BE(LOVED) - THE CONCLUSION

Read Part 1 here

Stephen sipped his cup of tea gingerly as he shifted glances between Ghanshyam and Meera. “I wanted to talk to you about your son Neeraj.”

“I don’t want to talk anything about that devil.” Ghanshyam walked out, his face red in fury.

Meera lowered her head in anguish. “What is there to talk? You probably would have heard everything from the inspector.”

Stephen gave her a blank look. “Not much. He said your son was involved in the riots. I talked to Mustafa and he says you are like family to him. I want to know why Neeraj killed his best friend.”

Tears poured down her cheeks as she buried her face between her hands and continued sobbing copiously. “I don’t know. I don’t understand. I never will. They were inseparable. They didn’t have any other friends. They didn’t need any. They had each other. They played cricket the day before. It was Ilyas’ birthday that week. We all ate biryani at his place. I don’t want to know. Satan’s shadow loomed over all of us that day.”

Stephen looked her straight in the eye. “Mustafa doesn’t know this?”

There was nothing but pain there. “No, the inspector never told anyone. He said it would serve no purpose. Lots of lives were lost that day and lots more shattered beyond repair. He said that was enough damage for one lifetime and more.”

Stephen’s next question stung. “Do you think he might still be alive somewhere?”

But Meera had made her peace as well. “I hope not. For his own sake!”

---------------------------------#***************#---------------------------------

Stephen looked at Inspector Ravikant in a different light this time. “You are a good man.”

“No one is. Some try. Some fake it. Others don’t know what that means. I live two blocks away from them. Every day I cross their houses on the way to the station. Ilyas and Neeraj will always be playing cricket on the street, day and night. On my way back in the evening, I will play with them for half an hour every day. They were such happy kids. They were full of love. But hate turned to be so much more powerful and vicious. A part of me died that day. It was not death that shook me. It was the abuse of life! It was the brutality and the callousness with which people were killed, abused, raped, burnt, tortured and mangled that day that convinced of the pure evil that is dormant inside all of us. Religion is just one avenue that lets the inner devil out.” Ravikant’s agony made Stephen’s pale in comparison.

 “I think Neeraj is still alive. And I believe you know where he is.” Stephen’s words shook Ravikant.

“I don’t know if Neeraj is still alive or not. But he had always wanted to go away from here, as far as he could go. As far as the road would take him! To the farthest point he could ever reach! Where all the seas merged into one! He had told me that when he could go no more, he would sit and stare at infinity forever.”

Stephen thanked Ravikant who stopped him on his tracks. “Don’t try to find him. For your own sake! What will you get out of it?”

Stephen smiled. “I want to know why!”

Ravikant shook his head. “And then?”

Stephen shrugged his shoulders as he walked out. “You are a good man, Ravikant.” He meant it more than ever.

---------------------------------#***************#---------------------------------

Stephen knew where he had to go. He had to go on until he could go no more. A place where the land ends and water begins to spread around its wings into eternity! A place where the water meets the horizon to host the sun in all its glory! A place where the three seas merge into one: Kanyakumari! He immediately set off to the southernmost part of India in search of Neeraj. He initially wondered how he was going to look for a boy in a huge town like that. But it wasn’t as difficult as he thought! After all, he knew where to look for. After one month of wandering around, on one glorious evening when the sky was lit up by the sun going to bed and the moon waking up by its side, Stephen finally saw Neeraj in the twilight. He was selling groundnuts in the beach. He followed the unsuspecting boy home.

Neeraj sat on the floor in his small hut whereas Stephen sat on the only chair that looked like it would fall apart any time. The squeaking of the chair was the only sound amidst the grave silence. Even the air in between them was still. No words were spoken. A few glares were exchanged.

Stephen did not take his eye off Neeraj who was intently staring at the floor. His eyes had no fear, no anger, no pain, no remorse! He was happy! There was a stoic calm in his demeanor that infuriated Stephen. How could one be so cold blooded?

When he finally spoke, his words reverberated thunderously across the sand walls. “Looks like you are living quite a life here. Especially after what you did in Deogarh!”

The mention of Deogarh stirred Neeraj a bit. He looked at Stephen for a moment but then turned his gaze away to the door.

Stephen spoke with rage. “Don’t you have any heart? How could there be so much vengeance in such a young mind?”

His wrath had no effect on Neeraj who had fixated his gaze on the door. It was not sure if he was waiting for someone to come and relieve him of the misery or signaling Stephen to leave. Stephen was going nowhere without an answer. “Speak up. Why did you kill the boy who loved you unconditionally? Why did you abandon your parents who adored you? And how can you lead an escapist life like this so peacefully?” He did not get one.

Stephen’s blood was boiling. He had not seen anyone more cruel or inhuman. He was so mad that he did not know what to do. He got up with ferocity and rushed towards Neeraj to confront him when he heard a sound at the door.

“Neeraj….. I am home my friend. Look what I made for you today. Pineapple Kulfi. Your favorite!” 

It was Ilyas. Stephen’s heart stopped for a second.

---------------------------------#***************#---------------------------------

Ravikant saw a letter lying on his desk. It was from Stephen Dayashankar. He quickly ripped it open with trepidation. He was not ready for what came next.

