I always thought of Ooty as a place only fit for honeymooners: cold, hilly and romantic. “Ooty and me? no way,” used to be my usual response.
When we reached Ooty, I noticed horses thronged this place as much as the tourists. I was convinced that I was not going to regret the trip. I gave all the must visit tourist spots especially the suicide points a miss for another time I might feel suicidal and explored the not so touristy and suicidal side of Ooty.
Royal Secret never once bucked me; he let me drive him crazy and tolerated me like a wise old grandpa. I bird-watched and learnt my first canter on him. I sympathized deeply with the other riders who fell off their horses and gave them sound advice.
I wanted to impress Mother with my riding skills and change her opinion of me from being a useless daughter to a very talented daughter once and for all. Mother doesn’t think much of horse riding. She would be happier if I learnt bull riding or buffalo riding instead. At least that way my skills could be put to use in soil tilling during the unavailability of a tractor or something.
Love affair with horse riding
Leon Cavallo’s mannerisms intimidated me slightly. His looks and disposition screamed high standards. He was well groomed, had glossy mane and coat and looked strong. His girth had fur lining. Pampered horse I thought.
He had an overpowering demeanor. It felt as if I was standing in front of a celebrity dressed shabbily. I patted him gingerly and he didn’t bite. I breathed a sigh of relief.