Ah!
The magical view
Of
the setting Phoebus.
Soothing
and calm enough to brew
Orpheus
to pen a few lines;
As
the dreamy dune of
Reddening
hues
Fly
with the diving Sun
Over
the golden line of pines.
It
is the cherished time of the day
Sitting
by the spell of the bay
When
the nous flings open
With
the closure of his eyes
And the winging suffocated vision
Get
the unearthed words shine.
1.
After a
week long wait, the dream was going to come true and she was in my boat now
with no one else around. She was a beauty like a majestic piece of painting on
a rare piece of canvas by a hand obsessed in a poetic delusion to create a
masterpiece; one in a billion. I could get so easily lost with the glowing pair
of eyes, spilling out the perfect embodiment of innocence. I was feeling so
thrilled to take her along in a boat ride in the lake in my 1000 acre estate.
No one
else is permitted to row a boat in this part of the lake; my favorite place, so
close to the wilderness. It always gives me a soothing feeling in the serenity
of the deep blue lake with forest lines along both the banks. Of course, there
is a fence to keep the wilderness of the forests well inside the border fixed
for them with all the creatures and beasts live in this darkest part of the
forests. And I used to feel a chilling thrill particularly with the
soul-sucking laughs of hyenas, while floating my boat on the lake under the
shade of a night sky. There is a shallow canal that flows straight into the
forest and sometimes on some very special occasions I used to row my boat past
a little gap in the fence to enter the canal in the twilight. And the feeling
of crossing the borderline into the dark was incomparable. And today was such a
big occasion with a real beauty accompanying me.
She
approached me a week ago and it was not a very unusual thing for a marriageable
heir to such a big estate with the biggest metal factory in the county. The
first thing that struck my mind was the pair of eyes: a warm, curious and gentle look focusing on the farthest horizon behind, through my heart.
I wondered why on earth
I hadn’t ever come across a beauty of such magnitude in all these years. The
mysterious beauty with a mystified smile on her lips was actually in a holiday
trip to her aunt’s home in my county. She was a university graduate with an
interest in old castles and the life style running through the heirs to the
estates for centuries. The common people hardly make any approach of intimacy
with the ruthless rulers of their ancestors, but she, obviously as an outsider,
ignored the long lasting tradition of keeping distance with the lineage of blue
blood.
I got
everything ready on my boat and things were going smoothly as per the plan. And
I never failed in the execution of my plans. I make sure to bring everything
under my sole control. But today was a little different. She didn’t want to get
herself exposed to anyone else rather than me. So, I had to pick her up outside
the palace gate and take her to my secret way to get inside the estate boundary.
There was a time when I had to use that secret path. And it was not far from
the lake.
The secret way was so
closely associated to my strewn childhood days when I used to escape the unbearable
silence inside the palace, without my mother. I can still remember the moments
when we were together; two innocent souls in riches and luxury and in prison
under the iron ruling of my father. And then one day she escaped abandoning me
all alone in this large luxurious green void. All the traces and signs attached
to her staying in the palace had been destroyed a long ago. But, I don’t know
how, an old picture of her remained intact with me as a secret childhood
possession. The image of a young lady, radiating warmth of love from an
enchantingly beautiful face and an innocent pair of eyes, had become my only
companion that I almost hated to look at but couldn’t help it.
I forced myself back to
the boat and to the only companion, while trying to re-imagine the exciting and
mouthwatering plans I made to do with her. And I was on the right course,
rowing the boat slowly towards the music of the jungle; towards my most favorite
place in the entire estate. Riding in an
evening zephyr with the peace and tranquility and the mystifying muse lying
deep down the unison of water and jungle, we were sitting in the bewildering
silence. There was a small gap between us and the gap was filled in with one of
the oldest collections of wine bottle from our seller and lots of fruits and
the well-conceived plan I made for her.
2.
I was familiar with the
Konlabos fruit and a few years ago when I discovered the rarest tree in one of
my solo voyage in the darkest part of the forest, I was over excited with joy.
It was such a great feeling of temporary paralysis that I had learned to enjoy
with the extract of the fruit in an artistic blend with wine. The near death
experience, by lying upright under the open sky with the eyes wide open and the
sense helpless in a brutal failure to connect with the organs of the
unresponsive body, is something way beyond explanation. But, today was a
special occasion and the wine was exclusively for the beautiful girl
accompanying me.
