Write India: Waking from the Dream

The following is a short story penned by me as participation in Write India, a year long short story writing contest where popular authors set guidelines, and one writes and submits the story in accordance to it. You can check out about the contest here:

TOI Write India

This story is submitted as part of the month which is judged by Ashwin Sanghi, of The Krishna Key fame. You can find his instructions below. Cool? Cool.

Apart from the regular rules of the Write India campaign, Ashwin Sanghi himself had set the following rules:

1. All interpretations of the passage are fair game.
2. You could choose to write the rest of the story in ANY genre... Surprise me.
3. The story MUST be written in first person.
4. Be imaginative and have loads of fun.
5. I am less concerned about words and and much more about the story... simply spin a great yarn.

The passage given by Ashwin has been highlighted in florescent. Hope you guys like what I made of the story in itself.

* * *

Mintan started heaving deep breaths the second she heard the railcar's horn blast in the distance. It was another anxiety attack, I knew, yet there was not much I could do besides ply the little girl with a few hollow words of reassurance. She was my responsibility, after all, she was under my care for protection from my people. I felt sick calling the surging mob coming our way my people. How could I call anyone who shed blood of another living person my own, let alone these animals bent on genocide? And yet that was how the world saw things, even if I didn't. It was a hard truth to stomach. Almost as hard as accepting that by giving Mintan sanctuary under my roof, I had signed my own death warrant, and that of my family. Somehow that sacrifice seemed smaller than keeping silent against what I knew was wrong, plain as day. I had enough mistakes on my conscience, to allow even one more.

"Here, have some water. Agluen nana has a plan, I am sure." Arima's calm tone did more to help Mintan than anything I could have possibly said. Mintan's breathing slowed, and she even managed a weak smile. The eight year old girl hugged Arima, and nestled her face in her lap. Whenever I thought I understood my wife, knew her limits and her strengths, she managed to surprise me, and make me fall in love with her a little more. She surely had to know the seriousness of what I had done, but she never wavered or stopped me. Always my partner, the core of my strength, she had decided to walk this path of no return with me. For the sake of her promise, at least, I had to find a way out, a way to make sure Mintan lived through the night.

I walked to the living room window, and moved the curtain slightly to take a peek at the street. It was dark, but there was an ominous glow in the night sky across the bend, accompanied by shouts and curses promising the vilest of fates to the Diadheen hiding. I didn't need to hear the sound of shattering glass and the wails of women and cries of children to realise the nightmare was already at our doorstep. I moved away, and directed Arima to switch off all the lights. Perhaps they would think no one was home. Small hopes were the way to go this night, it seemed. If not, we would flee through the back door. The station was five minutes away by foot. We could take the midnight railcar. Where from there could be figured out later. Out of here would be a good start. It was my home though, and abandoning it would be my last option.

A crash outside brought my attention back to the curtain. The mob of about twenty-five people was visible now, an angry organism consuming what was just this morning Mintan's home. As the shouts grew louder, I glanced back, but already Arima had covered Mintan's ears, burying her face in her bosom, rocking back and forth. I turned back to look at the carnage.

The mob comprised of my fellow Ramse, characterised by their sandy hair and hooked noses, proudly wearing the red and white armbands that announced their political stamp as the first blood – they believed themselves the rightful heirs to the first men to set foot in Andilan, and meant to rule the Diadheen, of pale skin and flattened noses. This politicization of race sickened me to the core – what they did was abhorrent, but to attribute it to their race – I felt bile rising just at the sight of them. Which is also how they ended up on this street on this night, right after the elections, targeting the doors of all the Diadheen in town. This neighbourhood had two other Diadheen families, but they had already skipped town anticipating the results. Minuel and Jhaitan – Mintan's parents however could not bring themselves to do that. They had been popular among the Diadheen for fighting for their rights, and could not – would not leave their home behind. We will not abandon our home Agluen, they kept telling me. It took me almost three hours of pleading before Minuel would agree to even let me keep his daughter safe. “Fool politics. Fool race. Fool Minuel.” I muttered under my breath.

