9.1 Viveka
We were riding flat out. Rikit was coaxing every ounce of speed from the stallion. I used my knowledge of riding to try and help him, leaning as far forward as possible, my head almost touching the mane, my knees pressed in and bent as far as they'd go. But from the thundering hooves behind us, I could tell that they were going to catch us soon.
There were too many of them, and we were two on one horse. Where were we heading anyway? Mahim? That was too far. We would be caught before we reached Bandstand. Or the place that would have been Bandstand in my world.
Then Rikit turned the head of the horse, laying the reins on the left side to let the horse know the direction he wanted to go. The stallion, beautifully maintained and trained, took the cue and changed direction without easing. And I saw where we were going now.
The coastline of Carter Road was much the same as in my world. A rock-strewn shoreline overgrown with wild vegetation. A path had been cut out of this vegetation and covered with pebbles and mud to make a rough road for horses and carts. The countless wheel-tracks and hoofprints testified to its frequent use. This was where we were riding, along this seaside pathway, hemmed in by the sea to our right.
But about fifty-odd metres inland, to the left of the horse highway, was a thicket. A wild overgrown infestation of trees growing huddled together. This covered the entire surface of Pali Hill except for the top and some patches which had been cleared away. From down here, I couldn't see how far the thicket extended, but if my knowledge of pre-urbanized Bombay was correct, it probably went in patches all the way upto Colaba, the extreme Southern tip of the island city. A dense natural wilderness of mangroves on the seaside, and assorted marshy forest thickets further inland.
And if I remembered correctly, even in my world, this overgrowth had been home to a wide variety of natural fauna until as recently as the mid-20th century. Leopards, wolves, packs of wild dogs, and the legendary snakes of Bandra. Even today, in the new millennium, it wasn't uncommon for Pali Hill residents to find the occasional snake in their compound, and the larger beasts still lived in the region of Borivili National Park, further North but an extension of the same ecology.
Rikit was taking us into the heart of the thicket. In a last desperate bid to escape our pursuers. I felt a cold thrill of fear and excitement travel through my body as I understood his plan, and I bent further, helping him coax one final burst of speed from the stallion. It was either attempt to hide in the thicket or be killed by our Northern pursuers.
There were too many of them, and we were two on one horse. Where were we heading anyway? Mahim? That was too far. We would be caught before we reached Bandstand. Or the place that would have been Bandstand in my world.
Then Rikit turned the head of the horse, laying the reins on the left side to let the horse know the direction he wanted to go. The stallion, beautifully maintained and trained, took the cue and changed direction without easing. And I saw where we were going now.
The coastline of Carter Road was much the same as in my world. A rock-strewn shoreline overgrown with wild vegetation. A path had been cut out of this vegetation and covered with pebbles and mud to make a rough road for horses and carts. The countless wheel-tracks and hoofprints testified to its frequent use. This was where we were riding, along this seaside pathway, hemmed in by the sea to our right.
But about fifty-odd metres inland, to the left of the horse highway, was a thicket. A wild overgrown infestation of trees growing huddled together. This covered the entire surface of Pali Hill except for the top and some patches which had been cleared away. From down here, I couldn't see how far the thicket extended, but if my knowledge of pre-urbanized Bombay was correct, it probably went in patches all the way upto Colaba, the extreme Southern tip of the island city. A dense natural wilderness of mangroves on the seaside, and assorted marshy forest thickets further inland.
And if I remembered correctly, even in my world, this overgrowth had been home to a wide variety of natural fauna until as recently as the mid-20th century. Leopards, wolves, packs of wild dogs, and the legendary snakes of Bandra. Even today, in the new millennium, it wasn't uncommon for Pali Hill residents to find the occasional snake in their compound, and the larger beasts still lived in the region of Borivili National Park, further North but an extension of the same ecology.
Rikit was taking us into the heart of the thicket. In a last desperate bid to escape our pursuers. I felt a cold thrill of fear and excitement travel through my body as I understood his plan, and I bent further, helping him coax one final burst of speed from the stallion. It was either attempt to hide in the thicket or be killed by our Northern pursuers.
posted by Ashok K. Banker at 12.10.05
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