“Ravi… You will not admit it. But I am sure you have been waiting for my letter every single day. And I have been dying to write you this letter. I found Neeraj. Yes I did. He is in Kanyakumari. But you won’t believe what else I saw. I saw Ilyas. Yes, you read it correct. Ilyas is still alive. He is alive! The two little devils are together. Both of them live in a small hut by the sea. Neeraj sells groundnuts in the beach whereas Ilyas has a small kulfi shop. They sent you their regards. They both are so happy. I had tears in my eyes. There is still humanity left in this world. 

Ilyas, Neeraj, Ghanshyam, Meera and Mustafa have all found the worlds they want to inhabit and the lives they want to live. They have all made their peace with nature and God. I think we have got our closure too. I guess it is good bye from me my friend.” 

Tears rolled down Ravikant’s cheeks as he smiled from the heart after a very long  time.

---------------------------------#***************#---------------------------------

                                                                                                                   - A SHORT STORY BY RAJ

BE(LOVED)

“Stephen Dayashankar is a visual artist who has been taking photographs for over fifteen years. He became interested in photography at the age of sixteen upon seeing the works of Robert Capa and has since devoted his life to creating expressive images.” The announcer’s voice barely registered in his mind. “Why do you want to kill me? We were friends yesterday.” A little boy engulfed in terror. A masked face brimming with anger! He closed his eyes. It made no difference!   

The anchor’s words resonated across the audience. “In Stephen’s own words, the language of photography is potent and expanding by the day. Photographs hold infinite power to influence, reform, incite, heal, provoke and cure. The pictures that hold the most power are quite often the ones that are the most devastating.” A sword smeared in warm blood flashed through his mind opening up a wound in his heart.

“Stephen has dedicated his life to mirror people’s lives, echo their sufferings and transmit those emotions to the world. We pruned several hundreds of photographs before selecting his masterpiece for the “Photograph of the Year” award. This picture was not powerful because it was on the front page of newspapers. It is powerful because it is in the minds of the people of this country. Its influence was birthed by the audience and the movement that it spurred.” The voices in his head were getting stronger. “You should not be here Sir. You should leave right now if you want to live.”

“His dramatic capture etched the entire horror of Deogarh into our memory. The small boy running for his life being chased by another young lad clad in saffron will haunt us forever. A blood dripping sword in his hand, his assailant’s masked face conveyed an emotion unlike any other. The small boy’s visage and fate half captured as he runs past a brick wall with the sword inches away from his neck.” The anchor’s chronicle of his photograph sent a shiver down his spine. He could hear a distant wail. A helpless yelp of looming death amidst loud cries of anguish, clanking of swords and disturbing smell of rotten flesh and frozen blood! He closed his ears. It grew louder!

“So without further ado, we present to you the man who inspired us all to rise above communal hatred and work religiously towards bringing down the iron curtain of religion with his poignant photograph: Mr.Stephen Dayashankar.” A headless torso twitched violently trying one last time to hang on to life. Acid smoke engulfed his lungs. A tear droplet made its way out.

 “Sir, could you please come forward to receive your award?” The sea of people in front of him metamorphosed into an ocean of corpses and skeletons. One of them slowly limped towards him with one arm extended.“Mr.Stephen… Are you all right?” 

He walked out of the auditorium with tears running down his cheeks profusely.

---------------------------------#**********#-------------------------------------

Ravikant Pandey sat at his desk sipping his tea lazily and glanced through a case file rather reluctantly. He thought a few inmates would trickle in but did not expect a visitor.

“You don’t seem from around here. I don’t think you have come to the wrong address either. What do you want?”

“My name is Stephen Dayashankar. I am a photojournalist. I believe you were the Inspector in charge when the riots of Deogarh happened.”

The mention of the riots brought a stark change in Ravikant’s expression. “Your face seemed familiar. Now I know why. What do you want now?”

Stephen ignored the generous sarcasm in the Inspector’s voice. “I want to know what happened to a few people who were entangled in the riots.”

“The ones in your photograph?” Ravikant’s voice was stern.

“Yes. Have you seen it?” Stephen offered a copy. The inspector showed it away. 

“Everyone in this country has probably seen your photograph. It is not worth seeing again.”

Stephen was prepared for insults. “Do you know what happened to these kids?”

Ravikant continued perusing his file. “Probably dead!”

The lack of emotion in Ravikant’s voice annoyed Stephen. “Probably? Are you not sure?”

“More than 200 people died that day. I didn’t keep track.”

Stephen was clearly flustered. “Please don’t be so irresponsible and insensitive to human life.”

Ravikant was nonchalant. “If you see as many deaths as I do, you will be worse.”

Stephen was writhing in anger. “I will probably do something to prevent those deaths. Back to my question: Are both of them dead?”

“I can’t say for sure. Several bodies were mangled so badly that they were completely unrecognizable. But as far as I could tell, Ilyas, the boy who was being chased was most likely killed. There was no way he could have escaped. As for the boy who tried and probably killed him, Neeraj, there is a chance he could have fled the town, though I would give it a very low chance.”

Stephen was not impressed. “Can you give me their addresses?”

Ravikant gave him a sharp glare. “You have done enough already. Can you leave them alone?”

Stephen had had enough. “Look here Inspector. If you want to play hard ball, be my guest. I can make one phone call and you will get one the very next minute from your superiors and then you will be forced to give me the address yourself. I don’t want to that yet. And trust me, I am not here officially. I am here for my own sake. Any conversation I will have with their families will stay and die with me.”