Three of the thugs were smashing windows, a couple others were trying to break the door down, with the rest hooting and calling Mintan's parents all sorts of vile imprecations. I felt useless – a coward, standing there, hiding behind my door, watching a neighbour and a friend be harassed by people who would see me as a brother under the sun. And yet I had to take care of my own family – my wife, my son – I turned to look at Aginar, there huddled by his mother’s skirt, eyes darting to every shadow. A boy of six, he still hadn't gotten over his fear of darkness, and tonight would not help, if he lived through it. He was a strong boy, though, and the pride of my dream. I would keep them safe, no matter what, Mintan too. I smiled at the kids, both looking terrified and wrapped around Arima.

The bang of the door falling off the hinges brought my attention back to the head of the street – the mob had broken into Minuel's home. I cursed and gestured to Arima to take the kids to the back room without looking away. There might be need to run, and all they could carry was inside. And locked inside, I hoped Mintan would not hear what I knew was about to transpire. But whatever transpired here tonight would be my fault in part, for not standing up for my friends, for what I knew in my heart was right, and I would watch. It was the least decent thing to do. "I'll keep my promise, Jhaitan. No harm will come to your daughter. I will wake from this life before I let anyone harm her. I’ll protect her like my dream." I promised under my breath as the mob entered her home.

I heard her shout before I saw anything, and stiffened. Three men half carried, half dragged Jhaitan out of the house and dumped her unceremoniously on the road. Another couple followed them out holding Minuel up. He looked pretty banged up, almost unconscious. All the while people kept throwing items from the house out the windows, bringing out furniture and breaking on the front porch. For a second the street light allowed me to see the faces of two of the people kicking Minuel's limp figure, and I gasped. These were people from our neighbourhood – the local sweet vendor and the security guard! There was no empathy on their faces, only rage and animal hatred. I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing.

A car drew up to the street, and a few more people wearing those armbands arrived. This was seeming less like a random mob and more like something else with every passing minute. One man brought a bottle and overturned it on Minuel's bruised face. Minuel aroused immediately and begun to struggle as he watched the man go to Jhaitan and pour the rest of the bottle on her head. Jhaitan never even noticed the slimy liquid poured on her. The second she was let go she began crawling away from her home. Towards ours, I realised with a start. Mintan should not see her mother in this bloodied state, I thought as I turned to check behind me, and stopped, eyes widening.

Aginar stood there, hands on the telecom, looking at me, trying to look reassuring of all things. Before I could process what I was saying, he said into the line, “Salute. City Watch? There are bad people hurting Minuel nana. Could you –“

He yelped as I snatched the telecom and cut the line and looked at me wide eyed. I realised how I must have looked, panicking like that. I took a deep breath. I couldn't get angry at my boy for trying to help. Nor could I let him know he may have landed us in serious trouble. The city watch would turn a blind eye at best, and would report us to the Ramse leadership at worst – marking us as traitors to the race, and painting a big target on our chests. In any case, he had decided our course of action for us. It was time to go. For them at least. I had to stay, to fulfil my penance, to buy them some time. If they left now through the back door, they could make it out of the neighbourhood and reach the station to catch the midnight railcar.

"That was brave of you, son. I am very proud of you." I gave him a tight hug, looking at a shocked Arima over his shoulder, and gesturing. "Go to mother now, Aginar. Look how afraid she is. I want you to protect her and Mintan alright?" Aginar nodded vigorously and went to Arima, who to her credit, smoothed her face as he turned, never showing him the anguish on her face at his actions. “Go now”, I said to Arima, “I will follow.” Arima looked a question at me, and I shook my head. “I will follow. If not in this dream, then in the next. We all must wake up sometime.” Her face expressionless, my wife looked at me, then moved gracefully to embrace me. “My mother’s” she whispered, and I smiled in spite of myself. “Your mother’s.” I agreed. She turned to go in.

