Ooty Hunt



Ladies of OHC 1992-93
 

After a month of routine riding we were asked to volunteer for the Hunt which happened once a month in Ooty. None of us had any idea what this event was all about and I entered my name with some trepidation.

On doing a little bit of homework I found out that it would be the 147th year of the OHC (Ootacamund Hunt Club) with the kennels and hounds being looked after by Admiral and Mrs EC Kuruvila. I have always been disapproving of traditional fox hunting but was reassured by Col Rathore, the Veterinary Officer, that to actually even see a jackal ( which was what the hounds sniffed out) was  a rare occurrence and there was never any blood shed allowed.

Strict instructions in the etiquette and uniform demanded in the field were issued and dire warnings were given not to take things lightly as this was serious business steeped in traditions of the past.

We left Wellington at the crack of dawn and were on the Home Downs in Ooty by five o'clock. The horses were already there and in the distance we could see the the committee members in their distinctive bright red jackets, mounted and ready to go, surrounded by a large pack of excited tail wagging hounds.

Minali, Beenu, Sandip and Kilkol

We saddled up and at a signal from a bugle took off after the red coats ( as we called them). I gasped with excitement since I had never actually felt the strength and speed of these amazingly beautiful animals when in an open and unconstrained space. The powerful all out gallop was completely exhilarating and a pure adrenalin rush.

We rode hard for an hour or so with the hounds baying in the distance but never saw a jackal or any other four legged creature. In all the excitement we had to keep in mind to yell "Hound Right" or "Hound Left" to avoid a careless mishap in case one of the energised beasts mistakenly strayed too close to the horses hooves.
 Once we returned to the starting point we had to dismount, doff our hats at the Master of the Hunt and say " Good Night Master and thank you for the hunt". I could never get to the bottom of this strange custom and why we had to bid the Master 'Good Night' since it was six thirty in the morning!

We would then make our way to the Ooty Club for beer and breakfast - in that order. The uninitiated equestrians who had goofed up in the hunt, taken a tumble or had the temerity to call one of the hounds a 'dog' were made to pay their penalties in bottles of beer!
Still high on adrenaline and the early morning draught we would weave our way home, excitedly discussing the electrifying thrill of this awesome experience.
I did not miss a single Hunt in our eleven month stay in Wellington. The basic routine was the same every time though we started and ended from different locations with quaint names such as Sheep Farm, West Brier, Glenmorgan and Windy Gap. Each ride was undertaken with an impassioned sense of adventure though some were more full of mishaps than others! I found myself in a few hair raisingly  dangerous situations which I managed to survive, but the memories of those once in a life time sensations are still with me today and always will be.

Ready to Ride with Samrat

 

Equus Addiction

Snarly, Aarti, Minali, Grumpy, Me and Balloo

The circle of riding fanatics were me - Sandip, Minali - Uday, Kilkol - Charlie, Beenu - Rajeev and Aarti who was the only one whose husband unfortunately did not share our passion. The men rode in the early morning while we ladies had to report at  three o'clock in the afternoon. I huffed and puffed for about two weeks until I got my riding legs back and from then on all the passion and love I had for the animal and the sport came flooding back and actually took over my complete existence. Luckily my husband shared my excitement and the crowd we befriended felt the same so we ended up talking, sleeping and dreaming of horses for the next eleven months.

Ladies had their share of falls and most got fed up and left, but us diehards continued and nothing was so terrible that we would think of even missing a day. The 'saabs' who instructed us were quite rude and uncouth and women who moaned and groaned too much were told unsympathetically by them to stay home and 'belo rotis'. These gruff men became the focus of much discussion and were given appropriately nasty nicknames to match their surly demeanours.There were no mobiles in those days so mother would telephone me at a predetermined time once a week. Even these calls were taken at the extension number at the stable office where Minali, Beenu, Arti and me would sit around with flasks of hot tea to be enjoyed after the ride.

Over time the animals grew familiar and beloved  and we would vie for our favourites though we were sternly reprimanded that we should be able to control all types of steed. Once a week we were taking out of the confinement of the ring to go out on a hack into the beautiful countryside. These excursions were sometimes through the neighbouring tea gardens or up an unfamiliar hill but were always breathlessly thrilling since the horses seemed to feel the freedom and were always raring to go. During the couple of term breaks in the college year we opted to stay back and ride while most everybody else left to explore the rest of south India. During these periods we had the most fun as we could choose the  best horses and get away with things that would normally not be allowed.
I must admit though that I don't think I have ever made so many trips to the hospital as there was always some one or the other from the equestrian crowd who had suffered a broken bone or some other injury. Minali and Kilkol both had nasty falls along the way while Sandip too ended up in trouble but that was towards the end of the course and is another story.

