Getting down from the bus, he slowly walked over to his office, which was a ten minute walk away. It was early in the morning, and he could see the health conscious people running their rounds in the parks, the shop owners lighting up the small lamp in front of their deities, hoping and praying for a good day of business, the birds leaving their nests in search of their day’s fill, the servants of the home walking their masters’ dogs and like so, the city slowly waking up and coming to life.

What hurt him most was seeing those little kids, on such cold mornings, with their heavy bags and sleepy eyes, waiting for their ride on the express way to hell. Many of them called it school. He knew of parents who just wanted their kids out of their way so that they could work, enjoy and have their own lives. He could not help but wonder then why they brought these poor little souls into this world in the first place. He hated school.

His stride was slow. There was no hurry. Unlike the other days, today he had no song on his lips. He was lost in thought thinking of the suffering that many kids had to face in the name of education. To make things worse, child molesters lurked in every nook and corner. It was only recently that a drug gang was busted near an Upper Primary School in his village. Evil had its roots so close to our loved ones, closer than us, pampering and calling to them in their most vulnerable and private moments.

All of a sudden, a van turned around the corner and screeched past him. The ghastly face of the children inside told him all that he needed to know.  In an instant, he picked up a big branch that was lying close to him and threw it at the van. The bewildered driver applied the brakes and tried to turn into the next lane. However, within a few seconds, he had jumped on the fence, ran across and caught up with the van.

He banged on the driver’s door, making the van come to a complete stand still. The screams of the children within got his adrenaline pumped up, and he pulled open the door. He caught the driver by his collar and threw him out of the van, yelling at him.

“You nasty little piece of shite. You ain’t kidnapping anyone today!”

The commotion had got few of the neighbours out. They ran and caught him while he was landing punch after punch on the driver’s skinny face, whose slightly protruded teeth was bleeding by then.

“What are you doing!? That’s the driver taking those kids to school!”, shouted one of them.

“Let go of me! I just saved those kids from this sick kidnapper!”, he retorted.

“Are you crazy?”

“Ask them!”, he shouted and ran over to the back of the van. He opened the door and asked, “Don’t worry, don’t worry. Everything’s fine now. Uncle has taken care of the bad man. Tell me, how did he get you?”

“We are going to school uncle. We got in the van from our homes”, one of the kids replied, to which all the other kids nodded approvingly in unison.

“But.. but.. I saved you… You don’t have to. You can get out.. I saved you…”

The realization slowly dawned on him. He lowered his gaze, and fell on his knees, and sat there, a defeated man.

As was his daily routine, he took his laptop out and lay down on his bed. Cycling was tiring. Only while coming back from his office though. The way to his office was mostly downhill and that too the early morning rides are peaceful and serene. He hated coming back. One reason being the uphill ride and the second being the other insensitive vehicles all around. He knew he was not Wolverine and neither was he going to get those powers. However, there were times where he really wished he could pull out a certain driver from his seat, hold him down on the bonnet, claws popped out pointing at his face, and telling him, “Don’t you dare ruin my momentum bub”. Unlike olden days, he had learned to come out of these fantasies much quicker.

He made himself comfortable on the bed. Resting his head and neck on his pillow, slightly tilted up in an angle that would easily let him look at his laptop screen. He plugged in the Internet cable and waited for it to connect. Work was enjoyable. That lying down had a certain inexplicable pleasure to it. The pleasure of a man back home from a good day’s work. The programming job along with the cycling exercise was tiring, but he loved it.

He logged in to his Internet service. A 2Mbps connection was more than enough for his needs at home. He opened up youtube and looked at the search bar wondering what to type in. Just then his phone beeped. It was a text message from his friend Ranjith. It said,

“Macha, can’t you try writing for newspapers! A thought”.

That was unexpected. For a moment, he got thrown back to the days where he used to keep writing. That was when he did not have too much attention. A time when it did not matter who read whatever was written. Things had changed now however. Everytime he thought of writing something, the people who might read it came to his mind. That scared him. He was not prepared for what they would say. What all comments he would have to face. Hence, he slowly gave up even thinking of writing.

However, at that moment, he felt a joy. His friends still did remember him as someone who wrote.

A conversation happened between Ranjith and him where he explained that writing for newspapers not only would require tremendous skill but a lot of research as well. Upon being asked how this sudden thought popped up, Ranjith said that he saw a similar writing style in of the articles within The Hindu newspaper.

“That is a great compliment Ranjith. Thanks!”

He put his phone away and turned his attention back to the search results in Youtube. It was almost 5:30PM. He stretched his legs and arms, letting off a deep sigh of relief.

“Knock, knock”. He heard someone knocking at the door.

That was unusual. His roommate only comes back around 8PM in the night. Also, since he was living as a bachelor, people paying him a visit randomly was scarce. There would have to be a phone call or at least a text message discussing about where and when to meet.

“Knock, knock”. Again.

Feeling irritated at being disturbed from his comfortable lying posture and a mind ready to be entertained, he grumbled and got up.

The door lock consisted of a knob from the inside and a keyhole from the outside. He went ahead and turned knob, unlocking the door.

A sudden gush of wind swept in.

Having recovered from the suddent burst of air, he lowered his hands from his face. He could not make out who was standing outside his home. His adrenaline kicked in.

It was a man standing outside. He was wearing a long black trench coat, something very unusual in India. At least, he had never seen anyone in trench coat before. At the maximum, a jacket or a sweater. This guy standing outside was probably boiling inside in this summer heat. However, that person did not seem to show any sign of uncomfortableness. He had a hat on as well. A round hat and he was holding his head down so that his face was not visible. His pale hands sticking out of the trench coat sleeves were visible. They looked pale. Quite pale.

“What’s up Haris? Killing yet another beautiful evening?”, the person asked in a husky, yet composed voice.

Haris’ heart skipped a few beats. He did not have a clue who it was standing there acting all spooky. The pale skin, the gush of wind, the tranch coat and the spiked long hair reminded him of someone. He did not want to believe it. Too many comic books tend to mess with one’s thoughts. He mustered up all the courage he could.

“Who are you?”

The man slowly raised his head. Haris looked at him in a state of shock as his face revealed inch by inch starting from his jaw. The skin was pale, really pale. The lips did not strike any resemblance. The nose did not help that much either. Nothing could have probably prepared him for whom he saw there then. The eyes revealed it all.

It was Neil Gaiman!

“Wha…!”, Haris exclaimed.

“Of all the people, I did not expect you to be surprised to see me. Were you not expecting me?”, asked Neil.

“No sir. I mean Neil.. Well, how would I? Come in, come in”, Haris stuttered.

“It is a beautiful evening. I would much rather be outside enjoying the breeze and catching the setting sun. Shall we go and sit on the terrace?”

“By all means, of course. Here, let me a grab a couple of chairs”

“No, no… Just get that mat in your other room. That’ll do nicely”

“How did you know that I had a mat there?”, Haris asked even more surprised than he already was.

“Surely that is not your greatest curiosity at the moment?”, Neil replied with a smile.

“Yeah no, not really. Okay, let me fetch it”.

