The Colonel’s Horse

Bishweswar Prasad Koirala

The colonel loved his wife dearly. Who doesn’t love his young wife whom he has married in his old age? But the colonel’s wife was not contented with the colonel’s   love. She was just nineteen years old. The colonel would always buy something like sari, talc, lipstick, bangles, earrings etc. for his wife to appease her.  But she could never regain her interest for him. She would sit alone to sob in the room that would be full with the things the colonel had bought to keep her happy. Much hopeful and excited she was when she first stepped into the house of her groom. How happy had she hoped to be! She’d think over her hopes and sob. Before she got married a youth in her neighborhood had invited her for love. Handsome was he, hale and hearty with strong arms. Desirably macho was his body. The very thought of him goes down her spines now. But she declined   his invitation as she was obsessed with the sweet imagination of her would be husband. Now she remembered his stout arms. Now she could merely desire to experience the strength of those arms. She looked around at the things in the room that looked as if they were mocking at her, out of anxiety. She felt as if she was imprisoned by the things that were brought to keep her happy.

In the meantime, the colonel entered the chamber. He was carrying the things he had bought, some of them under his arm pit and some   in his hands.

“Look my darling, what I’ve brought,” said the colonel as he piled up the things before her.

She glanced at him and at the things indifferently.

“How many times have I told you that I need none of them?  Why do you squander money?” she said as she wiped her tears. 

The colonel enquired affectionately, “Why are you always tensed? You are to enjoy your youth. What’s the trouble? Please tell me.”

She thought there was no point in answering his question. He wouldn’t understand her woes. A 45 year old man wouldn’t comprehend the feelings of a 19 year old girl. The colonel lifted her lovingly who had been sitting quietly. She forgot all of her sad feelings immediately. Forgetting her husband’s age, she threw herself upon him. He couldn’t hold her, and stumbled. All her dreams were suddenly shattered. She looked with disgust at her husband,   who had stumbled and was out of breath in attempting to lift his wife. Since then she developed a great hatred for him.

One day, the couple was looking around the premises.  The   colonel reared five imported cows. The colonel and his wife   looked after the cows in the shed for a while. Adjacent to the shed was the stable. Mrs. Colonel heard the horse neigh and said to the colonel, “Have you also kept a   horse? I didn’t know.”

The colonel had bought the horse fondly. He’d feed it himself; he’d have it massage every day.  He’d ride on its back and go out to refresh himself every day, as a rule. But lately, he didn’t care much for the horse. It was a while since he hadn’t ridden on its back.

“Let’s go to see the horse,” he said to her.

Seeing its master come, the horse started to neigh, stomping both of its front legs. Its eyes looked radiant in the darkness of the stable. When it neighed, its nostrils would be enlarged. The veins in its legs looked like snakes. The colonel’s wife felt the horse was a thing of interest to her. When she tried to touch the horse, it moved its neck around as though it’d bite her and didn’t let her touch. She was not scared of the horse’s reaction; instead,   she was fascinated. 

“I didn’t realize it was such a strong horse. I don’t think it has got enough care,” she said.

“During the early days I bought it; I used to look after it myself. But now it’s entirely up to the man that has been appointed to take care of it. How can I keep an eye on everything?”

The colonel’s wife said, “I take up its responsibility. How can you rely on the man? I doubt if he feeds it on time. They might steal the feed to sell. One should look after their cattle themselves.” 

The colonel smiled, but said nothing. The colonel’s wife started to feed the horse herself the next day onwards. The horse wouldn’t let her near in the early days but she got triumph over it. She’d stand by it and put her hand on its back while it fed itself. No sooner had she put her hand on its back than the horse would get stimulated. It’d raise its head from the place it was eating and neigh a little. It’d strike its feet against the floor that broke the silence. She knew that flies troubled the horse. She was satisfied with her care for it.

The colonel despised the way in which his wife was taking care of the horse. It’s one thing to see it once or twice a day but it’s not justifiable at all to see it the whole day. Why did she have to see it herself when there’s a man to do it?

One day, the colonel said to his wife, “Mrs. Colonel, how much do you worry about the horse? Why doesn’t the   kitchen in the house concern you, whereas the horse greatly concerns you?”

  “I am not the maid to confine myself to the kitchen. I’ll act as per my instinct. I experience peace when I take care of the horse. Why can’t you stand that?” she said agitatedly.

“What troubles you so much so that you tell me all this? What makes you so anxious that you can’t help yourself without seeing the horse? You have responsibilities toward me too, don’t you? Did you ever take care of me as much as you did of the horse? To tell you the truth, I am envious of the horse because of you, Mrs. Colonel.” said the colonel complaining.

His wife did say nothing in reply but swayed her lips with hatred and glanced at her husband. She found the colonel’s crying in tears in old age awkward and disgusting. She felt like exhibiting her hatred for him ignoring him however, she controlled   her impulse, got up abruptly and walked away quickly.

One day, both of them went to the stable. The colonel wished to ride on the horse back. But every time he tried, the horse would act as if it’d bite him. When his wife approached it, it’d neigh in response. She nudged it. It’d stomp its feet against the floor as if to express its gratitude towards her.

With great difficulty the colonel   mounted the horse, but the horse disapproved of his control. It denied moving ahead by raising its front legs. 

As the colonel was an excellent horse rider, he didn’t fall off the horse but he suddenly got furious at the horse and started to whip it mercilessly. No sooner had the colonel whipped the horse at its back, than the colonel’s wife exclaimed, “You cruel!” Despite the hard whipping, the horse didn’t heed its master. The colonel whipped the horse even harder. The horse threw both of its hind legs. He lost control of the harness as he was busy whipping the horse. The colonel   fell off the horse upside down. His wife had already reached the horse by then. Hostile to her dust-covered husband, Mrs. Colonel  nudged   the horse sympathetically. Its nostril were enlarged in agitation from where blew watery air. It got triumph; its defeated ‘enemy’ was lying on the floor. She had no doubt about the horse’s strength. The horse was a matter of pride for her. Out of her sheer love for the horse, she rested her head on its mane. She had an urge to mount   the horse, so she softly landed on its back. The colonel still lay on the floor whereas his wife experienced sublime on the horseback. She substituted her husband with the horse. She loved the horse more passionately. She than titled her neck with contempt   to gaze at her husband, who had been lying dust-covered. She signaled the horse to move, to which the horse galloped gleefully. 

When she came back from the ride, the colonel was standing. His coat still looked a little dusty. This hair looked matted. His hat was still in the dust. She stationed the horse close to the colonel and dismounted from it proudly. She patted the horse so as to thank it. The horse neighed in its highest pitch. She had never experienced such a sheer joy before. In the meantime, the   sound of gunfire was heard. The horse staggered for a while before it finally fell back. The colonel had a pistol in his hand from whose barrel smoke was puffing out. The horse was soon bleeding from its stomach where the bullet had hurt. Mrs. Colonel   glanced at the horse   and   at her husband, one after another. Instantly her face showed that she was disheartened. She covered her face in her hands and collapsed on the ground. 

Nawa Raj Gurung

Bishweshwar Prasad Koirala (1914–1982), commonly known as BP Koirala, is famous for his psychosexual fictions, both short stories and novels. His fames rests on his novels Tin Ghumti, Sumnima, Narendra Dai, Modiain, Shweta Bhairabhi, and Babu Aama ra Chhora, and a story collection, Doshi Chasma. His autobiography and other political writings are also famous. He was the Prime Minister of Nepal from 1959 to 1960.