"pinjare mein ek billee ek sher ban jaatee hai"
a cat in a cage becomes a lion
Darshan had already learned in life that all good things must come to an end, eventually. The serenity of her solitude came to an end rather more quickly than she would have liked, though it was good to be stirred from her heart-warming memories. As she turned to lay eyes upon the one who approached, she was a little disappointed to see an unfamiliar figure. Of course, the chances of her just happening to be here as Shamwari was passing by were as tiny as the specks of light in the night sky (but the thought of such a thing happening was as beautiful to Darshan as a star itself). It also concerned her that Vihaan had yet to return. But her daughter was bold, and brave, and was not one inclined to foolish acts, so it was more that Darshan longed for her presence than feared for her safety.
The stallion who approached possessed a grace that reminded Darshan of the desert herds she’d met during her travels. Was this male a foreigner to these lands himself? Or a descendant from any of the spirited individuals she’d crossed paths with before crossing the sea. Much as she despised her home, and as much as she had loved these islands since the beginning, it was a sort of comfort, to meet one similar to herself, even if much about them was different. “Haan,”1 she affirmed, her delicately curled ears trying to detect any kind of accent in his voice. The words he said were like stones dropped in a pond, and her heart swelled within her. ( I wait here, she had said to Shamwari, before she’d even known his name. Wait with you. “You’ll be waiting a long time,” Shamwari had replied. And she hadn’t, not that night. It hadn't been long at all before Shamwari had guided her across the channel to Luthien. But oh, how she would wait for Shamwari. She’d wait for him beneath the stars for the rest of her life.)
Overcome by the strength of her emotion, Darshan faltered in her response to the bay stallion. His skin was speckled white in places as though he were dusted with stars, and Darshan took it as a kind of sign. However, before she had a chance to answer, another male came upon them, this one a brute in every way – a stark contrast to her first companion, polite and graceful. Darshan snorted sharply in protest and pinned her curved ears flat, backing away. She stared with deep blue eyes as the male spoke, concentrating and trying to understand what it was he was saying to the Arabian. She is waiting for me. As if anyone would wait for one like him, so arrogant and dismissive. Darshan might not have a full grasp on the common language spoken here, but body language she definitely understood.
“Nahin!”2 she snapped, heart rate picking up a little as a wave of anxiety washed over her. “Shamwari, I wait only for him.” But her words hadcome too late and were overlooked. It seemed this stallion had approached her already knowing what he wanted, if the way things were progressing was anything to go by. He’d hardly looked at her before encroaching into her space, not even asking her name. Darshan glared at him, ocean eyes narrowed and furious. She’d known plenty of stallions like this one back home. Her father had been one of them. They were blind, in a manner of speaking, saw Darshan, and mares like her, merely as property. Something that belonged to them. She had escaped her father, only to return and dismantle his authority. Two years, she had journeyed – there and back again. She had fought for her freedom, and it had been hard won. There was no way she could ever go back to that kind of life, being treated as anything less than a capable, kind, wise and gentle creature. Darshan was magnificent, and would not tolerate being treated as anything less.
“Tumhaaree himmat kaise huee?”3 she spat, snapping at his muzzle after he deigned to encourage her towards the water. Her shoulders tensed beneath her pale hide, and she lifted her chin, tail snapping at the air. “I am Darshan, not pretty dove. I see you, see what you are. No, I say to you. I do not belong to you.” Memories of her confrontation with her father came back to her, cutting sharp and deep. Arduous as her journey had been, she had more than enough fight left in her, and the normally gentle mare turned savage as she defended herself. Darshan lunged for the silver-maned stallion, not caring whether she collided with him, snapping at his neck and shoulders and flyaway mane, rearing up and lashing out with flailing hooves. A shrill warning squeal pierced the air – if the other stallion was wise he’d back away a safe distance. Leaping away, Darshan buried her forehooves deep in the sand and kicked out with her back legs.
Only after Darshan prevailed did she stop in her flurry of attacks. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, and her cream skin was slick wit perspiration. Her heart pounded a rhythm in her ears, and her delicate nostrils flared and caught the scent of blood. There was no time now to check for injuries – the first stallion, the Star-Blessed one, still lingered nearby. She turned back to the stallion, and lifted her muzzle in the air again, pride and anger brightening her blue eyes. “Tum mujhe phir kabhee nahin chhoona.” The words were a warning, but in case it wasn’t clear enough, Darshan repeated herself with words he’d understand. “You never touch me again.” And she stumbled across the sand towards the Arabian, and beseeched him. “Please, don’t leave me. I will follow to a safe place.” One delicate ear, edged with blood, was trained on the one who was enemy to her, and should he come for her again she would take to the sea. The Star-Blessed desert horse had to know of somewhere to take her.
It tore at her heart that she had to leave this beach, and Vihaan for a time. But she would see her daughter again, there was no doubt in her. And Shamwari. As soon as she could, she would return to him. For now, however, she stuck close to the bay stallion, and gave herself over to memories she had of her time here previously, in an attempt to distract herself from the aches and pains and stiffening muscles.
Darshan
the perceptive
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