Haris fetched the mat and both of them went upstairs onto the terrace. He laid the mat down. There was a pleasant breeze and sky was just starting to turn golden. There were eagles flying around. Since the entire meat market was just a couple of yards away from the building, the sight of eagles were quite frequent around. Neil put his briefcase on the mat, took his coat off and both of them sat down.

“It is an honor to meet you sir. But what’s going on? Why are you here?”, Haris asked, not being able to contain the suspense and excitement any longer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be telling me that? After all, you called me here.”

“What!? What are you talking about? How on Earth would I call you?”

“Perhaps you dreamt?”, there was a slightly sarcastic tone in Neil’s voice.

“Yeah right. If that was the case, then probably a lot more people should be around.”, stated Haris with a laugh.

“Well, Galahad must be here by now. Why don’t you go and meet him? I believe he is downstairs.”

With a look of amazement, Haris slowly got up and went down. Just as he turned the corner where the flight of stairs ended, his heart again skipped a few beats. This was becoming a habit now and he did not feel troubled about it.

“Milord”, Galahad took his helmet off, tucked it in his arm pits and kneeled. His shining white knight’s armor looked brilliant.

“Galahad at your service milord. May I know why your highness has summoned me?”

Haris understood the reality of the situation. He always dreaded this would happen at some point. He had gone crazy! All those years of reading comics and watching cartoons were catching up to him now. It was out of control. What could he do to prevent this going any further! He tried pinching himself in the hope that he would snap out of the dream. No such luck. It only hurt his forearm.

“Hey hey, stand up. What’re you doing? What’s all this about?”, asked Haris, still in his undershirt and black pants.

There was a puzzled look on Galahad’s face.

“But sire, you asked me to come…”

There was sudden crash and boom. The quake sent Haris flying over the building. He screamed and closed his eyes shut, imagining to be rescued. At that exact instant, something hit him and swept him upwards. He was in a shock to notice what had gotten hold of him. After swinging up for a while, both he and his savior landed on top of another building.

“Are you alright?”, a deep voice asked.

Haris recognized the voice in an instant. He rubbed his eyes and turned back.

“No way!”, he exclaimed.

“What?”

“I mean, I am alright… Batman!”

“Good, then let’s go now. The League is trying their best to defend, but we need you.”

“Whoa wait, defend against whom? What is happening?”

“You will have your answers soon, but we need to leave now!”, and with that, Batman caught hold of him and pulled both of them up into the Batwing which was hovering above.

The jet speeded. Haris was in a daze.

There was a gentle tap on his shoulders. He turned back. Neil was sitting there in the seat behind him.

“You’re fantasizing”, Neil said.

Even before Haris could say anything in reply, suddenly the jet shook vehemently as if it had crashed into something. He saw Batman leaning for his seat and pressing a button underneath it. The next instant, he got thrown way up into the air while he could see the jet going forward in flames. There was small red button strapped onto his chest which was blinking. Without thinking twice, he pressed it. A parachute bag popped up from behind, making him drift down slowly.

Way down underneath him, he could see smoke rising. Dark, thick smoke. He could vaguely make out the outline of some structure from the front of which the smoke was originating. The wind carried him slightly forward, leaving the structure beneath him.

As he drfited closer to the ground, he could make out a set of horses gallopping at high speed away from the structure, towards west, which was the direction he was drifting in. A look in that direction revealed a majestic white fort built really high at the foot of a hill. He started to get a strange feeling. A Deja Vu perhaps. Suddenly, he heard the sound of cloth ripping apart above him. Something had torn his parachute. He was almost at ground level when this happend. He fell, but did not hit the ground.

One of the riderless gallopping horses had come directly underneath and gotten him on its back. The horse rode on as if it expected this to happen. On both sides and up front, he could see other riders speeding away towards the white fort. Before he got to ask the question of what was happening, a spine freezing screech cut short his thoughts.

He looked up and to his terror, saw a huge black, chaotic dragon. He could see the large fangs, the glowing eyes and a stench so bad that he was filled digust and hatred in an instant. However, his terror seemed not to take control of his senses. Although he was absolutely sure he did not have a sword when he fell from the plane, he took one out from its sheath that was hanging on his waist belt. Holding it high up, he screamed and sped on the horse.

The dragon overtook the riders, pivoted back and swept down directly at them. Haris drew his sword back and thrusted it at the dragon. However, its wings knocked it out of his hands along with three other mounted riders off their horses. Only then a fear started creeping up his spine and he wanted to survive.

As if his unspoken words were heard, he saw a figure, clad in white robe, holding up high a staff glowing with a light that was blindingly bright, speeding towards them riding a horse. He was coming from the castle’s direction.

“Begone foul creatures!”, he shouted and raised his staff at the dragons circling about.

The dragons were taken aback seeing the light coming from the staff. The valiant rider clad in white rode around the set of gallopping riders, cutting them off from the dragons and rest of the dark army who were chasing them. Being rid of the danger, they ran into the awaiting doors of the white castle, feeling safe and comfortable beneath the strong and majestic walls.

The people within bowed in respect as the riders galloped towards the top. Upon reaching the 8th tier of walls, they alighted. Everyone walked away with their horses in different directions. Haris stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what was going on.

“Come my dear friend. The enemy approaches fast. We should hold the counsel as soon as possible. May I ask your name?”

“Uh, Haris… Gandalf. I mean, sir”.

“A strange name indeed. Maybe the Gods have sent you for aid during these troubled times. Come, let us go in.”

Gandalf slowly walked into one of the huge doors that remained slightly opened.

“Haris!”

He turned around startled to hear his name being mentioned. Neil was standing there.

“You are living in another person’s world now. The things that you see around you, the people, and even you, are at the mercy of someone else”

Neil was assertive in his tone. There was a slight sign of fear as well.

“Take the words into your control. Create your own world. Let those who do not understand the joy of creating a universe say what they wish. Let the words of power, that of passion and love come forth.  Stitch together the torn pieces of fabric that makes up our world.”

It did not feel real. He had heard Neil speak before and this did not sound anything like it.

“Why do you speak like that?”, asked Haris.

“Because you want me to speak like that. The depth of what you create and the message it conveys only goes as far as your knowledge and experience.  You used to dream and you used to make those dreams come true. Somewhere along the way, the dreams remained but the creation died. You sought to find the same feeling over and over again, never to have succeeded.”

“This is what I have in my mind! But how did you know that?”

A smile appeared on Neil’s face.

“AUUGH!”, cried Haris out loud feeling a stabbing pain through him. A sword’s tip stuck out through his stomach. The pain was excruciating. Blood gushed out and his strength failed him. He fell to the ground. Still, Neil just stood there with that smile on his face.

“You can heal.”, he said.

Then it struck Haris. He got up slowly, the sword still sticking out. He clenched his fists, wrinkled his forehead, and started uttering a soft roar. It built up slowly, growing fiercer and fiercer by the moment, until it became a loud, terrifying scream! His muscles ripped his shirt off. He threw his head back with the scream, and from within his tightly clenched fists, popped three claws! Holding the sword with his left hand, he swung around with his right hand stretched wide.

