Silver Lining

SILVER LINING

The screeching, irritating din of the city made Hameed mad. It becomes all the more hectic and topsy-turvy in the dying hours everyday: honking vehicles, zig-zagging two wheelers, throat tearing vendors, self-possessed, agitated, thickly flowing public……… Hameed felt lonely and unaccustomed in the crowd.

He had no definite aim when he came out of his rented flat. He did not find much difference in the environment of the flat and that of the city. It was an overcrowded and always brimming with various sounds and activities, the flat. He wanted peace of mind and calmness.

Prayagraj, Hameed thought, was another synonym of irony with its deep rooted, age-old holiness versus highly spirited, modern, contradictory outbursts. He saw many teenagers, here and there, his own age group, engaged in different activities. He was sure of some of his friends there, but did not want to meet anyone.

He continued walking. At the sight of the Seat of Justice, the so-called refuge for many, towering high in front of him, he frowned. A kind of despise crept into him. Its deadly silence and delay in dealing with certain cases have irked many. How many might have got justice, and equally, how many might have bought justice here!..... He could not resist the urge that overpowered him. The security personnels standing here and there did not worry him. He searched for a piece of stone, picked up and hurled it aiming at a side window. Hearing a clanging sound, the security became alert. Hameed sneaked past and started running.

He ran and ran and ran. Once or twice he looked back but there was no sign of anyone following. Still he was scared. Panting he stood bent down for breath, keeping his palms just above the knees. He looked around and was surprised to see that he was in a lonely place overgrown with bushes and trees. It was totally in contrast to the route he paced through: crowded avenues, clusters of buildings, narrow lanes, shrieks and yells, unwanted fights…..total commotion. But here it was very calm and serene. He wanted such a place.

A cool breeze engulfed Hameed and soothed his heated body. He was sure that he was on the bank of the holy Ganges. His panting rate declined. Walked further to the edge of the bank. The holy waters of the Ganges flowed silently. Standing there, he could see the vast expanse of the majestic holy river that silently gulps unimaginably immeasurable amounts of stains of human sins and silently cleanses the innocents’ deeds. But he was deeply disturbed by its seasonal transformation into a destructive demon, devouring humans, houses, livestocks and land. Then it would flow unmindful of the amount of tears shed by the devastated lives!

‘But…… no rain or flood was there…… still our house, our beautiful house, was thoroughly devastated…..’. Looking into the incessant flow of water in the fading light of the sinking sun, Hameed felt that his mind became the center of a big cyclone. The distant horizon had already given way for the rise of dark clouds.

A ‘Westwind' was brewing up. Thick, dark clouds were getting tossed around. ‘What a wonderful house was ours! A double-storey building with six spacious rooms, elegant looking balconies with flowering plants hanging, mind-blowing center courtyard, unmatched architecture….the hard-work of my papa….. Oh! How we enjoyed there! Our sweet home!'

The dark clouds were pacing fast in twists and turns, gaining heights. In their furious flow, they stealthy dimmed the light over the river. Hameed was getting heated up within. ‘.....but that horrifying night…… oh! What a scene! I saw huge, deadly iron teeth, penetrating the solid walls, descending on me…. How I jumped off my bed, grabbed my little sister and ran through the dark corridor crying loudly! There was no one to hear me! Downstairs I saw my Mom lying unconscious. Some people were attending to her. I searched for Papa. The whole house was full of crushing, crumbling, cracking, clonking, devastating and yelling sounds. ‘Papa’ I cried and saw him being taken away in a police jeep. I collapsed with my sister…’

Hameed felt the throb of his heart. He could hear the beat even in the shrieking, hissing sound of the fast approaching rain-storm.

‘Petitions filed……, requests made…, pleadings done…. But nobody heard! Helpless neighbors!.... Heartless authorities!...... Frighteningly indifferent, silent, snailing court!... What a discrimination!.... Why?.... Never experienced before. There were similar houses in the same line, but why only ours?.... Definitely a targeted attack…. Why?..... Oh! Why?......’ Hameed was boiling with hatred and despise. His mind was a turbulent ocean. Once he had thought of joining his friends who had similar experience, to get recruited into the path, to get emboldened for rebellion. But he stood strong in the way his Mom taught, ‘path of righteousness. Truth will always prevail’.

Standing stiff on the bank of the holy river and getting drenched in the heavily pouring, pelting rain, he doubted whether his decision was wrong but in the corner of his mind the unconscious Mom recuperated and revived and he could hear her, “Son, never deviate from the path of righteousness. Truth will save us”.

‘My Mom…. My dear Mom… a soul that knows only to love… that never made anyone suffer….. How many helpless were fed by her!... How many struggling, frustrated ones enjoyed her patronage without any dicrimination!..... But…. Oh! Mom, why are we discriminated?.... Why this alienation?….’ Hameed became uncontrollably agitated. The unprecedented, sporadic occurrences in various places, overtly and covertly aiming particular targets, fumed him. He felt fire from head to foot. His ‘recruited’ friends made a flashing entry into his furious mind. He stood still looking through the thick rain. As the ebbing storm gradually brought tranquility in the atmosphere, Hameed, too, struggled for composure. The downpour was slowly declining.

He raised his hands and looked up at the clearing atmosphere and cried,” If this wind and rain are equally for all, if this water flows equally for all, then let there be justice equally for all! Let there be justice equally for all!” His yell vibrated the grim bank and echoed the full breadth of the Ganges and rippled down to the holy sangam. In his composed mind, Hameed saw his Mom, anxiously waiting Mom. He did not wait. Walked fast through the same way he came but now calm and controlled avenues and lanes. There was firmness in his steps. He did not want his Mom or any of them to be in a rented flat. The happy house, the pride of his late Dad, emerged clearly in the screen of his imagination.

Kuriachen P.J.