Little Big Horse
I looked him in the eye to size him up. He rolled his eye and showed me the white. I cocked an eyebrow at him, least realising then that it was his way of shaking hands with me before the bell rang for the bout to begin!
The pony master had led two of them up and asked us if we knew how to ride. The major had shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something incoherent, and I said, "A bit."
So he gave to me the pony better suited to riding alone while he led the major's animal himself. I caught the reins in my left hand, anchored it with a firm grip at the base of a tuft of mane, put my other hand on the saddle, and sprang up landing neatly astride and quite pleased with myself.
The little mountain horse was much shorter than the handsome horses we rode sometimes in Nainital or the rougher versions at our farm. My feet hung low in the long stirrups and would have brushed the tops of the bushes if we were to go through them.
We were to ride down an enchanting trail sloping gently through a valley of lush green forest nestled in majestic mountains. A clear blue sky cradled a bright morning sun, birds sang in the trees, bees worked busily, flies buzzed with lazy drones and butterflies painted moving streaks of colour on the already mesmerising canvas. God was in his heaven, and all was well with the world, and I would not have been surprised if I had broken out in song!
The young pony stepped out smartly on hooves softly thudding where the ground was soft and brightly clattering against stones. In a few minutes, our companions were left behind out of sight behind some little bump or bend in the path. Feeling nicely in tune with my little friend, I touched a gentle heel near the base of his ribs...
He shot forward as if from the barrel of a gun! My body was jolted backward and on reflex I wrapped my legs around his belly, surprised that he was so small that my feet almost touched around his girth and I got a good grip with my legs.
In a fraction of a moment I felt a rush of exhilaration replacing my sudden panic and frantic pulling of the reins. I stopped yanking and gave a little bit of slack. The bullet seemed to have struck something solid; the young horse suddenly stiffened all four legs in an absolute freeze!
Had I not been still recovering from the previous jolt, I might have gone sailing in the air over his head and landed on the ground in a heap. But with my legs still hysterically gripped around his belly, the reins flew out of my hands and I doubled over and my torso flattened out on his neck!
Pure instinct made me throw my arms around his neck and hang on for dear life! A lot happened in every fraction of a moment as I fought to stay in the saddle. My right hand grabbed a handful of hair from the mane near his head, while my left slid down to try and reach the reins dangling from the bit in his mouth.
My fingers had just caught the reins when the horse came alive as if with an electric shock and darted off again in a mad sprint. I hung on to his neck with both arms and an awareness only of a need to stay on his back. After about a hundred metres, he stiffened and froze abruptly in his tracks again to try and dislodge me from the saddle, This time I managed to get a grip on the reins and sit upright. When, after a moment, he shot forward again, I was prepared and well ensconced in the saddle. When he braked for the third time, the forward jolt would have been enough to break my teeth on the steering wheel had I been in a car, but I was not in a car; I was astride a smart little horse whom I had, out of pure luck, got the better of! Or so I thought.
I laughed out aloud and jeered at him to try harder!
He seemed to think about it, lifted his head, and shot forward again as if from a cannon! He went like a streak of lightning across an open patch of ground and rushed headlong as the trail entered the dark shade of a dense grove of trees. I felt a surge of relief at the change of scene and the soothingly cool dark shade; and my eyes adjusted just in the nick of time as a thick, low, moss-covered branch loomed across the path hardly two feet above the galloping horse!
The little devil! I was riding a demon! He knew what he was doing, and he would see me dead! It was all I could do to bend over backward till my head hit his rump and the log passed by, inches from my nose!
I snapped upright on the racing phantom in order to be ready for the next challenge. When the next branch came, I ducked forward very low and clung to the side of his neck, much like they did in the old western movies as they fired their pistols or threw burning torches without providing a target to the adversary.
Again a feeling came that I had survived this round, and as we sped through an outcrop of rocks, I waited for his next trick.
It wasn't long in coming. The trail ran along a ditch on the left side and a wall of solid rock on the right. There was room enough for two horses to cross. My spirited little fighter came up with an ingenious idea, running barely an inch away from the wall on the right! Had I not by now known his mettle, had I been in lesser awe of his fighting spirit, had I credited him with any lesser intelligence, I would surely have lost a knee and some sundry bones that beautiful morning.
But God was in his heaven, and things in the world were happening just as they were supposed to. This time, I had seen it coming; I dare say that the idea had struck us both at the same time; and I rode across two such knee-scraping attempts with my right leg stretched over the saddle and along the length of the devil's back, while I rested my weight on the left stirrup, praying that the straps would not break, and hung on for dear life; my face downwards, my arms around the horse's neck and the seat of my pants waving in the air!
The imbalance of my weight in the saddle slowed him down. He walked forward staidly for some time, and I relaxed enough to gather my wits, straighten my form, run a wondering hand over the turban still on my head. As we stepped over a patch of green grass with the morning dew still shimmering in the sun, I felt an overwhelming surge of respect for my brave-hearted pony. I was suddenly getting an entirely fresh view of the clear sky, the trees and rocks and air and all of Creation. I leaned forward and patted his neck. I thanked him with soft endearments. I had a lump in my throat the size of a football as I told him that he had won; that he had had me leaning on the ropes in every round of the match.
We rounded a corner and came upon an expanse of meadow with tents pitched on the near side. We rode up to them as kindred spirits, a young man and a young horse, both a bit stronger for having tested our strength, both exhilarated at the experience, both eager to step out and take on life. I did not tell my soldiers or his keeper a word about what had transpired, and he kept quiet about it, too.
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Happy birthday, my lovely Jashan, may your horses challenge you well, and may you ride them strong!