There was a shriek. Amidst the smoke, a severed head fell down on the ground. It was pitch black, and was covered with a dark mask, wearing a gray, broken crown. There was a not a drop of blood to be seen. The body which still held the sword’s hilt turned into ashes. Haris pulled the sword out of him. He was panting, his chest heaving up and down. He felt the pain drifting away. A look at his stomach revealed no wound.

Meanwhile all this was happening, Neil watched in amusement, not showing the slightest of intimidation.

“I am disappointed a bit”, he said, and walked away.

Haris stood there. He wondered what Neil meant. He slowly walked towards the walls and looked over them. The Dog was running around on the rooftop of the neighboring building. Its mistress had gone for work. Round and round it would go all day long, barking and standing up to see over the fence.

“The world must be those four walls for it. Except for the occasional peek it takes over them. I wonder what goes through its mind when it hears a language it can understand. The fierce debate of the street dogs 5 floors down”, Haris thought.

He shifted his gaze slowly towards the right. Over the horizon, he could see the sun slowly going down. Bathing the world in gold, making it look and feel so precious. He savored the moment. Following along the golden rays, he gaze fell upon the solemn tree standing tall and majestic, proud to wear the golden pardha awhile before going to sleep. As much as the sight was glorious to behold, he felt a sense of sadness at the sight. Around it was a wide stretch on uninhabited land. For miles, there were no trees around. An old man, with a book in his hand, stood in front of it. Haris could sense the conversation.  He grieved.

There was a slight tap on his shoulders. He turned around.

“Dad!”, he exclaimed.

“You have a gift. Make the world a better place with it.”

“But, but… how?”

“That answer is for you to find on your own. However, there is one thing that I can tell you.”, his Father looked at him reassuringly. “That you are not alone”.

The door which Gandalf had gone in opened. Haris could not see what was within. He waited. Even though he had enough surprises and adventure for one day, he was not prepared for what happened next.

The people who came out started with his family, followed by his friends. They started pouring out, each carrying a glowing pot. It did not just stop with them. The leaders of the world, the beggars, the scums of the society, the activists, all of them were there. The superheroes started flying and swinging in from around. The monsters and creatures he ever knew came around and stood obediently. The actors, their characters, the bugs, birds, animals, trees, plants, anything and everything came and stood there!

He stood there gaping. Neil came forward.

“Our experiences are at your command. Those that have been shared, to be used as you will. Those that have not been shared, waiting for you in those pots. All you need to do, is ask”. He paused for a moment and then continued, “We are there right behind you. Now it is time to start your quest. Let’s get you back home. Any preferences?”, he added with a wink.

Haris smiled.

“I think I’ve got that covered”. With that, he ran and jumped over the wall. Falling freely. He did not sprout wings, he did not wear a cape. No one came from anywhere to save him from the fall. He cut the air sharp and went straight down. The trees, the stones and the pebbles started getting bigger. It grew bigger and bigger until WHAM!

He heard Neil’s voice in his head. The screen was titled “Neil Gaiman – Advice”. The flash video box showed suggestions for other videos to watch. It was 5.37PM. He let go off a deep sigh. He got up, took his laptop and put it on his table. He adjusted the seat, sat on it, fired up his favorite text editor and started typing in,

“As was his daily routine, he took his laptop out and lay down on his bed. Cycling was tiring…”

—————

Following was what the voice said. (This is the transcript of the video titled ‘Neil Gaiman – Advice’, on youtube – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voFDz4o6H9g)

“If you only write when you’re inspired, you maybe a fairly decent poet, but you will never be a novelist. Because, you’re going to have to make your word count and those words aren’t going to wait for whether you are inspired or not. So you have to write when you are not inspired and you have to write the things that don’t inspire you. The weird thing is, six months later you will look back at them and you can’t remember which things you wrote when you were inspired and which things you wrote because they had to be written next.

The process of writing can be magical. There are times when you step out of an upper floor window and you just walk across thin air, and it is absolute and utter happiness. Mostly it is a process of putting one word after another. It is like, out in Peak District, in England, and up in Scotland, there are people who make dry stone walls. And they have been making dry stone walls for generations. The way they make these walls is, they have lots and lots of rocks. They put one down and they put another one down that fits, and they put another one down that fits. They know how to do it. And somehow, they create these walls that are absolutely stable. And just by putting one rock down after another, eventually, you have a wall.

That’s how you make a novel.

Put one word, after another, and then you repeat. So when people come to me and they say, ‘I wanna be a writer. What should I do?’. I say, ‘You have to write’.

Sometimes they say, ‘I am already doing that. What else should I do?’. I say, ‘You have to finish things’. Because that’s where you learn from. You learn by finishing things.

There is so much advice that you can give young writers. Particularly writes who want to work within a certain genre. Read within that genre to understand what people are doing, but then, go and read outside your comfort zone. If you love a certain kind of movie and you want to make hollywood action thrillers, go watch other kinds of movies. Watch documentaries and go see the other stuff. Find everything you can. If you like books, and you like fantasy and you want to become the next Tolkien, don’t read big, Tolkienesque fantasies. Tolkien did not read big Tolkienesque fantasies. He read books on finished philology.

You go and read outside your comfort zone. Go and learn stuff. Hit primary sources, and then, the most important thing that anyone once they get any kind of level of quality – the point where you are ready to write and you can, is, tell your story. Don’t try and tell stories that other people can tell. Because any starting writer, will always start out with other people’s voices. You have been reading other people for years, you are going to tell the kinds of thing you’ve been doing. However, as quickly as you can, start telling the stories that only you can tell. Because there always be better writers than you and there will always be smarter writers than you. There will always be people who are much better at doing this or doing that, but you are the only you.

You know, Tarantino, you can criticize everything that Quentin does, but nobody writes Tarantino stuff, like Tarantino. He is the best Tarantino writer there is and that was actually the thing that people responded to. This is an individual writing with his own point of view.

There will always be people out there who are better than you. There are better writers then me out there. There are smarter writers, there are people who can plot better, all those kind of things. But there is nobody who’ll write Neil Gaiman stories like I can.

As for getting over the writer’s block, for me it has always been a process of trying to convince myself that what I am doing in the first draft isn’t important. I remember the incredible liberation of the point that I moved from type writers to computers, because I was no longer making paper dirty. It was just sort of notional, it was imaginary. I was writing these words, but they did not matter. And then a decade after that, I remember the liberation again of thinking, I can write in notebooks. It isn’t real until I keyboard it. One of the things that I actually still do is to over and over is to just write in notebooks. Just hand write, because, it is not real. One way you get through the block is by convincing yourself that it does not matter. Nobody is ever going to see your first draft. Nobody cares about your first draft. And that is the thing that you maybe agonizing over, but honestly, whatever you are doing can be fixed. You can fix it tomorrow, you can fix it next week. For now, just get the words out. Get the story down however you can get it down, and then fix it.”

It was pouring that evening. Ahamed loved the rains. He would never fail to be mesmerized by the pitter-patter of the rain drops and hence, it was not surprising that he did not heed to the call of a few busy customers standing outside his grocery shop.

Some say that customers should be the top priority. However, for him, taking the time to reflect on and enjoy nature was far more important. He made himself a nice tea and continued to enjoy the evening.

