in school.

I googled and started reading about Marwari, Kathiawari, Manipuri, Spiti, Bhutia and Zanskari, the first thing that came to my mind was that these names sounded like varieties of Sarees from different regions. But to my interest now, they were actually breeds of horses found in India. Now I had to think of some ways to remember specific details about them! You can never trust children with their imagination. And I couldn’t put my reputation at stake in front of them!

Kathiawar (Gujarat) and Rajasthan are the homes of Kathiawari and Marwari breeds, respectively. These breeds are used both for their utility and beauty. That was easy! Just like the pretty women from these regions!

Next were the Bhutia, Spiti and Zanskari ponies, mainly found in the hilly areas of Himalayan ranges. They are slow moving horses. Not too tricky to remember, of course they are slow as it is difficult to move in the cold. We witnessed this during the BPT and the after effects that our husbands went through (officers with houses on the second floor cursed the most) clearly established why Bhutia, Spiti and Zanskari preferred to trot rather than gallop.

Then there are the Manipuri horses having qualities of both hill and plain breeds of horses that have been bred over centuries in Manipur. Manipuri horses reputed for their intelligence, are used for polo and racing. I, being from the North East was pleased to remember this “cool” quality.

 Three other breeds of India namely Deccani, Chummarti and Sikang are considered to be on the verge of extinction.  That meant no hoof, no horse! So I gave them a miss.

The exotic breeds of horses introduced in India include English thoroughbred, Water, Arab, Polish, Connemera (Irish) and Haflinger (Italy and Austria).

The Arab, the first to be introduced, is believed to have contributed substantially for the evolution of Kathiawari, Marwari, Sindhi, Malani and Manipuri horses, just like Khalil Gibran who’s work “The Prophet” has enlightened so many of us. He would certainly forgive me for bringing in his name in this context to educate a precious lot of twenty two, 5- year olds.

English Thoroughbreds are considered a hot-blooded horse, known for their agility, speed and spirit. This certainly reminds me of Wayne Rooney with his occasional bouts of rage as well as exhilaration. So far so good.

The Connemera, Haflinger, Polish are named by and large after the regions they originally come from. Connemera (Irish) are known for their athleticism, versatility. This had to be one of my favourite actors Colin Farrel, Irish again.

Haflinger horses are relatively small, are always chestnut in color, have distinctive gaits described as energetic but smooth, and are well-muscled yet elegant. By now I was exhausted and could only figure out that they were called Ha(l)flinger as they are half (roughly) the size of the other horses and being small they are more brisk.

Next day in school, I felt confident as I was well prepared. When I asked the children about their experience at the stables, I was barraged with questions on horses- easy ones though, about their feed, sleeping habits, their stars, shoes, etc. I was proud of myself as I furnished some extra knowledge to them, until I was amazed by one question. One of the children asked me “Horses school nahin jaate??” (Don’t horses go to school?). I told them that the stables were their school and hostel too. The boy said innocently “ohhh papa toh horse ke back par chadte hai, toh papa horse ke school bag jaise huwe!” (Oh so that means my father is like the horse’s school bag!) … Indeed a child’s brain is difficult to envisage. I said “Yes baby, your Daddy is like the horse’s school bag, and they share a great camaraderie.” 

“BEFORE THE NIGHT IS OVER”

The drive was not as long as we had expected; by 3 o'clock in the afternoon, we were in Ooty. After a relaxing stay at our friends’ place in Bangalore, we had started our drive around 8 in the morning with a lot of excitement and apprehensions. Making it to Staff College was special because Hazy had put in a lot of hard work and we were told that Wellington is the best time one can have in his entire career in the Army.

The drive from Ooty to Wellington was beautiful and shorter than we expected. Entering Wellington gave us a sense of fulfillment and contentment. But as we approached the cantonment, we started to wonder if we were at the right place! It was filthy at places. But the PCK about the place and the course was strongly keeping us hopeful and made us ignore what we were seeing. We had no problem looking for our allotted accommodation in the circle quarters- 3/5 it was!

As we entered our house (not home yet), we were taken aback. It was not what one would expect at the prestigious staff college. We reminded ourselves of Bobby McFerrin’s lines “In every life you have some trouble, when you worry you make it double...” and of course - "PCK, PCK"!! 

But the MES people were kind enough and agreed to do up parts of the house. Settling down after that was quick, as we were used to it. The course began and we met a lot of new people- husband's course mates and their wives et al. It was a barrel of fun, as husbands were getting reunited after years. The “hubbub” continues till date...and we love it!

