I feel a sense of desolate emptiness. Dark night of the Soul? Darkness within the Soul? Or lack of a Soul?
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Acceptance
Inspired by Joey from "Friends" and "The Seventh Seal" by Ingmar Bergman)
O, GREAT MASTERS WHO RULED THE STAGE!
MAY I CONVEY MY HEARTFELT SALUTATIONS TO YOU ALL!!
WHAT WOULD I BE IF YOU WERE NOT THERE FOR ME?
Tommy Houston fidgeted and groaned slightly in his sleep. He tried to pull up the blanket above his aching head but it was too short and left his feet exposed. Shivering, he tried to cuddle up like a baby but it was too uncomfortable on the threadbare mattress. Unshaven and ill, his pale waxy face reflected the existence of one unfortunate soul.
Finally he turned to lie face up. Wiping the feverish sweat collecting on his forehead, he opened his eyes, with heavy eyelids. He blinked and focused on the clock on the wall. Sunlight was faintly entering the sparsely furnished bedroom through a closed window. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes again. In the distance, a phone rang a few times until someone picked it up. Disturbed, Joey opened his eyes and stared at the mould growing upon the ceiling. He made an effort to get up but fell back groaning in pain and coughed slightly.
*****************************************************
“He really struggled financially,” Stanley Duscemi, the acting instructor told the investigating officer. “He could not afford to hire the graduation gown nor the photos. The first time I saw him I could not help feeling sorry for him… he was one of those people who existed in a world where luck was a mirage…It was heart- breaking to see him struggle with his lines. He could never remember them however hard he tried.”
“He was not at all the type who looked like he had a future,” said Mariah Clancy, a classmate. “That was my impression when I first met him… But he was determined and put his soul and heart in his work. I heard he worked at night but was always in class on time. While the rest of us missed a few classes, he made it a rule to attend each and every session.” After a pause, she said, “He always looked pale and tired, as if he needed a blood transfusion. I was very surprised he managed to remain for three years to complete the degree.”
*****************************************************
After waiting almost an hour for the headache to subside, Tommy finally pulled himself up and walked to the bathroom. “Hi there” he said to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He noticed how his hairline was receding and his face looked almost skeletal. Shaking his head, he went around with his ablutions.
The next fit of coughing lasted for ten minutes. He went paler and had to sit by the kitchen counter to get his breath back. “Got to get some more pills” he thought looking at the empty pill bottle. But his wallet was empty. He was surviving on tea for the last three days. If only he could get another audition. His agent had not contacted him for the last two weeks. Food…his medication ....his father’s medication… His eyes hurt as he looked bleakly at his neat and tidy kitchen.
*******************************************************
Larry Peabody stared into his coffee as he spoke. “He did not fit in at all. His poverty was pathetically evident. I sometimes saw him gaze hungrily at the hotdog stand across the street. But the guy was good-natured. He was regularly the butt of mockery among the studs in class.”
Rod Clark Jr. said, “Good attendance was not everything. His performance was simply mediocre… but perseverance was something deeply rooted in his heart. He used to hang on to every word of the instructor. I look back at those days and…yeah… now I give him his due.”
*********************************************************
Tommy was not sure since when he wanted to be an actor. But he knew that it was his biggest ambition. Rubbing his forehead, he fantasized how he would enthrall audiences with his passion and brilliant emoting. But he was also getting painfully aware of his inability to make it real. He had spent many nights stealthily enacting lines during his night job of cleaning transport buses. But all the passion froze and he became dead meat during auditions. He just could not prove he belonged to the stage or screen.
He had spent three years in acting school. It was difficult….and hard. Keeping up with those thespians was cruelly demanding. He continuously forgot his lines. Verbal taunts and insults were common. But the pull of the stage was too strong to turn him away. He did not want to disappoint his father who believed in his son’s dreams. The old man was struggling with arthritis but did not think twice about using his pension fund for Tommy’s classes. Tommy had told him of a bright future and a life of happiness.
