Mir walked slowly, every step sending a strained message to his brain. To stop. To lie down. To give it a rest. It had been a long day, like every other. Mir should relax.
The saner, wiser part of him argued vehemently against those pleas. If he stopped, he wouldn't be able to get back up. And then a kind villager would have to carry him to his shack. He wouldn't be able to bear that sort of humiliation again.
So he trudged on, carrying a bundle of his dirty work-clothes and a stark-white shawl, his dhoti torn but clean, his shirt frayed and ragged but spotless, exhaustion having settled in the wrinkles of his face like gathered dust. But he still retained that degree of pride which made a man, a man.
His fellow-men pitied him. A fine soul reduced to such a state. It was truly shameful. Yet, how the pauper sauntered! Commendable, albeit unnecessary.
Not not. Now, he was alone with the stillness. He could throw off those masks. Those flimsy masks.
Mir didn't feel pity for himself, nor did he waste time in reminiscence of the glorious days of his youth. He was a practical man. He had surrendered himself to his fate, for who could hope to engage destiny in a combat at his age?
The wind picked up. Cold, violent gusts. His bones shivered. Still placing one step after the other, he unwrapped the bundle and took out his shawl. He threw the shawl over his head, and secured it at his shoulders with the spare pin he always carried.
Aah! Better!
The village was quiet, but without the usual aura of eeriness that accompanies silence. It was the quiet of a sleeping child, a child fatigued after a long day of carefree enjoyment.
So, you can imagine how Mir's dreary world must have shattered when he heard the laughter.
What? Where did it come from? The alley there? Yes. It came from there. Should he inspect it?
The laughter repeated, this time touching a note of manic hysteria. Mir's knees almost buckled. But should he probe into it?
The whoop erupted once again, this time drawn out, and Mir made a decision. He limped as fast as he could towards the source of the sound, and peered into the alley. The laughter seemed to be fleeing away. Its echoes sounded fainter.
Mir entered the darkness and followed it, his heart racing quicker. His breathing grew heavy and short, yet he ploughed on. The laughter always seemed to evade him at the last moment, right at the turn.
An old man can only keep up for so long. He finally gave up, his head spinning. He wasn't lost; he knew every lane of his village, like any self-respecting villager should. He reached his hut in no time, and sleep embraced him almost as soon as he laid himself down.
Dawn and Mir awoke as one. The village was already abuzz. It took a moment for Mir to discern the source of his increased discomfort. His legs were stiffer. And then he remembered last night's brush with adventure.
The curiosity of the old is effectively quenched with a resigned shrug, not so with Mir. The events of last night prodded him continually as he dragged his feet through the village.
A small crowd has formed near the local dairy. Hassan was telling a fascinating tale, the crowd round him enraptured. Mir caught a few words as he passed them, his mouth pursed in disapproval for the vagabond magician.
"... laughter! Crazy shrieks of delight! I swear..."
Mir stopped dead in his tracks. He edged closer to the crowd, curbing his inherent dislike of idling talks.
"It was after midnight, yes. I am a light sleeper, as you know, fellows, when I heard this outburst of pleasure. You heard it, too, Shastri? It chilled me completely. It passed my window, and I waited for a couple of seconds before opening it. I'm telling you, I made these amulets for the village's safety right afterwards. Mark my words, we'll need them!"
A curious villager interjected, "What did you see, Hassan? Did you see... it?"
Hassan paused, and licked his lips. He lowered his voice to a whisper for effect, and the crowd leaned in.
"A spirit. It was a spirit, no doubt about it. I know one when I see one. And this was a released spirit, hence the elated screams!"
"Did you see its face, then? How did it look?"
"I didn't, sadly. Or the amulets would have been made with much more power. It had run past me when I opened the window. All I could see was a pristine white cloth covering its figure, flapping wildly as the spirit ran. And it was a horrifying sight, my friends."
Mir stood rooted to the spot as the crowd scrambled for the amulets, feeling a laugh build up inside him.
The saner, wiser part of him argued vehemently against those pleas. If he stopped, he wouldn't be able to get back up. And then a kind villager would have to carry him to his shack. He wouldn't be able to bear that sort of humiliation again.
So he trudged on, carrying a bundle of his dirty work-clothes and a stark-white shawl, his dhoti torn but clean, his shirt frayed and ragged but spotless, exhaustion having settled in the wrinkles of his face like gathered dust. But he still retained that degree of pride which made a man, a man.
His fellow-men pitied him. A fine soul reduced to such a state. It was truly shameful. Yet, how the pauper sauntered! Commendable, albeit unnecessary.