It was getting late and he did not want to miss the Kebab his wife was making for dinner that day. He had hit his daily earning goal. So a quick sort of to-dos list based on priority landed the Kebab on top. The boy next doors helped him carry the heavy trays and tables inside. He knew he was not in his salad days anymore and did not do any heroics. At least, his body was not, even though his spirit and mind were.

Thanking the boy and giving him his daily wage, Ahamed walked home with his Umbrella. Even before he opened the door, the aroma of the kebab started watering his mouth. That was not all. The surprise that awaited him was much greater when he was greeted by his grandchildren. Could one ask anything more than the lovely rain, loveliest grandchildren and a delicious Kebab along with them? Nope. Ahamed was as content as a person could be.

They finished dinner. Ahamed’s eldest son described about his business ideas and how he was planning to move back close to home once his idea took off. His children made a mess out of the dining table fighting with each other over a piece of kebab because it remotely resembled a gun. One bite out of it would have solved the problem, but no. They had to pull the trigger.

Everyone retired to their rooms and Ahamed had his own little space. He liked his room. It was one of the smallest ones in his home, but was perfect for him. Everything was at a hand’s reach. The small rectangular room had windows on one side, his cot just beside it, the hangar on the opposite wall and a table in the corner.

He hung his shirt on the hangar and changed into his dothi. Answered Nature’s call, applied a little musk to the bed sheet and pillows as was his daily custom. He sat down on his bed, content with the day and yearning for a good sleep. However, the pitter-patter of the rain could still be heard outside. Ahamed wanted to listen to it, to sleep listening to that lullaby. He opened the windows, turned the light off and put his head to rest on the pillow, breathing in the cold air, soothing his mind and body.

Little did he realize the day was not over yet.

After a while since Ahamed slipped off into deep slumber, the beings of the night were set into motion. The moon tried as best as she could to take a peek at the world through the thick clouds, but it was just not her day. There was complete and utter darkness. So dark that it could chill the bones of a mortal who would be awake at that hour. Well, all mortals’ except one’s.

His steps were nimble and the dark added to the swiftness of his motion. Nothing could be heard or seen except for the occasional rustling of leaves, dripping of water and hooting of the owl. He was a master of his trade.

Unsuspecting, Ahamed slept soundly. Not realizing open windows were for creatures of the dark what sun light was for plants, he dreamed on.

A bamboo pole slowly found its way into Ahamed’s room through the grill of the room’s windows. So slow and yet so steady that even a fly wouldn’t have been able to detect that motion. The pole slowly moved in, not even scratching in the faintest at either sides of the narrow window grill. It crossed Ahamed’s bed, steadily continuing forward above him.

Masterfully and skillfully, the pole reached Ahamed’s shirt on the hangar. Maintaining the heavy pole so steady was too much effort and his muscles were acting at its peak. But it was worth it. It was art and sheer talent. Bravery.

Slowly the pole hooked onto Ahamed’s shirt, slowly lifting it off the hangar. Utmost care was needed now for the weight just became unbalanced. The shirt hanging on the pole made it so that it had to be lifted way above the cot before bringing it closer to the window. He was determined to do it.

However, what he did not realize was that Ahamed had been living in this home for the past 25 years and he knew every nook and corner of it. Even the draft that would run through the room was familiar to him because barely anything would change its place. As such, when the shirt was taken off the hangar, Ahamed awoke.

He did not get up. He slightly opened his eyes and beheld his shirt nicely floating by. It amused him. He admired the skill with which the pole was being held steadily. He did not move.

The pole slowly continued to move back towards the window. Almost 20 minutes had passed with that pole in the air. He was clenching his teeth, but his tiredness was overcome thinking about the gratification of achieving this feat. He knew he was getting better day by day.

The shirt was right over Ahamed now and he kept looking at it, admiring its consistent movement. Slowly, it went over, inch by inch. With utmost discipline, the shirt gracefully reached the window. He could not believe he had done it. He was euphoric. He gave all the strength to one arm holding the pole, bit his lips, and slowly moved his other hand to fetch the shirt.

Ahamed got up, took the shirt from the pole, hung it back on the hangar, and went back to sleep.

When I heard Rupet’s dolls had finally hit the store, I was so excited that I just had to immediately see my friend to share the excitement. Nidiya lived a few houses down the lane. I turned off the TV, told my Mom that I’d be back in a jiffy, got hold of my umbrella as we were continuously having rains, and hurried onto Nidiya’s home.

Just as I rang the bell, I could hear a lot of voices from within her home. Standing there wondering what all the hassle was about, the door opened and I heard Nidiya bidding her Mom a quick goodbye. It was never a good sign for me if she was excited. Mainly because she starts going off on wild goose chases and I’m usually the one she drags along with her. Although it is absolutely lovely to be with such an enthusiastic girl, I sometimes do feel what the point of all of it is.

“Hasna, what a surprise!”, she cried upon seeing me standing there without a clue.

“Hey Nidu, what’s up with all the hurrying? Moreover, why does my sixth sense tell me that you were on your way to fetch me to accompany you on one of your so called “who-buried-the-treasure-over-here hunt” instead of simply a “treasure hunt”?”

“Ha ha ha”, Nidiya chuckled warmly. Whenever she smiles, I look at her and lose myself in a few moments of thought at how beautiful and adorable she looks. Especially while smiling. It is a good thing for me because when we both walk together, all the boys look at her and usually do not even pay the slightest of attention to yours truly. I admit that it kind of hurts, but I guess it is better that way in the long run. Anyway, I came out of the spell that her beauty had put on me and smiled back.

“Ever the loyal friend”, she continued, “However, the truth is that we don’t have time. Remember that fact about how the latest multi core processors could do processes in parallel? We even had a debate about it two months back.”, she said, winking at me.

“What! That was two months ago and we had left it then and there agreeing to how hardware parallelism was achieved! Don’t tell me you have gone off on one of your irrelevant tangents regarding this too.”

“Ha! Good news for you then because I have!”, she said sarcastically. “I’ve been reading upon it a lot and doing a lot of research on the matter. Downloading simulators, talking to people online, discussing in online communities and what not. However, here is the drill. I’ve finally tracked it down to Mr. Shafik! Can you believe that?”. There was fire in her eyes as she finished saying that. A look that said that she was blind to everything else now that she was so close to the truth. You people might be wondering what that look is but trust me, I know her and I haven’t seen another person in my life with such zeal and enthusiasm for learning. She just wouldn’t rest until she got to the very core of it.

“Shafik, our  milkman? Cool!”, I said dumbly.

“Augh! No you silly little girl.”, she blurted out extremely irritated. I loved doing that to her. “Mr. Shafik from our own University! Don’t tell me you don’t know the person. Apparently, he was one of the design consultants in the manufacture of the processor!”, she continued in full excitement. I knew what was going to come and just as I had that thought, she said, “So let’s go! No time to waste.”. Ah, there it was. So much for the excitement that I went there with. My mind was on fire thinking how I could show my excitement at Rupet’s dolls. To mention going and seeing toys over learning about processors was a shameful thing for an Engineering student. Still, I too was not one who gave up that easily.