***********************************************************
“He graduated all right,” continued Stanley Duscemi. “He was happy… he was a formally trained actor… at long last. But then… there was the problem of employability. Sadly, his prospect was quite bleak on this front….”
The talent agent spoke, “The kid couldn’t afford my services after a while. He had come here once begging, ‘Please Ben, you have to help me. I am an actor; I have done three long years of training. I cannot afford to… I need to work, that’s all I need… work… work! I am already trained. My father relies on me. He is old… I have not worked for four years now, I am an actor. That’s what I can do! Please, please… give me a chance…I need a break really badly!’ So I even worked for him free for a while. But then I started getting calls from producers and casting directors asking whether I was onto some practical joke by sending him to them. Hey, I have a reputation to protect in this business. So I stopped calling him. But he had heart, I must agree.”
***********************************************************
Tommy tried to stifle the coughs as he wrote:
“Dear Dad,
I am doing very well here. Sorry couldn’t write to you for a long time
as I had been very busy. Things are looking great Dad. I have recently signed a
contract with a ilm studio in the city. They were quite impressed with my audition…”
He remembered the words of the producers and directors during his auditions,
“…This won’t do… not at all! You call yourself a trained actor?... And can’t even act out a simple speech from “Titanic”? You’ve wasted three years of your life…”
“Don’t ever waste my time again… I did a favour to someone auditioning you. Had I known…”
“I would like to offer you the part Tommy…you are employable. I…. I have to… I need to talk to my Associates… I would advice you to do some further training…But we’ll get back to you..”
He had then begged for a role - even as an extra…or a light technician…or a clapper-boy…anything.
He continued:
“The producer was enthusiastic about me and has advised me to change
my name to THOMAS HASTINGS. That’s my artist name now, Dad
and I have been paid in advance for my role. I posted a cheque for you yesterday.
It’s going to take care of your expenses at least for a month…..”
Tommy looked at the bank statement lying on the table. It read: “Closing balance: £1.24p”.
“…….I hope you’re keeping well. I am sorry I have not sent the overcoat yet…
can you give me your measurement again? And also which colour would you
prefer? I will be moving house soon, but please keep sending mails to this
address. My landlady is only too happy to handle the mails of a famous actor.
I have recruited a real estate agent to find me a bigger apartment. And you are
moving in with me in a matter of weeks…”
His eyes welled up.
“ …..Dad, your prayers are about to be answered. Dreams do come true…
I will be very busy but we will always have breakfast and dinner together.
You will be by my side at all time. A promise is a promise, Dad. I am the
happiest man and so should you be…”
It took him some time to take notice of the changes in the weather outside. It was getting bleaker and colder. The skies turned darker and he heard a bang outside his door. Surreal noises followed it and when he looked up, he saw a bright light outside his door. As he looked on, it grew brighter, blindingly brighter that he had to blink and cover his eyes, dropping the pen from his hand.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a silhouette in the door frame.
As he tried to focus harder, the silhouette slowly materialized into a man, tall stature, expensive black suit, with a white shinny shirt and an impressive tie –all of exquisite material.
Dusk complexioned, he had a distinguished look. He smiled a broad smile.
Tommy, though uneasy, smiled back - a genuine, rather naïve smile…Then he stuttered unintelligibly, “… How’s… How did you… Who are you?”
The man stood there looking at Tommy… smiling good-naturedly … then he opened his arms and spoke:
“Your miseries are over Mr. Hastings!”
Despite his breathlessness, Tommy smiled – a happy, bright smile, for once. “How did… you know I was to be called Hastings??”
Still smiling, the man answered, “How do I know? You wrote it down there… didn’t you?”
As the man’s words sank in, the smile faded away from Tommy’s face. The man reassured him…
“I know everything… come now… I am here to take you…”
Tommy looked confused, lost… his breath grew shorter as he started to worry. Sweat beads appeared on his forehead. He wanted to stand his ground, he was willing to fight back; but this man was not here to attack him; he was the friendliest man Tommy had ever seen. With newly-found courage he spoke, “Where? Where to?”
Laughing out loud, the man said, “Where to?? Hollywood! That’s where you belong my good friend… Everything else is history!”
