(JAVEED GILANI)
In a quiet valley there lived a famous Knight. His name was Khoja Rashid,
and he had a son called Firdous. Firdous was a young, handsome, brave
and strong. He could swing a sword better than most grown men and he
never ran from a fight. Everyone in the Kingdom loved him. But there was
one thing Firdous could not do: he could not ride a horse. Every time a
saddle touched his back the horse would toss him off, and he would land
on the soft grass with a thump. It made him feel small, even though
everyone else saw him as a hero.
One bright spring morning Firdous saw the princess, Sehar, in the palace
garden. She was the King’s only daughter and she loved horses more
than anything. She rode a chestnut mare named Laher, and the mare
seemed to dance with her. When their eyes met, both felt a warm flutter
in their hearts. Sehar soon learned that Firdous could not ride. She did
not laugh at him. Instead she took his hand and said, “Do not worry,
brave one. I will teach you. Together we will learn.” Firdose felt hope rise
in his chest. He promised to try his best.
The King heard about their love. He called a meeting and announced,
“My daughter will marry only a man who can fight well and win the royal
horse race.” The whole kingdom buzzed. Everyone new Firdous was a
great warrior, but the horse race was a mystery. Could he learn to ride in
time? Every day after sun rise, Sehar took Firdous to the meadows under
the Chinar trees. She showed him how to hold the reins gently, how to sit
tall, and how to feel the horse’s breathing. “Listen to Lehar,” she
whispered. “She knows when you are scared.” Firdous’s legs trembled at
first, but with each lesson he grew a little steadier. He began to
understand the rhythm of the horse’s steps.
Before the race, Sehar wanted to give Firdous one more lesson. She led
him to the meadow where Lehar waited. The wind rustled the leaves, and
a sudden gust made the mare’s ears twitch. Lehar started to run faster
than the usual. Firdous tried to hold on, but his hands were still shaky. As
they raced beneath a huge, old Chinar tree, a thick branch snapped down
without warning. It hit Firdous on his head. He fell from the horse and lay
still on the soft grass. Sehar screamed, but the wind carried her voice
away. The meadow, once full of laughter, fell silent.
The Kingdome was shocked. The royal horse race was postponed, and
flags flew at half-mast. People talked about Firdous’s bravery on the
battlefield and his tragic accident on a simple ride. They remembered
how he loved Sehar and had tried to give her the gift of riding. In the
years that followed, mothers told their children the story of the young
warrior who could not ride. They said, “Be brave, but also learn to ride.
Life can change in a moment, and we must cherish every chance we get”.
And when the wind blows through the Chinar leaves, you can still hear a
soft whisper: “Ride, my love ride, the last ride”. It is a reminder that
courage comes in many forms, and love can be as fragile as a horse’s
breath.
(Short story by javeedgilani84@g mail. com)
