The Ashvamedha Horse

The majestic white beast was descending gracefully down the slope. A couple of horsemen, bows and arrows distinguishable against the solemn sky, had appeared and halted to watch the proud horse below them. The animal’s coat glistened, highlighting its powerful muscles and wild beauty, as steady rain drew a thin curtain of mist over the hill. Concealed in a thick cluster of trees that carpeted the entire foot of the hill, we were watching.  Behind us, the faint sound of the raging river was audible.

We knew this was the special horse, personally picked for the royal sacrifice by the King. For almost a year, the animal had been wandering wherever it pleased, watched from a distance by the King’s soldiers, who made sure no one harmed the horse when it crossed into neighboring lands and fought any party that dared to challenge the right of the King’s horse to trespass. We’d already been to the capital and seen the grand sacrificial house and fire altar. We knew that daily ceremonies were going on, in anticipation of the horse’s return. For weeks, we’d been following the beast, getting close enough for it to become familiar with our presence but not so close that we’d be noticed by the soldiers or worry the fledgling princes who, for amusement, came out to leer at the horse now and then.

The Ashvamedha horse lifted its head and let out a defiant neigh when it caught sight of the men on the peak. The beast spun impulsively and broke for the shelter of trees, where we were awaiting our opportunity. Get a rider on the animal’s back and plunge into the raging river. Even the most spirited horse could be broken quickly, given the right conditions.

Pointe Shoes

Mr. H noticed the peach-colored pointe shoes on the porch when he came out. Mrs. H, in a black dress and shawl, picked them up for him.

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Mr. H noticed the peach-colored pointe shoes on the porch when he came out. Mrs. H, in a black dress and shawl, picked them up for him. He held them closely as they got into the waiting car. 

At the cemetery, they sat in the front row listening to the eulogies, under a majestic oak covered with autumn leaves. They didn’t hear the group of young girls at the back who were giggling and chatting amongst themselves. The girls seemed oblivious to their surroundings.  Standing between the open coffin and framed photograph of the deceased, the bearded priest spoke of how God’s will can sometimes be unfathomable and that in times of tragedy, extraordinary faith is demanded, particularly when young lives are involved. He read a couple of pertinent verses from the Bible and mentioned very briefly the road accident that had killed Mr. and Mrs. H’s granddaughter and her classmates. They were returning from their annual grading examination when their van avoided an oncoming truck only to plunge into a ravine. Mrs. H took the shoes from her husband and laid them gently inside the coffin, which was lowered into the earth moments later. The girls in the shade whispered and teased one another, while the mourners around them appeared to steadfastly ignore them.

When the ceremony ended and the mourners had dispersed, the girls began walking at leisure through the tree-lined cemetery, gossiping and peering at tombstones while challenging one another at arabesque. One of the girls turned to look again at Mr. and Mrs. H, who remained solemnly by the photo and freshly covered grave, holding one another. She will miss them.

 

Photo from unsplash.com by Gaelle Marcel

Cobalt Blue

Albert sipped his tea patiently outside a coffeehouse in Ho Chi Minh City. The hum of motorbikes as they went past on the street beside him sounded like different species of insects migrating together. He always looked forward to the energy on the streets during his trips to Vietnam.

The fruit seller had seen his kind before in her country – elderly white men holidaying alone, seeking pleasures which, at his age, only money could procure. She approached the table with a pinkish-red dragon fruit in her hands.

He saw the woman, who had a basket of fruits held against one hip, coming towards him and began to shake his head to indicate he wasn’t interested in anything she had.

Ignoring the gesture, the woman walked right up to him and put her palm out, offering him what she considered to be her scaly skinned prize. She was determined not to leave without taking some of his money.

Albert waved her off with a polite smile which did not work. He followed up with a more emphatic shaking of his hands, pretty sure she would finally get his meaning. The woman stood her ground.

A few seconds passed before Albert realized there was only one way to get rid of her. He accepted the fruit in his large hand and reached into his pocket with the other in search of loose coins.

The pocket was empty. Of course, he remembered. My wallet’s back at the hotel.

After a moment of panic, he recovered his composure and brought out his empty hand, holding it up for her to see. Now there was no way he was taking her fruit. He indicated that he had no money on him and pushed the fruit back to her. The expression on the woman’s face travelled in an arc from surprise to disappointment and finally settled in anger.

Their eyes remained locked in a stalemate. She refused to take the fruit back or accept anything but his money. He did not want what he could not pay for and what he had not sought for in the first place.

In the impasse, the woman noticed that Albert’s eyes were of a peculiar color. They were cobalt blue.

That was when his gaze suddenly broke off and went past the fruit seller. She turned and followed his gaze.

A lovely young Vietnamese girl dressed in fashionable clothes, her silky jet-black hair streaked with strands of brown, came up the street and sat down next to Albert. She gave him a peck on his cheek.

They exchanged a few sentences in English and the girl reached into her jeans pocket to fish out some coins.

As the fruit seller walked away, she didn’t remember accepting the money from the girl or leaving her dragon fruit on the table. All she remembered was that the young girl also had the same eyes as Albert. Cobalt blue.

 

Photo from Unsplash.com by Tanaphong Toochinda