Ravikant grudgingly wrote the addresses on a piece of paper and handed it to Stephen who walked out of the police station in a hurry.

---------------------------------#**********#-------------------------------------

Mustafa was a middle aged man in his late forties. He was tall and well built, walked with a slight limp and had a long half white beard. He seemed quite surprised to see a visitor at his door. He ushered Stephen in. No words were spoken for several minutes. Stephen finally decided to break the silence. “I am here to talk about your son.”

Mustafa remained stoic. “What is left to talk?”

Stephen spoke with a heavy heart. “I had seen his eyes just before they disappeared behind that brick wall. He was pale and terrified. Fear and horror had engulfed him. But I also saw a small glimmer of hope in his eyes. I couldn’t understand that. How can one feel hope in such despair? How can one think about life when death is inches away? Those eyes have haunted me for the past six months. I haven’t been able to sleep. He must have been a special boy.”

Mustafa smiled for the first time. “Extremely! I have not seen a happier child in my life. He was happy with everything. He lived life with abandon. He had a small world. He painted it with smiles. May be God wasn’t happy without him and wanted him back to spread joy in heaven. In a way, I am glad I didn’t see his corpse. I have never seen him without a smile on his face and at least it will stay that way. I can spend the rest of my life with the image of his beaming face emblazoned in my heart.”

Stephen dreaded his next question. “Why are you still here?”

Mustafa had made his peace already. “This is my home. This is my world. I have lived here all my life. These are my people. The people I have known for years. I have spent my life’s best days here, shared happiness and sorrow alike with my friends. What happened that day was unlike this place. It was possessed by some evil spirit. Darkness had consumed us that day. The people who killed were not from here. They came from some wicked place, unleashed terror and slipped into the night, leaving us broken and battered. But they still could not divide us. No one will ever. I will die here knowing that there will be more than four people ready to shoulder me to my grave.”

Stephen decided not to rekindle any more painful memories. “Thank you for talking to me. I can’t offer you any solace but you will be in my prayers every day. I need to talk to some more people. Can you tell me where this address is?”

What Mustafa said sent a shiver down Stephen’s spine. “Oh… they are our neighbors. Wonderful people! Ghanshyam and I have been best friends for the last 20 years. Ilyas and Neeraj were inseparable. But life has played a deadly game with them too. They lost Neeraj that day and have never been the same ever again.”

                                                                                                 TO BE CONCLUDED (NEXT WEEK)…. 

ALTAR EGO

His head was splitting. It seemed like every nerve was revolting, ready to explode any minute. His heart had lost its mirth long ago, but today it seems to have given up its spirit. His purpose in doubt; his existence questioned. He felt pain no more. He had had enough of it. Numbness had engulfed his veins. He felt like a slaughter sacrifice waiting his turn at the altar. Only a little too desperately. He looked at his friend who was sitting right in front of him. What has life done to us, he thought?

We were so happy, vivacious, lived life by the minute and enjoyed every second of it. We felt invincible. We fought in the mud, got drenched in the rain, sang out of tune, danced like nobody was watching, screamed at the top of our lungs. We sat for hours staring at nothing, talked for hours about nothing. We went on a long drive to nowhere, ate and drank everything we could get our hands on, fished in the pond for hours only to get a shoe for a prized catch, fished for a few more hours in search of its pair without luck, roamed the streets in the night with carefree abandon, spent the very last ounce of energy in our bodies and came back to crash into our beds as if never to wake up again. And then we woke up the next day fresh and ready for another adventure.

And so life rolled on amidst chaos, excitement, fervor and charm. Day after day went by chasing nothing and enjoying everything. I wish I had never woken up after one of those days. But I did. And here I am. A changed man. A deflated man. A lost man. A man no more.

His thoughts brought him back to reality. He looked at his friend again who smiled casually. There was the same innocence and zeal that he had seen years ago. How could that be possible? When did we part ways? How does he not have any of life’s scars? Why has God been so kind to him? Or maybe was he too cruel to me? Is he even there? His blood started boiling even more. His friend still had his smile as he looked at him with even eyes. That made him even more livid.

“What is it that makes you so happy? Seeing me like this. Helpless, hapless and hopeless. Seems like life has been very kind to you my friend. If you had been me, then probably you wouldn’t even be here. Do you know how much I have endured? Do you know how it feels when your wing is ripped apart? Feather by feather. Do you know what it does to your self-esteem? Have you felt scrutiny? Have you experienced love? Do you know how it feels to yearn for affection and not receive any? Have you experienced failure? Do you know how it is to fail in the eyes of your friends? Your family? Your foes? And the coup de grace! Do you how excruciating it is to finally fail in your own eyes? The final fall!  

Have you ever thought how would after life be? Would it be more peaceful? It certainly sounds more mysterious. Do heaven and hell exist? Wonder where I would go. Will I be transported through space to get there? It would be cool to see some planets on the way. And be it hell or heaven that I reach, I probably will be better off than I am now. I wouldn’t have to work consistently to satisfy others. I won’t be judged. I would already have been judged. I can be myself. I won’t be a disappointment to the people I know as they won’t be there. Well at least I hope so.