“Wo, wo, wo, hold on. I came here in my own excitement. We’ll go to the University now, but on one condition. As soon as we get back that you’ll come with me to see the Rupet’s dolls exhibition in town! They are out, can you believe it!?”. Now I was sounding excited.

“Yeah sure”, said Nidiya. “I’m not sure what those are but I’m sure they will be worth seeing if they got your attention. Now let us go!”.

We went to the university and got back in the afternoon. She had her fill when Shafik explained to her the core semantics and details of the implementation. Content and happy with her research efforts, she had that “pleased with one’s self” look on her face. However, I was not done yet.

“Let’s go for the exhibit!”, I said disturbing her train of thoughts. She felt irritated on being pulled away from her world. Since it was me who did it, she kept it to herself and gave me one of her lovely smiles.

“Let’s grab some lunch and we’ll be on our way”, she said.

We had lunch and caught the bus to town. We could see posters and billboards of Rupet’s dolls all along the way. They had given it a pretty wonderful publicity for over month now through TV and newspapers. Everyone was anxious to get their hands on them as much I was. We reached town and went to the central supermarket where the first batch of toys had arrived that day morning.

I was scared that this might bore Nidiya too much and I was beginning to feel bad about dragging her over there. The rush at the market was unbelievable and it took almost half an hour to find our way through the crowd into the market. Just as we entered it, I stood as if I was struck with lightning. Trying hard to digest what I had just witnessed, I slowly turned and looked at Nidu. I felt relieved on seeing her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Bringing her along was not a disappointment after all.

“I need a closer look”, she said and hurried over to one of the dolls on the show stand. I followed her and what we both beheld put us in a trance. The dolls were so life like that it was almost indistinguishable from a real human! You could even see the nerves on the hands slightly protruding. The palm of the doll’s hands were so masterfully crafted that each and every line was perfectly visible. Even the nails had the slight pink tint to them. Their eyes seemed to have life in them. The light lines on the lips, the eyebrows, and even the hair on the skin was there and that too in a perfectly normal nature that you would not at feel like you were looking at a doll at all. I even began to think these might be real life dwarfs standing there to trick us and tried pinching and slightly piercing one with my pin. They did not stir. They were dolls.

“Hasna, this is absolutely awesome!”, Nidiya cried. I too had not expected to witness such a marvel.

“Let’s check out the others!”, I said and dragged her away to see the other dolls.

Each one was better than the previous one. The price of the dolls were a tad bit too much for ordinary people, and hence we contended ourselves with just looking at them. We had spent more than two hours there savoring the sight when I noticed that it was getting dark out.

“Hey Nidu, we should get going. First you did not want to come, now you don’t want to go?”, I mocked her. She did not reply, but went straight over to one of the representatives and asked him,

“Sir, where do you get these dolls from?”

“From Rupet, Of course!”, the representative replied with a laugh.

“I mean do you know the place where they come from? Do you directly order it from Rupet himself?”

“Well, their agents came and gave us their number. We rang them and placed an order and here we are!”, he again ended with a smile.

I pulled her away from him and we got out of the market. However, she was already drawn towards the dolls. She kept looking back at the market as we hurried to catch the homebound bus.

“Wow, now those were some cool dolls I say!”, I said trying to show my amazement. Nidiya just nodded and let out a slight hum without giving any reply. “Hey, snap out of it Nidu”, I shook her.

She came back from the world she was in and gave me a weird look. I started feeling extremely disturbed because I had seen that look before in her eyes. It meant that she was hooked onto that matter and she would never give up on it unless she understood every aspect of it.

We got down at the stop near our homes. I asked her not to keep any of this in mind and tried to get her mind back onto the matter of processors. On our way home, I was relieved when she suddenly started telling me about what Mr. Shafik had told her about it. The enthusiasm with which she explained the matter really would get the person hearing her interested in it. Suffice to say, I was all about processors.

Days passed and one day, I was surprised to hear from her mom asking me whether Nidu had called upon me or whether I had any idea where she was. It was study leave for us and we had not seen each other for almost a week now. I grew concerned and asked her mom what was going on. She told me that Nidiya had something on her mind and would spend a lot of time walking here and there muttering to herself. I was not alarmed at that because she usually was like that. However when her mother told me that she had been making quite a few trips to the super market lately, I started to feel a bit worried.

I went over to the super market and inquired whether such a girl had come there. What they told me raised my anxiety even further. It seems she had talked them into giving her the distributor’s phone number. “What is she planning on doing? Learn the craft from the masters?”, I thought. That girl never knew when to let go of something. I did not waste much time. I called the distributors and got their address. I hurried over there and saw the managing director.

I asked him whether a girl had come to him inquiring about Rupet’s dolls.

“Ah yes madame. A pretty young girl had come inquiring about it. However, we do not have direct contact with Rupet’s dolls. We get a call from a number consistently every week and we place our orders then. We never used to call back. She made us give her that number and she went away with a chuckle. That is all I know.”

Nidiya went missing from then on. Nothing can express the guilt and grief that I have bore over the years. It has been 18 years since then. I have relocated to another country and have been settled there for the past three years now. To my surprise, today morning it was the grand opening of Rupet’s toys here in central city. There was a huge crowd at the mall. I went over to the mall which brought back all those bitter memories.

I got in and looked at the dolls. One doll caught my eye. It had a special black dress. I looked at it. It’s skin was so fair and smooth. It had the hands of a sweet little girl and the figure of a beautiful young lady. I felt something horrible within me just then. In that sense of fright, I slowly took the doll. My hands shivered. Slowly I turned it around, and beheld one of the most beautiful faces that I have ever seen in my life.

It was Nidiya.

——————————–

Yet another one of my sister’s weird dreams.

“Isn’t it beautiful dear?”, asked Anna affectionately, looking through her bedroom window, out onto the wide open fields. It was a beautiful summer evening. The fields were bathed in the golden rays of the evening sun. The birds were chirping and scurrying about for their final morsel of the day.

“Hmmm…”, said Derek, looking up from the book he was reading. He was not someone who enjoyed being interrupted while his mind was wandering over places unchartered. However, he loved his wife. “It sure is Ann, it sure is…”, he replied.

Anna knew that Derek did not like to be bothered, but some calm and irresistibly gentle feeling made her blurt out with the question. She had actually meant that as more of a statement rather than a question, and did not carry on with the conversation. The feeling was so comforting that she sat mesmerized with the sight.

Her brooding was cut short by her daughter’s voice calling from downstairs. “Mommy, little Jean is back from watering the garden and I’m hungry too!”, called out the 14 year old Rebecca, Anna’s elder daughter.

Even though a little bit irritated for having her chain of thoughts interrupted, Anna got up from the bed, brushed her hair and went down stairs. “You too come honey, I’ll fix us all a snack”, she said as she was about to leave the room.

“In a minute.”, said Derek, without looking up from his book.

Meanwhile, John and his team were standing across the field, about a mile from Derek’s home. He looked into his icara-10, 7-pod screen and frowned. “Status sir?”, asked one of his subordinates. John did not answer.

