"pinjare mein ek billee ek sher ban jaatee hai"
a cat in a cage becomes a lion
Gravity had shifted somehow, so that without her even noticing, she is drawn to him, and there was found in her no desire to leave, nor even look away. The moon watched over them from above, perhaps hidden by clouds, but here, before her, is one who is like the moon for her. And even just for this moment, she is the waves washing over stone, ebbing and flowing, but pulled always towards him – her anchor. It is with the gentle strength that she so admired only minutes earlier that she stands beside him now, wanting to help him in some way,
any way, even if all she could do was keep him company, and, at least while they were together, ease his loneliness.
She watched him, and remembered the way he had been when they’d first met; same as the way he was now. Every movement he made seemed slow in her eyes, and the words he spoke – even though she didn’t understand them, seemed heavy in her ears, so that she came to think of his voice as some kind of bittersweet melody. Oh, how beautiful it would be to hear him speak when he was free of his burdens. So different was he, to any she had ever known. But that wasn’t what tied her to him. It was the desire to set him free from whatever it was that lay heavy upon him. She knew what it was to feel trapped, to have everything you thought you knew to be wrenched away, to lose loved ones. And though everything was still back there, waiting for her, Darshan could never go back, not to that life. Her father had seen to that. While she may never discover what it was that had befallen the precious stallion before her (for he was precious in her eyes, something to be cherished and appreciated, because of all he had done for her, without even realising), she recognised sorrow, and she would do anything to free him from its shackles.
“You’ll be waiting here long time?” She asks softly, having taken in every word he said, understanding his meaning, and trying to convey to him what she needed to know. A sense of dread filled her, spreading across her skin and making her feel cold as she imagined him standing alone somewhere, every night that had passed since their meeting.
“I wait with you now,” she repeated, her tone gentle-but-strong like water. No one should be alone. For Darshan, next to loss of freedom, loneliness was and always would be the hardest thing she’d ever bear. What happens next, though, bolsters her and sends her heart soaring. There he went again, healing hurts and building up parts of Darshan that he had no idea were broken.
He came alive before her very eyes, and for as long as she lived, Darshan believed that nothing would move her in quite the same way as this. He spoke her name, and she moved ever closer, breathing him in. Gravity shifted again, and she knew, without a doubt that this stallion would always have a place in her heart, even if come sunrise, they’d part to never meet again.
“Shamwari”, she whispers with reverence and awe, the name foreign to her tongue, but not unwelcome in the slightest. Her sapphire eyes remain fixed upon him, and she speaks his name again, marvelling at how it seemed to fit him so well.
“Shamwari, I am Darshan,” she said, repeating the way he had introduce himself. A love is kindled within her, for speaking this new language. It is another kind of freedom, she thinks, one that will cut some of her chains that still bind her to her father’s home. In this moment, she realises that the place that she had come from will never again be home to her.
Home meant happiness and safety and love, and there was very little of that for her anymore. She would just have to make a new home for herself, and perhaps she’d find it on this island, or one of the others she’d seen along the horizon. For the first time since turning back to be by Shamwari’s side, Darshan looks away from him, first inland, and then out to sea.
“Hōm,” she murmurs, peering into the darkness, and searching in vain for something that could never be found with eyes alone.
“Where is home?” she pondered aloud, before turning back to Shamwari a second time. The wistfulness in her eyes is replaced with joy when her eyes meet his once more, and a small but genuine smile settled with graceful firmness (
gentle strength) upon her lips.
“Namaste, Shamwari.” She reached out to press her muzzle against his skin once more, seeking to tuck it for just a moment beneath his jaw, near the curve of his throat, or perhaps touch him softly on the chest again, so she could breathe in his scent and gulp it down to relieve her of a thisrtiness she’d only just been made aware of.
“Namaste.”