There was a pause. Tommy stared at the man as he spoke again, “I am too ill, sir… I can’t.”
“Nonsense…come on…You are not coming with me like that. A shower at least, is welcome!”
He slowly moved towards Tommy. Tommy looked at him tired and resigned. The man’s smile faded as he looked around the room as if he was purveying an audience. Then he began to speak with the eloquence of a stage actor in a dramatic role.
“Heaven, Mother Nature, even the hardest, indifferent man with a heart as tough as a stone, cannot bear to see such injustice that you have been subjected to. Life has given you a raw deal, my friend. Your waiting is over and your carriage waits. We need to leave now.”
Tommy was stunned. He opened his mouth and tried to say something. But he froze, as usual.
“You know who I am, don’t you? You don’t need any coins to be placed on your eyes or underneath your tongue. As far as I know, you cannot afford it. I would not accept it from you anyway… never from you!”
His words started to echo:
“Don’t feel sorry, whatever you are leaving behind is simply misery… misery…misery…”
Tommy noticed the razor-thin smile on his face.
Soon, Tommy found himself cleaned up, shaved and wearing a dark suit, white shirt and a black tie. He was still very ill and breathless as he sat on the chair and the man came to his side.
“I can hardly walk…” said Tommy. “I cannot come today…maybe…tomorrow..”
The man looked at him with compassion and said, “I will carry you. Here we go… and please don’t be sad! LET’S CELEBRATE!”
Saying this, the man pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses from his coat. Filling both, he handed one to Tommy who took it with trembling hands. The man lifted his glass and toasted jovially, “To Thomas Hastings, who has finally found acceptance!” and drank up.
Tommy cringed at the words and took a sip. He slowly looked up at the ceiling as the silky wine flowed down his throat.
A sense of quietness came about him as the man walked towards him and held out his hand. Both held their gaze for a while as Tommy lifted his hand and gently grasped the offered palm. Tears flowed from the corners of his eyes and towards his ears as he took a shuddering breath. His eyes started to glaze as deafening sounds of thunder flourished outside…
*******************************************************
It was the neighbour who first saw the opposite door ajar. He took a peek inside and informed the landlady who then called the police. When they came, they found Tommy sitting on the chair looking at the ceiling, and his head drawn back and hanging back over the back of the chair. There were dried up channels of tears from his eyes following the law of gravity, towards his ears. He had vomited some milk which has poured out of the corners of his mouth… His one hand still clutched a half-full glass of wine. But his face had a beatific smile- one of peace...and relief.. and acceptance...
O, GREAT MASTERS WHO RULED THE STAGE!
MAY I CONVEY MY HEARTFELT SALUTATIONS TO YOU ALL!!
WHAT WOULD I BE IF YOU WERE NOT THERE FOR ME?
Tommy Houston fidgeted and groaned slightly in his sleep. He tried to pull up the blanket above his aching head but it was too short and left his feet exposed. Shivering, he tried to cuddle up like a baby but it was too uncomfortable on the threadbare mattress. Unshaven and ill, his pale waxy face reflected the existence of one unfortunate soul.
Finally he turned to lie face up. Wiping the feverish sweat collecting on his forehead, he opened his eyes, with heavy eyelids. He blinked and focused on the clock on the wall. Sunlight was faintly entering the sparsely furnished bedroom through a closed window. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes again. In the distance, a phone rang a few times until someone picked it up. Disturbed, Joey opened his eyes and stared at the mould growing upon the ceiling. He made an effort to get up but fell back groaning in pain and coughed slightly.
*****************************************************
“He really struggled financially,” Stanley Duscemi, the acting instructor told the investigating officer. “He could not afford to hire the graduation gown nor the photos. The first time I saw him I could not help feeling sorry for him… he was one of those people who existed in a world where luck was a mirage…It was heart- breaking to see him struggle with his lines. He could never remember them however hard he tried.”
