Notion Press Old No. 38, New No. 6 McNichols Road, Chetpet Chennai - 600 031 First Published by Notion Press 2019 Copyright © Kling Johnson 2019 All Rights Reserved. ISBN 978-1-64546-533-1 This book has been published with all efforts taken to make the material error-free after the consent of the author. However, the author and the publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause. No part of this book may be used, reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Author Disclaimer CLI – The Colt is truly a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and historical events portrayed here is the work of author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, jamboree, monuments or locales is entirely coincidental. A A group of noisy children in their school uniform, a light blue striped shirt and navy blue shorts with dark blue sweaters on, jump out in joy at the Government Botanical Gardens, Udhagamandalam from their yellow school bus with St. Charlis High School, Bhadravathi painted on it. Udhagamandalam abbreviated as Ooty was a town and municipality in the Indian state of Tamil Nadu and is the capital of the Nilgiris district. It is a popular hill station located in the Nilgiri Hills, originally occupied by the Todas, a small pastoral tribal community who live on the isolated Nilgiri plateau in hill country of Southern India. The area came under the rule of the East India Company at the end of the 18th century. The economy of Ooty was mainly based on tourism and agriculture, majorly tea. The town was connected by the Nilgiri ghat roads and Nilgiri Mountain Railway. Its natural beauty attracted tourists and was a very popular summer destination down south known as the queens of hill station. The Rose Garden of Ooty where the Charlisian kids headed showcased as many as 20000 different types of roses was one of the largest in the world and was a must-visit for tourists. Ooty was also famous for exotic Indian spices and the fresh scent of the locale proved it. From the parking bay kids ran towards the famous rose garden as the convent sisters Gracie, Sylvia and Precilla in their dark beige habits, black veils and sandals sweetly yelp with their usual chide, “Silence please. Children, form a line, do not run and please follow us.” But children eager to see the beautiful gardens, glass houses, lake and boating in the CLI – The Colt beautiful hill station seemed to ignore all warning. Children passed by the bright colourful streets with bakery glass shelves filled with homemade white ‘n’ brown chocolate bars, small pull carts and hut shops with sweater and monkey cap clad grandmas selling beautiful feather caps, colourful key chains, bear and puppy soft toys. At the entrance of the beautiful rose gardens, the children saw middle aged men dressed in semi-cowboy outfits with caps and boots staring with beseeching eyes eager to take them on a short ride on their horseback for little money. The entire place looked gleam, green and full of nature with birds humming and tourists enjoying nature as the Charlisianz ran all through the rose garden. Just beside the gardens where the wood house road bends, from top view children could see a valley with lush green grasslands spread over with white baby breathe flower patches danced in the breeze and a small artistic rivulet ‘Siona’ flowing south with the village boys grazing cows. On the other side where the steep slopes of the valley floor rose majestically skywards, houses on the hilly side of the stream painted green, red and yellow looked very picturesque with kids playing around the colourful dainty streets. The place where ‘Siona’ took a clear invisible turn stood CLI, a shiny palomino coated smart, fearless well-built feral horse who always wanted to discover wilderness beyond Ooty. With a white roman sword like patch mark on his forehead and a perfectly curvy chin groove, shiny hooves and black stocking with fluffy white coronet, thick long dark black tail, silky light golden brown mane with mixed silver brown strands on his crest that made him look 10 Kling Johnson unique among other ferals. The mane grown from poll to the withers was so silky that it just fluttered in the wind with every gallop. He had a beautiful light black forelock falling onto his forehead partly covering his sword like patch making him a masked beauty beast. CLI was very interested in star grazing and fond of adventure stories. He listened to one exciting story every day from his dad before going to sleep. CLI happily grazed with two of his lazy friends, a bay dun coloured ordinary feral Pany and dark bay coloured ordinary feral Macy. *** Pany: Hey guys, life has been so boring, grazing these free pastures all the time. What are we supposed to do all our life? Come on guys, think of something adventurous. Macy: Hey CLI, why not we try our luck with Richie the rancher on the top of Mary hill. Maybe he will fix us with some local horse riders who take kids for short rounds. And you know he has groomed some of the best horses in town. CLI: Hey come on, come on! Are u guys crazy to carry kids on your back and show them your town? Please do not forget that we are ferals. We are born free, we will live free and die free as well. But anyways you guys are meant to be here all your life chewing this free green. But I am from the family who served and only rode the kings, the Kings of Mysooru. Macy: But don’t you realise that your fantasy to ride the king can never be a reality. You know that no one cares for ferals like us, however smart or cool we look. 11 CLI – The Colt Pany: But fantasy apart, CLI, you know that crossing over the Madumalai forest to reach the king’s palace in Mysooru can be extremely difficult. Macy: I get goose bumps just thinking about that thick Madumalai forest and the brigand Beerappan. That unruly scary moustache of his I have heard makes my blood freeze. CLI: Hey come on you scary bugs! Try this scare tactics with Filly’s near the gardens. Pany: Anyways CLI, you can try your luck getting shot by Beerappan’s slug before you fulfil your dream. Hahhaahha. CLI: Shut up, Pany. Let’s trot home. CLI, Pany and Macy gently trot on the pastures dashing themselves and playing around as the sun sets in the beautiful valley. CLI reached home. His mom, Sharon, a light brown coloured, plump and short ordinary feral with shiny hooves and light golden brown silky mane and fluffy white pastern and dad, John, a classic dun coloured old ordinary feral with that special chin groove as that of CLI’s were waiting for him. Sharon and John lay on warm dry hay spread on ground with a small fire lit a little away to keep them warm near a small tree house, a huge cylindrical beautiful stoneware water pot filled with water stood midst of tall silver oak trees. The trees bearing the most fascinating golden orange coloured flowers with brush like blooms and a patch of yellow buttercups spread everywhere made the locale eminently salubrious. The light brume which fell softly throughout the 12 Kling Johnson night made the climate wintry. It seemed to be a happy feral family except CLI’s mom was always worried about CLI’s future like every affectionate, emotional mom in India did for her kid. Sharon: Where have you been, CLI, my baby. I say you should listen to dad and find a job with Richie the rancher rather than dreaming of the king’s palace. You know your dad’s not young anymore and it’s difficult for him to earn the beet pulp or wheat middling for us. John: Yeah, Sharon. It’s been exactly a year since we last tasted beet pulp and wheat middling. It was during Christmas. Aaah! It’s mouthwatering. CLI: Hey, come on Pups. Don’t worry. I promise one day I will earn loads of beet pulp and middling for life but I am really bored of your stereo recorded advice chants every day. I really want to get out of this place and do something big like my grandpa Herold Davis at the king’s palace. And I hope you understand I really am not interested in taking kids for rides as my friends do. John: Dreams apart, CLI, you better try something soon. As grandpa Herold Davis always said, “Action speaks louder than dreams.” He had to be the only one great horse that joined the royal stable, served the kings and never came back. His words keep ringing in my ear for years now. All your day dreams don’t make any sense. Look at your friends who take care of their family earning a good sum in the local stables. We love you very much and need you by our side here in this beautiful heaven on earth. 13 CLI – The Colt CLI: OMG… Pups, I am tired of this emotional blackmail every day. I am going for a stroll.