108 fountains
07-01-2014, 06:57 AM
Thank you for reading. I'd appreciate comments from anyone.
Goddesses
After five days of trekking in the Himalayan foothills, Miles Walker had learned some of the eccentricities of his young Nepali guide, Deepak, and was enjoying his company. On this, the sixth morning of the trek, Miles paid the bill for their overnight stay at the Kumari Guesthouse, walked through a small, grassy yard, and proceeded under a small stone archway into the village’s main road. “Where in the world did Deepak go?” he said aloud.
Then he heard an unearthly hissing, whistling and clicking sound. He turned and there, not twenty feet away, was Deepak leading two horses on either side of him. He had a wide grin on his face, which looked all the more outlandish from the disjointed motions of his jaw as he made the bizarre noises.
“Deepak! What are you doing with those horses? And what’s that sound you’re making?” Miles exclaimed.
Deepak grinned as wide as his mouth could stretch. “I have brought us some horses, Sahib,” he said, “And they like to hear that sound. It makes them feel relaxed.”
“Well, you had better stop it. They look like they want to bite you!”
It was true. Both the horses’ eyes bulged whenever Deepak made the sound, and one of them stretched its lips and made a biting movement in the general direction of Deepak’s face.
“Do not be alarmed,” replied Deepak. “It is only their way of showing affection.” Then he added, “Do you like them, Sahib? I thought you might enjoy riding part of the way on horseback.”
“It’s a great idea Deepak! I haven’t ridden a horse in years, but it would be fantastic to gallop up and down these hills!”
“Well, I rented them to go only as far as Kagbeni, the next village,” Deepak replied. “That is maybe two hours from here. And I don’t think they will run. In fact, I am sure they will not go faster than a walk.”
“How can you be so sure, Deepak?” Miles asked, eyeing the horses with enthusiasm.
“Well, you see,” replied Deepak, “This one has a bad leg, and this other one is almost blind.”
“A blind horse and a lame horse!" Miles was taken back.
“They belong to a friend of mine,” said Deepak. “And so I was able to get them cheap,” he added by way of explanation. "Do you know? I have never sat atop of a horse in my life.”
“Somehow, that’s not very reassuring,’” said Miles.
“So Sahib,” said Deepak with a broad, happy smile, “Which one do you want? The blind one or the lame one?”
“Well,” replied Miles, “For sure I don’t want the one that keeps trying to bite you.”
Deepak made the unearthly hissing and whistling sound again and then had to quickly move his head away as the angry horse lunged at him. “Ah, it is just his way, Sahib. He is a little nervous. He is just expressing his feelings.”
“I think he is trying to bite you,” Miles reiterated.
They mounted their horses with little difficulty. Miles’ horse automatically began walking at a slow pace. After a half minute, he looked around to see that Deepak’s horse had not yet moved. “Give him a kick in the sides, Deepak. Not too hard. Just let him know that you want him to go forward.”
Deepak jabbed his horse on either side of its ribcage with his heels. The horse immediately turned its head and bit Deepak on his leg. “Yeeoow!” cried Deepak. Then before he could say or do anything else, the horse cantered up to Miles and fell into line behind Miles’ horse.
“You see, Sahib?” said Deepak, somewhat flustered and out of breath. “He was a little nervous, but I showed him who is the boss. He will be alright now.”
Several guest houses, restaurants, and souvenir shops lined both sides of the flagstone road for the first fifty yards. Then the path quickly transformed into a gravel road leading past an apple orchard. The beast upon which sat Deepak, in a playful mood and spying a tree with low-hanging branches, unexpectedly changed course and darted under the lowest of the limbs.* “Baaf-re-baaf!” cried Deepak ducking his head in the nick of time as he passed under the tree.
“Deepak!” shouted Miles. “Your hat!”
Deepak’s black stocking cap hung from the low-hanging branch.
“It is okay, Sahib,” said Deepak somewhat ruefully. “It was an old hat.”