The events that followed added to the fun- the hikes, the angling trips, sports, SCADS, and the plethora of courses for the ladies.  The other socials (course, syndicate, squadron etc) have made sure that every time you meet someone you haven’t met before. Besides, the number of gorgeous and pristine places that are there to explore around here way exceeds the number of weekends we are left with now.

"THE PATCH" (as someone had aptly put it) back at our now "home" doesn’t matter anymore. Our home is perfect as it is always filled with warmth, love and laughter and our friends make sure that it remains so all the time. So the PCK was absolutely correct! This is ONE place to be and we are cherishing every moment here. I don't care that I have to wear jackets, inners and socks all the time, or my clothes have to be dried with the help of blowers. There is much more to life than this... and Wellington makes sure you realize them right in time :)

Our Nursery Rhyme

I wrote the following lines soon after we got married. Ronku had to go back to unit and I was in Ghy in a bad state. Certain things kept cheering me up... one of them were some memories...

Two little birdies…

Twittered & chirruped in their homes,

Oblivious to each other’s existence,

Both aspired to soar high and distant.

One fine day, with the new born wings,

They set out to fly…

As they passed each other,

One thought the other looked familiar…

So it went ahead & said a warm hello,

And the other smiled n said a friendly hi.

And then began the journey

Of the two little birdie…

During their flights they met again,

As they exchanged pleasantries,

They realized they could be friends,

And decided to meet again during their quests.

Next time they shared their dreams & aspirations,

As they fluttered their way in a clear blue sky,

Or hovered around in dark despair…

Then they parted, with a promise to meet soon after.

Their journeys went on for long…

The young Birds were now the best of friends…

Then one day began the anxiety and longing…

To share the same path to their dreams.

But they kept silent,

As they moved on in ambivalence…

Until a day, one spoke out of the hush,

And the other turned pink with blush…

And so began their ‘journey together’…

To merge and emerge their dreams,

They know, they have a long way to go…

But they don’t care as they have each other.

                                                                                                     -21^st July’06

The article that never got published in DSSC, Wellington

FOOD FOR THOUGHT!

Knowledge is being aware that tomato is a fruit

Wisdom is not using it in a fruit salad. – Anonymous

It all started when my husband was flying the French beauty (read Chetak) from Belgaum to Nasik. His copilot got a message that my husband had made it to the DSSC. The copilot took over the controls and gave him some time off to absorb the news. He sent me a text from the chopper itself, going against the rules of flying; after all he had the senior’s permission.

Back home in the unit in Nasik, people started congratulating me! I wanted to tell them that I hardly had any hand at this, except for may be giving him coffee late at nights. Neighbours started dropping in and showered me (?) with congratulations and bouquets. It felt good and weird and for a moment took me away from the fact!

Some ladies started telling me how people, especially ladies change, once their husbands make it to the Staff College. One of my good friends told me that I should be careful enough not to get habituated with talking like ex DSSC pass out’s wife…

That got me thinking. Wives do play a major role in an Army officer’s life. However, we should be sentient of the discretion that we need to uphold. First of all, one must remember that it is our husband who is doing the course, and not us. We are here to complement them, not in the course directly, but morally and emotionally. The events that are organized are means of keeping us occupied and not to score brownie points for our husbands. I don’t mean any offence to anyone who is doing something for the pure love for it or to keep themselves busy. There is a very thin line between saying “When we were doing Staff College” and “When my husband was doing Staff College”. It is indeed good to feel a part of the College, but at the same time we should remember that it is our husbands who are attending the course, and they solely are responsible for how they perform here.

Army officers definitely deserve all the respect that they get; at times they deserve much more. But as an Army officer’s wife, we have to be wary about certain things. May be I’m too small a fish to comment on such things, but I would like to express my views on certain things that have happened in the previous unit my husband was posted to and as a normal human being, I knew they weren’t acceptable.

A Jawan is a soldier first and we must give them their due. They are not meant to do our household chores. Soldiers are attached to officers ostensibly for the upkeep of their service weapons and uniforms. In reality, however, they end up as domestic orderlies. Since husbands are mostly out, it is our responsibility to treat them well giving them their due for all the hardship and training that they have undergone.

Seniority among the ladies should be based on experience (age and number of years in the Army) rather than their husbands’ ranks. By and large, they as it is go hand in hand. Indian culture as it is tells us to respect a person who is older to us. It need not be drilled into us here. The rest, if not forced, I’m sure would follow on their own. Besides, nowadays, imposing may lead to consequences that are uncalled-for.

It is therefore, important for us ladies, to maintain the decorum and modesty while dealing with anyone, be it a lady, an officer or the troops and most importantly with ourselves. The wisdom lies within us. Let us not indulge in a fruit salad with tomatoes in it and spoil the way it ideally should taste!