“He was not at all the type who looked like he had a future,” said Mariah Clancy, a classmate. “That was my impression when I first met him… But he was determined and put his soul and heart in his work. I heard he worked at night but was always in class on time. While the rest of us missed a few classes, he made it a rule to attend each and every session.” After a pause, she said, “He always looked pale and tired, as if he needed a blood transfusion. I was very surprised he managed to remain for three years to complete the degree.”
*****************************************************
After waiting almost an hour for the headache to subside, Tommy finally pulled himself up and walked to the bathroom. “Hi there” he said to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He noticed how his hairline was receding and his face looked almost skeletal. Shaking his head, he went around with his ablutions.
The next fit of coughing lasted for ten minutes. He went paler and had to sit by the kitchen counter to get his breath back. “Got to get some more pills” he thought looking at the empty pill bottle. But his wallet was empty. He was surviving on tea for the last three days. If only he could get another audition. His agent had not contacted him for the last two weeks. Food…his medication ....his father’s medication… His eyes hurt as he looked bleakly at his neat and tidy kitchen.
*******************************************************
Larry Peabody stared into his coffee as he spoke. “He did not fit in at all. His poverty was pathetically evident. I sometimes saw him gaze hungrily at the hotdog stand across the street. But the guy was good-natured. He was regularly the butt of mockery among the studs in class.”
Rod Clark Jr. said, “Good attendance was not everything. His performance was simply mediocre… but perseverance was something deeply rooted in his heart. He used to hang on to every word of the instructor. I look back at those days and…yeah… now I give him his due.”
*********************************************************
Tommy was not sure since when he wanted to be an actor. But he knew that it was his biggest ambition. Rubbing his forehead, he fantasized how he would enthrall audiences with his passion and brilliant emoting. But he was also getting painfully aware of his inability to make it real. He had spent many nights stealthily enacting lines during his night job of cleaning transport buses. But all the passion froze and he became dead meat during auditions. He just could not prove he belonged to the stage or screen.
He had spent three years in acting school. It was difficult….and hard. Keeping up with those thespians was cruelly demanding. He continuously forgot his lines. Verbal taunts and insults were common. But the pull of the stage was too strong to turn him away. He did not want to disappoint his father who believed in his son’s dreams. The old man was struggling with arthritis but did not think twice about using his pension fund for Tommy’s classes. Tommy had told him of a bright future and a life of happiness.
***********************************************************
“He graduated all right,” continued Stanley Duscemi. “He was happy… he was a formally trained actor… at long last. But then… there was the problem of employability. Sadly, his prospect was quite bleak on this front….”
The talent agent spoke, “The kid couldn’t afford my services after a while. He had come here once begging, ‘Please Ben, you have to help me. I am an actor; I have done three long years of training. I cannot afford to… I need to work, that’s all I need… work… work! I am already trained. My father relies on me. He is old… I have not worked for four years now, I am an actor. That’s what I can do! Please, please… give me a chance…I need a break really badly!’ So I even worked for him free for a while. But then I started getting calls from producers and casting directors asking whether I was onto some practical joke by sending him to them. Hey, I have a reputation to protect in this business. So I stopped calling him. But he had heart, I must agree.”
***********************************************************
Tommy tried to stifle the coughs as he wrote:
“Dear Dad,
I am doing very well here. Sorry couldn’t write to you for a long time
as I had been very busy. Things are looking great Dad. I have recently signed a
contract with a ilm studio in the city. They were quite impressed with my audition…”
He remembered the words of the producers and directors during his auditions,
“…This won’t do… not at all! You call yourself a trained actor?... And can’t even act out a simple speech from “Titanic”? You’ve wasted three years of your life…”
“Don’t ever waste my time again… I did a favour to someone auditioning you. Had I known…”
“I would like to offer you the part Tommy…you are employable. I…. I have to… I need to talk to my Associates… I would advice you to do some further training…But we’ll get back to you..”
He had then begged for a role - even as an extra…or a light technician…or a clapper-boy…anything.
He continued:
“The producer was enthusiastic about me and has advised me to change
my name to THOMAS HASTINGS. That’s my artist name now, Dad
and I have been paid in advance for my role. I posted a cheque for you yesterday.