Pleased with this feat, Deepak’s horse neighed in great satisfaction and trotted forward spiritedly, although with a limp, once again taking its place behind Miles’ horse. After crossing the apple orchard, they came to a narrow suspension bridge with a floor of wooden planks and sides of a chain link mesh that crossed the Kali Gandaki River. Shallow and fast, the river sent up a tiny mist of droplets and a halfhearted roar as it crashed past the rocks and boulders in its bed.
The horses stopped at the brink of the bridge. “I think they want us to lead them across,” said Miles. “We had better dismount.”
Miles came down off his horse with ease and led him across the bridge. On the other side, it stumbled over a large rock in the road. “I must have the blind one,” muttered Miles.
Deepak’s horse refused to budge. He pulled on the reins and then pulled all the harder, but the horse shook its head and held its ground. “Baaf-re-baaf!” exclaimed Deepak. “He must be part donkey!”
“Try making that sound you make, Deepak!” called Miles from the other side of the bridge.
Deepak began hissing and whistling and moving his jaw in a most grotesque manner to produce a clicking, clucking, clacking kind of sound. The horse’s eyes bulged and then it lunged at Deepak. Deepak took two steps back, and the horse went after him. Afraid of being bitten again, Deepak ran onto the bridge, and the horse followed. Deepak ran all the way across the bridge with the horse chasing him to the other side. Once on the other side, the horse stopped, stomped its front feet, and whinnied loud and long, as if in mirth. Deepak picked up the reins and put on the best face he could muster. “See Sahib,” he said somewhat unconvincingly, “I know how to handle him.”
Not far from the other side of the bridge, they trotted by a school. Fifty or more children played outside in the dirt yard, boys in crisp white shirts and dark blue trousers, girls in crisp white blouses and dark blue skirts. Many of the girls braided their pigtails with bright red yarn, adding extra color to the scene. Inside the schoolhouse, another fifty or more children sang a patriotic Nepali song – the voices of schoolchildren singing – one of the most delightful sounds in the world!
A few paces past the school, the riders came across two young girls sitting apart from the others on the ground just off the trail. They were playing jacks with a tiny rubber ball on a bare spot in the midst of a fresh patch of early spring grass. The older of them appeared to be about ten or eleven years old; the younger one looked as though she were seven or eight. Both of them shared the smooth visage of youth, clear sparkling eyes, and bright smile. They were ring-around-the-rosy children, two golden circles around the sun.** Neither of them paid any heed to the horsemen who stopped for a moment to watch and listen.
“It is time to go back now, Tanushri,” said the younger girl gently.
“But I don’t want to go back to school, Guanyin,” replied the older girl in a pleasant pout.
“Do you have any special reason for not wanting to go,” asked Guanyin, in her sweetest voice.
“Yes,” replied Tanushri with a hint of hesitation.
Her younger companion smiled and inquired, “May I ask what it is?”
Tanushri turned her eyes upward and stretched her hands high. “Because the sky is so blue!” she cried joyfully.***
The smaller girl – Guanyin – smiled again and, beaming with compassion, she rose, took a step toward her friend, turned around, and knelt down.
Tanushri clambered onto Guanyin’s back and held on tight as Guanyin rose and carried her toward the school. Only then could Miles see Tanushri’s abnormally slender and stiff polio-stricken legs poking out from under her dress. He listened to the two girls laugh gaily as they approached the school.
THE END
*The wary beast, espying a tree whose limbs hung low, changed his course and darted under the lowest of the limbs. Its intention was plain to those who knew the habits of these gentle beasts.
Frank Gee Patchin, The Pony Rider Boys in the Grand Canyon, Chapter 3
**We were ring-around-the-rosy children
They were circles around the sun
Never give up, never slow down
Never grow old, never ever die young
James Taylor Never Die Young
***“I had hoped you were going to church,” he said. “I wanted to walk with you.”
“I am very much obliged to you” Gertrude answered. “I am not going to church.”
She had shaken hands with him; he held her hand a moment. “Have you any special reason for not going?”
“Yes, Mr. Brand,” said the young girl.
“May I ask what it is?”
She looked at him smiling; and in her smile, as I have intimated, there was a certain dullness. But mingled with this dullness was something sweet and suggestive. “Because the sky is so blue!” she said.