Yes, I have considered death. I have no shame in admitting it. You may think I am a coward. Well heck, maybe I am. Isn’t it easier to just press the shutdown button? We can restart in a new life if there is something like that or be lost into obscurity. Isn’t that an interesting prospect? To myself and to the people who are tired of me? May be. But I can’t muster courage for that either. Will someone miss me? Am I disappointing them again? For one last time. Do I owe them to live? Do I owe myself a death? I can’t seem to decide. Like every other decision, I put this one off too.

Why don’t you say something? Are you deaf? That would be so cool actually. But I know you can hear me. The smirk on your lips tells me you are enjoying this. You think you are safe inside that mirror. You think it is cool to see me make a fool of myself in front of you. In front you, of all people? While you stand there majestically reminding me again and again of my glorified past!  

He looked at the man in front of him who was so calm and composed, so carefree and happy, so blissful and naïve, so simple and kind, so full of life and love. This was a man he once knew. This was a man he once loved. This was a man he once was. He wondered how long it had been since he left him inside the mirror. He couldn’t remember. That was the man he still wanted to be. Everyday! Or even just for one day! A wry smile came to his lips. He laughed it up. Life indeed does strange things to you.

TO DEATH AND AFTER (CONCLUSION)

Read Part I here

Hania looked out into the canyon and took a deep breath. “He is standing right in front of you, my friend. And no, he is not famous. Nobody knows about him. Never knew!” For the first time, a shiver went down Jordan’s spine.

“I was one of those who didn’t fit in anywhere. I refused to accept the fact that this world has become incompatible to us. I tried very hard to prove guys like you wrong. I wanted to prove that this world is as much ours as it is yours. And in trying to do so, somewhere I started becoming one of you. I drifted away from my people, travelled the world, made new friends and embraced the new world I was seeing and feeling with open arms. I became a wanderer and in the end I forgot what I was searching for. In my attempt to study and understand and imbibe different cultures of the world, I slowly forgot mine; until I came back here to scale the mountain that had cradled my childhood!” Hania’s reminiscence filled Jordan with awe and intrigue. “So you came here and never went back?”

“Well, I almost did. I got through the Death Gorge. It took me 5 days. There was very little life left when I got to Hullu point. There I saw a mule. A lonely mule! It was freezing, hungry and dying. It had been abandoned by a hiking group as it was wounded and couldn’t carry them anymore. We were company to each other for the next 2 days. I nursed its wounds and fed her my food and left with a promise to come back. I returned with food and medicines after 3 days. She kept her promise and held her life for me. She died the next day. I never went back. Did you know every year nearly 10-15 mules are abandoned here to die in the cold. Now they have a friend to take care of them. They don’t deserve to die because of you people!” There were flames of anger and pain in Hania’s eyes.

“So it is you who makes these little dresses for these animals and birds! Very sweet indeed.” Jordan murmured. He looked at Hania’s little abode. “You seem pretty well stocked up, eh?”

“Well, I still visit your world once in a while my friend. Go up to the town and eat your food and try your new drinks, learn about the latest fashion trends, breathe your polluted air and come back amused. I always wonder how much longer will nature accommodate mankind! So I am trying to compensate for the sins you guys commit by helping these creatures as much as I can. Trust me, they are the best companions you can ever get.” Jordan smiled from his heart for the first time as a bird came and sat on Hania’s shoulder. Life was teaching Jordan an important lesson through Hania.

“Well.. you must get going now, my friend! Someone must be desperately waiting for you!” Hania patted Jordan’s shoulder in a fatherly affection.

“What do you mean desperately waiting?” Jordan was a little surprised.

“You will find out my friend. Well.. let me tell you a short cut to get to the top. You see that bush right there and a small alley behind it. Go through that, you will have to pass a tunnel and then cut through a sharp canyon turn and it will take you back to the trail and you will be in Hopi point in an hour. Now get going before the snow storm gets worse! It was nice seeing you, my boy!” Hania gave Jordan a huge bear hug.

Jordan’s mind was completely preoccupied during his mechanical trail back to the top of the canyon. Hania’s visage and his electric voice captivated and mystified him profoundly. He didn’t even realize that he was at Hopi point and all his friends were running towards him. Radhika jumped upon him and hugged him tightly as if she was never going to let him go. There were tears in his eyes. Hania’s words flashed through Jordan’s mind once again.

Hopi Point – Hermit’s Rest:

There was no doubt it was one hell of an adventure. But they were sad it was coming to an end. Jordan was calming his senses and resting his sore legs at Hermit’s rest as he recounted his adventures to Steven and Ming. He was scared to mention about Hania though. Meanwhile Radhika was looking for keepsakes in the gift shop. Soon she came back with a bag full of goodies and started flaunting them off. “Here take a look at this bird here. This is vintage Hopi art work! Isn’t it cute?”

“What is it in its wings?” Ming was curious. Radhika was worked up. “Oh.. this is the hand made replica of the famous fashion bird that has been spotted occasionally in the canyon. How it gets its dress has been an unsolved mystery! There are several stories around it. You see that lady over there. She knows a few such stories if you are interested!” The lady looked real spooky! Ming said he would rather pass.

Radhika turned her attention to Jordan who was already looking bewildered. “Hey.. check out this new book I got. I am sure you would love reading this one. It is about the Death Gorge. You must have been somewhere close to this for sure, right. Am so glad you didn’t find it. Otherwise they might have had to revise this book again to accommodate you as well!” She gave him a naughty wink and everyone burst out into laughter.

Jordan grabbed the book from here hand. “Oh.. wow.. Sounds fascinating! what is it about?”