As I got the boat close
to the shallow canal flowing inside the jungle, I started pouring the special
wine in one of the glasses.
‘Sorry, I’ve got an allergy in wine and I know it sounds really awkward, but I don’t drink it,’ she told in an apologetic tone.
But the tone seemed so
familiar to me, a long way back from the past. My mother hated wine. And all on
a sudden I feel an awkward chilling breeze flowing straight into my veins. It
had to be a hallucination. The girl sitting opposite to me started melting away,
radiating a glow; powerful enough to blind my vision and my mind. I felt
thirsty and gulped down the wine from the glass even before a friction of
second when I realized that I was doing something wrong. But, I was late by a
friction of second.
I knew very well what
was going to happen with me. I took the wine meant for the girl who was
supposed to be my seventh victim. I used to feel so excited and thrilled by
throwing the immobile bodies down the shoreline of the shallow canal by the
forest for the feasting of hyenas. From the safest distance after moving out of
the canal, I used to see the ghostly figures with burning eyes; blood-freezing screams
and cackling laughter.
And my body was giving
in fast; not like the moments I enjoyed in my bedroom or the green lawn by the
lake when I took the special wine to enjoy the self-induced paralysis for hours
together. I started shivering with all my strength to turn the boat around, but
I couldn’t hold the grip of the rowing oar. The boat kept moving along the
danger zone and hit the shoreline in the shallow canal and I fall down with my upright
body half submerged and my eyes wide open overlooking the darkening sky in the
twilight.
I know I won’t have to
wait long. The hyenas could smell the living flesh, the last line of the
centuries old inheritance from a long long distance. And soon enough there will
be my permanent release from the castle- full of hidden blood stains and sighs-
in the feasting and laughing of the beasts.
© Atique R.
1
Rein Morrison was
against the idea of keeping the White palace as it had been for the last couple of
centuries; standing tall and high and proud with the silhouetted mountains behind
it and the forest line at the slope of the hill at its west, which had grown
tall and dark and wild with the welcoming absence of human interference.
The inexplicable attractions for mysteries and the unexplainable connection of human interest to the history
of their ancestors had made the place a favorite one a long ago with its safe and pure
wilderness amidst growing bushes, a deep blue lake and wild yellow flowers all
around the property covering a huge area of 500 acres. And for the last fifty
years, it had almost become a tradition for the people in the little town to
spend their weekends in peace and tranquility of the White Park, as they called it; so close to the town yet far from the hustle and bustle of the city heart. With
too many open grounds for the kids to play around, the beautiful view of the
wild yellow flowers grown in abundance all around the place, the chilling
breeze flowing in from the mountain ridge, the color blast of various plants
and bushes on the slopes of the hills, the place had an irresistible appeal.
And most importantly it was open for all.
However, one thing was for sure that no one dared to trespass the un-inhabiting white palace gate. It always
remained locked with an aura of mystery caved inside. Without any living heritance
to claim, the palace naturally became the responsibility of the city council.
They had to spend a budget, however little it was, to keep the outer part clean
and mowed. But they themselves didn’t bother to clean the interior which was
believed to be haunted by the souls still attracted to the place they used to
be living in till their deaths.
But, the city people
were okay with the haunted souls, if there were any, as long as they were residing
inside the palace. There had never been any report of any harms done by any
supernatural elements in and around the area. And there were the senior
citizens who believed that the palace owners were good people with great hearts
for the well-being of the people of the county. And there were no reason for
them to turn hostile against the people they once loved, if their souls freed from
their bodies a century ago would still roam around the palace. So, people,
since the last three generations, never stopped spending their beautiful family
times in the place around the palace and more interestingly, people from the
adjacent towns and even from the faraway places started visiting the place for
the historical appeal, mystified stories linked to the palace, and for the pure
and serene beauty amidst the wilderness; still undisturbed.
2.
It was kept going on
like this until one fine morning when the manager of a famous construction
corporation came to the office of the Mayor with a modest and alluring
proposal. The spreading interest of people outside the county drew the
attention of the corporation to turn it a popular tourist destination by
blending the beauty and the mystery of the palace and by harnessing the
wilderness in favor of their monetary interests.