Shouts and laughter pulled my attention back to the window, where I saw a burly mountain of a man stalking after Jhaitan, mockingly slow, as if to see how far she would make before collapsing. Jhaitan, covered in blood, her evening dress half torn and sliced, inched little by little towards our home, towards her daughter. From this distance, I could hear the burly man’s taunts quite clearly. “Slither like the worm you are, Diadheen scum!” He sneered. They were toying with the couple.

“Won’t you watch your husband burn, you whore?” Someone shouted from where Minuel cowered under the kicks and blows from the throng. My eyes pulled themselves to look at him as a single thug took out a matchstick and lit his cigarette. Minuel, blood gushing down his face, and bruised all over, whimpered, and raised a hand to his wife. And the matchstick fell right into his hand, setting Minuel on fire. I didn't even check to see if the kids were behind closed doors, I just bent over and sicked up right there on the floor. Jhaitan wailed, a sound that cut over all the shouting, the breaking of furniture and the hooting. A cry of anguish that wrenched at my heart, my soul. I will make myself look, I had promised to myself, and so I stood up again, using up all the strength and energy I had left in me. A glance told me they were behind doors, but Arima had heard, and she put her head out looking at him, looking for some hope, any hope, but I just shook my head, tears streaming down my face.

"Go. Now." I looked down at my watch. Ten minutes to the railcar. "Go. Don’t stop for anyone. Just go." I said as I shepherded them to the back door. Mintan turned to me at the door and said, "Nana, I will protect Aginar. You just come soon, okay? And bring Dada and Mama." I was on my knees, hugging her with tears streaming down my face before I knew it. As they left, I steeled myself and went back out front, to the window and my vomit.

My cowardice, for not standing up for my friends, for what’s right, my fault, I told myself as I turned back to peeking by the curtains. Jhatain lay right in front of our place, on the road, but all energy seemed to have seeped out of her. She just lay there, whimpering. I raised my hand to the window, trying to reach her somehow. Somehow. I glanced at my watch as the seconds trickled by. Seven minutes more.

“Oi, what’s this! They have a kid!” Someone shouted from the house. My eyes widened, snapping past Minuel's burning corpse to the house at the same time as Jhaitan's. Someone was out there brandishing a toy, Mintan's favourite toy warrior. "Where’s the kid!?" The burly man grabbed Jhaitan by her hair and pulled her up to her knees, "Where’s your kid, whore?" he shouted into her face, punching her in the guts. She grunted, but refused to respond. I squeezed my eyes shut, and punched the wall for my cowardice. I should have been helping her. Five more minutes, I told myself. The cigarette smoking thug strolled to Jhaitan. He went down on one knee and stubbed the cigarette

against her cheeks. Jhaitan ground her teeth through the burn.

"Why would you move away from your husband, woman? Why this way, not out of the neighbourhood if you were trying to escape? Which of these houses is hiding your kid?" He got up and shouted, for all the neighbourhood to hear, "Whichever of you is helping these Diadheen scum, send the girl out. If you do that, we will forget your betrayal. If not…" He let his threat linger in the air, as another man - the security guard ran to him, with a telecom in his hand. The man with the cigarette, the leader, smiled on hearing what the other man had to say. I looked at my watch. Three more minutes. I needed to buy them some time! I started looking for something, anything to hold these men off long enough to keep my promises.

As I removed the curtain and took out the curtain rod, the man announced, "Agluen Muradri! You betray your own Ramse brothers! You shelter a Diadheen creature? You call the city watch to protect this… insect?" He pulled out a knife and slit Jhaitan's throat as he finished his sentence. The burly man dropped her back down, and Jhaitan gurgled. I was too shocked to look at my watch. One minute, two minutes, it made no difference now. I just had to buy my family some time. It was time to wake up from this dream after all. I unlocked the door, and readied myself behind it, by the window.

I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath, "Ten, nine, eight, seven…"