Holding back the whip, he jumped down the hoarse-cart. The mare also slackened its pace and stopped. The cart was now still.
Lovingly he caressed and lifted that leg of the mare which it jerked time and again due to pain. The wound was in a bad shape. A few drops of blood made it look fresh but he knew very well that this was an old wound. he has been seeing it for the last twenty days.
Thinking a bit he dag his hand in his pocket and made a calculation. Then, all of a sudden instead of going to the station he turned the 'Tonga' in the reverse direction.
The veterinary hospital of the town used to close at seven p.m.He asked a man what time of day it was. It was six thirty p.m. He kept the whip aside.Caressing the rump of the mare he made the Tonga move. It was a fifteen to twenty minutes distance.
Now, the mare was not kicking the wounded leg anymore. He noticed that in fifteen minutes it didn't even once. In front of the hospital he once again examined the wound.
Halting a little he searched his pocket and scratched his head as if making a decision.
In a flash he mounted the Tonga and turned it towards the railway station. He again lifted the whip in his hand and was humming a tune!
Trotting slowly the mare sensed that now the voice of its master doesn't carry that redolence which it had when he used to rub and knead its body daily with his rough and strong, but caring hands. [ The original short-story "Ghamak" is in Hindi]
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