Sweet
& Sour
The White Horse
... Tribhuwan N. Bhan
Right
from my childhood, I have been having a special liking for animals. At various
stages of life, I had a dog as a pet but it has been a horse that fascinates me
for its grace, speed and stamina. In early forties, my father late Shri Gobindji
Bhan owned one of the best tongas in Srinagar. Naturally, I was very fond of our
horse. For me, its presence in the house gave me immense joy. It was treated
like a family member.
As a child, I often spent a
day or two with my maternal grandparents at Banamohalla. Everyone adored me
there. I would get anything that I demanded. While returning to my home at Karan
Nagar, Bhaisaheb, my maternal grandfather, would escort me. On one such
occasion, we were passing through Chotta Bazar near Kani Kadal. On that
particular day, a tongawalla was disharnessing his horse from the tonga. The
light grey horse, almost white in colour, was a picture of elegance. To me, it
was a thing of beauty, which captivated my thoughts and my feet refused to move
further. While I was engrossed in watching the 'White Horse', Bhaisaheb was
walking ahead. He was unaware that I was left behind him standing at one place.
As he turned round, he retraced his steps and told me, "Come on, we are
getting late. Your mother must be worried by now." I, with my thoughts
occupied by the majestic horse, paid no heed to what he was saying. I pointed at
the horse across the road and told him in no uncertain terms, "I want that
horse". "Are you crazy? How can you have it? That man over there must
be owning it", he said rather angrily. I would have none of his arguments.
I refused to budge from where I stood. Not only that I threw my tantrums, wept
bitterly, stamped my feet on the road. Seeing my grandfather's predicament, some
people passing by, asked him as to why I was crying. A small crowd gathered and
from this crowd, a man took Bhaisaheb aside. What transpired between them, I
could not hear. Afterwards both of them went across the road and spoke for some
time to the owner of the horse. All the while, I was getting impatient and time
stood still for me. Three of them were in deep discussion. After quite some
time, my joy was limitless when I saw Bhaisaheb, the owner of the horse and the
horse crossing the road and approaching me. The man from the small crowd did not
accompany them but I could see a certain smile of satisfaction on his face.
Coming close to me, Bhaisaheb told me, "Here is the horse. It is all yours.
Now stop crying". "But I want to take it home", I told him.
Before he would say anything, Kadira, the owner of the horse interrupted and
told me, "In that case, I will also come to your home. But you will have to
treat me to a cup of 'Sheeri Chai' and 'Telvor'. I am famished. Whole day I have
not eaten anything". I at once agreed to what he wanted. So, four of us
walked towards my home. I made sure that the horse and Kadira walked in front of
me. The crowd had already dispersed. There was a stable at my home at Karan
Nagar. It was not occupied on that day as my father had gone to Bandipora where
he was posted those days. He usually travelled by his tonga. He felt more
comfortable thus as it was an independent mode of travel for him. I made sure
that the horse was lodged in the stable. I told my mother to serve the promised
tea to Kadira. Later, my mother took me aside and scolded me for having created
a scene on the roadside, embarrassed Bhaisaheb and having taken advantage of his
kindness and love for me. I gave her patient hearing but had nothing to say as I
was on cloud nine for owning a 'white horse'. With these thoughts, I went to
sleep, dreaming of riding the most magnificent horse high up in the clouds.
Next morning, when I woke up,
the first thing I did was to go to the stable and have a look at my 'white
horse'. I was petrified, blood froze in my veins, a chill ran down my spine,
when I discovered that the horse had vanished and the stable was empty. I asked
my mother, where the horse had gone. She had no answer. I put the same question
to others too in the house. No one gave me an answer. All were mum, which
annoyed me all the more. Being deprived of my proud possession, I started to cry
bitterly and threw all sorts of tantrums. I literally shook the whole house.
This physical fatigue and mental turmoil exhausted me completely, and I had to
be put to bed by my mother, as she must have realised the pitiable state I was
in. It took me days to come to terms with the stark reality that I did not own
the 'White Horse' any more. This episode took place some time in 1942.
Years passed, I came to
Mumbai in 1958. I used to go to Srinagar for summer holidays every year. During
one such visit, I was with Bhaisaheb at his home at Banamohalla. He had grown
very old but his memory never failed him, till his last day. He asked me whether
I remembered the episode involving the 'White Horse' of Chotta Bazar. I replied
in affirmative.
Bhaisaheb recounted in detail
what had actually happened on that day. He told me, "The man from the crowd
who took me across the road to talk to the owner of the horse, was known to
Kadira, the owner. We both convinced him and I almost begged of him to come to
my rescue.
Realising my predicament and
being kind at heart, we were able to strike a deal with him. He agreed to put-up
an act to make you feel as if he had gifted the horse to you. For his
cooperation and kindness, I had given him one rupee - not a small amount of
money those days. After lodging the horse in the stable, your mother has coaxed
you to sleep. That was when Kadira took the horse away".
Whatever good, bad or ugly
happened on that particular day, left an indelible mark on my psyche as, I was
ecstatic on owning a horse, though my ecstasy was short-lived.