“Well, it is an exclusive account about the hitherto never ventured and suicidal stretch from Skeleton Point through the Death Gorge up to the safety zone near the Hullu Point. Apparently 10 people have ventured into this death trap and none of them ever returned.” Radhika rolled her eyes in fear.

This was getting very interesting for Jordan now. “Are you sure none of them returned?”

“Well, they say that they found the bodies of 9 of them down in the Canyon; 4 of whom washed up on the shores the Colorado River. Nothing was ever found about the tenth guy. Here take a look at his picture here. The guy went to Harvard, can you believe that! Seems like a damn interesting fellow! He was a scholar and a world traveler apparently!” Radhika was going on and on while Jordan’s eyes were fixated on the picture of Hania. Yes, it was him. Only he was much younger!

Then, at that moment, he saw something written at the bottom of the picture that brought his heartbeat to a stand still and drove a shiver through his spine.

“PICTURE TAKEN AT THE GRADUATION CEREMONY OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY – CLASS OF 1825!”

                                                                                                              - A SHORT STORY BY RAJ

TO DEATH AND AFTER

Kaibab Trail - South Rim, Grand Canyon:

Nature has its own unique and unfussy way of imposing itself on human beings. It didn’t take too long for Ming, Steven and Radhika to understand that. In a span of 6 hours, they had encountered almost everything at the Grand Canyon, which they had fondly nicknamed as “The Greatest Hole on the Earth”. Thunderous rainstorms and lightning had left them stranded and shell shocked for hours in the middle of a treacherously strenuous trail that had slowly started showing its chameleon-esque nature. They already had to deal with loose footing and rock fall that came unannounced while an encounter with wild life was always a scare even though they had met only the friendliest of creatures so far. A heavy snow fall shut them off completely as the rain had started to thicken and its successor, ice was more incisive and cruel. They had overstayed their welcome at the trail and hunger and dehydration slowly set in as they ran out of all supplies. But clearly nature was not done with them as it landed its final and most lethal blow. Jordan, the fourth and most experienced hiker of the group was missing for the past 3 hours.

Radhika was fuming. “He should have come by now. He said he will meet us at the Hullu point. The idiot always does something crazy like this. What was the need for that maniac to explore that new route all alone? God knows where the hell he is now!”

“Relax Radz. Trust the man. He is a pro but remember he is a psycho as well. It is one deadly combination. He will make it all right. I am sure he is going to sneak up on us from somewhere and freak you out totally!” Steven was still optimistic about his best buddy.

Ming had other things in his mind. “Yeah.. I hope so too. The dude is totally nuts but he is a tough nut. But hey.. we can’t stay here for long. We will starve ourselves to death if the cold doesn’t kill us before that. I say we head up to the Hopi point and wait for him up there.”

“Yeah, let’s do that. Guess I could do with some hot chocolate at Hermit’s rest. “Radhika’s voice was trembling behind the brave smile she put up. She felt something strange inside she couldn’t understand or explain!

Unknown Location – near Death Gorge, Grand Canyon:

Jordan was a daredevil. His passion in life was to do things most people would only dream about. His life was one big adventure and he had loved every bit of it. Until now!

Nature was capable of breaking even the hardest of men and today it looked like it might succeed in overwhelming the gritty Jordan. He was clearly cheated by this perfidious new path that had taken him far away from the trail and into the canyon which was transferring its chill through his spine. It was beginning to break him down!

He was breathing heavily, clasping his hands together, partly to warm himself and partly in a small prayer to God. He was completely lost! At that moment he saw a strange thing. He saw a bird that flew past his ears. But there was something strange about it. It was wearing a dress. He rubbed his eyes again to make sure he was not hallucinating due to dehydration. But there it was. It had 2 small flaps covering its wings which looked like wrist bands. And it had something in its legs that looked like tiny little socks. Was his mind imagining things? A strange feeling of fear and death started to engulf him.

“Lost your way perhaps?” He was petrified by the suddenness and shrillness of the voice that came from behind him. It was a man. A man in this God forsaken place! That could not be true he thought. The figure that stood in front of him was tall, strong and slightly inhuman. It was a man alright. A man who seemed to have borne the brunt of both nature and life! A man who looked strong and wise from age and experience! He had a look in his eyes that intimidated Jordan.   

“What brings you here, my friend? I am afraid you should not be here!” The man’s voice was hoarse and Jordan despised its tone which had a hint of calm arrogance.

“I know who you are. You belong to one of those ancient tribes, aren’t you? The Havasu or Huala something!” Jordan tried to gather himself as his mind was scrambling to assimilate all that he was seeing.

The man stroked his long beard and looked impressed. “I am happy somebody still knows about us. My name is Hania and you are almost right. I descend from the Havasupai clan.” He extended his hand and Jordan shook it very skeptically. An Incredible surge of warmth flowed from Hania’s body through Jordan and he felt quite rejuvenated.

“Oh yeah.. you guys.. I have read about you. You have been calling the Grand Canyon your home, isn’t it? Still a few of you left, trying to survive in a world that has become incompatible to you! Well, guess what, you don’t control this place no more, fella!

Hania gave him a profound smile. “Nobody can control nature, my friend. And you, right now, would know that more than anybody. Lost, tired, hungry and angry amidst ruthless mountains and a devastating cold that can rip your soul out and freeze it to death; nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nothing to embrace, no one to hold on to! Tell me, who is in control, my man?”

