Tuesday 20 September 2011

'PAINFUL' WALK TO THE POLO GROUND

Life here begins at 5 am for most people, leaving literally no room for a night life. My day begins at 4.45 everyday( i set an alarm for 5 am but wake up before it rings), and by the time i get ready i hear alarms go all around the hostel - regular tring, trings ,bolly ringtones,koundamani ring tones in tamil guys' rooms, some strange animal coos - you can hear it all at 5- 5.15. I start walking out of my room at 5.30 with hands in pocket ,with mother mussoorie's coldness at its pinnacle.Our PT everyday is at the Polo ground, which is 2km downhill from our hostel.When i come out of the hostel, i see 3 kinds of animals usually - the sleeping dogs ( which iam very conscious of not stepping onto), sleeping cows by the roadside( i always wonder how relevant our mother's words are "maadu madhiri thoonguran paaru") and there are the monkeys which are very active and jump across the trees( post PLANET OF THE APES, they all seem violent to me ). Usually there are only 5-6 people ahead of me, but i walk very slowly that many people catch up in due course of time. And i get to hear so many conversations among my mates-people who curse the PT, people who discuss the "supply and demand curve" of economics at that hour ! , Guys talking about girls, girls gossiping about the faculty - you can hear it all during the walk downhill to the polo ground And there are people who are still in "sleep" and talk the wrong road and walk straight to the tibetian school. There are some brilliant views of the mountains on the way, and i find the sky to be marvelously changing colours everyday ( i'v seen colours from violet to red) and inspite of all the above mentioned entertainment i get, it is indeed a pretty tough job to walk downhill at such cold conditons.
                                                  But having said that,by the time i reach the polo ground, my body is warmed up and all sleep in my eyes are gone. I sit there for sometime admiring the beauty of mother mussoorie. By then everybody else join in, Our PT instructor marches in, and up goes the whistle....

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