"pinjare mein ek billee ek sher ban jaatee hai"
a cat in a cage becomes a lion
The ocean mesmerised Darshan. It was so alive, and relentless, and nothing seemed able to deter it. Not even the rocks along the shore. Wave upon wave washed over them, and the pale mare marvelled at this display of gentle strength. It was enough to spur her onwards, and she turned with the intention of following the shoreline into the night and whatever lay beyond her view. The song of the ocean would have carried her away, and the two horses would have passed one another like ships in the night, if it hadn’t been for a break in the waves. The soft hiss of briny foam surging over wet sand was accompanied by another noise, and this one was unmistakably equine. Darshan halted, hooves sinking in the wet sand, and she twisted, pointing her muzzle over one salt-sprayed shoulder to look behind for the first time since she had alighted upon these shores.
She stood, transfixed, with a touch of wonder softening the lines of her face. Her delicately curled ears twitched atop her head, as if ready and waiting to catch any more sounds from the stallion before her.
“Main aapako jaanata hoon ,” she breathed the words, and then gracefully she turned back and approached slowly, closing the small distance between them. Darshan came to a halt a few metres away and her gaze settled on the face of the male before her. She spoke again, in her native tongue, and even if he missed the warmth in her expression because he wasn’t looking at her, it was there in her voice too – a genuine kind of happiness.
“Yah vaastav mein aap hai.” It was good to see a face she recognised, even if they had only met briefly, and not much at all had been spoken. She understood only a little of the common language, having been so sheltered by her father. But what had passed between them that night – a need for comfort, and the easing of heartache and loneliness – that was something that crossed barriers between those who couldn’t communicate easily.
It was hard to take her eyes off him, so comforted was she by his presence, but look away she did – and even then she only afforded the area a fleeting glance. There were no others around, just as it had been the first time they had stood together on a sandy shore.
“Aap ab akele nahin hain,” she said softly, and then her ears flicked back as something occurred to her. It was highly likely that he didn’t understand anything she was saying, and the thought of this, of not being able to convey what she needed him to know – it tore at her, and her muscles twitched with frustration.
“Main aapake saath rukoonga” she said, perking up and focusing on his face again, and then repeated herself as best she could with what little she knew of the common tongue, having been exposed to a little on her journey to the Islands, as well as picking up pieces here and there on the Crossing.
“I wait here,” her tongue stumbled over the words, but she hoped, beneath her accent, that he would be able to make sense of what she was saying.
“Wait with you.” And she moved closer, arching her neck and dipping her muzzle to her chest, never breaking visual contact, repeating her name twice.
“Darshan. Darshan.”
With all that said and done, she extended her muzzle towards him, waiting for him to meet her halfway. If he did not, then she would slowly move closer still, and would seek to press her muzzle to his neck, or his cheek, though she would not persist if he moved away. She just wanted him to understand that she wanted to help him, and she needed him to know that the sight of him, his very presence here, meant very much to her.
More than she could ever say, even if she knew the words.