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| Santosh Bakaya |
Santosh Bakaya
It
was a dark, dismal night, and a tempestuous wind was blowing through the
jungle. The trees were moaning and writhing, as though in great pain. A twelve
year old girl was walking through the jungle, lost in thought. She was missing
her mother, who had time and again reprimanded her for her slothful ways,
especially her habit of not washing hands.
Stuck
to a tree was a wooden board, which said, To Malevolent Land. Malevolent Land!
The name sent shivers up her spine and she slumped on a fallen tree trunk to
recover her breath. The moment she sat on the trunk, some voices fell into her
ears.
“Twirl
the hula hoop. Twirl the hula hoop
Are
you hard of hearing, you nincompoop?
What
will you folks have, stew or soup?
Wash your hands, scrub away, nincompoop!
Twirl the hula hoop. Twirl the hula hoop
Stew
or soup, stew or soup? Twirl the hoop
Twirl
the hula hoop. Twirl the hula hoop.
Wash
your hands, scrub away, nincompoop!
“Let
me twirl the hula hoop, please let me. Who …. are ….you four?” She stuttered, as her eyes fell on four
cloaked and masked men sitting on a tree stump, every now and then dipping
their hands in a bucket of water and scrubbing their hands.
Frantically.
Vigorously. Frenziedly.
Four
scrawny necks whirled in the direction of the voice, and their eyes fell on the
most innocent face they had ever seen.
“This
is our territory, and we are the four wizards of Malevolent Land, h ah ah a. We
don’t tolerate any intruders.” The Filthy Foursome guffawed in malevolent glee,
pointing towards the board which said, Malevolent Land. The girl shuddered. The
four waved their gnarled and grotesque looking hands, soon there were cookies,
doughnuts and scones dancing in the air.
“Every
globule of our blood will rise in revolt if you don’t eat! Eat! Eat! Eat!
Now
eat! Eat! Eat! Eat!” Said the wizards.
“But
first wash your hands, nincompoop!
Don’t
you carry a sanitizer with you stup….
id
girl?” Bellowed one.
“Oh,
my mom is always after me to wash my hands, but I am too lazy to do it”. She
confessed almost on the verge of tears.
“What
is your name?”
“Alice”.
“Oh, that crazy, confused, forever
hallucinating girl? Sometimes you wander in Wonderland, oft, you are caught
peeping through the looking glass”, One of the four said with a smirk, trying
to smack of sanity.
“But,
we are wizards, we know you are lying, they call you Malice.” Said one, looking absolutely gray.
“No!
No! When I was small, I could not pronounce my name properly, instead of Alice,
I called myself Malice, so the name stuck.
“Stuck!
Stuck! Stuck”, they chanted.
“I
am Alice of the present century; that confused Alice lived in the middle of the
Victorian era, and she was merely seven years old. You claim to be wizards and you don’t even
know this!” She rejoined impishly, but
they went on chanting, unfazed.
Stuck!
Stuck! Stuck
Now,
you are stuck here
Alice
is full of malice
Malice
is full of Alice
you
have always been ‘wildly curious’
Wash
your hands, or we’ll get furious
Alice
is full of malice
Malice
is full of Alice
Stuck!
Stuck! Stuck
She
dipped her hands in the water bucket owned by the wizards, washed her hands
while the Filthy Foursome looked on impatiently. Then she gobbled up the
cookies, scones and doughnuts and while the four were busy washing their hands,
she slunk away. Behind her she heard the sound of running feet, and highly
agitated yells of “Off with her head!”
She
stopped and threw a counter yell in their direction, “you weird wizards, if you
can do nothing else, at least be original! The Queen of Hearts will start
turning in her grave, and Lewis Carroll will not like it. [Actually I am confused whether it was the
Red queen who said it, or the Queen of hearts, but anyway, she mumbled] The moment she said this, the sounds behind
her stopped and her eyes fell on something dark huddled under a tree.
“Hey,
what is that? The Cheshire cat? Ah, purrfect!” She said in a flurry of
excitement, heading towards it, when suddenly the cat started
caterwauling. A strident and piercing
scream rent the air.
“How
dare!” The cat growled, suffixing the growl with an indignant Meow. A meow
which seemed to trigger an earthquake more than 7 on the Richter scale.
“How
dare, what?”
“Mistake
me for the Cheshire cat? MEOOOOOOOOOW!”
“Oh!”
“I
have my own identity! And I hardly ever grin. ME….NO CHESHIRE CAT. I only
frown, and tell me, can anyone do anything but frown in these circumstances?
But, did you wash your hands, girl? ” It strode toward her at a menacing pace,
glowering.
No
specialist in feline psychology, but, Alice realized that the cat was more bark
than bite, nay, more meow than munch, and grinning in relief, recalled her dad
reading from Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats* just a few hours back.
“Are you Bombaulrina then? Or, maybe,
Macavity?”
The
cat grinned a grin which was dangerously near a smirk and said,
“The
name that no human research can discover –
BUT
THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.”
Never
confess – never confess ……the words resounded with a new vigour and slowly many
cats came out from the shadows and started singing some incomprehensible cat
song – a slow, eerie chant at varying feline pitches and inflections.
As
the chant reached a crescendo, she furtively left the place, frantically
wondering what the name of the cat was ……..
Rumour
has it, that the Filthy Foursome are
still there in Malevolent Land, washing hands and spewing doggerel, and Malice, oops Alice is cured of her
hallucinations, but can be seen washing hands at all odd hours of the day and
night .
Frenziedly.
Feverishly. Vigorously.
*
It is a collection of whimsical poems [Faber and Faber, 1939] penned by Nobel
laureate, T. S Eliot about feline psychology.
Bio: Dr.
Santosh Bakaya, recipient of the International Reuel Award for writing and
literature [2014] for her long narrative poem, Oh Hark!,
Setu Award [2018], Bharat Nirman Award for
literary excellence [2017] Keshav Malik Award [2019], is an academic- poet-
novelist- biographer - essayist -Ted Speaker- creative writing mentor, whose
Ted talk on the Myth of Writers' Block is very popular in creative writing
circles.
She
runs a much appreciated column, Morning
Meanderings, in Learning and Creativity. Com which is a kindle
version.
Her
poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi
[Ballad of Bapu], has been internationally acclaimed.
Under the Apple
Boughs [Poetry], Where are the lilacs? [Poetry], Songs of Belligerence [Poetry], Flights from my Terrace [Personal essays],
Bring out the tall Tales, [short stories with Avijit Sarkar], A Skyful
of Balloons [novella] are some of her books
which have received laurels. Her
latest book is a biography of Martin
Luther King Jr. [Only in Darkness can you see the Stars]
Very nice story..I also write stories and like to read..!
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