Short essay on the Autobiography of a Horse. I remember nothing about my birth or early childhood. My earliest remembrance dates back to the time when I lived with my mother in a stable. There were a number of other horses there. AIL of them were grown up ones. Often they did not allow me to have my meals undisturbed. Sometimes, some of them even planted their forceful hoofs in my back, which caused me intense pain. My mother was agonized to see me thus and tried to lick me and sooth -e me whenever possible.
The owner was, however, a nice young man. He was very fond of me and took special care of me. He often patted me on the back and sometimes even brought special tasteful food for me, which was not catered to other horses.
The owner sometimes took us to a pasture. There he untied us and we loitered about as we liked for hours together. We fed on dainty green grass and plants and I hopped about as I liked much to the indescribable pleasure of my mother.
As I grew up, a charming mare came into my life. We got united and produced a handsome colt that lived under the careful eye of his mother. Now as you can well see, I am an old tottering horse. I have been sold to a cruel master who still endeavours to exact heavy work from me. Whereas my previous master used me for riding (I being his favorite), this new one does not hesitate even in carrying heavy loads on my back.
Although I am dragging with my life, I am yet thankful to my stars that I have not been sold to a tonga driver. Otherwise, the whips and abuses of my master would have crushed my body and spirit, leaving me only a ghost of a horse long ago.
I do not grudge my fate when I see around me no better luck of man, the so-called homo sapien, the crown of creation. Both of us are destined to frequent pain and occasional breaks of joy and ultimate grave beneath the grassy soil!
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