DISCLAIMER : THE STORY IS REAL
Getting admitted to the MH (Military Hospital) at NDA (National Defence Academy), Khadakwasla, assures you complete immunity from the gruelling training schedule. However, getting admitted is not easy as the doctors are part of the NDA Training Team and can always identify the genuine sick Cadets from miles away. BUT THEN THERE ARE ALWAYS EXCEPTIONS.
Pickpocket, The Horse. Name of the NDA Course does not matter, however the name of the horse matters. PICKPOCKET, is an unlikely name for a horse because generally horses do not indulge in such activities. Pickpocket’s one word pen picture read ‘NOTORIOUS’. And the legends of Pickpocket’s ill treatment of poor riders, like yours truly, had been carried down the ages by word of mouth. But this story is not about me or Pickpocket at all. The readers are advised to hold their horses (pun intended) till the last line.
The Fateful Day. One ‘not so fine’ day the first two periods of the NDA training programme for the Second Term (Semester) cadets read ‘Equitation’. Whereas this was fun and adventure for the GOOD to AVERAGE riders, it spelt ‘near death’ for the weak hearted like me. Attempts at reporting sick (Army term for calling oneself unwell) were summarily turned down by the CSM (Company Sergeant Major) because the number of Second Term cadets calling in sick was almost equal to the weak in riding list.
The Accident. I did not know Pickpocket’s physical details in terms of colour, looks (yes!! when you are a weak rider, every horse looks menacingly similar too) etc. All I knew (EINSTEIN WAS WRONG, THE RUMOURS TRAVEL FASTER THAN THE SPEED OF LIGHT) was the attitude of the ‘chap’. As luck would have it, my bicycle had a flat tyre and the three kilometer journey to the ‘Equitation Lines’ was completed on foot. I was the last cadet to roll in and from a long distance I could see the syce (horse hndler) leading the last grey, pockmarked horse. All I was interested in was the name. “He is RAJA” said the syce to sooth my anxious looks. “He is a docile and nice animal” he added and the assuring tone made me feel like giving a thank you hug to the helper. The horse too, wore SUPER INNOCENT LOOKS and appeared to be calm and steady. But I had barely mounted him when he took off, sensing my ‘WEAK KNEED GRIP’ and before I could say Jack Robinson (you can say any two letter phrase like O lord, Hey Ram, anything) Raja (actually Pickpocket) was in full gallop. I was under severe shock as I was not confident beyond KADAM KADAM or the slowest pace in riding. Within minutes, I was unseated (polite term for dropped) unceremoniously at the far corner of the riding area by PICKPOCKET ALIAS RAJA. Severe pain in the back, a badly bruised elbow and a deep cut to my lip stopped me from getting up. ‘MINIMUM ONE WEEK IN THE HOSPITAL’ was the only thought that made me smile even in that state.
The Good Samaritans. Enter Guglani and Sandhu, my coursemates (or batchmates) and the GOOD SAMARITANS.They lifted me and carried me to the ambulance. I pretended to be incoherent and wore the expression of someone who had just been to the hell and back. I was confident of convincing the medical officer that I needed immediate (and deliberate)medical attention for at least seven days, that too in the special ward of the MH reserved for severe injuries. However, the medical officer was not the usual friendly doc (doctor) and all I got was SIQ (Sick in Quarters; Army term for bed rest) for 48 hours and painkiller tablets. Three days later, when my SIQ got over, I decided to meet Sandhu and Guglani to personally thank them. Their cabins (single room accommodation allotted to the cadets) were locked. I was informed by another coursemate that they both had an accident in the Equitation Lines, three days ago, riding PICKPOCKET and RAJA and had been admitted in MH since that day.
SO MUCH FOR MAKING HAY WHILE THE SUN SHINES.
Disclaimer:
- This story is a fictional spoof, satire, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.
- All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the stories are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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