I didn’t worry about the stiff winter chill across my face and snowflakes that dotted the skyline. The place soon emptied and I was alone standing under a thick cloud cover and snow fall. I stood at the foot of those hills watched others go by as usual.As it grew colder and windier,at first I hesitated to move from my fixed place, but then I ventured to a nearby shed.
There was snow everywhere,except on those rocks. As I lifted my eyes,I could see the rocks had formed a path leading on to the hills.I was inexplicably drawn out of my shed and stepped on top of the first rock. Was it trying to show me a way? I set foot on the second rock out of unstoppable curiosity and before I could bat an eyelid,I was walking on top of the rocks at a brisk pace.
At precisely the two hundred and thirtieth step ,it became clear to me.I saw a red stain on the white snow.It was master.He lay there helpless,hope less,motionless ,and perhaps lifeless.He had been hit by a boulder.
The hills have eyes I concluded.
Gyanban Thoughts : The story is a narration by a young pony.The inspiration for this fairytale came from a little pony called Guddu,I saw in Kufri. The locals used their mules and ponies to carry people up the hill and back for money. The irony was that neither was the money enough for the master to feed himself and his horses nor was it easy on the pony to carry overweight people up the steep hill.