It’s going to take care of your expenses at least for a month…..”
Tommy looked at the bank statement lying on the table. It read: “Closing balance: £1.24p”.
“…….I hope you’re keeping well. I am sorry I have not sent the overcoat yet…
can you give me your measurement again? And also which colour would you
prefer? I will be moving house soon, but please keep sending mails to this
address. My landlady is only too happy to handle the mails of a famous actor.
I have recruited a real estate agent to find me a bigger apartment. And you are
moving in with me in a matter of weeks…”
His eyes welled up.
“ …..Dad, your prayers are about to be answered. Dreams do come true…
I will be very busy but we will always have breakfast and dinner together.
You will be by my side at all time. A promise is a promise, Dad. I am the
happiest man and so should you be…”
It took him some time to take notice of the changes in the weather outside. It was getting bleaker and colder. The skies turned darker and he heard a bang outside his door. Surreal noises followed it and when he looked up, he saw a bright light outside his door. As he looked on, it grew brighter, blindingly brighter that he had to blink and cover his eyes, dropping the pen from his hand.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a silhouette in the door frame.
As he tried to focus harder, the silhouette slowly materialized into a man, tall stature, expensive black suit, with a white shinny shirt and an impressive tie –all of exquisite material.
Dusk complexioned, he had a distinguished look. He smiled a broad smile.
Tommy, though uneasy, smiled back - a genuine, rather naïve smile…Then he stuttered unintelligibly, “… How’s… How did you… Who are you?”
The man stood there looking at Tommy… smiling good-naturedly … then he opened his arms and spoke:
“Your miseries are over Mr. Hastings!”
Despite his breathlessness, Tommy smiled – a happy, bright smile, for once. “How did… you know I was to be called Hastings??”
Still smiling, the man answered, “How do I know? You wrote it down there… didn’t you?”
As the man’s words sank in, the smile faded away from Tommy’s face. The man reassured him…
“I know everything… come now… I am here to take you…”
Tommy looked confused, lost… his breath grew shorter as he started to worry. Sweat beads appeared on his forehead. He wanted to stand his ground, he was willing to fight back; but this man was not here to attack him; he was the friendliest man Tommy had ever seen. With newly-found courage he spoke, “Where? Where to?”
Laughing out loud, the man said, “Where to?? Hollywood! That’s where you belong my good friend… Everything else is history!”
There was a pause. Tommy stared at the man as he spoke again, “I am too ill, sir… I can’t.”
“Nonsense…come on…You are not coming with me like that. A shower at least, is welcome!”
He slowly moved towards Tommy. Tommy looked at him tired and resigned. The man’s smile faded as he looked around the room as if he was purveying an audience. Then he began to speak with the eloquence of a stage actor in a dramatic role.
“Heaven, Mother Nature, even the hardest, indifferent man with a heart as tough as a stone, cannot bear to see such injustice that you have been subjected to. Life has given you a raw deal, my friend. Your waiting is over and your carriage waits. We need to leave now.”
Tommy was stunned. He opened his mouth and tried to say something. But he froze, as usual.
“You know who I am, don’t you? You don’t need any coins to be placed on your eyes or underneath your tongue. As far as I know, you cannot afford it. I would not accept it from you anyway… never from you!”
His words started to echo:
“Don’t feel sorry, whatever you are leaving behind is simply misery… misery…misery…”
Tommy noticed the razor-thin smile on his face.
Soon, Tommy found himself cleaned up, shaved and wearing a dark suit, white shirt and a black tie. He was still very ill and breathless as he sat on the chair and the man came to his side.
“I can hardly walk…” said Tommy. “I cannot come today…maybe…tomorrow..”
The man looked at him with compassion and said, “I will carry you. Here we go… and please don’t be sad! LET’S CELEBRATE!”
Saying this, the man pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses from his coat. Filling both, he handed one to Tommy who took it with trembling hands. The man lifted his glass and toasted jovially, “To Thomas Hastings, who has finally found acceptance!” and drank up.
