Desert-3

Read part 1 - here

Read Part 2 - here

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‘Does that boy still live in the village, uncle?’ Keesan’s voice had grown expectant, his questions numerous like a bedtime story he didn't want stop listening to, though this particular tale came with a set of demons that were slowly beginning to claw themselves out of a seemingly happy narrative in to a sordid account.

‘That boy, “Gullat” his name was, and by now perhaps an old  man, perhaps nothing. Who knows.’ Huram’s half smile was ridden with sadness.

‘Gullat had become Seti’s friend, companion, confidante. He was so much like her in many ways. 

An orphan’ Huram eyed Keesan who quickly looked away and continued ‘we found him during our escape from floods. His parents had died of a disease and he was a weak toddler we didn't think would survive, but like many other infants in the village he recuperated into a strong boy who liked nothing better than running to Seti’s temple each morning where they’d play the whole day through. 

Seti was always cheerful and this continued exuberance that jubilantly shone on her blessed our village with paradisal prosperity. 

Her exhilarated state of happiness directly affected the continued gaiety that never seemed absent from this village and for this alone we encouraged Gullat to forever be at her side.

They were growing inseparable and growing up together.

We never realized when Seti changed from a sometimes exasperating impish little child into a graceful young woman.

Her mischievous ways of chasing goats and riding buffaloes had given way to a more compassionate person who spent hours in the company of sick animals, tending them, nursing them to health. 

If she was seen running around it was only in answer to the function she knew she served in this village as a deity.

Like patience that seemed to live inside her, she listened to grieving widows, imparted her inveterate expertise of plants and herbs so as to enable everyone to self heal, dispersed all the knowledge she was born into with such thoughtful benevolence that one was often reduced to tears in her presence.

How could anyone be so mercifully generous we thought. A heart so big, it had enough place for everyone to reside in and we encroached upon that thoughtfulness. 

Gullat, her childhood friend had grown into a strong, hardworking farmer. His fields always lush with produce were often talk of pleasant conversation in the village. He was our pride and contributed much to our ever growing prosperity. 

He was also Seti's constant companion, ever present by her side; helping her help others . 

Like drops of mercury that always sought each other to bind into a cohesive oneness Seti and Gullat were cemented in each other’s soul. Each one lived within the other with the quiet confidence of lifelong acceptance.

That they were lovers a knowledge as palpable and absolute as it was, was unseen by any villager.

They never put up an act to hide the fact that they were human manifestations of bodies dissolved into each other’s existence. 

There was no facade and anyone who bothered to see this simple truth might have discerned in an instant, but not us.

We thought of her as nothing else but a godly creation duty bound to us, serving us as we saw fit while oppressing her with our severe benediction to the point that she felt she had no choice but stay forever indebted to our prostrations.

That she had emotions, that she was a woman with a human heart and capabilities to love not just as a part of righteous affection was a thought we never tried salvaging from ruins of our rigid hearts. 

It was the day before the eclipse’ Huram was speaking with slow deliberation while upturning mattresses, unfolding sheets and shaking them in hopes something precious might fall, looking under tables with a meditative expression. 

‘Are you looking for something uncle?’ Keesan inquired.

‘A key’ Huram said.

‘What happened that day?’ Keesan was keen on continuing with the story.

‘The villagers had all gathered outside the temple, worried that another catastrophe was due to strike, just as it did twenty years back on the day of the eclipse. We waited for the deity to speak and tell us that all would be okay, that we wouldn't perish. 

Foolish creatures ever in need of support that we are, and so Seti emerged from her temple with a kind smile that was enough to put us all at ease but we all saw that she had something playing on her mind.

She told us that the eclipse would not torment us, that it was a phenomenon so far removed from the problems of mankind that we had no reason to fear it. 

It was that night she told us that we needs give back the earth what we took, and that the villagers should act in unison to re-cultivate the expanse of desert that had been left in the wake of floods beyond our village.

Our numbers were growing she said and soon this village would fall short, this land wouldn't be enough to sustain every living soul in this small village and therefore measures must be taken to bring forth the life that stayed embedded deep in the heart of the desert to breath anew.