Rein Morrison was the
Mayor after all. And most of the city councilors were backing him for the
business gain; both for the prospect of a sky-rocketed tax revenue and for the personal
commissions they were secretly promised by the manager of Hide Valley
Constructions Inc. And the promised commission was an unbelievably huge one; way
beyond their imaginations. And all was just for their consent and signature on
the approval papers for turning the White Palace a Five Star resort including
the blue lake, the forest line and the open grounds in the property area.
There was an uproar
against the decision among the little number of people who had happened to come
across the exclusively secret approval in progress in the mayoral office. And
Estella Merion was one among the councilors who protested against the decision.
But everything was under the absolute control of the mayor, as the majority of the
councilors under him had given their support in his favor. The signing
ceremony was about to be happened in a grand style with a proper match of a
five star facility. A majestic party was thrown from the construction
corporation and the venue of the party was none other than the White Palace
itself.
Even without the
official approval signed, the corporation, with the consent of the mayor, started their work inside the property. Under the guise of a routine renovation work, the site
had been closed down for two weeks and within this short time, they inspected
the interior for a rough layout plan and got the grand hall of the palace
ready for the party. The invitees, all being so exclusive and special and the
heads of the city, were requested to attend the party with promises of
surprises and the commissions of course.
3.
Estella Merion was not
in a position to make it public until the approval was signed. Until then it
was a matter supposed to be kept as a secret among the members of the city
councilors as a part of their oath. And the mayor had a reason, well enough,
for the approval. A large amount of revenue would be collected and numbers of
new business opportunities would be opened up for the city, which was going to
be gone past the status of a quiet and calm town with a few thousands of
original inhabitants in total. Something big was going to be happened with the
expected flood of people from everywhere and the city would no longer remain a
little town.
She contacted one of
her friends from the university, who was currently working as a freelance
journalist. His name was James Pattinson, a thin, tall and gentle looking boy with long curl hairs and an innocent pair of eyes. But, inside, he was the most daring badass and adventure seeker among all her varsity friends. She requested him to make a report about the
historical value of the palace and the true feeling involved with the natural
tranquility and originality of the place. And the secret party they were going
to attend even before the signing of the approval and about how the residents
were cheated by the mayoral office by closing the location in the name of
renovation work.
This was going to be a
breaking news on the front pages of the local newspapers with the pictures of
the party in the White Palace. A big time news. And that was the best Estella
could do without knowing the exact outcome of the plan.
4.
As a part of the plan
to keep the party a secret one, the special invitees were instructed to get
there in different times, keeping at least a time gap of fifteen minutes from
one another in reaching the spot, their dream project.
The first one was David
Muller, a favorite to the mayor. An aspiring young politician in his first term
as a councilor. In his royal blue sedan he was on his way to the palace. He
knew the place well with so many happy moments spent together with his family.
And he knew that he was going to spend even better times there in the near future
with all those five star facilities. It would be costly and no more a free zone
for each and every vagrant, but he would be able to afford that with the
promised business opportunity.
He crossed past the
downtown in fifteen minutes in a dwindling traffic with more fifteen minutes of
driving time left. And suddenly he felt all alone on the street going along the
hilly ways in slopes and turns. But driving was not a difficult job in a
moonlit night with a maddening flow of light over the hills, roads and the
silhouetted forest line which would eventually meet the palace. He was lost in
so many thoughts but was driving carefully with the trace of no one else on the
road. And then the surprise took its turn. After taking a turn crossing past
another hill slope, a dazzling look with colorful lights glowing the proud
White Palace struck his eyes. The palace was decorated with lightings, putting
on well a majestically festive look. He knew that there would be surprises
waiting for them, but he didn’t imagine that they could arrange such a grand
party within such a short time.
With surprise,
excitement and an inexplicable disbelief in his eyes and with a chilling feel
flowing across his veins, he drove along and entered the driveway after
crossing the alluring, well decorated palace gate, without thinking that his
driving time was shortened by at least three minutes. And he didn’t speed up
for that.
Followed by David, the
other four councilors drove along the same road; each maintaining the fifteen
minutes of time gap from one another, as specified earlier. On the same road
under the unchanged magical effect of the glowing Moon, they drove past the
downtown, the straight road up to the mountainous one and then a couple of turns
until the dazzling look of the palace; now in a surprisingly bright, colorful,
shining and sparkling decoration with lighting. And almost with the same kind
of feeling identical to those of David’s, they drove past the majestic palace
gate and entered the driveway following the familiar cars parked in a row.