By the time Anna had finished fixing a snack, Derek was already downstairs. She brought it all and put them on the table where her daughters and Derek were already seated.

“Yay, Burgers!” cried little Jean, hungry and somewhat excited. Rebecca looked and smiled at her handing over a piece for her. While Rebecca was helping her little sister Jean with the snack, Anna looked at the clock, nodded at Derek and stood up from her seat. “I’ll just see that the fence gate is closed and come back”, she said with a smile and went out.

Derek finished his piece and followed her out. Just when he got out, suddenly, Rebecca started feeling uneasy. She felt like something was swelling up inside her and filling her inside out. She started finding it hard to breathe and a burning sensation originated inside her head. The piece of burger fell from her hands and she held her throat, starting to choke and gasp for breath. Little Jean got frightened seeing what was happening to her sister. “Reb!”, she cried out. Just then, Rebecca started bleeding from her nose and mouth, gave a muffled cough and fell onto the table. Little Jean screamed and ran out yelling.

She got out the front door and saw her Mom and Dad standing near the big oak in front of their home. “Mommy!”, she cried and started running towards Anna. However, Anna and Derek did not seem alarmed at all and looked with a pair of cold eyes, at their daughter running towards them. When little Jean was half way, suddenly she gasped and felt something blowing inside her head. Just like Reb, she started bleeding and fell down. Clutching the grass and coughing, she wriggled for a while, and then lay still.

“Sigh… What a mess”, said Anna.

“Yeah… “, concurred Derek.

“Not bad for the new DNA”, said John, still looking at his pod screen. “Let’s relay the report to the main research HQ and go pick up the carcass”, he told his team. He then took his transponder and said, “Experiment 3k-007 completed. Results are being relayed. Material being gathered. Shut down Droids O72-Derek and Q144-Anna. Over.”

“Copy that. Over and out”, cackled a voice over the transponder.

“No more STD they say… No more risks they say and no more sex, they say…”, mumbled John and walked away.

Years later, on a lovely summer evening, Anna said affectionately, “Isn’t it beautiful dear?”, looking through her bedroom window, out onto the wide open fields.

John, sitting at a mile away, looked into his pod and said, “Rebecca’s and Jane’s DNAs’ are stable. They will live longer this time. Relay the status. Let’s come back later.”. He took his team and went on to the next site.

———————————————

This story was actually a dream that my sister had. Dream as in the dreams that you have in your sleep. She saw it like a movie and surprisingly, remembered enough of it to come and tell me. I’ve made it into a story as best I can. Do leave your comments.

The room was relatively dark. I could make out the outline of a few figures though. I was not alone.

Light is a natural stimulus and hence when I found it shining brightly through the smallest of cracks, I knew that was where I should be heading.

At the exact moment that I had that thought, my eyes got accustomed to the darkness and the room became vaguely visible. I was surprised to see me dressed in white, standing there weak and worthless. But how could that be? I was able to see myself there in third person. I ruled out the possibility of it being a mirror because I could see I was personally wrapped up in some kind of an old rag. Then who was that who shared my face? Even though he had a certain aura around him, he looked lean and completely worn out as if he was struggling to keep himself on his feet.

I was really confused so as to what was happening. The last thing that I could clearly remember was seeing that old woman carrying two heavy sacks in her hands while I was on my way home after buying certain things from the market. I could not remember what happened next. But somehow there I was watching someone like myself who looked half dead.

Suddenly, I saw him gather all his strength and trying to make a dash for the light from the crack. His rapid movement was cut short with a deafening blow that sent him crashing onto the floor. However, I did not feel anything but I was curious to know what was going on. I understood the whole scenario stank of trouble. I kept my mouth shut and just stood watching.

I was wondering who landed that blow and as if to satisfy my curiosity, I saw a hulking figure standing over the ‘white’ me.

By then my eyes had grown pretty well accustomed to the darkness and I could see things clearly. The new figure was not alone. There was a really beautiful girl along with him who looked disturbingly familiar. For a few seconds I could not take my eyes off her and slowly I realised that anything and everything she was, was what I wanted in a woman.

My thoughts were cut short by the screeching of a car’s break. I did not know where it came from, but there was an awesome looking sports car in the room. The door opened and a guy got out. He looked really cool with black shades and all. Well built. He resembled the movie star whom I always dreamt of meeting someday.

He stood there mocking the helpless figure on the ground. I began to feel pity for the helpless ‘me’ lying there. Why was this fate upon him? I had no idea. All I could do was to wait and see what would happen.

At that instant, as if with a sudden burst of energy, the figure on the ground jumped and tried taking a shot at the hulking figure. But the latter one was too strong and he again floored the ‘white’ me. I started getting angry.

However, the hulking figure snapped his fingers and a music started playing in the background. I recognised the song instantly. It was one of my favourite songs and upon hearing it, my anger subsided.

The big guy started to turn slowly. I still couldn’t make out his face but I was sure he was the boss there. Everyone stood there in deep respect of him. Many people had appeared in the room by now. Most of them were on the big guy’s side as if awaiting orders from him. Only one or two dressed in white were with the one on the floor and they too were as feeble as him.

The big guy went over to a table on which there was a laptop. I could make out what was on the screen. It was my favourite game. However, when he went and sat in front of it, I began to feel disturbed for I could see his face. It seemed familiar and yet strange. I went a bit more closer and what I saw froze me with disgust.

He had my face!

Yet there was so much wrong with it. Even though one could make out that it resembled my face, it had the eyes of a man who did not have an ounce of love or sympathy. The face itself was so twisted that it was horrible to behold. Only the ones who could derive pleasure out of pain and cruelty would be able to bear that face.

My mind was beginning to fill with hate, anger and disgust. I was not that ugly or cruel! My thoughts were cut short when something strange caught my eye. I saw the ‘white’ me looking at me. I saw him looking at with me with pleading eyes and pointing to something behind me. I kept on staring at him. However, as if something pulled my gaze along with the direction at which his finger was pointing to, I slowly began to turn my head and looked behind me.

I saw the old woman just a few feet away from me, standing and panting heavily having put down the heavy sacks. I had to help her.

With this in mind, I turned back to the room, only to see something completely amazing. The ‘white’ me was sitting on the floor now. But he looked completely rejuvenated. All the signs of tiredness and weakness had vanished from his face and body. The aura around him shone brighter, He had a confident pleasant smile on his face.

He was slowly raising himself from the floor at the moment which the celebrity in the black shades standing there saw him. “Stay down!”, he shouted and clenched his fists ready to land a blow.

His raised arm was about to come down crashing upon the one on the floor when in the blink of an eye, the ”white’ me rose up landing a huge uppercut right on the jaw of the cool guy. He was taken out.

Seeing this, the hulking figure got up but the beautiful lady gestured him to wait. She went towards the ‘white’ me and looked into his eyes. Her gaze was so strong and seductive that his eyes slowly began to lose its determination. His released his clenched fists. He relaxed and the lady slowly went near him and put her hands around his shoulders. She slowly brought her lips near to his.