There was water, fertility and new promises in that desert she’d said.

Had anyone else ever spoken of venturing into the desert just beyond the village limits it would have been a thought most blasphemous, for the desert which at one time had been a flooded plain of sickness and deaths was an unspeakable among the villagers. 

It had killed so many of us, and in the years that came the deathly plains gave way to arid wasteland that stretched beyond horizons, that we never once glanced in the direction of..yet these words when coming from Seti were rich with assurance and hopeful in a way that it was soon decided that the village would group into small clumps of workforce that would work in shifts to ready the now desert into a land as cultivable and abundant as our village.

The eclipse due next day had stopped playing on our collective hive minds for it was we who would eclipse our very lives starting that night.

There is something else she had told us. Her words, her expressions and the inflection in her voice sounded meek. Her face had softened to an apology and in our hearts we dreaded her next words.

She told us that she wished to get married and settle down. That she wanted a new life for herself in the village and that she sought our blessings for her new role as a wife, mayhap a mother even some day.

Her face had slowly begun fading into dejected sadness when the utterances of happiness that she expected would come in a wave from her own people never did. 

Not a hint of a whisper of a murmur did climb out of the villagers. 

Everyone was still regaining their senses from these sudden random nonsensical words thrown about their lives.

How could she marry we thought? she was our deity, our goddess. Who’d marry a goddess? We were still fooling ourselves into believing that Seti was playing a prank like she did as a child once, when Gullat strode forward and stood at her side holding her hand.

Only then did a shockwave of realization hit our intelligence with a blunt shrapnel of sudden enlightenment.

She was going to marry Gullat!

What followed was an incoherent cluster of mad speech and shouts, like a maniac group of stupidity gathered under one roof to pelt something with stones of ignorance. 

How could she?- was the one thought we didn’t seem to get over. 

An overly optimistic voice had asked her if she’d continue to be the deity to which she had replied rather calmly that she wanted to lead a normal life with Gullat; living on his farm, raising cattle, harvesting crops, sowing seeds-everything all of us did, she’d too and then there was an uproar.

She couldn’t abandon us. Us, her worshippers, her very own people and now I realize how frightened she must have been seeing the sudden frenzy of the once calm faithfuls.

She said she wanted to live her own life. 

I think we all wanted to laugh. Her own life? what was that even? her life wasn't hers. It belonged to the village, to the villagers.

She cried out telling us how she’d always help us in times of need, how she’d dispersed all her knowledge to us for the village’s and villagers benefit, to help them in times of distress.

What did a silly woman having idiotically fallen in love with an orphan know about what’s good for villagers.. and so we shunned her.

We create gods and destroy them when they turn human. We truly are absurd.

Cont....

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Read part 4 - here

Desert- 2

Read part 1 here

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‘That temple’ Keesan inquired ‘One that stays locked is hers? Seti’s I mean.’

‘It was’ Huram whispered ‘From that very first day that we found our land, we seemed blessed with fortune. 

Our prosperity knew no bounds. There was no opulence, but of subsistence there was no dearth.

Our jagged tapestry of human suffering remedied itself the moment we reached this land..this very land where I speak to you of this tale Keesan’ and suddenly Huram broke down.

Watching his uncle weep filled Keesan with helpless sorrow. He didn’t know of any deities or gods except the one from his previous village and he had died years ago. Keesan’s only recollection from that memory fragment was of indisputable loyalty, faith and veneration that each villager possessed towards that deity. 

A man of many miracles, he wore a face pleated with wrinkles and sagacity; asked no one to genuflect in his presence and was often seen playing with children, watering the fields with farmers and helping in hospitals. He died a content man, leaving behind a thriving village which mourns his loss to this day. 

‘Did Seti make miracles?’ Keesan finally spoke, watching Huram dry his tears on his sleeve.

‘She was a miracle herself’ Huram spoke with a shaky calm ‘The very first moment we found her weeping near a flooded bank she blessed us with a land we could live on. A place we could cultivate and find livelihood to thrive. 