And then came Rein
Morrison, the pride and powerful mayor. He did the same like the other
councilors, but with a little hesitance. He always believes on his own
judgments and often makes or enforces others to believe in them too. Deep down
his mind, he knew that the palace wasn’t supposed to be here. It took him a
little earlier to get this far and he couldn’t miss the third turn. He might
have gone absentminded for a few moments and drove past the turn in a flow. As
a very rare occasion, he got a little bemused and tried to figure out an
explanation. And after watching the cars, all known to him, he drove his black
Cadillac past the grand palace gate and the other cars on the driveway to park
his one at the nearest to the door.
5.
James Pattinson, the
freelance journalist and the friend of Estella, reached the town a little after
the twilight and boarded on a motel as a new tourist to the town. After having
an early dinner at the motel restaurant, he started heading for the palace in a
hired car. He had been briefed well about the exact location of the place. He
knew well about how to get there. There will be a serpentine road along the
mountains after crossing about ten kilometers from the downtown on a straight
road and then there will be more ten kilometers journey on a car with three
turns on the slope of three hills. And he was counting well the landmarks he
had been briefed by Estella. He drove past the downtown, the straight road
before the mountainous one and then eventually the second turn. And then he got
utterly surprised seeing the glowing grandeur of a palace standing high and
proud, just about five hundred meters away. He got confused and rethought about
the location. No, it was made clear that he must cross past the third turn on
the foothill of a hill and about two hundred meters later the blue lake would
come in the sight with all its sparkling glow under the Moon. So, he decided to
keep driving along the road for the third turn to show up, ignoring the other
palace in a party look.
He reached there
eventually and found the palace in a festive look just like the former one
he left behind, just like a prototype; but without any guests or any welcome
note usual for such a splendid party. Two big guys, almost in the size and
shape of gorillas, rushed to his car in an impatient look. The hired car was
not near anything to match such a party or the special invitees.
6.
The business magnet,
Michael Callahan, the corporate head of the construction company
and unquestionably the mastermind behind the plan, was the kind of person
who never waited for chances to materialize. He just makes a decision and propels
things turn in the favors required for the execution of the decision;
exercising his power, brutality, money or whatever is required to cater to the
desired consequences.
James was taken to him
by the Bigfoots from the palace door.
‘And what the hell are
you doing here and where is that bloody mayor. I have been waiting for his
goddamn councilors for more than an hour,’ a commanding voice full of anger and
impatience shot out of the mouth of Callahan.
James knew what he was
going to deal with and he had his story ready.
‘Actually sir, I’m just
a tourist passing by. I am fond of mysterious places like old palaces with
interesting historical backgrounds. I just happened to take a night break in
the town. As I was having my dinner in a restaurant by the bus stop, I heard
people talking about this palace and the renovation works in progress. I was
little curious and got some interesting facts out of them. I thought that there
got to be people around here or may be camps for the ongoing renovation works.
As I was planning to move on early next morning and had time in hand before throwing
myself to the motel bed, I just wanted to pay this place a visit. I had no idea
about two separate parties were going on in two different palaces within the
range of a couple of kilometers. And in fact, I didn’t heard that there would actually two palaces to explore here and surprisingly both the palaces were
decorated in the same grandeur and brightness,’ he finished his part of the
story in just one breath.
‘What the hell do you
mean by another palace within a few kilometers?’
‘The other one after
the second turn on the way from the downtown.’
‘Are you kidding, kid?
There is no trace of any other palaces within the range of 100 kilometers;
neither in this county, nor in the nearby ones. Wait a minute, was it a palace
or something else? Is it something to foil our signing party? Did Estella get
the proposal leaked out and hence there is still no trace of the mayor and his
goddamn councilors?’
The angered businessman
overwhelmed by the thought of another party, probably in some makeshift tents
out in the jungle to foil his plans, went just mad and outrageous. He shot out
of the hall room in a second and his bodyguards, manager and the butler started
running after him. And a puzzled James was left all alone in the large hall
room with a dining table full of mouth-watering dishes, fruits, and the branded
bottles of wines. And then he heard the creaking sounds of cars speeding away out of
the gate.
