A mere sight of the stallion evoked excitement and awe in all who gazed upon Sultan. To provide a place for Sultan, the highly revered Baba ji built a hut with an adjoining stable on the premises of the local temple.

Sadhus shun all material possessions, which is why they wear saffron clothes to announce their detachment from life. However, Baba ji considered Sultan not an animal but a loving son.

As is usually the case, people follow other people and their teachings. Baba ji too had his followers from all walks of life, even notorious men. Amongst his followers, there was a much-feared dacoit called Khadag Singh, who occasionally called upon Baba ji. Baba ji never judged anyone on their past or present, but on the hope of a better future for all those who came to him.

"I have heard a great deal about your horse", Khadag Singh said, "I would like to see it too".

Baba ji, ever so enthusiastic about Sultan, led Khadag Singh to the stable.

"Incredible!" Khadag said, patting the glistening black down of the glorious creature. "Indeed, this is the finest steed I've ever seen".

"My life has found a greater meaning with the arrival of Sultan". Baba ji's chest swelled with pride as he ran his fingers through the horse's mane. "Each day is more beautiful than the previous one."

Accepting Khadag's plea, Baba ji let him take Sultan for a ride. The majestic stallion galloped like the wind. "What strength, control and speed the creature possessed", thought Khadag Singh whose heart was awash with envy and covetousness. "Of what use was a horse to a Saint? Sultan should be his property, his companion", he thought.

Upon returning to the temple, he tethered Sultan in the stable and accompanied Baba ji into the hut, where Khadag Singh offered to buy the stallion.

"Not in a thousand years!" protested the Baba.

Khadag Singh reasoned, pleaded and cajoled the Baba, but nothing would persuade the Sadhu to part with Sultan even for a lot of money. Finally Khadag Singh issued a threat: One day, he would certainly take Sultan away from Baba ji.

"No, Khadag, please. I can't live without Sultan, he is like my son."

"Whatever," Khadag said, shrugging, in a disrespectful manner, then turned on his heels and left in a huff.

Baba ji was overcome with anxiety. He could hardly sleep at night, checking on Sultan frequently throughout the night. After a few months, he relaxed and reverted to normal.

Baba ji rode Sultan each day, taking the stallion for a much-needed run. One fine evening, as Baba ji was riding on the outskirts of the village, in the fading light, he saw someone curled up in the middle of the path, smeared with dust, moaning.

He heard the figure groaning and murmuring in a faint voice filled with agony, "Please help me or else I will die."

"What happened?" Baba ji enquired as he got off the horse.

"Khadag Singh and his men have mugged and looted me and left me here to die. I implore you, please help me to get to the Vaid (doctor) so that he may save me."

"I'm the brother of the famous Vaid Durga Dutt", he said in a strained voice, clutching his stomach. "Please. I beg you, help this needy person."

No true Baba can refuse help to someone in need. Baba ji, with great difficulty, managed to hoist the man onto the horse. Before Baba ji could mount the horse, the supposedly injured man seized the reins and gave Baba ji a hard kick in his chest, sending the Sadhu sprawling on the ground.

"I told you", the rider said victoriously as he flung back the hood covering his head, "One day this horse will be mine."

He heeled around the horse and rode off. Hardly had he traversed a few yards when he heard the roaring voice of Baba ji, "Stop, Khadag Singh"

"Please do me a great favour, just don't mention this incident to anyone, you can have Sultan."

"Why?" Khadag Singh chuckled as he stroked Sultan. "Are you afraid that people will ask, how can this Baba save us when he cannot even save his horse?"

"You see, Khadag' Baba ji said, "If people find out what happened, no one will trust another, no one will come forward to help another in need, and that will be a great tragedy." Without another word, Baba turned around and left without another glance at Khadag Singh and his beloved Sultan.

With the characteristic arrogance of a man flush with power, Khadag Singh galloped off. And Baba ji walked off with detachment characteristic of a spiritual man.

With each passing day, Khadag Singh was tormented not by his deeds but by how his lowly act was matched by the great humility of his Guru, who thought nothing about his loss but the adverse impact it would have upon the world.

Unable to bear the guilt much longer, Khadag Singh one night, quietly slipped into the temple premises and tied Sultan in the empty stable and sneaked out into the darkness.

In the morning, one weeping and one neighing, both Baba ji and Sultan were overjoyed to be reunited. Baba ji leaned against his Sultan and rested his face on Sultan's long neck, caressing and stroking it as tears streamed down his face. "Oh Sultan!" he said, "now people will not be afraid to help those in need."

Inside each one of us is a pure and divine Being when we are born. With time, our Being gets corrupted by external influences. It requires our association with good people to find our spiritual way back to that stage of innocence and love.

The moral of this story reflects the paradox we often encounter. Our conditioning demands we be cold, calculating and exploitive, an approach by which we gain something material in the short term but lose our purity.

On the other hand, the power of goodness is phenomenal; a great Being is always victorious.

This story, 'Haar ki Jeet' was penned by the great Hindi writer Pandit Sudarshan (1895 -1967)

You can also view 'Haar ki Jeet', a short Hindi story on YouTube

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