All the sickness and diseases we carried started vanishing a few weeks later. Those on death bed started recovering, malnourished children who played with her began blossoming with health to grow into strong hard working men and women that now weep the loss of their destroyed fields.’

Huram cast a dismal look outside a window seeing the still wailing procession of doomed peasants and ignorant little children playing with chips of ice. 

Casting a long sigh which nearly turned into a broken sob he continued ‘She belonged to the village, thought of us her parents and we worshipped her, for she was our god. 

Our celestial benefactor of twelve fingers who saved us from doom, gave us new life and continued to shower us with her blessings which she wasn't even aware of. 

As she grew so did her powers.

Childless couples sought her blessing and bore fruit, the sick, troubled and dying sought her to recuperate or pass away with dignity and all prayers were answered.

There wasn't a villager who wasn’t beholden to her holiness.

Each life in this village had been touched by her innocent mark, an indelible imprint that replaced every hardship with joyous contentment.

Upon her twelfth birthday she was consecrated deity of this village and given a new home which served as a temple, one that you spoke of.. locked and burnt down. 

I could never tell you what she looked like, for we never saw her for a child, a girl that she was. 

To us she was our god that bore no features; all we saw was her soul. To us she was our easy remedy from grief, a mental support we unflinchingly weighed on and as a deity she was quickly turning into an object we worshipped and burdened with our personal griefs without ever trying to even know that she was just as human as any of us..as human as you Keesan’

Huram looked like he was trying to find something as he spoke. Emptying out drawers, opening cupboards, fumbling inside empty pots with his fingers.

‘Sometimes I’d notice her playing with other children, jumping on hay stacks, chasing goats and riding buffaloes. That was perhaps the only time our hardened eyes would soften to allow the features of a happy girl sink in our hearts.

The only time we realized she wasn't just an idol we sat down to worship, but a real breathing child who liked being with others her own age. 

The villagers came to a conclusion and affixed for her a time each day to play with other children. 

Children are fickle, I learnt that when she was whisked away to a field each day to play with others children and carried back once the designated playing time was over. 

I think she resented that. Being fixed to a plan and stick to a playing routine she rationalized was not fun, just as it wasn’t for other children who were made to stick to a similar schedule so as to fit in Seti’s playing time. 

Suddenly no one wanted to play anymore and our deity slowly began retreating in a shell, refusing to meet anyone or bless her worshippers.

Our grand plan to keep Seti happy was without dignity and thus it was decided that no more oppressive agenda’s would be accorded to her.' 

‘The villager were kind’ Keesan beamed.

‘No!’ Huram answered in a growl ‘we were selfish and needy. We didn't resort to these measures out of sympathy. We had no wish to give her anymore freedom than she already had, for we never thought we were being tyrannical in our worship. 

Our very first concern was that she’d withdraw her blessings from our village were she to retreat into her own self any further and to avoid that we’d have done anything. Anything.

We were foolish just as we are still.

So we let our restrains purposefully lapse and Seti was allowed to be her age for a while. 

Just to look at her smeared in mud and drenched in puddle water one wouldn't have pointed her out as a deity, save for her sixth finger on each hand, apart from which she was just as naive and naughty in her innocence and mischief as any other.

Her childhood days so happy and vivacious came to a sudden end when she contracted an illness from a fellow juvenile. A sickness that blotted her infantile gaiety with a burning fever and weakness so heartbreaking we felt she’d die. There was not a single soul asleep in the village for the next month and soon she recovered, slowly, as did the other boy whom she’d contracted this fever from.

Oddly other children had suddenly started falling sick to this similar illness and it was on Seti’s suggestions that we found roots of a plant that were cooked in tea and fed to those ill helping them recover and we soon realized it was an air borne contagious disease that mostly children were susceptible to except the few that had already fallen sick to this once, and so this fever was kept contained among those who contracted it, keeping away those who’d once already suffered.

This setback had played havoc on Seti who was alone once again. With no one to play with she had taken to throwing tantrums and staying sullen. 