“Hiya!”, he screamed and landed a fierce blow on her belly followed by a strong right fist on her face. She was thrown away with the strength of his punch. At this, the hulking figure and his goons were on him. But the two with him had now become many. It was a small battle with many clad in white against many in black both headed by people looking like me.

However, the whites were too strong and they won the battle easily. When I looked upon the scene once again after rubbing my eyes, there was just the ‘white’ me standing there. He looked handsome and fair. He resembled goodness and it was a pleasure looking at him. Slowly, he turned and looked at the crack the bright light was shining from. He went towards it, put his fingers in the crack and ripped it apart letting in a dazzling light!

I went  and took the sacks in my hands. The old woman looked and smiled at me.

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

The battle had been going on for seven days continuously. The Raikan army had held off the evil of Bola for so long. Through day and night, hunger and starvation, pain and agony, the Raikans had held them off through sheer power of will. But now the Raikans were getting exhausted, not because they didn’t have the will, but because they were humans and their body’s each and every cell had been tapped to their marrows and the Bolan army was coming at them in thousands and ten thousands. The Raikans were outnumbered.

. . . . . . . . .

The Raikan tribe was a peaceful settlement along the coast of the river Amelyah. Even though a settlement, through years they had grown to occupy acres of coastal land. They thrived there and did not interfere much in the matters of the outside world because they never depended on anyone for their sustenance. However, on the day of the full moon every month, one among them would set out on a journey to bring back whatever news they could gather from around them.

The settlement of Raikan was wrapped in God’s green beauty. If ever a soul wished to find peace at heart by the nurturing of the soil as the trees, then this was the place that would bind his soul to the essence of the murmuring green that slowly swayed with gentle breeze.

The ever flowing bed of pearls that served as the resting place for the heavenly stars at night was the river Amelyah. She would bring happiness from the heavens that she was flowing from for the people of Raikan and they always found the energy and soul of nature with her enchanting sound. She would bubble and whiz along the rocks soothing and shaping them with the hands of a skilled craftsman. It is said that the sorrows of the people were washed away by her with her crystal beauty. She was sacred and they would gladly give their lives for her.

Their beliefs and rituals did not go anywhere beyond Amelyah and mother nature. To them, she was God and whatever they had was her gift. They never took it for granted and they even preserved each and every stub of grass that would grow around them. Often people who bathe in the river of love get into a trance for a few seconds and it is said that they would behold a certain vague image of a galloping beast with a rider mounted on it. It would pass through their village bathing it in a pool of crystals and the green would hold their heads up high in great reverence and respect. The trance would end in a few seconds but within that time, they would have experienced a feeling so strong that their courage would become like mountains that hold mother Earth down.

. . . . . . . .

It was one day during the second of fall that they noticed the slight tint of black among the beautiful currents of Amelyah. It disturbed their hearts to see their God’s beauty having been scarred by the slightest of happenings. And with each passing day since then, the black currents started appearing more and more. The Raikan’s knew not what the reason for this unfortunate happening was. And their concern grew more with each passing day.

On the coming day when the moon rose up and high in his full vigour, they appointed their next traveller to seek out the cause of this ill happening. He went forth with a heavy heart of sorrow that their love had been scathed by a source unknown. However, in order to leave the Raikan tribe, one had to cross the bridge of Garand. It was the only way on foot to the tribe. If not that, one would have had to swim across the currents of Amelyah in order to get to the village. When he reached the bridge and was about to cross it, he beheld the black currents flowing ever more strongly. He turned his gaze away from the unholy sight and sped on his way.

. . . . . . . .

Two weeks of anxious wait with the ever increasing black currents of Amelyah was starting to put the people of Raikan into a state of restlessness. None of them dared to touch the currents and as such their soul’s energy was draining away little at a time. Their only consolation was the pampering murmur of Amelyah that still sounded with the sweetest of tones day and night.

On the last day’s night of the second week, their waiting came to an end with the whistle of the traveller being heard from a distance. But they knew something was wrong. The sound of the hoofs were not peaceful. The traveller was hurrying back.

They saw him coming at a rapid pace and faintly could make out him shouting something. As he approached nearer, his uttering became clearer and what they heard made them freeze. It was one word that they did not even expect to hear in their worst nightmares and here they were hearing it from one of their own.

“Bola!”

They had not seen the traveller clearly due to the night’s shadow. But once the traveller reached them, they beheld his dress having been burnt and marks of black on his entire dress. Still, they were not ready for what yet going to come. The traveller removed his mask slowly…

And there was the mark of Bola on his face!

. . . . . . . .

Bola was the evil of lands that was prophesied to come at the times of ill bearings of the world. Bola was the evil that would slaughter beauty and spread chaos among the kind hearted. Bola was the destroyer of life as it is and Bola was the binder of one’s soul to hell. Bola was inhuman.

The mark of Bola was made on the people whom they captured and wanted tortured for life. The mark once put on the person would bind his soul to the depths of hell. The chaos and flames of hell would slowly burn his soul a little bit at a time. He would feel the pain of his soul, his life burning inch by inch without even the slightest of pain to his body. There was no cure but to writhe in agony until one’s soul was completely burnt away from within.

. . . . . . . .

The Raikan’s did not care for their souls nor their bodies when Amelyah was threatened. All the fear and pain would be masked by their love for her and that was what kept the traveller on his horse till he reached back. He delivered the message and that was that Bola had already made their mark on certain places and captured most of river Amelyah. But in order to spread their evil, they needed the final part of the river. And that was the part protected by the Raikans. Bola was on their way for the final piece of their puzzle.

On hearing this, the Raikans’ blood boiled. They were not just going to fight until they stood dying on their very feet. But they were going to make sure that the Bola would never get the river completely. With this in mind, they retired to their settlement for discussions on what was to be done.

. . . . . . . . .

Amelyah was their life and death. It was the bearer of purity and love and they were certain that if they were to stand a chance against Bola, then it would be in Amelyah’s presence only. And finally, they had to make the hard choice – destroy the bridge of Garand!

This was agreed upon and the Raikans choose their strategic positions wisely with more number of people mustered at the shallow regions and lesser ones with ranged attacks at the deeper sites. They began their wait for the inhuman Bola.

They knew their weapons would not cause harm to the Bolas. As such, their mind and soul, and its purity was their only weapon. Along with the blessings of Amelyah, they held a hope of belief rather than of faith. However their thoughts were cut short with a strange happening…

The black currents suddenly started shifting towards the opposite bank bringing the pure and refreshing waters of the river nearer to them. It was as if a straight line of divide had been drawn in the middle of the river with one side pitch black and the other heavenly white. They knew it was time…

From the very distance, they could vaguely make out the faint outline of dark Bola army approaching…

. . . . . . . .

Even after the seventh day of the battle, the Raikan’s found no new hope. But as long as the Bolas were trying to hurt Amelyah, the fire kept burning within the hearts of the Raikans. But they were exhausted. The inhumans did not die. But were repelled and rendered powerless with the purity that the Raikan’s held true. But they were persistent and kept coming back again and again. Many Raikan’s had already fallen out of starvation and hunger and they knew they could not keep this fight up much longer. One more night, and the Bolas would take over the Raikan tribe.

They started to pray.