Tommy cringed at the words and took a sip. He slowly looked up at the ceiling as the silky wine flowed down his throat.
A sense of quietness came about him as the man walked towards him and held out his hand. Both held their gaze for a while as Tommy lifted his hand and gently grasped the offered palm. Tears flowed from the corners of his eyes and towards his ears as he took a shuddering breath. His eyes started to glaze as deafening sounds of thunder flourished outside…
*******************************************************
It was the neighbour who first saw the opposite door ajar. He took a peek inside and informed the landlady who then called the police. When they came, they found Tommy sitting on the chair looking at the ceiling, and his head drawn back and hanging back over the back of the chair. There were dried up channels of tears from his eyes following the law of gravity, towards his ears. He had vomited some milk which has poured out of the corners of his mouth… His one hand still clutched a half-full glass of wine. But his face had a beatific smile- one of peace...and relief.. and acceptance...
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Long has the moment passed..but linger does the pain -
Cold, stinging and metallic..ripe and raw and heavy;
As the ears start to see... and the eyes listen,
I live and die in every breath...Becoming and unbecoming;
Your incomplete portrait with my heart's dye...fades into a void;
Memories haunt me...seeking sense of your absence.
Tired of meaning...my words seek silence
You and I shall not be but you alone...
For I'll be in the plane without a surface.
Cold, stinging and metallic..ripe and raw and heavy;
As the ears start to see... and the eyes listen,
I live and die in every breath...Becoming and unbecoming;
Your incomplete portrait with my heart's dye...fades into a void;
Memories haunt me...seeking sense of your absence.
Tired of meaning...my words seek silence
You and I shall not be but you alone...
For I'll be in the plane without a surface.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
It happened one night..
The darkness only added to the pain of running over sharp stones and pebbles.
Judging by the dampness and slight slipperiness underneath my feet, I knew they were bleeding. Sharp stumps thrashed my legs and thick branches thrashed and cut my face and shoulders in the darkness. But the fear and grief in the heart were like whiplashes which kept me pushing ahead.
My chest was starting to burn like a cold flame - or was it like a blunt knife sinking slowly into the skin- fatigue, fear and memories of horrifying scenes blinded the senses. For how long I had been on this steep climb, I knew not.
A few moments later, the general placing of the stones on which I stepped indicated that I was moving towards a less steep and less wooded place. The climb soon turned to a slope. Peering through the scant general skylight, I made out the faint contour of a lake or a marsh. The surroundings were also not entirely invisible. The water was mostly covered in mist; yet it had an eerie bluish glint in the haze. Darkness in the form of trees was a littler further away and the sky took the shade of grayish blue. I finally felt soft grass underneath my torn slippers. Almost immediately, my knees bent and I plopped on the ground, exhausted.
Taking time to calm my breath, I tried to make sense of what I saw around me. There was deathly stillness all around with no animals growling, no owls hooting, no insects chirping and no wind blowing. Nothing but my labored breath was to be heard. But the silence could not calm my mind.
It was like a cyclone in my head. It was pure agony. All hope was lost. We lost the Great War. The white men crushed us mercilessly. No one survived the attack on our platoon and neither did I expect myself to be alive. This would have been worse as there were stories of how the captured prisoners were being tied to the mouths of cannons and blown away to parts. The plains were full of bodied of my compatriots and awash with their blood. Playing dead here and there in the midst of the wailing injured to escape the roving eyes of the firangs was not easy.
Running away from the battlefield was cowardice but then why stay if the outcome was already decided? Our commander did not seem to be fazed by the slaughter all around. It was evident the enemies had bought him to their side earlier. Traitorous pig! We were the soldiers of the great Rani, whom even children looked upon as Durga incarnate, and we were her leonine forces. Well, not I, for I was just an ordinary cook in the army. I never even got to see her or any of her exploits but she was always the Destroyer of Evil for me.
When I heard that she had fallen dead in the battlefield, then I lost all hope of victory and then decided to escape. On the way, I heard that her body was missing and no one knew where it had gone. How was that possible? Maybe they have cremated her body before it reached into the hands of the alien rulers. Doubts still lingered, and despair seemed unending. If she was dead, then why live?
