Meanwhile, a fifth person said, ‘Now, there’s only one way out. Put a cart before the horse and place its forelegs inside it. That way it’ll have to move its limbs the moment we begin pulling the wagon away. Once the forelegs start moving, the hind limbs will inevitably be set in motion. The horse will be walking before you know it.’
Munshiji’s situation was that of a drowning man who clutches at straws. Two men fetched a cart while the groom tightened the reins further. A few people stood before the horse with sticks in their hands. Two more forcefully raised its forelimbs and kept them on the wagon. The horse had been under the impression that it could spoil even such a plan. But once the cart started moving, its hind legs were inevitably set in motion. It felt as if it was being carried away by an unstoppable water current. The more it struggled to anchor its limbs, the more it was at its wits’ end. Everywhere, one could hear the chorus, ‘It’s walking! It’s walking!’ People clapped, guffawed, and made fun of the beast. This manner of contempt and ridicule was simply insufferable, but what could the animal do? Of course, it did not lose its patience. It reflected, How far can they carry me away like this? I’ll stop as soon as the cart comes to a standstill. I made a huge mistake putting my forelimbs on the wagon.
The situation unfolded exactly as the beast had expected. Somehow or the other, people dragged the cart for a hundred steps or so and then gave up. Had the station been only another one hundred or two hundred steps further, they probably would not have lost heart. But it was still three miles away! Dragging the horse for so long was simply out of the question. The horse stopped as soon as the cart halted. The groom shook the reins again and tried to spur it on. He whipped it several times but the horse was equally up to the task. Its nostrils were bleeding, its entire body had been flayed and its hind limbs had suffered bruises. But the resolute beast stood its ground, defending its dignity.5
The priest concluded, ‘It’s almost eight now and the auspicious hour is way past us.’ The frail and wretched beast had won the day. Munshiji’s anger, which had been driving him insane, now made him weep as well. The groom could not take a step further because it was considered taboo for him to keep his feet on the ground after the marriage procession had begun its journey. It would be a cause for criticism; one’s reputation would be damaged, and the family name besmirched. But it now appeared as if walking was the Hobson’s choice. Munshiji stood before the horse and said in a frustrated tone, ‘Oh boy, thank your stars that you’re Mir Sahib’s property. Had I been your master, I would’ve given you a sound thrashing. That being said, today I’ve seen how even a beast can defend its liberty. I never knew that you’d stay true to your resolve. Son, you can get off the horse now. The marriage party must be nearing the station. Come, let’s walk along. The dozen-odd men that we have here are all like brothers to one another. So, there’s no cause for humiliation. And why don’t you take off this fine coat of yours? People on the way will make fun of us if they realize that you’re walking to the bride’s house. And, you stubborn beast, come, let me take you back to your master.’
Translated from the Hindi by Shailendra Kumar Singh
Cobra Worship1
It was morning and the first few showers of the month of Asarh were over. Creepy-crawlies could be seen everywhere. Tilottama looked at the garden and saw trees and plants washed clean just as dirty clothes are cleaned after being washed with soap. They were bathed in a strange spiritual light, as though they were yogis lost in divine joy. The birds were chirping around branches and foliage. Tilottama went out into the garden, as restless as the birds. She looked at plants, she shook drops of water collected on the flower petals and sprinkled her face with the cool water. Little red velvet-skinned mites were crawling. She picked them from the ground and placed them in her palm. Suddenly, she saw a big, dark snake. She cried out, ‘Amma, naagji is coming, give me some milk in a bowl for him.’
Amma said, ‘Let him be. He must have come out to take fresh air.’
‘Where does he go in the summer? He’s not seen then.’
‘He doesn’t go anywhere. He takes rest in his burrow.’
‘And he doesn’t go anywhere?’
‘Beti, he is our deity. Why should he go anywhere else? Since the year of your birth he has always been seen here. He doesn’t speak to anyone. The children might run past him, he doesn’t look at them. No one has seen him catch even a mouse.’
‘What does he eat then?’
‘Beti, they live on air; that’s why their souls are divine. They can remember their past birth. They also know what is going to happen in the future. When some great yogi becomes vain, as a punishment he has to take this birth. As long as the penance is not complete, they have to live the life of a snake. Some of them live up to one hundred or even two hundred years.’
‘If we don’t worship him, what can he do?’
‘Beti, what a childish question! If he gets angry then all sorts of calamities may befall you. He was seen first in the year of your birth, from