Clearly Jordan was getting irritated now. “Oh come on! I have been hiking for 10 years now. This is just a strenuous hike, not an impossible one. Stop scaring me, will ya?”

Hania was his composed self. “Of course. It is neither a deadly hike nor or impossible one. But only as long as you are in the trail! You are way off it my friend. Probably drifted off around the skeleton point! You have no idea where you are. I call it the “Near Death Gorge!”

“Hmm… Never heard of it dude. What do others call it?” Jordan sneered.

Hania’s response was icy cold. “The Death Gorge!”

Jordan had a smirk on his face. “Well.. tell you what! You are doing a pretty decent job of scaring the hell out of me. Now what is it that is so deadly about this passage?”

“I am just telling you the truth my friend. In the 800 years of history that has been recorded, 10 people have wandered into this place losing their way on the trail, and attempted to get back to the top through this narrow pass. Only one of them survived!”

There was something about Hania that Jordan could not understand. “Whoa… That is something. Must be a pretty famous guy! First man in 800 years and all. Who is he?”

Hania looked out into the canyon and took a deep breath. “He is standing right in front of you, my friend. And no, he is not famous. Nobody knows about him. Never knew!” For the first time, a shiver went down Jordan’s spine. 

                                                                                           TO BE CONCLUDED (NEXT WEEK)…. 

THE DRIED BRUSH

He had been standing there staring at that painting for more than half an hour now. There was something in it that kindled his intrigue. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. No! He couldn’t take his mind off it. It consumed him. The strokes weren’t firm at places highlighting the imperfections; not the painting’s but of the man in it. That made the painting vulnerable yet absolute. The way the man was looking at a stray dog in the painting seemed to convey so many thoughts and emotions that he lost his way inside. Those eyes conveyed so much yet revealed so little! At that moment, his thoughts raced back to a painting that turned his life upside down. A painting that broke him! No! A painting that liberated him!

She had never seen anybody so transfixed in front of a painting. She was happy at the thought that someone was so much into her painting but at the same time perplexed and anxious as to what was going through his mind. All day she had felt disappointed that her best work had gone largely unappreciated, even worse unnoticed, and then here was a man who seemed to be having a long conversation with it. Good or bad… she wanted to be a part of it. “Hello Sir… You seem to be fascinated by this painting. My name is Anna. I drew it and it is one of my personal favorites. I would be glad to help you with any questions you may have about this painting.”

He looked at her befuddled. “There are really no questions to ask.”

His voice was still and she could not sense any emotional undercurrent.  “Oh... very well. So are you interested in purchasing it?”

“I am not that kind.” His answer took her by surprise and she found his tone exceedingly irritating.

“What kind are you? The one who neither has admiration or appreciation for a good painting nor respect for an artist?”

He smiled at her. “Well… if that was the case, I would have bought your painting already!”

His reply stung like truth. He was like the inner voice she had always had. How can you fix a price tag on something that is invaluable? How can you sell something that cannot and should not be sold?

“He is quite a paradox, isn’t he? And one hell of a puzzle! So dubiously deceptive yet subtly provocative!” Her thoughts were broken by his shrill voice again that echoed against the walls.

“How is that so? Do tell.” She was intrigued by his intellect and wanted to just listen. Could he see more in the painting than she had when she brought it to life? She could not digest the idea that this man could probably know and feel the picture more than her. Doesn’t that make the painting his? She was lost in a sea of thought when she heard his shrill voice echo again. This time through her mind and slowly into her heart!

“The man’s eyes are incisive but tender. His heart holds a great grief but his mind rises above it. He is a burdened man who has seen lot of pain and endured a deep loss but he knows his misery is far from over. His death would neither be quick nor easy. His body can withstand more agony but his soul has given up. He is a wise man yet has had his share of foolish acts. He is a good man now but has not been one always. His conscience writhes in remorse for a dark act that he can neither forget nor live with. But still in one dark corner deep inside, he relishes it albeit for a short while until guilt takes over and he despises himself again. He looks at the world with abandon. Age and the wisdom that comes along with it have sharpened his intellect and softened his soul. His hatred is gone and he loathes no one no more. Now he has only sympathy as he sits there watching people go past him looking so happy yet feeling so miserable inside. He smiles at himself, scorns his past, ponders his future and awaits his end. And all these moods have blended in so perfectly in this master piece of yours.” He spoke with so much happiness and passion that only a true artist could feel when he recognizes another’s work of genius.

She listened in rapturous awe to this stranger paint a picture so vivid yet so deep and mystifying about this painting of hers. She couldn’t believe that someone could understand and appreciate her painting as much or even better than her. Who is this man?

He went on not once taking his eye off the painting. “How fertile can one’s imagination be? To create a face with so much emotion! Or, perhaps, this is not a figment of your imagination but a real person… someone whom you have seen and observed several times… a mysterious stranger who kindled your curiosity so much that you couldn’t stop thinking what was beneath those deceptive eyes and opaque face… Is he happy? Is he sad? Is he a beggar who just sits on the street in hope of alms for his next meal or is he a philosopher who just loves watching people?  Well... you just can’t know. So you capture him with your brush and present that intrigue in his eyes to the world.”

