For the memory of Ashkhet, the Horse that died on
How many people can now believe that you are no longer a breathing creature?
Yesterday, when we arrived at our horse riding club, we didn’t even expect that something extraordinary would happen. Maybe, for some people, it was not an extraordinary thing. I mean, that they had experienced the same accident many times in their lives. But it was the first time that I and my dearest friend Luso the Vitkhari saw a real death. Not human, but a rather painful one. Though, I might have lied to you. I have seen a little bird’s death as well. But it’s quite different to see a huge 600-kg animal like you lying motionless on the ground, an Animal, who had almost the same brains, heart and feelings as a human being, who could be even more devoted than the best dog in the world.
Just a few hours ago you were being saddled to be brought out and ridden. You walked out through the narrow passageway between the stables of the female horses, which were looking at you obediently. You raised your beautiful, dark head with pride. You were the head of the herd. You held up your clever head, hoping that soon it would rest on your master’s warm and solicitous shoulder. But, alas, it was to rest on the damp and cruel red sand.
You behaved perfectly yesterday. You obeyed your rider. You did your best to satisfy him. You kept trying to jump high enough not to touch the planks of the barriers with your hooves. It would undoubtedly upset your rider. You, who made all the other horses of the herd obey, now were to obey a Human being, because you were afraid of the pain that a Human being can cause to a Horse. But you loved Him. He fed you. He gave you a warm and calm place to live in. He taught you how to walk and run in a right way. He made you look so wonderful in the eyes of your herd. At last, He helped your mother to give birth to you and bring you up.
Yes, you were afraid of pain. But you didn’t even suspect how much pain you would cause to all of us when you died. You probably didn’t even manage to notice the fright of the boy who was leading you to your stable. He had an electric stroke as well as you did. But the electric current, which was very small for a human being, was enough to kill you, the gentlest animal in the world.
You didn’t even know how many tears would run down the human cheeks. I assure you, there were many. Some of us couldn’t keep ourselves from crying. Some of us tried to calm down the others. Your rider patted you on your lifeless neck and said, “He worked very well today.”
The wonderful party of the anniversary of the riding club was of course stopped. We all wanted to leave. Some of us returned to you burial ceremony today. But we were all taken aback by what had happened. Our dearest Uncle Gagik said,
“It was just a horse. Don’t be sad. Though, you must be sad. But the life goes on. Some horses die, but the others are born. So, it’s better to pray God and ask him to give us health to be able to look after the rest of the horses.”
So, dear Horsy, you were just a horse, who was born to serve people, to make friends with them and to die of electric shock in his sixth year of life.
You do not have soul as people do, though you are so clever and devoted, that some people may think you do have a soul. Thus, we can’t pronounce the traditional phrase said when people die: “Your spirit will live with us forever.”
But instead, we can say,
“We will always remember you.”
At least, not a single horse is ever forgotten in “Ayrudzi” horse riding club.So, farewell.