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“Hukum,” he strode down the stables and towards him, hands folded, hoping to greet him and manoeuvre him out. Samarth reached him and bent down to touch his feet.

“Khush raho, yaar!” Hukum grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

“You have shot up in just six months. Don’t leave us all behind.

” He squeezed his biceps, rattling them hard.

Samarth chuckled nervously, bowing his head in front of not only Mewad’s King but also one of his father’s closest friends in the royal circles.

“Are you ready?” Hukum stepped inside, away from the sun behind him, and Samarth got a full look at him.

He wore a casual loose stripped shirt — peacock blue and white stripes.

Something Samarth could never carry off, neither imagine his father or Maan bhai carrying off.

A pair of denim pants and a white flat cap made him look like some superhuman being from some other era, world, even universe.

Stylish, but who knew from which dimension?

“Introduce me to your friend, she is getting uncomfortable,” Hukum muttered low to him, so low that only he could catch. Then, loudly — “I said, are you ready?”

“Uhh… yes, yes, Hukum. I am ready, just getting geared up. Also… this is my friend, Ava. Avantika Kumari Raje…”

“From Gwalior,” Hukum added, his eyes suddenly opening up with a wide smile, pushing past him to where Ava was squirming in a corner. Samarth turned, and observed Ava’s face turn red. Was she blushing at just the reception of a smile from Hukum?

“I know your father and uncle… what know? We had tea together just last week in Dharamshala. How are you, Avantika?”

“Oh…” she stepped up, suddenly all school-girl shyness gone and her Kumari manners kicking in. Her hands folded in front of her chest but her head tipped higher. Her lips widened in a genuine smile but Samarth knew from experience her eyes weren’t in the game. They were still nervous.

“Hukum,” Avantika Kumari Raje of Gwalior greeted the Steward of Mewad. “It is an honour to meet you.”

“Likewise. Are you ready to head to the stands? This one here will be busy running and whipping his horses soon.”

“You whip them?!” Ava’s disbelieving eyes turned to him. Samarth scrambled — “I… sometimes. I don’t like it, but it’s part of communication. Teaching. And it’s not like a process… in riding if…”

Her mouth pursed. And Samarth saw that sliver of a chance, that hope of her answer coming in affirmative slip away. His pulse escalated, and he glanced at Hukum, unable to even glare at the enigma of a man. He was just standing there quietly, smirking.

“I am not going to whip them!” Samarth went on blurting. “I mean… not if it’s not needed. But it won’t be needed… I use the reigns mostly for urgency, acceleration, even for strategic manoeuvring I try and only use my reins…”

The door of the stables was again darkened by a shadow. This one Harsh. He folded his hands and bowed his head to Hukum, then made some hand gestures. You are being summoned by your coach.

Samarth nodded, swallowing the sudden tension in the room that had settled inside him now. He opened his mouth and took a deep breath, then glanced at Ava, bringing his Kunwar voice to the fore — “Would you like to be escorted by Hukum to the Pavilion, Ava?”

“Oh… My sister and I are in the Grandstands…”

“We’ll fetch her,” Hukum nodded, stretching an arm out. “Let’s go.”

Ava began to walk, crossing him to the door. She did not stop, her head down, not even looking at him. And Samarth’s heart went thudding behind her, along with her, to wherever she was going. In half a minute, the stables were empty. Horses neighed. And he remained.

Samarth began to stride out when Hukum returned. Alone.

“Where’s Ava?” Samarth demanded. “I mean… Hukum… she might not know the way.”

“I find you have lost your way.”

Samarth wasn’t in the mood for Hukum’s twisted talks. He just lowered his head, unable to keep his slowly rising temper in check. If only Hukum had not talked about whipping and stuff…

“Whipping is important, isn’t it?” Hukum asked.

“Yes, Hukum.”

“You do it after the pony grows up or from an early age?”

Samarth glanced up at Hukum, hating that he had to have this conversation now when Ava had left like this. His hopes didn’t look any more hopeful, and he had a game to play. And win.

“Hmm?” Hukum nudged, one hand going to his waist.

“From an early age,” Samarth grumbled.

“Why?”

“That’s how they learn, grow stronger.”

“Hmmm?” Hukum’s head cocked in wonderment. “Interesting. Good luck, Samarth. I’ll see you after the match.”

With that, Hukum was off, leaving him alone again. Alone, and angry and baffled.

“Sam!” Kush’s loud voice reverberated. “Coach.”

“Coming!”

————————————————————

Samarth mounted Bodhi, grabbed his mallet and charged into the field, his teammates flanking him.

The entire club came alive with cheers around him.

He did not look, did not veer. His anger, his hopelessness, the what ifs with a disappointed Ava — he bundled them all and stowed them in one corner.

All he could see was the small tennis-sized white hardball rolling across the green ground.

From behind his protective eyewear, all he could see was a haze and the ball in focus.

“Ready,” one of the umpires mounted on their steeds echoed.

Everybody gathered up in the centre of the field, the two umpires in-between them as they all took their places.

As Number 2, Samarth was situated at the centre of it all, his mallet poised to steal the ball as soon as it dropped, before the opponent’s Number 2 could steal it.

Their first chukker was planned as an offence.

“3, 2, 1,” the umpire threw the ball down between them and mad scrambling ensued.

This was the only moment when his heart would skip a beat.

That moment of throwing off into the deep end.

Samarth felt before saw the round hardness touch his mallet and swung low and loose, setting the ball rolling from between the feet of his opponent’s horse.

And off it went down to the goal post, with Kush chasing it.

All the ponies kicked into gear, including his, and then their horses were galloping at 30 miles an hour towards the goalpost.

Samarth overtook Lawrence’s Number 2 and reached Kush, who was being pressed into the side by Lawrence’s Number 1.

“Come on!” Samarth yelled, his code for Kush. “Come on!”

Kush swung his mallet and in a move they had both mastered over practise, knocked the ball towards him from between his horse’s legs.

Samarth swung his mallet yet again, this time hard and fast. Lawrence's Number 2 caught up to him, bodily pushing into Bodhi. Samarth slapped Bodhi’s neck with his left hand and he pushed back, his right hand swinging the mallet yet again as the goalpost came closer.

“Come ooon!” Samarth screamed, taking one last knock. And the ball went across. Goal. The umpire’s whistle and the raised flag awarding their goal. His teammates burst into cheers, fists up — “Come oon!”

Adrenaline pumped high.

Samarth reverberated, reining his horse in — “Come oooon!”

And Bodhi, along with all other horses halted in an instant, turned, and began galloping to the other side.

It was astounding how their horses could do that.

Run 30, sometimes 40 miles an hour, halt with just a pull of the reins, turn, and start back.

Samarth felt his lower half rise up from the saddle as Bodhi picked up speed.

The goalposts would be switched now.

As they neared the centre of the field, Samarth’s eyes caught a figure in blue.

The blue that reached her knees. She was jumping, clapping, delirious, hopping out as he passed.

He couldn’t see her expression as his horse rushed past in a blur.

Samarth raised his hand to slap him to slow down, and that’s when he realised it.

That’s how they learn, grow stronger.

If Ava was still cheering him, after discovering something distasteful… was it learning and growing stronger? The two of them?