A stunned silence ensued. After making her fly among the clouds with his profuse flattery he had brought her crashing to the ground by suggesting that it had nothing to do with her imagination. That made her furious. “So how do you think the conception of this painting originally happened? A fiction of my imagination or a blatant replica of an unsuspecting stranger’s visage?”

He could sense the condescension in her tone. “I would say that you have seen this man. And he has disturbed you deeply!”

“How could you possibly say that? How would you know?” She was astonished by his confidence.

He stroked his beard gingerly. “The dog! There is something different about its expression. You have added emotion to its eyes. As if it is communicating with the man. Its facial strokes are much more defined and firm as opposed to the fragile strokes that have defined the man’s features. That shows disconnect between the real and the virtual!”

She sat down dejected. But then how could she have known that what she was about to hear next would forever change her life.

The man went on with his mesmerizing voice. “But a beautiful disconnect. Which is what makes this painting so unique! It transcends boundaries and renders a meaning so surreal that makes the painting a well that will never dry up. You can infer infinite meaning from the man’s eyes and every one will see it differently every time she looks at it. Look here. I am very sorry if I managed to offend you. I didn’t mean to belittle your work by any means. The fact that you painted a man you had observed doesn’t in anyway reduce the greatness of your work. In fact it makes it even more magnificent. You can imagine just about anything in your canvas of dreams. But to paint something that is so real is a gift. And trust me… the most important thing is not for others to realize the greatness of your work. It’s you who should realize that. Nothing else matters. Let me tell you a story. My story!

My father was a sculptor. A masterful craftsman! Each and every one of his creations adorn some of the the best temples in and around here. He was a very pious and devout man. So was my mother. I grew up amidst sculptures and in temples. There was God all around me. But was he really? I couldn’t tell. My father believed so. My mother told me so. There was a huge temple in front of our house. Almost all its sculptures were my father’s handiwork. I used to sit hours in front of a golden sculpture which everyone worshipped with hands folded. I recited slokas with my eyes fixated on this golden sculpture which returned my curious glances with a never changing cold stare. There was something about that gaze that I could not understand. I was not able to understand or appreciate God in the same way everyone else around me did so easily and so faithfully. I felt something was wrong with me.

I did many things during my childhood. Things that I was told to! But only one thing satiated my senses. Drawing anything that came in front of my eyes or to my mind! I grew up to be a painter. My father was a proud man. He said art was in our blood and it was God’s gift. I immersed my days and nights into drawing my mind and my thoughts. I painted them with my heart. Feelings transformed into colors. Every artist waits for his best work to take fruition. I was no exception. Every time I took the brush, a fire raged in my heart to outbest my previous work. Everybody seeks perfection. Nobody attains it. But I was tireless in my quest. I created some of my life’s best works and I had almost transcended into a different world. A world of my dreams brought to life on the canvas.

My father brought me back to reality. He came to me with a very unique request. He wanted me to paint that golden sculpture. He felt it was his master piece and wanted me to recreate it. He had never asked me anything before and I could see how much this meant to him. Unfortunately the sculpture didn’t mean anything to me. It haunted me and I had always wanted to run away from it as far as I could. But my father meant the world to me. I couldn’t say no to him.

I halfheartedly took it up. It was childhood all over again. I would sit for hours staring at that sculpture trying to feel it. You have to understand something completely before you can paint it on canvass. But those eyes… that silent yet deep gaze… they consumed me. That is the one thing I was never able to understand. I painted for a year. Yes. One full year! When I finally looked at my painting… I saw the sculpture. But there was something different. The cold stare was replaced by a gentle look. A vulnerable, earthly, human look! It was the same God… but the difference was that he was talking to me.  I understood the meaning of God for the first time: Not in the way I was told… not in the way I had read… but in the way I had always wanted to… in the way I had always felt. Finally I had a faith that was my own!  I locked myself up in my room and stared at this painting for hours together. My eyes finally met with God’s and they talked… for hours… for days!    

This painting… which I took up so reluctantly… which I had no intention of completing… which I never understood while I was drawing it… it changed my life. It was my masterpiece. It was my revelation. It was my salvation. I was so content… so blissful… so complete… I realized I could never paint anything better. My brush’s journey was fulfilled and so was my tryst with it. I never painted again.

It doesn’t matter how your painting comes to life. What it means to you is more important to what it means to the world. Truth is not absolute. It never is. It is personal. It may mean the world to me but yet nothing to you. That painting liberated me. This painting defines you. Let it guide you!”

He reached for his pocket and took out a brush. It was worn out and had dried paint in its bristles. He gave it to her and smiled. No words were spoken. She knew what it meant. He walked away a happy man. She walked away a proud woman with a renewed purpose!

                                                                                                              - A SHORT STORY BY RAJ

FROZEN BLOOD - THE CONCLUSION

Read Part 1 here

“I would rather remain single all my life rather than marrying in such a treacherous family like yours!” Aditya’s parting words had killed Sumitra’s soul. She woke up every night remembering them; terrified by their callousness. “I believed you when you said your father had not stolen the money in his factory. I believed you, didn’t I? And now he has the tenacity to cheat my father with this fake money. You know I would have married you even if you had told me that you could not give the dowry my dad asked for. You broke my heart Sumitra! I loved you so much.” Aditya had tears in eyes while Sumitra had tears in her heart.  How could he be so vicious? The tormenting image of Aditya leaving her minutes before their marriage slowly gave way to the more devastating visual of her father sitting lifeless in the middle of the house. “My little girl… I want to ask you only one thing. You believe your father, right?” He asked with imploring eyes which rained tears seeing his daughter nod vigorously and collapse on his lap. He whispered softly in her ears: “That’s all this old man wanted to hear my child! That’s all!” That was his last whisper.

