In
hot summer days when the breeze begins to blow southwards and the slow moon
climbs up the sky even as the scorching rays of the sun blaze around the sand
dunes, all the men and women retire to their tents for supper. The children
dust off the grains that had settled on their shirts. Taking a half filled
tumbler of water, they wash the sand off their feet and with the same tumbler,
they collect clean water from earthen pots and pour it down their throats.
Their mothers serve them thick roasted bread with some pieces of onion and
chilly pickle. The men lounge on the choir cots and discuss the plan for the
next day.
The
horses and the camels crowd around the tents. They start snorting and calling
each other: Hiya there! How was the day?
On
one such evening Teja, the horse was standing very close to Roshan, the camel.
He noticed that Roshan stood critically looking at the vast desert that lay
beyond the village. He had strained his neck and pricked his ears. Teja looked
in the same direction to see if anything was wrong. But all was quiet and only
the moonlight played tricks. The clear blue sky had settled into a darker hue
for the night. It was not possible to tell how far the horizon was and what
might be beyond it.
He
asked Roshan,
What
is it? What is bothering you?
Nothing
Teja. I am just watching out tonight.
Teja
looked around. Each tent omitted a different shade of light. There were
silhouettes of different shapes in each tent. They cast a variety of shadows.
Some tall, some fat. Some tents were dark. These were the ones with only men
who lay quietly. The women and children bustled about in the well lighted
tents. For them the day was not yet over.
It
was the same quiet night of a summer day. The breeze cooled the air. A little
sand skirted round his long legs. He stamped his hoofs to no purpose. He flexed
his muscles and shook his head. His mane felt laden and dry. He looked
backwards from the corner of his eyes and sighed.
Roshan
saw that his friend had become restless. He called out loud like a warning for
strangers and then folded his legs and sat down. The hot sand under his belly
moved away to adjust to his shape and the sand underneath was cool. Then he
raised his eyes towards Teja and asked,
Is
anything the matter?
I
was just feeling sad, remembering my earlier life. I used to be so dauntless.
When
was that?
More
than 6 years ago. I came here at the age of 3.
I
have been here since my birth 7 years ago.
Yeah,
you belong to this place.
Where
were you before this?
In
a green valley. It was a village across these hills and I was able to graze on
my own once in a day. Not like over here, eating dry grass from a bag.
That
hurts?
Of
course it does. This is nothing compared to my green valley.
Poor
thing, your master did not want you there. He sold you off.
I
am not very sure of that. I used to draw a wagon. I was born there and even at
a tender age, I had great strength. When I was two years old I carried a load
of goods from the valley to the steep hills above. I never overturned the wagon
as my cousin had done once. He had suffered a beating for it.
Poor
thing. Here, nobody overturns a wagon. There are more humans on it than goods.
I am happy with the dry grass I get from them.
It’s
very little compared to my green valley. Your life here has been tough. What
with only the blue sky and the yellow desert to look at. I used to romp about
in the little flowerbeds. The hillsides showered a myriad of colours: moss,
clay, ash, mica, coal, silt, mist, snow, strawberry and plum. I lived with my
mother.
Yes,
you must be missing your mother now.
Home,
Roshan, I miss my home.
Make
this your home Teja. That is the only way for us slaves to be happy.
When
the humans decide our fate, they think only like themselves. They want to use a
strong horse to draw wagons with loads of stuff for themselves. There is
nothing for us in it.
But
your master sold you off. He did not want you there. What could you have done?
I
could have trotted off to another part of the earth. There might be some place
on the surface of the earth for a herd of horses to graze by themselves and run
about of their free will.
I
would have been very lonely without humans. They keep us together, me and my
brothers. They give us food at proper intervals. All I have to do in return is
pull their caravans. Otherwise, fending for myself in this lonely land would
have been quite terrible.
What
were you looking at when you stretched your neck and concentrated in that
direction?
O
that? I was watching out for danger. You know, ever since I was born, my mother
told me to watch out for danger. It is likely to come from that direction.
Danger always lies in the unknown. It is only through training and exercise
that one can learn to anticipate it.
You
think there’s danger beyond the horizon? Why? It’s so calm. There can only be
the breeze and in case there is a huge storm, it is natural and no one would
survive that. Not even our masters. If I were you, I would not sit there
quietly watching out. I would have run forward to explore.
Then
you think this alertness to danger is illusionistic? Am I not supposed to
protect my home?
Yes,
there you are. You are at home here. Your master saw in me a thing apart. He
wanted a horse; it is different from a camel. He saw me doing things briskly and
decided to harness my strengths to his own selfish purpose. That is why he went
over to my master in the green valley and bought me. Look at my children. They
have never tasted sweet water from the streams. They have never seen a wild
fruit.
Roshan
became quiet. He looked at his family and uttered a sigh. He wanted to know
what exactly Teja was talking about: mossy hues, sweet water, wild flowers.
Anything beyond the yellow desert was dangerous, his mother had said. He
strained his ears to hear unusual sounds but it was all the same: the cool wind
from the north, the swish of the sand, the cries of a human infant from one of
the tents.
…………..x…………….x……………x………………
Dr. ANURADHA BHATTACHARYYA is Assistant Professor of English in
the Postgraduate Government College, Sector-11, Chandigarh, INDIA. She is
author of two novels, One Word and The Road Taken. She has published three
books of poetry from Writers Workshop, Kolkata, INDIA. Her short stories and
many poems have been published in journals and anthologies worldwide. She is
the Chief Editor of Worldereader, an academic e-journal published by her
College. She has recently been felicitated by Kafla Intercontinental as SAHITYA
SHREE.
ANURADHA BHATTACHARYYA
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