Suddenly, I heard some movement in the water. The splashes were distant but were quick and came near very soon. Through the mist I then made out a huge animal trotting forward. Immediately recognizing it as a horse I also saw a ghostly figure wrapped in cloth riding it. The horse chortled and agitatedly stopped near me. The figure was sitting upright and motionless with head and face covered but the eyes shone with an unearthly light that transfixed me to the spot. I could not move a muscle as terror had overtaken instinct. The eyes looked at me and I could not remember whether I was alive.
“Are you from the plains?” the figure suddenly asked in a female voice.
Surprised at the somewhat anticlimactic turn of events, I was still cautious and ventured to reply, “That depends. Who wants to know?”
Immediately, the figure pulled away the cloth covering the face and the head. Through the faint light, I saw a cascade of jet black hair tumbling down to the shoulders. The face was bloodied but the eyes were still shining intensely.
The voice then responded with an unmistakable touch of royal authority.
“Don’t you recognize your own Rani?”
“Of…Of course, yes, yes, Your Majesty!!” Life soon clumsily pulled me up to my feet and I stood in attention, with bent head, folded hands and downcast eyes. I had let her down.
It was an electrifying moment.
Surprise, incredulity and excitement had robbed me of my breath and my pulse was throbbing like war-drums. I felt numb. The surreal moments passed by as I apprehensively looked into those regal eyes. They spoke unknown mysteries.
I could see the color of the sky slowly turning lighter. Dawn was approaching. But the radiance of the bloodied face only increased. Suddenly, her hand flew up to her neck. In a flash, it came out with a string of shining pearls. Bending down she pushed it into my folded hands before I could react.
“Speak not of this night” she said with a razor-sharp smirk which lit up her face and galloped away into nearby darkness. Stillness returned.
Overcome with goosebumps, I stood trying to comprehend what had happened. Dawn was slowly approaching. I saw the past and the present merging with the future. The future may be uncertain, but history was being created at every moment.
But then why was I feeling this shaking of my shoulders? It was getting more vigorous. I could hear my name being called out as well.
A sudden jerk and darkness turned to light as I found myself sitting on a chair at my study desk. Vinod, my roommate, was bemusedly looking at me.
“Studying late last night, eh? And History too...Bookworm!” He gazed into the book and then at the drool coming out of my mouth and grimaced. “Ewww!! You were drooling at Rani Lakshmi Bai?? You’re crazy, dude! Get a life in the present! Time for breakfast. I’m hungry!” He walked out of the room closing the door.
Still groggy, I looked back into the book and saw the picture of the great Rani. Though just a painting, she still looked hauntingly mysterious and also had that cryptic smirk So that was all a dream then. Shaking my head, I pulled myself away from the table and stood up when I felt something fall off my lap to the floor. I looked down and the whole world before me turned dark when I saw:
Judging by the dampness and slight slipperiness underneath my feet, I knew they were bleeding. Sharp stumps thrashed my legs and thick branches thrashed and cut my face and shoulders in the darkness. But the fear and grief in the heart were like whiplashes which kept me pushing ahead.
My chest was starting to burn like a cold flame - or was it like a blunt knife sinking slowly into the skin- fatigue, fear and memories of horrifying scenes blinded the senses. For how long I had been on this steep climb, I knew not.
A few moments later, the general placing of the stones on which I stepped indicated that I was moving towards a less steep and less wooded place. The climb soon turned to a slope. Peering through the scant general skylight, I made out the faint contour of a lake or a marsh. The surroundings were also not entirely invisible. The water was mostly covered in mist; yet it had an eerie bluish glint in the haze. Darkness in the form of trees was a littler further away and the sky took the shade of grayish blue. I finally felt soft grass underneath my torn slippers. Almost immediately, my knees bent and I plopped on the ground, exhausted.
Taking time to calm my breath, I tried to make sense of what I saw around me. There was deathly stillness all around with no animals growling, no owls hooting, no insects chirping and no wind blowing. Nothing but my labored breath was to be heard. But the silence could not calm my mind.