With the general
curiosity, not like that of a journalist, James started looking at the
mind-blowing interior of the hall room, the large paintings hanging on the
walls, the sculptures kept beautifully over a wooden cabinet and the precious
artefacts. With the sudden turn to the event beyond his imagination and the
aura ruling over the entire hall room, he started feeling thirsty. He went
straight to the dining table, took an already opened bottle of wine, poured it
down to a glass and gulped down the wine in one single sip. And the last thing
he could remember was the sofa he was staggering to, swaying a little.
7.
He woke up the next
morning with the bright rays of Sun peeping inside the room from the big window
on the eastern terrace. It was already 8am in the morning and he was still
alone inside the massive hall room, which was looking so different in the day
light. The main door was still open. He went out of the room and threw an
examining look outside the palace. A dozen of workers were waiting outside
their tents set against the boundary wall on the western side. They all were
waiting for the instructions from some commanding voices. And there was no one
left in and around to give them one.
James got on his car
and drove past the gate, leaving all those puzzled looks behind. He himself was
in utter confusion regarding what had actually happened last night. To connect
the loose ends, he immediately decided to go back to the town and talk to Estella.
But he was driving slowly with a careful look searching for the other palace he
saw last night. He drove past the turn and then another one, without seeing any
clue or trace of what he had seen on his way to the White Palace.
It took him a little more
than thirty minutes to get to the town, and the little more time was needed for
his backward driving in the second attempt to locate the other palace. The town
woke up too by this time with people at restaurants, on the streets and in the
cars to commute to their works. But, none among them seemed to be in a hurry to
trigger any deafening chaos. A group of people were seen passing some peaceful
moments without any rush to chase the life at the park by the bus stop. No one
with any knowledge of the changes made to the looming and lurking fate of the
city. No one will ever know what was going to be happened with their lovely
city by the hands of the mayor and the corporation. And no one will ever know
how their mayor and his councilors got vanished in the air without any trace,
understandable to human beings, left.
And James entered the town needing a new mayor and new councilors in its new dawn.
© Atique R.
We used to call him
Millin, the Silencer. Can’t exactly remember who had given him the name, but whenever
he is around in the middle of any of our group chats at the bus stoppage, an
unusual silence engulfs the entire aura. He always sits in one of the front
seats by the door, while putting on a mask of silence all the way back home.
And the sit beside him usually remains unoccupied as well; as usual. He is my
colleague in a different branch of the bank at the same area. We used to take
the same route and I didn’t know much about him, probably like a lot many other
colleagues who happen to see one another just in the office transport. But I
usually try to give him a smile and say hi and he gives me back a smile too
without making that much muscle movement in his face. But the look of his eyes
authenticates that they are something coming out of the heart.
Sometimes I wanted to
sit beside him and talk to him a little more. But, I too was an introvert type
of person without a lot of friends. And I hardly make the first approach to
make friends. I was in a sad mood today and wanted to avoid the clamoring down
the back seats with lots of easy-going, flamboyant and fun-loving guys. So, I
made an outwardly usual thing of taking the side seat of Millin, which in turn
looked like an unusual event; understandable by the look of a lot many nearby colleagues.
I tried to act normal
with him like we regularly commute together in the same bus to the same office.
And to my utter surprise, it appeared to be a normal thing from his part too;
with a welcome note in a familiar and friendly environment. And he kept
talking. In fact a lot beyond my expectations, as if thousands of untold words
were caved in an iron cage; suffocating.
He was literally lost
in a different world from the one he was still living in. The memories of his lost childhood days were flooding in with a spiritual glow spilling out of his eyes and heart. And he
kept going on like a stream with so many ideas, untold stories and fallen
dreams flowing together unstoppable.
He couldn't seem to accept
the reality of the social media overpowering the entire living style of each
and everybody around him, including his colleagues and family members. He seemed
to be utterly frustrated by the individual isolation and the absence of social
interaction in the real sense. He deeply missed playing in the open fields with
friends, living in joint families with lots of siblings and cousins, living a
life so close to the nature, and fishing all through the night in the nearly
dried river during winter in the full Moon nights.
He was talking about
those beautiful memories of the golden past while most of the colleagues were
busy with their mobile sets. They remain busy chatting with friends they hardly
know, but hardly do they make a conversation with the guys sitting next to them;
all seemingly look like the petals of apparitions like those in Ezra Pound's Station of Metro.
