Autobiography of a horse

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE

          So here I lay, in the hay, legs sore, full of pain and my sorrowful thoughts reflect my master’s gains. Deep and heavy breathes and my memories are the last I have left and maybe yet not too long to stay.

                                      Reflecting back to those young, glorious and passionate days, I find myself in a better place. ‘Celeritas’ they used to call me back in those days, maybe because it is Latin for ‘speed’. Pure white was the colour of mine. The pureness has faded off somewhere now.

  From birth I was trained with vigour and passion, even if the intention behind it was profitable to my master, in no way did I feel my needs not being fulfilled. Groomed to the best, the fastest I was amongst most my fellow jealous friends. That was just the beginning to a life full of fame and glory. As my practice increased and so did I, my legs started catching speed. Just then came in the intention of my master, and I was into use. Master started sending me to races and gambled heavily on me. And yes I did make him a hefty profit. I remember the first time I saw the race track. Amateur I was. Neither did I ever want to leave my stable. But my master’s command was firm. And I did come up to his expectations. I guess that’s where my name fits in, ’speed’. Fame had become a common thing for me. But too much of fame isn’t good at all. This was proved when I was sold off to a rich man whose spoilt and pampered son demanded for me. Unaware of the transaction taking place in or rather, of my life, I was happy, engulfed within the barriers of fame. And a month more was left of what I can say happiness in my life as I was too then amongst the other toys, laying around in my new master’s mansion. Treated like never before , and ill like never before, the vet had become a more of a friend and a reliable source of help than anyone else, but one comes to not to stay forever and must go one day. And it feels like that day is today….  

 

Sanjeet kapur