Then the men in tall, conical caps entered the meadow’s center.
They moved in rhythmic unison, stamping feet against the earth, energy rising with each beat. It was the Dumhal.
Yamini enjoyed watching it along with several other traditional dances performed to welcome her. She sneaked occasional glances towards Bharat Jogra, who sat through it all, unmoving and simply observing.
It was noon when the crowd's energy suddenly shifted. Yamini sensed a breathless anticipation as the crowd waited for the next event.
The drumbeats changed.
They turned heavier and into a slower beat, each strike landing in the chest rather than the ears.
Riders in ceremonial attire guided the mountain horses into formation along the edges of the open ground. The animals were broad-chested and compact, built for altitude, their coats groomed smooth, their tack embroidered in Jogra colors.
Yamini’s eyes fell on a black stallion. It was enormous, and its coat shone brightly under the winter sun.
But what caught her attention was that it was being held by four handlers, all of whom were visibly struggling.
Just as Yamini waited to see who would ride it, Bharat Jogra stood up next to her.
He removed his sunglasses and handed them to the head of security without looking.
She watched in shock as he got down the dais in smooth, unhurried movements and went towards the stallion.
The handlers extended the reins toward Bharat.
Yamini’s heart quickened.
The stallion tossed its head, and its muscles moved under the black coat while its hooves struck the ground. Bharat stepped forward and took the reins.
The horse jerked hard.
Bharat didn't move. His grip tightened while he looked at the animal with the same intense focus he applied toward everything.
He didn’t soothe the animal or whisper into its ear.
He let out a low command that stilled the animal instantly.
Yamini watched as he mounted in one fluid motion, swinging onto the saddle with practiced ease. The thick fabric of his royal attire pulled tight across his broad shoulders and powerful thighs as he settled into place.
The stallion shifted beneath him in restless energy. But Bharat adjusted the reins once and let out another low command.
The horse dropped its head.
The drums began again, and he urged the stallion forward. The first few strides were controlled, finding rhythm, and then he gave it its head, and the horse went from contained to fully unleashed in one stride.
Hooves thundered against the ground as the stallion lunged into a full gallop across the length of the meadow.
The crowd cheered.
Bharat leaned slightly forward, his posture perfectly aligned with the animal’s motion.
The stallion veered hard toward the line of mounted riders at the meadow's edge. Bharat shifted his weight, and the horse turned in a clean arc without breaking pace.
The crowd cheered.
A handler waited at the midpoint of the track on horseback, a ceremonial spear laid horizontally across his arms.
Bharat didn't slow.