This would not do we surmised and so a child who’d already been through this illness and thusly at no risk to infect her again was inoculated in her life.’

Our gravest fault, her sweetest folly.

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Read part 3 - here

Desert - 1

‘A much too intimate a knowledge can haunt like the plague’

The white patch of a downy cloud was casting transparent grey shadow on an almost ripe field of golden wheat. A tuft of fleeting white fleece spreading thinly into vanishing wisps offsetting like strands of opaque threads of white gossamer against oceanic skies, merciless in their afternoon blue of glowing sapphire.

Keesan was trying most meticulously to keep himself shaded under the deformed shadow of the now disappearing cloud which offered some protection even if for a forgetful moment from the scorching heat, most in part due to the wide open spaces of these bountiful fertile plains that enabled a scalding white incandescent afternoon even in this relatively pleasant weather.

His childish antics followed closely by a pair of worn out eyes that shared none of Keesan’s optimism and time and again flitted over to the waving heads of the richly colored crops, healthy with a spring to their breeze slapped bodies. 

‘Another week’ Huram thought. ‘Gods, please let them live for another week’. A string of tear raced down his crevice filled cheeks spreading in salty tributaries across his wrinkle ravaged face.

As Huram sat by the communal fire that night he noticed how other villagers with similar thoughts tried with all their might to push away their cynically truthful experiences hoping in vain. 

Their muffled chatter about engaging a thresher for next week’s harvest was twanged with a forced inflection of expectation; a lie everyone told themselves that night, a burdensome truth the villagers tried to camouflage in false encouragements.

The very next morning there was a hailstorm. 

An out of season unusually chilling rainfall that dumped hail stones. Fist sized ice pebbles that rained down a torrent destroying the lush crops of wheat that stood to be harvested, almost ripened to a golden maturity now slumping in grey twigs of broken life amidst jewel like diamonds of ice.

There was perhaps poetry to be seen here for someone of the idle verse and far removed from reality but for Huram and the villagers who stood among wails of desperate cries knew this to be justice.

Of reactions they had none; this was something they all knew yet hoped it wouldn't be so this year. A presumption they fed on year after year for more than a decade now to the point that it had turned into a hope so remote they’d almost started to think it a myth.

More than half the fields were destroyed. What remained was just barely enough to suffice a livelihood.

‘It’s her again’ someone said 

‘No it’s us. Always was us’ Huram knew.

Keesan came threading through the crowd that felt like it was divided between a bunch of sorrowful whimpering howls and a group of paralyzed grieving mutes.

His uncle Huram looked like the pioneering pallbearer to this melancholic shroud of unbearable misery that’d struck every villager including Keesan himself.

This would have been his first harvest since his parents death. An orphan new to this village Keesan had shadowed his uncle at the farm and spent months tending to the now inanimate heaps of crops that he’d often seen breathing with life, growing in front of his eyes when he spent nights sleeping in their coolness, feeling their vitality and urgency to nourish. Everything he looked at yesterday was now dead and his heart gave way to uncontrollable sobs.

A gait that could only ever be possessed by a broken man, Huram trudged back to his cottage and Keesan still sobbing followed.

Between snivels of muttering villagers ripe with apologies he heard many talk about ‘her curse’ and each time he looked at someone for an answer they shied away hiding their mourning faces reddened with grief and tears. 

‘Uncle’ Keesan was starting to speak with a voice still shaking and weary from crying when Huram said ‘you want to know what the villagers are talking about?’ 

Keesan could only nod and Huram sensing it grunted while trying to sit at the edge of his bed. He tottered over and almost collapsed; not for his frailty as much as his guilt ridden defeat that bore on him with the savage remorse that years of shame had compounded into. 

   

    ‘The year of eclipse was a massive flood’ Huram’s calm voice came out weak ‘Nearby villages were torn down and carried with the flow of water so oceanic it beguiled the existence that was dying below. There was nothing save expanse of muddied water burying the horizons and destroying all life that came its way.