The chaos and the
deafening sirens were engulfing the present, while he was lost in the peaceful
tranquility of the village he left thirty years ago. Even the village, far from
the madding crowd, has changed a lot in the course of time; but not in his memories.
Back then there were no electricity facilities in the remotest villages and henceforth there were no presence of the powerful street lights or bulbs inside the rooms to rule over the looming darkness of the nature in the cycle of day and night. Yes, there were kerosene lamps, lanterns and sometimes paraffin lamps for the night-long folk festivals on the special occasions.
Studying together in a group with all the siblings in
the balcony, taking respective parts in the daily chores, working in the farm
lands, sailing boats, coming back home in the twilight, having early
dinners, keeping studies aside for the day lights, going to beds too early,
listening to the music of darkness, watching the dancing of the fireflies and
responding to the nature by treating it as a living entity were the things to
define those days. Full of life.
He used to live in a
joint family. A huge family it was back then, consisting of 20 members
including his two other siblings, and a lot of paternal cousins. It was just
unlike any other farming families of that time with acres of farming lands and
cows to plough and with every single person taking parts into the entire process
from preparing the lands, planting seeds, irrigation, weeding, reaping and
husking. During the times of reaping the crops, usually twice a year,
a festive aura took over the entire village with the arrangements of various
annual programs, folk festivals, fairs, family get together, marriage
ceremonies and many others with the active participations of people from all
walks of life.
With the memories of golden childhood days, the gloss of the liquid gold was literally streaming out of his
eyes.
‘You had had such great
times back in your village. Lovely memories,’ I said in a low and slow tone as
I myself was somehow lost in my untamed childhood days in a tiny town, just a
decade ago.
He went on in a natural
flow as if he was witnessing himself the days before his own eyes.
‘I had died when I was in grade five,’ he said in a voice from the past.
I got startled and came
back to the present myself with a widened look and a mouth flung half open in
search of words.
‘At least I thought
myself to be dead with a near death experience I had at the age of twelve; a
teenager back then with the boundless joys and tameless chasing all through the
day into the wilderness. And I still believe that I am living my second life as
a gift from the nature.’
He kept talking about
the village life and other things that seemed quite unnatural in the current
day context. The villagers would believe in the supernatural things coexisting
with the human beings and they used to put aside parts of the places entirely
for them and hardly did they make any attempt or endeavor to disturb them. Those
were usually the remotest part of the villages with the unwandered and the
darkest forest lines along the marshlands or streams cruising along the forest.
They used to keep those places undisturbed and untrodden for the wild
creatures; natural or supernatural. There were mysterious sounds and howls. Tearing
apart the silence of the deep dark nights, those sounds would come through the
place known as the Dark Forest. Sometimes
the dancing of shimmering lights were seen from the faraway localities, especially
during the New Moons. There had been a border line; unmarked but believed to be
maintained since the time immemorial as a treaty to not cross by the human
beings with the shadowed and mystified knowledge of the other supernatural entities.
‘I had a group of
friends back in those days. We used to play together in the open fields, swim
in the small river flowing across the village, collect seasonal fruits from the
naturally grown orchards, and climb the tall coconut trees for quenching our
thirsts with fresh coconuts. However, I was the weakest teenager among the
rowdy group of friends in climbing trees. The most amazing part was catching
fishes in the river and mainly in the stream that was flowing straight into the
Dark Forest. I must say, I used to be an expert angler outsmarting each and
everyone in this particular event of those golden days. But we had never dared
to cross the line; a swamp forest with an alluring source of larger school of fishes,’
Millin said with his pair of eyes, once again, being filled in with the
sparkling glows of tears.
There was a magical
effect in each and every words being spoken by him. I didn’t need to ask him
any question. Amidst the maddening crowd and chaos, I was lost too in the
world, an entirely separate one. I could visualize things with each and every
details, as if I was right there with him along with his other friends.
It was full Moon that
night. Millin and his five other friends decided to make a midnight voyage at
the swamp forest. They had heard that during a full Moon the shoals of largest fishes
come out of their hiding and swim freely along the maddening flow of the Moon.
Six friends in two
small boats with fishing nets started sailing on the stream along the Dark
Forest, in the chilling breeze at the end of autumn. The Moon set high, beaming
its magical flow of glimmering light over the large long trees. They kept
rowing their boats with a deep shrouding silence engulfing the entire locality
and they steered past the last sign of human inhabitants, splitting and
splashing the reflection of Moon on water, gliding along ahead of their boats.
