The moon was high and screaming that day. The western sea roared his name. Some millions years ago, before the moon or the sea or the existence of this whole world, God ordered to his pen in the empty dark space to, “Write! Write what is destined form today till the end of all days!”, and with all the men who lived on the face of earth, his destiny too was written down .. Through a pen.
There were screams inside that one—roomed—mud—walled hut, a woman was pregnant, and she is going to give birth to a male child, an heir, a dream of a father. But sadly his father was not an emperor or a man of high power, he is just a ‘man’ of bad luck, born in a family of dalits, the untouchables. He never could do anything of his luck and like all, he never tried.
Two men are outside the house. One is young and tensed, who keeps walking back-and-forth in his wooden footwear, creating the repeated sound of ‘clat’ and ‘clat’ as the wood kisses the dry soil. And the other sitting on the stone carved bench, drinking and cursing the cold environment and his fortune. Both man wore the least cloth needed to hide a person’s body, a single piece cloth rolled round from the chest to the knees. The continuous coming and going of village women, they would come and ask “is this the house?”, the tensed man would reply “Yes”. They would get in, he would try to sneak in and the women will shout at him to, “wait outside!”.
While inside the house, it was more women than needed. One was sitting by the head of the pregnant patient, sweeping the sweat of her head with a white wet cloth. Others holding hand, praying and saying “It will be alright”, while they too were unaware of the future, the woman got a high fever. And an old woman, who have seen enough births and deaths that it neither excite her nor scare her, sit in the corner smoking her bidi waiting for the right time. The only sound in that dark room was that of breathing, burning of bidi and the prayers on their lips to many gods. The remaining stood and stared at the screaming woman.
The moon reached its outmost shininess when the screams stopped, whispers turn louder and the boy breathed his first earthly breathe. And he cried – the high pitched cry and the beginning of new life turned the eyes of kind hearted woman to tears. The door got open, a woman got out with a babe against her bosom and gave him to his father. The sweet cry of the child turn the sweat of the tensed man into tears—tears of joy. He had a complete family now—or he is too unaware of the future of his joy? He hold him upwards and look at the babe, he was a bit red, they may have tried to clean him from the blood, but still some was left on his back and bit redness, caused by the cloth. He showed it to the moon, and thought, “Look! he is brighter and sweeter than you..”. He opened his mouth and spoke, in the presence of his unseen God, “From now on .. you are my moon. You are Chandra!”.
There he was sitting, seeing and listening to it all (The God).
#review #storypart #Pasha #everyone
There were screams inside that one—roomed—mud—walled hut, a woman was pregnant, and she is going to give birth to a male child, an heir, a dream of a father. But sadly his father was not an emperor or a man of high power, he is just a ‘man’ of bad luck, born in a family of dalits, the untouchables. He never could do anything of his luck and like all, he never tried.
Two men are outside the house. One is young and tensed, who keeps walking back-and-forth in his wooden footwear, creating the repeated sound of ‘clat’ and ‘clat’ as the wood kisses the dry soil. And the other sitting on the stone carved bench, drinking and cursing the cold environment and his fortune. Both man wore the least cloth needed to hide a person’s body, a single piece cloth rolled round from the chest to the knees. The continuous coming and going of village women, they would come and ask “is this the house?”, the tensed man would reply “Yes”. They would get in, he would try to sneak in and the women will shout at him to, “wait outside!”.
While inside the house, it was more women than needed. One was sitting by the head of the pregnant patient, sweeping the sweat of her head with a white wet cloth. Others holding hand, praying and saying “It will be alright”, while they too were unaware of the future, the woman got a high fever. And an old woman, who have seen enough births and deaths that it neither excite her nor scare her, sit in the corner smoking her bidi waiting for the right time. The only sound in that dark room was that of breathing, burning of bidi and the prayers on their lips to many gods. The remaining stood and stared at the screaming woman.
The moon reached its outmost shininess when the screams stopped, whispers turn louder and the boy breathed his first earthly breathe. And he cried – the high pitched cry and the beginning of new life turned the eyes of kind hearted woman to tears. The door got open, a woman got out with a babe against her bosom and gave him to his father. The sweet cry of the child turn the sweat of the tensed man into tears—tears of joy. He had a complete family now—or he is too unaware of the future of his joy? He hold him upwards and look at the babe, he was a bit red, they may have tried to clean him from the blood, but still some was left on his back and bit redness, caused by the cloth. He showed it to the moon, and thought, “Look! he is brighter and sweeter than you..”. He opened his mouth and spoke, in the presence of his unseen God, “From now on .. you are my moon. You are Chandra!”.
There he was sitting, seeing and listening to it all (The God).
#review #storypart #Pasha #everyone