Like swelling amber that slowly descends on an unsuspecting fly it engulfed all that stood, breathed and lived. 

Weeks later when the water subsided, what we assumed were little shrubs protruding out of water turned out to be giant trees and many a bodies entangled in their branches of the unfortunate many who thought clambering a tree would let them survive.

After the flood came the diseases and the villagers already uprooted from their circumstances thought little of continuing in desolation of the swamp and dying cattle.

We gathered all that could be rummaged, found and scavenged and made our way like an untethered flock of sick sheep towards another village or at least some place that would be dry land away from sickness and flood.

How long did we walk I could not say because time was without meaning.. There were days and there were nights. There were deaths and there were among us new living debris of flood residue. No matter how far we went there was no respite from brackish waters, from mosquito laden filthy swamps and bloated insects living on surplus human detritus.

Conversations had dwindled to pained gasps or repetitive wails and after one such mournful night spent huddled in shared hardship our fates changed with the morning light.

We had broken up our meagre camp to make for another long meaningless walk towards quickly depleting hopes of salvation when we heard a child weep.

Another leftover of the homicidal floods, and in our long journey we had begun stitching these remnants of surviving breath to our dying flock that we’d already amassed a tattered rag of a human collage, rich in diversity and common in misery.

It was a child. A little girl no more than five months who cried herself hoarse. Lying untouched in a mire of mud this helpless little girl was picked up and made one of us.

A girl child no different than any other child her age but for her fingers for she bore six fingers in each hand.

It was that very day, I remember it as clear as I see you now that we found land untouched by floods. Sun kissed, soaked in greenery; vast belt of wilderness spread with soil so rich it could yield gold. 

This we knew would be our new village.

A most auspicious day, the village elder had cried and we wouldn’t have found it had we not come across the six fingered little girl. 

‘Seti’ we named her and she became our deity.' 

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Read part 2 here

Deathbed

'It was poisoned wasn't it?'

"well, yes my daring of course it was. Thoroughly poisoned I do admit"

'Why?. why did you do this to me? Agh, it burns, it burns. How long do I have left?'

"Long enough to either make an exquisitely grueling conversation about why I poisoned you or die a silent albeit excruciatingly torturous death, though you'd feel the torture irrespective of the conversation, my love"

'How long have you been planning this?'

"Just a couple days. You'd started to get rather annoying, can't say I'd miss you.
Oh, you're weeping. Did these words hurt you much? sorry I didn't mean to be cruel"

'You jest even now as the life from me drains away?'

"why of course. Laughter is the best medicine they say even though it's not going to help you much. So don't get your hopes high, it's not an antidote after all. what a pity"

'Do you pity me?'

"No.. You're not worth it"

'You're smiling at my ongoing death? how could you be so heartless?'

"It's easy to be heartless with you"

'When did you stop loving me'

"Never! I never stopped loving you. You've no idea how much I'm going to mourn your loss..privately of course"

'was it..was it the drink I just had?'

"Oh no. Of course not. I thought you knew. I'd never poison your drink. It'd be such a waste. No point ruining good alcohol, moreover this poison needs be ingested in copious quantities to work. Rather a failing if you ask me but I've been trying to rectify this venom setback, though I don't see any reason to improve on the recipe anymore, seeing how well it did its work, my darling"

'what? how then?... oh'

"yes"

'it was in the cake?'

"yes the cake from this morning"

'but..but why the cake?'

"I just wanted you to eat something delicious before you died. Not that heartless after all if you think of it"

'you...you..'