The Moon delusion, the rhythmic
and soft murmur of the water caused by the oars, the soothing breeze and the excitement of the
midnight voyage cast the spell of a gripping silence. And in silence they were
reaching close to the swamp forest. The line of Dark Forest was silhouetted against
the dimming sky, with part of the Moon now half eaten by the long forest line. The
silence soon started to fade away with the sounds of the night in the deep
jungle. They didn’t want to come this close, actually. But the familiar place
in the daylight turned out so mysterious in the shadow of the Moon, they
unintentionally crossed the unmarked border line specified by the shamans in
the older days.
Millin was in the front
boat with two other friends who wanted to move back with the sudden changes taking
place in the shadows and the sounds of the silhouetted Dark Forest, looking
like so close to them now. They suddenly started to feel the chilling breeze flowing
through their souls now, with droplets of sweats started to stream down their
cheeks. The boat behind them had already started to row back without making any
attempt to throw the fishing net into the water.
But Millin was known to
be the real badass among them, pushing aside his partial climacophobia. He was
still with the plan to catch the biggest fish in the swamp. He threw the
fishing net into the water in his usual perfection, while his two companions
started to take a sudden turn into the way back to the moonlit part of the
stream. But the net seemed to have struck an accurate location in the water
with a real big catch.
All on a sudden, Millin
felt a strong downward pull from the net deep inside the stream. Overpowered by
the fierce force, he was pulled out of the turning boat and fell into the cold,
dark and deep water. He felt out of breath. Even in a half conscious mind he
knew that he was going to die. The last thing he could remember was that a
powerful current in a whirl was taking him far far away into the deeper and
darker part of the stream where no one had ever attempted to move in even in
the broad day light.
‘I was presumed to be
dead. My friends came back later with a few more friends and tried to search my
body close to the swamp forest by torch lights. All the villagers together made
the bravest attempt to cross the line by about a hundred yards into the swamp
forest in search of my body in the next morning. But all their efforts went in vain.
And then in the next morning I was found sleeping on the highest branch of a 500 years
old banyan tree in the midst of the local market,’ he said in a low voice and
in a tone which sounded like coming from another person inside him.
I myself started
feeling the chilling breeze flowing across all through my veins with droplets
of sweats over my forehead.
‘I had the blurred
memories of my near death experience. And except that I couldn’t remember
anything. But since then I started seeing things what others around me couldn’t.
Sometimes I can see the partial view of a parallel world with a lot many
shadowed figures. Getting over with the initial problems, I learned to live
with that and took it to be a gift of nature which goes beyond the explanations
within the boundary of physics,’ he added releasing a sigh of either depression
or relief. But, now in the voice familiar to me.
The stoppage close to
my home came and I got down from the bus, like walking out of an unremembered
dream, looking around to see the unseeable things.
© Atique R.
Raindrops
keep falling on my head
Along
the lonely dancing road,
I
will keep just walking…
In
the music of raining
And
the blackbirds’ singing
Without
running into any open shed.
Raindrops
keep falling on mind.
I
want to soak in
With
the dusts gonna give in
From
making my soul dumb blind.
Raindrops
keep falling on my eyes.
I
want to dive in
With
the spears of raining
To
the long frozen memories,
Letting
all my tears flowing on
In
the sight of my lost childhood days.
She was in her lawn
Colored in the night,
Asking the half Moon,
"Can you see him?"
He was alone
In the twilight
Just before the dawn,
1000 miles away off her lawn...
He asked the half Moon
Before it's long gone
Into the western sky
With its starry throne,
"Can you see her greeting
You in a soul so strewn?"
The Moon Smiles in its
Beaming glow
Watching two souls together
Loving an unloved love;
Far yet close to one another
In the flow of melted time
In a flat fretted world forever.
A sailboat riding
On a lovely key
Was put on a leash
From its sailing spree.
Caught stone dead
As a ship painted
In just one shot clicked
In a blink of an eye
On the deep blue sea.
And then it starts raining
Bringing life back to things,
In the drumbeat and dancing
With the raindrops mingling in.
And the sailboat flies
Back to the key
Riding on an evening zephyr
On the lovely deep blue sea.