Henry James The Europeans, Chapter 2
Goddesses
After five days of trekking in the Himalayan foothills, Miles Walker had learned some of the eccentricities of his young Nepali guide, Deepak, and was enjoying his company. On this, the sixth morning of the trek, Miles paid the bill for their overnight stay at the Kumari Guesthouse, walked through a small, grassy yard, and proceeded under a small stone archway into the village’s main road. “Where in the world did Deepak go?” he said aloud.
Then he heard an unearthly hissing, whistling and clicking sound. He turned and there, not twenty feet away, was Deepak leading two horses on either side of him. He had a wide grin on his face, which looked all the more outlandish from the disjointed motions of his jaw as he made the bizarre noises.
“Deepak! What are you doing with those horses? And what’s that sound you’re making?” Miles exclaimed.
Deepak grinned as wide as his mouth could stretch. “I have brought us some horses, Sahib,” he said, “And they like to hear that sound. It makes them feel relaxed.”
“Well, you had better stop it. They look like they want to bite you!”
It was true. Both the horses’ eyes bulged whenever Deepak made the sound, and one of them stretched its lips and made a biting movement in the general direction of Deepak’s face.
“Do not be alarmed,” replied Deepak. “It is only their way of showing affection.” Then he added, “Do you like them, Sahib? I thought you might enjoy riding part of the way on horseback.”
“It’s a great idea Deepak! I haven’t ridden a horse in years, but it would be fantastic to gallop up and down these hills!”
“Well, I rented them to go only as far as Kagbeni, the next village,” Deepak replied. “That is maybe two hours from here. And I don’t think they will run. In fact, I am sure they will not go faster than a walk.”
“How can you be so sure, Deepak?” Miles asked, eyeing the horses with enthusiasm.
“Well, you see,” replied Deepak, “This one has a bad leg, and this other one is almost blind.”
“A blind horse and a lame horse!" Miles was taken back.
“They belong to a friend of mine,” said Deepak. “And so I was able to get them cheap,” he added by way of explanation. "Do you know? I have never sat atop of a horse in my life.”
“Somehow, that’s not very reassuring,’” said Miles.
“So Sahib,” said Deepak with a broad, happy smile, “Which one do you want? The blind one or the lame one?”
“Well,” replied Miles, “For sure I don’t want the one that keeps trying to bite you.”
Deepak made the unearthly hissing and whistling sound again and then had to quickly move his head away as the angry horse lunged at him. “Ah, it is just his way, Sahib. He is a little nervous. He is just expressing his feelings.”
“I think he is trying to bite you,” Miles reiterated.
They mounted their horses with little difficulty. Miles’ horse automatically began walking at a slow pace. After a half minute, he looked around to see that Deepak’s horse had not yet moved. “Give him a kick in the sides, Deepak. Not too hard. Just let him know that you want him to go forward.”
Deepak jabbed his horse on either side of its ribcage with his heels. The horse immediately turned its head and bit Deepak on his leg. “Yeeoow!” cried Deepak. Then before he could say or do anything else, the horse cantered up to Miles and fell into line behind Miles’ horse.
“You see, Sahib?” said Deepak, somewhat flustered and out of breath. “He was a little nervous, but I showed him who is the boss. He will be alright now.”
Several guest houses, restaurants, and souvenir shops lined both sides of the flagstone road for the first fifty yards. Then the path quickly transformed into a gravel road leading past an apple orchard. The beast upon which sat Deepak, in a playful mood and spying a tree with low-hanging branches, unexpectedly changed course and darted under the lowest of the limbs.* “Baaf-re-baaf!” cried Deepak ducking his head in the nick of time as he passed under the tree.
“Deepak!” shouted Miles. “Your hat!”
Deepak’s black stocking cap hung from the low-hanging branch.
“It is okay, Sahib,” said Deepak somewhat ruefully. “It was an old hat.”
Pleased with this feat, Deepak’s horse neighed in great satisfaction and trotted forward spiritedly, although with a limp, once again taking its place behind Miles’ horse. After crossing the apple orchard, they came to a narrow suspension bridge with a floor of wooden planks and sides of a chain link mesh that crossed the Kali Gandaki River. Shallow and fast, the river sent up a tiny mist of droplets and a halfhearted roar as it crashed past the rocks and boulders in its bed.
