Chapter 8 — Horse
And thus begins Chapter Eight.
Now, children.
I walked.
And walked.
Sand.
Ocean.
Families.
Vendors.
The usual Varkala things.
By now,
the beach had begun to feel less like a destination
and more like a road.
A very wet road.
The council nods.
Then
horses.
Children.
Five of them.
Maybe.
The Archive offers approximately five.
Two men nearby.
People taking rides.
And naturally,
my brain made the connection.
I had just mounted the mechanical sea horse
and spectacularly failed.
The council remembers the splash.
So obviously
it was time to mount the land version.
The council sighs.
Learning remains inconsistent.
I walked over.
Asked the price.
Three hundred rupees for one person.
Four hundred for two.
The council pauses.
Children.
Royal status had recently been restored through the sacred intervention of Dad.
The treasury,
while wounded,
was once again operational.
So yes.
I could afford it.
Barely.
Then I noticed someone beside me.
A woman.
The council becomes interested.
Pretty.
Very.
But more importantly
blue highlights in her hair.
I chuckled.
“These look fun.”
She looked at the horses.
“Yeah.
I wanna ride one.”
Then,
after a pause:
“I’m scared though.”
The council leans forward.
Now.
At this exact moment,
Old Nuo performed mathematics.
The council gasps.
Mathematics?
Yes.
Children.
Observe.
One solo ride:
₹300.
Two person ride:
₹400.
Split between two humans:
₹200 each.
Savings:
₹100.
Additional variables:
I am alone.
She is alone.
She wants to ride.
She is scared.
She is hot.
The council slowly turns toward me.
Children.
The equation solved itself.
“Want to ride with me?”
She considered it.
One second.
Two.
Perhaps three.
Then:
“Yeah.”
The council erupts.
ECONOMIC PARTNERSHIP ESTABLISHED.
Now.
Her name?
Children.
I never asked.
The council collapses.
You rode a horse with a stranger and didn’t ask her name?
Correct.
We had a far more advanced identification system.
Her hair had blue highlights.
Therefore
Blue.
The council nods.
And I had green highlights.
Therefore
Green.
The council pauses.
She called you Green?
Yes.
Children.
Efficient.
No names.
No spelling difficulties.
No forgetting them three minutes later.
Just:
Blue.
Green.
The council approves.
Minimalist social engineering.
We paid.
Two hundred from me.
Two hundred from her.
The great financial alliance complete.
Blue climbed first.
I climbed behind.
And immediately discovered a problem.
The council leans forward.
Where do I put my hands?
Children.
This was not a scooter.
There was no obvious:
Hold here.
And I had just met this woman approximately forty seconds ago.
I was not about to casually wrap my arms around her waist without invitation.
The council nods.
Civilization survives.
So I sat behind her,
carefully maintaining the extremely awkward posture of a man trying to remain secure on a moving animal
while also broadcasting:
I am not attempting anything weird.
The council laughs.
And off we went.
Now.
Compared to the jet ski?
This was civilized.
No throttle.
No engine screaming.
No immediate opportunity to launch myself into a different medium.
Just
a horse.
A man walking ahead,
leading it.
And two idiots sitting on top.
The council smiles.
Slow.
Peaceful.
Calm.
Honestly?
Fun.
We moved along the shore.
The ocean beside us.
Wind moving through everything.
Hooves pressing into the sand.
And after a while,
Blue visibly relaxed.
So I said:
“See?
This isn’t so scary.”
She laughed.
“Yeah.
I was scared for nothing.”
The council nods.
Famous last words.
But for now
peace.
And because the horse required absolutely no input from either of us,
we talked.
A little.
Children.
Temporary friend conversation.
Where are you from?
Why are you here?
Have you been here before?
Whatever random questions occur when two strangers suddenly find themselves sharing a horse.
The exact dialogue?
Gone.
But I remember the ease.
Occasionally,
I pointed at something.
“Dude,
look at that.”
The council pauses.
You called her dude?
Children.
Everyone is dude.
This is law.
She would turn.
Look.
Laugh.
Then ask me something else.
And slowly,
Blue stopped being:
Pretty stranger who saved me ₹100.
And became:
New friend of the day.
The council smiles.
That was becoming another wandering tradition,
wasn’t it?
People who existed for exactly as long as the road required.
No history.
No expectations.
Just:
Hello.
We are doing this now.
The council nods.
Then came the final leg.