Confusion in the riding arena

 

 

Settling Down

Aarti with Moody and Easy     Minali with Rogue,Abheer and Avyay

Sandip was immediately plunged into the complex routine of the course while it took me about ten days to unpack and get my bearings in the beautiful surroundings of Wellington. I realised in just a couple of hours that my maid Mable was super efficient and helpful, so promptly dubbed her 'Able Mable'. Some of the ladies I casually met had decided not to open up all their belongings since it was just an eleven month stay but I wanted to be comfortable so quickly organised house and home.

Sandip introduced me to some of his course mates with their wives and the Kolhatkars were the couple who seemed the most interesting. Both Minali and I were keen to join the riding club, she for the first time and me desperately wanting to get back to something I had passionately loved but had not had the opportunity to indulge in for years.

We walked down to the stables to see what we were letting ourselves in for and were immediately surrounded by friendly faces with a like minded interest. We were instructed to get our riding gear together so helmet, breeches and boots were ordered in the currency used for all manner of items - rum!
In those days this was the most common form of payment and one could buy rations, clothes and most everything else for a predetermined number of bottles. There was even an old man who would come around with gorgeous bunches of wild flowers which had to be paid for in pegs. He would unabashedly hold out a container in which one had to measure out the 'daru' in return for the beautiful blooms!!

Me. Aarti and Minali

 Minali and I quickly became inseparable and shared a relationship that was and still is extremely special! We would often sneak out in the car for long drives up to Ooty for a cup of coffee or a jaunt into the quaint little township of Coonor. The group A-ha had come out with their album The Definitive Singles Collection and the strains of 'Take on me' and 'Cry Wolf' can still vividly transport me back to those magical outings in the winding hill roads. Mani Ratnam's 'Roja' had just released and we thoroughly enjoyed the movie. The hauntingly beautiful music of the film echoed from every hillside and till today I think of the songs in Tamil and never could appreciate the later Bollywood version.

Staff college was the one place where individuals formed groups according to their interests and not because they were forced into sharing space together like in a normal squadron. The friendships formed and the bonds made in this one year will stay with me forever, because everything we did was special and fun and I think the intensity of each experience was felt more keenly because we knew we were time bound.

Off to Wellington

Family Sud geared up for the nearly two thousand kilometre drive from Jamnagar to Wellington in Tamilnadu, where the Defence Services Staff College (DSSC) is situated.  It was a daunting prospect but we had planned to do it in easy stages so were quite looking forward to the adventure.

We left Jamnagar on an early May morning and headed to Baroda where we intended to spend the night. Just an hour after departure we discovered that the air conditioning in the car was not working so grumpily sweltered our way into the city. Sandip had to spend quite a while getting the problem fixed while Munch and I idled in a fancy hotel room which we could ill afford, since nothing else was available.
The next leg of the journey was an uneventful one and we reached the Air Force Station in Pune with enough time to look up a few old friends.



Goa

Our next halt was Goa, where we had planned to spend a couple of days. I invested in some shorts and casual vests which were more suitable for lolling around on the beach. Normally one could not sport such informal wear in a 'fauji' environment, but I was confident that I was far from the prying eyes of the usual formal crowd. We settled down on the beach with bottles of icy beer and before I realised it there were a stream of fellow officers and their families stopping by to say hello. I found myself discreetly trying to cover my bare body parts from their curious and appraising glances! It turned out that we were all going  to the same destination and  like us, they had decided to take a break before settling down for the eleven month staff college stint.

Leaving beaches and 'feni' behind we reached Mysore where we just about had the energy to do a cursory walk around the famous Mysore Palace, before falling into bed in readiness for the last leg of the journey.