"oh sweetheart, say something nice. You're going to be dead soon"

(blows a kiss)

true story

I need to turn off the ac
just five minutes after I switched it on
because it was hellish hot
and a couple minutes in
I was loathe to admit
that the room got frigid
and stung like sin
but I felt brave
while the situation grew grave
because you see
apart from the ac
I'd switched on the fan
on full fanatic force
to alleviate the scorch
which was this room
burning a heated torch
and only the winds of Siberia
could sooth the burn I knew
but I was wrong
as the minutes grew long
I sat on a glacier
waiting for an end to near
what absurdity might be this
flitting from discomfort to bliss
to discomfort again
well, two can play this game
and I intend to win
while my patience grew thin
I sat chattering like a fool
discreetly turning off the fan
extending my foot from the stool
but that's not the end of story
while my voice grows hoary
I banged my fist on the remote control
the ac went quiet like an automatic troll
It's been just five minutes
and now I'm sweating
I need to turn on the ac
just five minutes after I switched it off

made up

I'd like my fingertips to be flushed in colour
each time I rub my palms against my face
there could be streaks of war paint
a muddied rainbow stuck to my hand
glitters and chrome lipstick smeared on my wedding band
Kissing a curtain I'd redecorate my house
hugging a wall
thinking sad thoughts, crying down my blouse
sprinkling blush with every little wink
mopping mascara on the floor
when I feign a faint
after wetting my face over the sink
and maybe I'd like someone to ring the bell
hopping over to open the door
colours in my wake
a broken kabuki mask that lays in waste
smiling in hues under track marks and streaks
sloppy contouring of happy days
caked in shimmering bronzer labeled midnight rays

Done in-darling!

Sitting like a halo
hovering on my head
You sat for the longest time
I felt that sweet dread
slept on it night after night
but there you were a lodestar of virtual deserts
polishing in rhymes my body pinging with feverish alerts
god I wanted you so bad
each night when I read you in my bed
stinging myself with a reality
that darling you weren't up for grabs
so sickly sweet my face burnt up
Goosebumps your words served up
I could feel you ride beneath my flesh
I didn't even know what face you had on
Save that little tiny square
A smile, an eye, a raised eyebrow
absurd liners when you mingled verse and prose
I felt a tickle, a honeyed trickle
between my legs
the last of your trailing lines
leftover punctuations in morning dregs
twittering voraciously
eyeing you salaciously

Lighting up both my ends
I was coming to a close explosion
heart thumping on my pillows
each night it crept out of my system
and quivered over a screen
that was the closest I ever got
even now
and then it smeared a trail
of needs
Screaming inside my head
calling your name
I knew I was mad
I'd devised a new game
reading every little space
sitting in a puddle of heating want
inflamed dreams dynamite urge
as I slept I thought I'd often pucker
Wishing to kiss and kiss that fucker
who wrote to me in my sleep
and didn't even know
this is all I could take
it's time for me to go
and tell how much I love you already
do I know you? Not even.
But yeah I do.
From somewhere I do

Sitting like a halo
I have been too
darling I've been there
Riding your peripheral stars
you know of me don't you
Sitting and thinking what you wear
jeans and striped shirts
hair without a fucking care
gripping a phone won in a contest
I know, I remember I've heard
every fucking breath you'd ever take
Do you type with two thumbs? Like I do?
could be I exhaled someplace close to you
and didn't even know
but I would, I'd surely do
smelling your expired perfume
That you don't wear
looking at you while you don't know
you've learnt to quietly stare
without being noticed
Oh but these are my thoughts still
for you haven't the slightest whiff
or hadn't, and I didn't dare
tell you, that I don't know you,
And yet, I fucking love you

Need like a razor
shred myself to ribbons on it
it tastes so sick
Sweet and dirty like expensive gold filth
only more vulgar and depraved and sensual still
that I rolled about amuck in
face burning to a furnace
Hair curled into twirls
that my fingers wouldn't let go
baby do I message and reap what I sow?
at the tip of my cigarette
I lit you up each night
Exhaling a misty river
when I thought of you
drawing your image
in a cancer fog
until I gagged and coughed
and laughingly choked
how could I not think of you
each time I chain smoked
Tell you without telling
that here I am my love,
Yours that you waited for ever
I'm sure of it
as you are just what the universe ordered
Haven't you been looking for me
maybe you don't know it yet
but I'm what is real
Everything else is history
Just know me once and you'll forever be mine
I've studded your galaxy with golden stars
aren't these enough signs
I'd clutch my heart Were it already not plucked
I've sent you a message and now everything's fucked.
(Deliciously)