The four men were talking in low voices. Raghav went a little closer and positioned himself behind a banyan tree. The man who was speaking animatedly was the man who Raghav had trusted the most. “Kishorilal sahib.. It was a master stroke to have the currency serial numbers included in the house pledge agreement. Poor Ramcharan didn’t even know such a thing existed when he signed the papers. You easily matched those to what you had withdrawn from the bank that morning and we did the rest to frame him for giving us fake money as dowry!” Aditya was bragging away. “Actually Ambarish uncle set it up nicely.. What an act it was! Getting his own money robbed and framing it on Ramcharan just days before the marriage. And then we could play the fake dowry money drama to completely crush him. It was all too easy!” Raghav wanted to strangle him right away. But he stopped himself. He was not ready.

Ambarish who was silent all this while spoke slowly and frigidly. “You just had to break the man.. And then he killed himself. I was really annoyed when your father decided to get you married to that Sumitra. I only got my element back when you explained me your master plan. I must say... I couldn’t have asked for a better son-in-law. I have had my eyes on that palatial house of Ramcharan for a long long time. That is certainly worth a killing. Now we get that free of cost and I get to keep his gratuity and pension as a souvenir!”  Aditya interjected. “Let us not forget how important a role my dear friend Ajeesh has played here. And not to forget his sexy but lethal car! Honestly, I liked Sumitra. I feel a little sad for her.” They all burst into laughter. Kishorilal was still perturbed.  “We still have that problem with the house. You can’t just take it!” Aditya dismissed that nonchalantly. “That I am going to take care of without beating a sweat, Sir!” His wicked smile brought solace to the others.

Raghav could not bear to hear a word more as his blood was at its boiling point. He returned home to see Sumitra sitting lifeless in the middle of the house. Just like father. He caressed her head, she turned away. He held her hand gently. He couldn’t feel her pulse, but her pain flowed through him. She couldn’t feel his touch but the glitter in his eyes meant that the wait was over. Finally the echoes that pound her ears would soon stop. “They are here. I saw them. After three months, they have come out from hiding. They feel fear no more. The time has come. We have waited long enough.” His eyes were spitting fire. That moment they heard the door open!

The air inside the house was filled up with lethal venom as familiar evil made its way in. “Ahh.. here we are! Take a look at our catch. The trophy for our master plan! It was easier than I expected. I didn’t really think that we could get rid of that Raghav so easily. We didn’t have to do anything. The guy killed himself. What a shame!”  Aditya sounded a little disappointed.

“You haven’t felt too much pain boy, have you? When the only two people you ever cared for in your life are no more, you easily tend to question the reason for your existence. And don’t forget, he had the impossible task of paying up for both the money his father had borrowed from Kishorilal and also the money that was purportedly stolen from my factory!” Ambarish was methodically stone cold in his inference.

Aditya’s best friend Ajeesh made his presence felt. “That is why it was so important to make it look like Sumitra had also killed herself. If Raghav had known that we had planned that, he would have certainly come after us for vengeance. You all should thank me for volunteering to do your dirty work.”

“Don’t get too arrogant boy. You were not supposed to come to this village again. You were the perfect stranger under whose car a dejected Sumitra willingly ended her life. Your act is over, remember. If anyone sees you with us, then we could be in trouble. And by the way, you didn’t do it for charity, son!” Kishorilal was fuming.  

Aditya patted Kishorilal on the back. “Relax! no one can do anything now. It is now time for the final act. I am going to make people believe that I am still so smitten by Sumitra’s love and that I can’t live without her. I buy this house from Kishorilalji and I spend a year mourning Sumitra’s death. That much time is enough for people to forget about wars. Then Ambarish uncle will persuade me to marry his daughter and I will reluctantly give in with a heavy heart. And then the bride and groom will live happily ever after! In this very house! Kishorilalji gets Ramcharan’s gratuity while Ajeesh gets the stolen factory money. How about that for a plan? Sounds fair, isn’t it!”

Thunderous claps applauded his deviously ingenious plan. A ghastly silence ensued as they looked at each other totally befuddled. Raghav and Sumitra had just welcomed their prey. An unknown fear gripped them. Aditya broke the silence. “Oh.. Come on.. That’s just the wind beating against the windows. What is with you guys? Has the dark night gotten to your nerves? Now don’t tell me that Sumitra’s spirit is waiting inside to haunt me. I wouldn’t mind a little bit of romance anyways!” His evil laugh echoed back from the walls in Ramcharan’s voice. An eerie chill engulfed the souls of the sinners!

“Bhaiyya… you can take care of the others.. but this one is mine! A few months ago, in this very house, he had promised me that very soon he is going to entrust me with his life. Now I am just going to take what is already mine. Nothing much has changed, has it?” Sumitra winked at Raghav who saw the rare twinkle in his sister’s eyes. “Sure my dear.. give him all the romance he is yearning for!”

After 2 hours of drinking and some heavy duty gambling, the three of them bid good bye and good luck to Aditya who was completely sloshed. He went straight to the bed. He heard the door bolt behind him!

                                                                                                                  - A SHORT STORY BY RAJ