After the hot and sultry drive we felt the first breath of cool air as we drove into the foothills of Gundlupet where we stopped for our first genuine south Indian breakfast of piping hot 'idlis' and 'dosa'. We had been forewarned to carry warm clothes, since the weather suddenly changed, so we pulled out our sweaters which had been stuffed under the car seat and prepared for the chill of the hills.
 We finally arrived at  DSSC and were instructed to head for the Officer's Mess. There we were given some basic rations of bread, eggs,tea, sugar and milk and instructed to go to the flat allotted to us which was 29/1 Gurkha Hills. We were met by a frizzly haired maid who introduced herself as Mabel and so began the best year of my life.

Little Star



Ankita, Adhir and Sanam as the Sheik and his two wives



My dearest friend Gauri's husband was posted out of Jamnagar and I was left feeling most bereft without her company. The bright spot in my life was little Munch who was quite the star of the Air Force Station.

There was a fancy dress party for the kids  and we, my friends Beenu and Deepshika, who had a daughter Ankita, and a son Adhir respectively, decided to send the children as sheik Dawood and his two wives. They were the cutest threesome and even though it was an individual event they won first prize and someone was hurriedly dispatched to pick up some extra chocolates for the little trio.

Ankita and Sanam opening the Diwali celebrations

A few months later Ankita and Munch were chosen to do the opening ceremony at the Diwali celebration. I was more nervous than anyone and gave my daughter strict instructions to do her thing and then aim for her father who was told to stand at a particular spot in the audience. The silly man moved his position at the last minute so there was a second of panic for the little girl who was desperately looking for him in the crowd as she marched off the stage.

The Torpedo

Sandip taught Munch how to swim after he discovered a book in the library written by a Russian author on how to systematically go about this task. I did not have the heart to watch but eventually plucked up the courage to see the progress made, once the crying stage was over and she had mastered the technique. Being so tiny she could not lift her head out of the water so the manoeuvres had to be carefully timed. Sandip would tell someone to launch her off while he stood a few feet away. She would paddle towards him like a little torpedo until he would lift her up before she ran out of breath a few seconds later. She grew to love swimming and we were surprised to know that people would come to the pool and stand around just to see her in action!

Sandip had decided to sit for the Staff College entrance examination which meant he had to get down to some serious study. It was my job to make reams of notes on current affairs which were duly circulated to all the others appearing for the same paper.
Then it was time to pack up house and home for the eleven month Staff College course which was held in Wellington, Tamil Nadu.

Travels From Jamnagar



Balachadi Beach

We would promise ourselves every time we got posted to a new place that we would make an effort to take in all the places of interest around us. Jamnagar was one of the few places we actually did this.

Driving out to the unexploited Balachadi beach was always an exciting time and we were usually the only ones walking along its rocky shore. It was rumoured that old temples built along the coast had been reclaimed by the sea many years ago and if one was lucky one could still find objects thrown up by the tide. I did find a marble Brahman bull with part of his face missing and a stone Ganesha, which I still have with me, though I could never verify if the stories of old temple ruins were true. 

When my mother came to visit we drove up to Dwarka, passing virgin beaches of golden sand on the way. Dwarka is the ancient kingdom of Lord Krishna and a holy pilgrimage site for Hindus. The Dwarkadeesh Temple was magnificent in architecture though I could have done without the kohl rimmed eyes of the young temple boys demanding to know what our cast and religion were.

The hair raising ferry shuttle to Beyt Dwarka

We took the ferry to the island of Beyt Dwarka which is believed to be the birthplace of Lord Krishna. Myth has us believe that the city of gold was swallowed by a massive flood when he left this world and if  one looks into the depths of the ocean one can still see the sacred township. The four kilometre boat ride was literally a hair raising experience as the sea was very choppy accompanied by a strong wind so we were actually quite nervous about making it one piece and not ending up as fish food.
 We spent a few days in Bhuj with our friends Lalima and Umesh Shashtri. This quaint town with its shops full of the most beautiful ethnic craft left an indelible impression on my mind. Unfortunately most of the town was devastated in the terrible earthquake of 2001. From here we ventured out to Mandvi beach but the only memory I have is of an angry sea with dead jelly fish like creatures washed up all along the shore.
We drove the 200 kilometers to Somnath and explored the sacred complex there. The principal temple is believed to have been built in gold by the moon god Soma, in silver by the sun god Ravi, in wood by Krishna and in stone by the later Rajputs.

Somnath

 

We spent a couple of the nights at the ITDC hotel in Gir Sanctuary where we hoped to catch a glimpse of the rare Asiatic lion. We saw plenty of deer and small fauna but the big cat eluded us completely. What made it worse was hearing a raucous bunch of tourists just behind us exclaiming how they had just seen "many many loins" crossing the road!