The horses stopped at the brink of the bridge. “I think they want us to lead them across,” said Miles. “We had better dismount.”
Miles came down off his horse with ease and led him across the bridge. On the other side, it stumbled over a large rock in the road. “I must have the blind one,” muttered Miles.
Deepak’s horse refused to budge. He pulled on the reins and then pulled all the harder, but the horse shook its head and held its ground. “Baaf-re-baaf!” exclaimed Deepak. “He must be part donkey!”
“Try making that sound you make, Deepak!” called Miles from the other side of the bridge.
Deepak began hissing and whistling and moving his jaw in a most grotesque manner to produce a clicking, clucking, clacking kind of sound. The horse’s eyes bulged and then it lunged at Deepak. Deepak took two steps back, and the horse went after him. Afraid of being bitten again, Deepak ran onto the bridge, and the horse followed. Deepak ran all the way across the bridge with the horse chasing him to the other side. Once on the other side, the horse stopped, stomped its front feet, and whinnied loud and long, as if in mirth. Deepak picked up the reins and put on the best face he could muster. “See Sahib,” he said somewhat unconvincingly, “I know how to handle him.”
Not far from the other side of the bridge, they trotted by a school. Fifty or more children played outside in the dirt yard, boys in crisp white shirts and dark blue trousers, girls in crisp white blouses and dark blue skirts. Many of the girls braided their pigtails with bright red yarn, adding extra color to the scene. Inside the schoolhouse, another fifty or more children sang a patriotic Nepali song – the voices of schoolchildren singing – one of the most delightful sounds in the world!
A few paces past the school, the riders came across two young girls sitting apart from the others on the ground just off the trail. They were playing jacks with a tiny rubber ball on a bare spot in the midst of a fresh patch of early spring grass. The older of them appeared to be about ten or eleven years old; the younger one looked as though she were seven or eight. Both of them shared the smooth visage of youth, clear sparkling eyes, and bright smile. They were ring-around-the-rosy children, two golden circles around the sun.** Neither of them paid any heed to the horsemen who stopped for a moment to watch and listen.
“It is time to go back now, Tanushri,” said the younger girl gently.
“But I don’t want to go back to school, Guanyin,” replied the older girl in a pleasant pout.
“Do you have any special reason for not wanting to go,” asked Guanyin, in her sweetest voice.
“Yes,” replied Tanushri with a hint of hesitation.
Her younger companion smiled and inquired, “May I ask what it is?”
Tanushri turned her eyes upward and stretched her hands high. “Because the sky is so blue!” she cried joyfully.***
The smaller girl – Guanyin – smiled again and, beaming with compassion, she rose, took a step toward her friend, turned around, and knelt down.
Tanushri clambered onto Guanyin’s back and held on tight as Guanyin rose and carried her toward the school. Only then could Miles see Tanushri’s abnormally slender and stiff polio-stricken legs poking out from under her dress. He listened to the two girls laugh gaily as they approached the school.
THE END
*The wary beast, espying a tree whose limbs hung low, changed his course and darted under the lowest of the limbs. Its intention was plain to those who knew the habits of these gentle beasts.
Frank Gee Patchin, The Pony Rider Boys in the Grand Canyon, Chapter 3
**We were ring-around-the-rosy children
They were circles around the sun
Never give up, never slow down
Never grow old, never ever die young
James Taylor Never Die Young
***“I had hoped you were going to church,” he said. “I wanted to walk with you.”
“I am very much obliged to you” Gertrude answered. “I am not going to church.”
She had shaken hands with him; he held her hand a moment. “Have you any special reason for not going?”
“Yes, Mr. Brand,” said the young girl.
“May I ask what it is?”
She looked at him smiling; and in her smile, as I have intimated, there was a certain dullness. But mingled with this dullness was something sweet and suggestive. “Because the sky is so blue!” she said.
Henry James The Europeans, Chapter 2