Not not. Now, he was alone with the stillness. He could throw off those masks. Those flimsy masks.
Mir didn't feel pity for himself, nor did he waste time in reminiscence of the glorious days of his youth. He was a practical man. He had surrendered himself to his fate, for who could hope to engage destiny in a combat at his age?
The wind picked up. Cold, violent gusts. His bones shivered. Still placing one step after the other, he unwrapped the bundle and took out his shawl. He threw the shawl over his head, and secured it at his shoulders with the spare pin he always carried.
Aah! Better!
The village was quiet, but without the usual aura of eeriness that accompanies silence. It was the quiet of a sleeping child, a child fatigued after a long day of carefree enjoyment.
So, you can imagine how Mir's dreary world must have shattered when he heard the laughter.
What? Where did it come from? The alley there? Yes. It came from there. Should he inspect it?
The laughter repeated, this time touching a note of manic hysteria. Mir's knees almost buckled. But should he probe into it?
The whoop erupted once again, this time drawn out, and Mir made a decision. He limped as fast as he could towards the source of the sound, and peered into the alley. The laughter seemed to be fleeing away. Its echoes sounded fainter.
Mir entered the darkness and followed it, his heart racing quicker. His breathing grew heavy and short, yet he ploughed on. The laughter always seemed to evade him at the last moment, right at the turn.
An old man can only keep up for so long. He finally gave up, his head spinning. He wasn't lost; he knew every lane of his village, like any self-respecting villager should. He reached his hut in no time, and sleep embraced him almost as soon as he laid himself down.
Dawn and Mir awoke as one. The village was already abuzz. It took a moment for Mir to discern the source of his increased discomfort. His legs were stiffer. And then he remembered last night's brush with adventure.
The curiosity of the old is effectively quenched with a resigned shrug, not so with Mir. The events of last night prodded him continually as he dragged his feet through the village.
A small crowd has formed near the local dairy. Hassan was telling a fascinating tale, the crowd round him enraptured. Mir caught a few words as he passed them, his mouth pursed in disapproval for the vagabond magician.
"... laughter! Crazy shrieks of delight! I swear..."
Mir stopped dead in his tracks. He edged closer to the crowd, curbing his inherent dislike of idling talks.
"It was after midnight, yes. I am a light sleeper, as you know, fellows, when I heard this outburst of pleasure. You heard it, too, Shastri? It chilled me completely. It passed my window, and I waited for a couple of seconds before opening it. I'm telling you, I made these amulets for the village's safety right afterwards. Mark my words, we'll need them!"
A curious villager interjected, "What did you see, Hassan? Did you see... it?"
Hassan paused, and licked his lips. He lowered his voice to a whisper for effect, and the crowd leaned in.
"A spirit. It was a spirit, no doubt about it. I know one when I see one. And this was a released spirit, hence the elated screams!"
"Did you see its face, then? How did it look?"
"I didn't, sadly. Or the amulets would have been made with much more power. It had run past me when I opened the window. All I could see was a pristine white cloth covering its figure, flapping wildly as the spirit ran. And it was a horrifying sight, my friends."
Mir stood rooted to the spot as the crowd scrambled for the amulets, feeling a laugh build up inside him.
4 comments:
Seems like one of your impromptu works, whitout a particularly strong motivation or any substantial content.something you do on a whim or simply for the sake of doing it . So nothing special to say for this one , I'll just give my evaluation : Plot- 2/5 , Writing - 3/5 (since in spite of poor content at no point did I feel like skipping to the end.), Ending-2.5/5 ( by normal standards the ending was easily a3 or 3.5 , but given that it is your strongest suit , and something I always look forward to and find consistently brilliant , I had to go with a 2.5). There are many other aspects like characterisation, narrative (You should really try a non linear one! If you nail that [ I am pretty sure you can , with some practise and a personal 'Saad touch'!] it might just take your writing to a whole other level. And that is saying something because I sincerely believe that your writing is already above semipro level.) and etc but there really wasn't much in this one.
The review was brilliant! And yes, brackets ki baato ko dhyaan mein rakhuga next time, pakka. This story was inspired from a line in a shayari I was reading last night. So it didn't have much going for it, time nahi mila. Thankyawad, thankyawad!
Its a good one. I liked the ending, but I didn't like the way you led the story to the end. Like I always do, I end the story without following a proper sequence. The same thing happened with you.
I thought it was gonna be about maybe, a soldier, when I started reading, but it wasn't. I like surprises and twists so, I liked this one, too.
very interesting article. Very nice.Keep posting.
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