On the night of the seventh day of the Battle of Garand, suddenly the Bolas seemed to soften up. There was a deadly calm within the realm of battle. All the rage that the Bolas were attacking the Raikan’s with seemed to be sapped away from them. The humongous army of the Bolas suddenly seemed to be distracted at some strange phenomenon that was happening without the Raikan’s knowing.

The Raikan’s also started to feel a great sense of inner peace within them. A feeling that none had ever encountered before. A feeling of hope and love. They felt a new energy flowing from deep within.

A gentle breeze started to sway the green trees around. They too seemed to have been aroused by something strange and it was as if they had grown taller and higher in a few seconds.

The feeling lasted in the battlefield for a few minutes which was broken by a horrendous and fearful war cry from the Bolan army and they once and for all made a straight ahead massive dash at the Raikan army to finish them off. The Raikan’s knew the battle was lost.

A brilliant flash of light suddenly threw those Bolas in the river up in the air! There was a gush of strong wind and suddenly the clouds of the sky made way for the shining moon! Amelyah started shining and sparkling as if by heavenly magic which made the Bolans go crazy!

The river slowly started rising and behold! There emerged the gallant Water Rider from within the currents! Those Raikan’s who had the trance suddenly shouted, “Its the Water rider! The WATER RIDER!”.

Cheers of happiness and hope shouted from the Raikans. The water rider came forth with such fury with water flame sword in his hand that many of the Bolans cried out of fear. The Water Rider shouted,

“Come oh Raikan’s! Holders of purity and lovers of Amelyah! Your protector is here and your spirits and minds have been kindled with the love of Heaven! Let us drive these creatures of ill omen out once and for all!”

With this, He charged into the Bolan army causing havoc! Not anything that the Bolans did could hold the white rider back. He cut through the entire black army like a comet shining in the dark skies! The Raikan’s followed his lead and cleansed the evil of Bola.

The true spirit and love that they had held for mother Nature had won. Amelyah was back to what it was for another long years to come.

He was depressed.

He had no clue how things could go so wrong. It was not the end of the world or anything but still, he had screwed up considerably well. However, the event altogether had not been a flop. But that was not an excuse to cover up his idiocy. It was a blow to his integrity and how much he wished he could change what had happened. More than that, how much he wished he knew what was going to happen so that he could be prepared for it.

With the thoughts of his failure and his tremendous wish of getting to know what was going to happen next, he lied down on his bed brooding over all of these. He had read about Hari Seldon, the great mind in Isaac Asimov’s foundation series who predicted the future of man. Seldon had formulated the Seldon Theory which predicted the fall of the current Galactic empire in a certain year and the rise of a new one thereafter.

It was an amazing story line and he thought about what Seldon had based his calculations on. It was a really interesting observation that Seldon had made about humans. And it was that, as individuals, all of us, including you and I, are unpredictable. No one would be able to predict what an individual would do next except for having a hunch. And if someone could predict it, it would solely depend upon human emotions and would have no mathematical grounds to hold it true.

As such, Seldon did not consider humans as individuals for his theory. But he considered them as a whole bunch, a humongous group as grounds for his theory. Now why did he do that? The answer was simple. As a whole, what the humans would do was exactly or at least to the precison of …

WHAM! Suddenly his thoughts were cut short by a deafening sound and somebody had kicked open his door. He was on red alert.

His heart felt joy and warmth and a feeling that cannot be described with words when he saw his friends standing there and singing,

“Happy birthday to you,

happy birthday to youuuuu,

happy birthday to dear Haseeb,

Happy… Birthday… tooooooo… youuuuuuuuuuuuuu”

In that moment he realized he would never wish again to know the future. Because, what would life be without surprises?

They all had the best time of their lives.

This is a real life experience related by my dad to me one fine night. I jotted it down and made up into a story as best as I can. My dad is the narrator.

———————————————————–

I was sitting with my father along with my brothers. We were very poor and were very lucky if we got anything to eat for supper at all. One day, we were fortunate enough to get a bowl of rice soup each for supper. By the time we were starting, we heard a knock at the door. My father opened the door and there stood a very weak and thin man shivering with cold. He begged for some food.

My father, without saying anything to him or to us, welcomed him in and poured a fraction of soup from each of our bowls into another bowl and offered it to him. He drank it with much gratitude. Finishing it and then praising, blessing and thanking us with all his heart, he went away.

Naturally, out of curiosity, we all asked father who he was. Our father replied:

“Children, I’ve started working for my livelihood since I was five years old. And one day, when I was so full of hunger and exhaustion, I went and begged one of the owners of the shop for some food. He treated me very kindly. Instead of giving me food, he gave me five or six lashes with his whip and made me run for my life. And do you know what is the most interesting thing that has happened to me over the past few years? It happened just now. The man whom I gave food to just now was that shop owner’s son.”

He came to his first day at college finally. A long time had he waited for this day. Nervous, a bit too tensed and above all, with many a memory he craved to re–live again, he took his books in his hand, let go of a deep sigh and lugged his somewhat unwilling legs out of his room slowly. With each step he took, his heart grew only heavier. He was finally back where he wanted to be, but was this how he wanted to be back? Will any of those old moments come running back to him? He had no clue.

“Well”, he thought, “things can’t be all that worse”

As in a dream where we live for almost double the time than in the real world, his ten minute walk to the class seemed to him a lifetime.

The trickle of water from the ruined tap in the courtyard out front seemed to him now like an ever flowing stream that took with it all the joy, sadness and the whole life of a kid with it from the moment he set his foot in that place.

As for him, his yacht had sailed down it already and went into the depths. He smiled at the thought of once pushing his birthday buddy into it and camouflaging him. But fortunately for the birthday boy, their Principal came to see them loitering around during class time and they got busted while he lied still in his camouflage.

He was nowhere near reaching his class while finishing these thoughts. Just two or three steps had he taken.

The steps seemed much more heavier for him to take now. Unexpectedly, he saw his two worst enemies coming right at him. But the usual shudder did not come back up his spine. Instead, he saw himself going out to meet them.

His thoughts were cut short by a call. “Hey newbie, having trouble finding your first class?”

It was one of the teachers who had helped him through his admission. They had grown to be quite close friends in a short while. “I’ll manage on my own”, he said with a smile.

Things seemed weird around him and his mind almost grew blank. Thoughts of his own seemed too much of a luxury now. He remembered the silent lad he was. And how the teachers used to tease him just for the sake of it.

He had never even once complained about it. But the scars that he accepted were never to be healed.

How he once was made to sit in front of the class mimicking sitting in the toilet. How that day all of his so called “friends” laughed and how none of them stood up for him.

He was an entertainment tool.

How he was caught and made to strip by a bunch of his drunken seniors…

All made it clear to him the one thing that gave people the kick of doing things. Power. And he had it right now.

Fire in his heart and mind, his nervousness dropped away and his limbs moved faster.

He almost reached his class and could see the students sitting there. It reminded him of chickens in a slaughter house.

He got in the class and all the students sat in their places. He was the boss now. He was the teacher.

“I am your new teacher”, said he and he said in his mind, “and boy are you guys going to suffer”, with a grin.