We also explored the Union Territory of Diu which is a place infused with Portuguese history. The old fort was an imposing edifice with well preserved old bronze cannons still manning the ramparts as they must have years ago. The churches we visited also exuded a sense of peace and calm with their quaint old baroque charm.



Diu

 



Back With A Crash

TACDE picnic at Sapra Dam, Jamnagar
Aru in the red head gear is the current Chief of Air Staff. His lovely wife Lily is in the yellow pants.

 On our arrival in Jamnagar we were duly ensconced in  the usual temporary accommodation for the next few months. These barrack like rooms were known as the Honeymoon Block, and were  rumoured to have originally been the royal stables for the old Jaam Sahib's horses! This was a story I could never verify though we were quite comfortable in our makeshift lodgings. My husband Sandip was the youngest officer posted  into the prestigious TACDE and was kept extremely busy by the various courses that were conducted there.

 One of the first people I met was Squadron Leader Rajan Bhasin and his glamorous wife Gauri. This friendship has stood the test of time and Gauri is and will always be my soul mate. Thirty years down the line we are still there for each other through "sick and sin". 

The air force station  itself was self sufficient and well organised and though I did not make any particularly good friends in the unit I was quite happy with just Gauri for company. Her younger son Tanvir and Munch were the same age, which was most convenient since they would happily play together while we sipped our morning cups of tea and chatted for hours.
Sanam was growing up fast and when she would see  the children walk past our house every morning on their way to school with their bags and water bottles, she could barely contain her excitement. She was longing to join them so I promised her if she was a good girl I would seriously consider letting her go! When the time came for her to actually join Bachpan, the play school, she was so thrilled that she did not even look over her shoulder to wave goodbye or see me wipe a sentimental tear from  the corner of my eye. Mrs Gertie Assey was her first teacher and Munch adored her and generally loved the whole school experience unlike some kids who puked and cried their way through the first few months.

Class of 91

 

Jamnagar in itself was quite devoid of entertainment. There was only one restaurant which served non vegetarian food so we mostly ended up eating at Rasik Bhai's famous "pao bhaji" dhaba. We had our first experience of cable TV and never missed an episode of The Bold and the Beautiful. The Gulf War was sat through in the privacy of our drawing rooms and the shock of Rajiv Gandhi's assassination reverberated through the campus. We could also sometimes catch PTV and many a time I watched Benazir Bhutto raving and ranting in her fiery anti India tirades. This was our first exposure to the power of the media which was something none of us had gone through before.
Social events were limited to squadron parties and the dreaded surprise "bouncing" by the youngsters. One of the incidents that I vividly remember was when Cawas and his friend Cherry caused great excitement by driving full pelt into the front gate of the Air Officer Commanding (AOC).  I recently asked Cherry to recount that day as he remembered it and this is what he said -

" I was back in Jamnagar for flying after doing the  FIS course before my posting to Hakimpet. The world cup foot ball was on and 29 Squadron got together at Raji and Veena's (our commanding officer and his wife) place to watch a match over dinner and drinks -  not necessarily in that order. After the match yours truly volunteered to drop Sujata Mukund home, since her husband was out on detachment. The only vehicle easily accessible was the CO's gypsy, so happy bachelors Cawas, Nikhil  (late) and I set off with me at the wheel. All went well till we said our byes to Sujata after which I foolishly wanted to test ride the vehicle to its limit. I ended up skidding into Group Captain Trevor Osman's (the AOC) front gate and slamming into it at full speed, just missing the guard who was on duty. Cawas managed to get out and bravely rang the door bell. He had a broken jaw, where it had made contact with the dash board and was dripping blood. Nikhil had a whip lash injury of his neck and  I was jammed behind the drivers seat. Within minutes the doctors were on the scene. To get me out they had to break the wind shield as I  was kind of stuck behind the wheel. In the process and with much effort they finally yanked me out but since my ankle was crushed between the brake and the accelerator, which they  had no way of knowing , my knee twisted around itself. We were rushed to the Military Hospital - Cawas with a broken jaw, Nikhil with sore back and me with broken right arm, paralysed hand. smashed ankle and twisted knee. Quite a happy bunch of idiots."