The council becomes suspicious.
Because apparently the horse ride had a finale.
The man leading us turned.
Looked at us.
And said:
“Hold on.”
The council freezes.
Children.
Flashback.
Jet ski.
One instruction.
Hold on tight.
One Nuo.
Failure.
One ocean.
The council erupts.
NOT AGAIN.
This time,
I listened.
Immediately.
Hands secured against the saddle.
Blue grabbed whatever handles or grips existed in front.
We both prepared.
Then
the man slapped the horse.
The council pauses.
And the horse ran.
Not walked faster.
Ran.
Children.
Velocity achieved.
The entire world changed instantly.
Hooves pounding sand.
Wind hitting harder.
Body bouncing.
Ocean moving beside us.
The horse transforming from:
Large peaceful animal.
Into:
LAND MISSILE.
The council cheers.
Me?
I was delighted.
Of course I was.
Children.
I had recently discovered that adrenaline is apparently one of my more expensive hobbies.
I grinned.
Held on.
Enjoyed every second.
Blue?
The council turns.
Blue was not having the same spiritual experience.
Her entire body stiffened.
Hands tightened.
Eyes widened.
Panic.
Immediate.
Very visible.
Children.
Remember:
She had been scared before we even began.
She had finally relaxed.
And then the horse decided to become transport.
The council sympathizes.
I called out:
“Just hold on!”
She looked back at me.
The council grows quiet.
Terrified.
Not mildly nervous.
Not:
Haha this is fast.
No.
Actual fear.
And children
I understood something immediately.
Chivalry has moments.
This was not one of them.
The council leans forward.
Personal space etiquette is important.
So is not letting the terrified woman in front of you fall off a galloping horse.
The equation changed.
I wrapped my arms around her waist.
Tight.
Pulled her securely back against me.
“Don’t worry.
I got you.”
The council grows quiet.
She froze for half a second.
Then her hands moved.
From the saddle
to mine.
Holding onto my arms.
And somehow,
she calmed.
Not completely.
The horse was still sprinting.
But enough.
Her shoulders lowered.
The panic reduced.
And there we were.
Green and Blue.
Two people whose actual names remained completely irrelevant.
Galloping down Varkala beach
while one tried to convince the other that death was not currently scheduled.
The council smiles.
“You’re okay.”
Or something like that.
Children.
Archive dialogue fades.
Feeling survives.
I just remember holding on.
Her holding onto me.
The horse pounding forward.
The shore racing past.
And the strange shift from:
This is fun.
To:
Make sure she’s okay.
The council notices.
A minute?
Less?
More?
No idea.
But eventually
slowdown.
The horse returned to normal horse speed.
The starting point reappeared.
The ride was over.
The council exhales.
We climbed off.
Legs reacquainted themselves with ground.
Blue looked at me.
“Thank you.”
The council grows quiet.
I smiled.
And replied:
“Us wanderers should take care of each other.”
The council pauses.
Children.
Did I know whether she considered herself a wanderer?
No.
Did it matter?
Also no.
She was wandering now.
That was enough.
Blue smiled.
And then
we did not immediately part.
The council leans forward.
Interesting.
We walked toward the ocean.
Together.
No grand decision.
No:
Would you like to continue this social interaction?
Just the natural next movement.
The way temporary friendships often work.
One moment,
horse.
Next moment,
shore.
We found a place near the water.
Sat.
And looked out.
The council grows quiet.
Children.
This was becoming Varkala’s rhythm.
Meet someone.
Move.
Sit.
Ocean.
No mission required.
No chemistry.
No crisis.
Just little pieces of a day attaching themselves to each other.
The jet ski had thrown me into the sea.
The horse had not.
Already,
an improvement.
The council applauds.
And the ₹100 savings?
Excellent.
But more importantly
I had acquired Blue.
Not permanently.
Not romantically by destiny.
The council raises an eyebrow.
Do not.
Just
a friend for however long the day wanted us to be friends.
The council smiles.
Thus concludes Chapter Eight.
The Land Horse.
The Two Hundred Rupee Alliance.
Blue and Green.
The Gallop.
And The Moment Chivalry Became Less Important Than Not Falling Off A Horse.
Children.
I had failed the mechanical sea horse.
But the biological land version?
Success.
Mostly.
And when Blue looked terrified,
I did the one useful thing available to me.
Held on.
Told her:
I got you.
And for a little while,
I did.