It was like a cyclone in my head. It was pure agony. All hope was lost. We lost the Great War. The white men crushed us mercilessly. No one survived the attack on our platoon and neither did I expect myself to be alive. This would have been worse as there were stories of how the captured prisoners were being tied to the mouths of cannons and blown away to parts. The plains were full of bodied of my compatriots and awash with their blood. Playing dead here and there in the midst of the wailing injured to escape the roving eyes of the firangs was not easy.
Running away from the battlefield was cowardice but then why stay if the outcome was already decided? Our commander did not seem to be fazed by the slaughter all around. It was evident the enemies had bought him to their side earlier. Traitorous pig! We were the soldiers of the great Rani, whom even children looked upon as Durga incarnate, and we were her leonine forces. Well, not I, for I was just an ordinary cook in the army. I never even got to see her or any of her exploits but she was always the Destroyer of Evil for me.
When I heard that she had fallen dead in the battlefield, then I lost all hope of victory and then decided to escape. On the way, I heard that her body was missing and no one knew where it had gone. How was that possible? Maybe they have cremated her body before it reached into the hands of the alien rulers. Doubts still lingered, and despair seemed unending. If she was dead, then why live?
Suddenly, I heard some movement in the water. The splashes were distant but were quick and came near very soon. Through the mist I then made out a huge animal trotting forward. Immediately recognizing it as a horse I also saw a ghostly figure wrapped in cloth riding it. The horse chortled and agitatedly stopped near me. The figure was sitting upright and motionless with head and face covered but the eyes shone with an unearthly light that transfixed me to the spot. I could not move a muscle as terror had overtaken instinct. The eyes looked at me and I could not remember whether I was alive.
“Are you from the plains?” the figure suddenly asked in a female voice.
Surprised at the somewhat anticlimactic turn of events, I was still cautious and ventured to reply, “That depends. Who wants to know?”
Immediately, the figure pulled away the cloth covering the face and the head. Through the faint light, I saw a cascade of jet black hair tumbling down to the shoulders. The face was bloodied but the eyes were still shining intensely.
The voice then responded with an unmistakable touch of royal authority.
“Don’t you recognize your own Rani?”
“Of…Of course, yes, yes, Your Majesty!!” Life soon clumsily pulled me up to my feet and I stood in attention, with bent head, folded hands and downcast eyes. I had let her down.
It was an electrifying moment.
Surprise, incredulity and excitement had robbed me of my breath and my pulse was throbbing like war-drums. I felt numb. The surreal moments passed by as I apprehensively looked into those regal eyes. They spoke unknown mysteries.
I could see the color of the sky slowly turning lighter. Dawn was approaching. But the radiance of the bloodied face only increased. Suddenly, her hand flew up to her neck. In a flash, it came out with a string of shining pearls. Bending down she pushed it into my folded hands before I could react.
“Speak not of this night” she said with a razor-sharp smirk which lit up her face and galloped away into nearby darkness. Stillness returned.
Overcome with goosebumps, I stood trying to comprehend what had happened. Dawn was slowly approaching. I saw the past and the present merging with the future. The future may be uncertain, but history was being created at every moment.
But then why was I feeling this shaking of my shoulders? It was getting more vigorous. I could hear my name being called out as well.
A sudden jerk and darkness turned to light as I found myself sitting on a chair at my study desk. Vinod, my roommate, was bemusedly looking at me.
“Studying late last night, eh? And History too...Bookworm!” He gazed into the book and then at the drool coming out of my mouth and grimaced. “Ewww!! You were drooling at Rani Lakshmi Bai?? You’re crazy, dude! Get a life in the present! Time for breakfast. I’m hungry!” He walked out of the room closing the door.
Still groggy, I looked back into the book and saw the picture of the great Rani. Though just a painting, she still looked hauntingly mysterious and also had that cryptic smirk So that was all a dream then. Shaking my head, I pulled myself away from the table and stood up when I felt something fall off my lap to the floor. I looked down and the whole world before me turned dark when I saw:
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