Delirium

Delirium

The peasant was guiding his cattle home when the burra sahib, wearing an exaggerated top hat, confronted him. His goatee beard twitching in contempt, the sahib said to the bewildered peasant-“I am sorry to tell you that it has been decided at the Yorkyoto convention that your cattle are the primary reason for the depletion of the ozone layer. We have come t put your cattle to sleep.”

The peasant was puzzled. He said-“ Sahib. You have been misled by my enemies. The Kyoto

protocol says that it is the four wheeled ones, not the quadrupeds that cause more danger to the ozone layer. These poor cattle of mine are not to blame. The four wheeled beasts you seek are on the other side of the ocean. They emit the noxious gases which have caused my sons to become asthmatics.”

The sahib smiled. His bucktooth bared, he resembled a ravenous hyena. He said-“ No mistake, baba. Kyoto is out of date. That’s why we came up with alternate solutions when we convened the Yorkyoto meeting. Cattle are just the first step. Then, we will start terminating other greenhouse gas emitters. Say goodbye to your bovine friends.”

The cows started mooing, sensing the looming danger. A brown cow looked up at its master, its large eyes unblinking. Tears welled up in the poor man’s weary eyes. He dropped their reins from his hands. “Run away, my dear children. The cruel sahib will not spare us. Run away”, he intoned.

With a parting sad glance at the peasant, the herd ran away, kicking up a cloud of dust in its trail. The peasant stared desolately into the dancing clouds of dust, hoping for a saviour to come and deliver him from his miserable plight.

The poor had no power. They were merely slaves who had to adapt themselves to the whims of the rich and the mighty. They had no control over their lives. They did not know what they had to do in order to survive in an increasingly hostile world. Their society believed, or rather used to believe in fraternal ties. Such a society had ceased to exist long ago. Their hard earned money had become mere bits of paper with no value. Financial manipulators of the Wild West had no little role in this. The peasant was thinking about this when he heard a horse coming towards him in full gallop.

From the whirling clouds of dust, a white horse emerged. An old bearded man in flowing white robes, and wearing a snow white turban was astride the graceful horse.

Slung over his shoulder was an assault rifle, with its safety catch off. He was in an oratory mood, for he spoke eloquently, trying to make the peasant understand the need to teach the arrogant sahib an unforgettable lesson.

The peasant listened to him in awe for some time, before losing interest. Seeing this, the Bedouin asked- “Why are you sad? Isn’t it because you have lost your precious cattle? He who stands before you, wearing the arrogant top hat is the cause of your misery. Unleash your rage on him. Here, take this gun and kill him. Your destiny beckons you.”

On hearing this, the peasant’s eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn’t believe that the Bedouin was thrusting his rifle towards him, asking him to wreak havoc on the smug burra sahib. Slowly, he reached for the instrument of death being offered to him. The sky was turning dark.; the sun had taken refuge behind storm clouds. And, the heavens started pouring down. The rain came down fast and hard on the motley threesome. As the cold water drenched him, a transformation took place in the peasant. The hatred in his eyes lost its fiery glow. Reason had gained the upper hand in his being.

He threw the weapon down. The Bedouin was aghast; the sahib was bewildered. Had the peasant gone mad?

Philosophical words emerged from the peasant’s throat-“Death begets death. If this man’s blood is spilled here, his kinsmen and allies will come and spill more blood. I am a poor peasant, a son of the soil. What comes from the earth must go back there. All that matters is that life must continue. I am ready to sacrifice myself for a greater cause. Sahibs, wy are you pointing your guns at each other? We must learn to coexist. Understand that you can live in peace. All of us make mistakes. The very essence of human nature, however, lies in forgiveness. Please throw down your weapons and embrace each other.”

The rain had stopped now. The sun peeked out at the tableau, casting its bronzed rays on them. Their shadows had grown longer. Silhouetted against the sun, the horse rider and the man wearing the top hat pointed their weapons at each other. Slowly, their guns came down. In unison, they turned towards the preaching peasant. Bullets spewed out of their guns, rushing towards the peasant’s frail body. Riddled with lead, he became one with the earth. The son of the soil had returned home.

The guns fell silent. Heart-rending cries pierced the eerie calm. The peasant’s children wailed for their father. His wife was sobbing, devastated by the cruelty of these brutal men. They had lost their contact with reality. Their wails melted into the uncaring twilight. Their world had become a colder place. The sun had disappeared.

The burra sahib and the Bedouin went searching for other prey.

so said -Poison- the in(s)ane one @ Thursday, July 14, 2005

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