Love and the Dark Night

PART TWO, TWO

The weather changed suddenly in the evening and the sky lit up with lightning. Thunder roared and sent children scattering to hide under their beds. The heavens opened and rain came down. Simran, the playwright famous in her own right, caught in the thunder and lightning, was battling her way, pulling her cloak tightly around herself. Turning a corner she almost bumped into someone, and it was no one else but Ranee.

“Good evening, Ranee,’ Simran said. “Did you see Rudi home? But hey what’s the matter, why are you so breathless and why are you looking so scared?”

Ranee stared at her friend, her eyebrows furrowed, her mouth taut. “Aren’t you scared when the whole world shakes like an earthquake? Don’t you feel the tremors of r**e and murder all over the city?’ Ranee paused. ‘I’ll tell you something, Simran: I’ve seen storms where the punishing wind has uprooted knotty oaks, and I have seen the ambitious wind swell and rage and bring skyscrapers down. But never, until tonight, did I go through a storm that was dropping cannon balls spitting fire. There is a civil war in the skies.’ She pulled Simran into a more sheltered spot in the entrance of a building.

“Is that all?” Simran said. “What else did you see?”                                                             

“A common domestic help – you know her well by sight – held up her left hand, which was flaming and burning like fifty torches joined together, and yet her hand seemed fire proofed. And since then,” continued Ranee, “I still haven’t put my dagger and pepper spray away. Right in front of Wincester Market, I encountered a wolf that stared at me and then passed by haughtily without molesting me. And there were a hundred terrified children huddled together, paralysed with fear, who swore they saw men, guns in hand, walk up and down the sea shore as if on the lookout for some one. And yesterday a dozen nightingales sat over the market place at noon, feasting on several owls that squeaked and shrieked. When these unnatural events all meet at the same time, no-one can say that there are reasons, that it’s natural. Aren’t they ominous things pointing to our place where they are happening?” She slid her dagger into its sheath.

Simran nodded thoughtfully. “Hmmm. It’s certainly an unusual time. But people interpret things the way they perceive them, in ways that have nothing to do with those things. Anyway, let’s forget it.” Seeing Ranee making a move to leave, she said, “Is Rudi going to Aristotle Square tomorrow?”

“He is,” said Ranee. “Because he told Alex to tell you that he would be there tomorrow.”

“Good night then, Simran. This isn’t the weather to be out in.”

“Goodbye Ranee.”

Ranee waited in the entrance for a moment then, as she stepped out into the blinding, a voice reached her ears.

“Who’s there?”

Ranee drew her dagger again and stepped back into the shadow of the sheltered spot. “An honourable citizen,” she said.

The other joined her. It was Shasht. “Oh it’s you. I recognised your voice.”

“Your ear’s honest to you,” Ranee said. “What kind of night is this?”

“Well, well. A very good night to do honest things, that’s all I have to say.”

“Whoever saw such a threatening night?”

“Well, those who have lived in times when there have been as many disorders as there are now,” Shasht said. “As for me, I have been walking about the streets, submitting myself to the perilous night. And lightly clothed like this, as you can see, Ranee, I have bared my chest to the thunder claps. And when the blue lightning seemed to open the very heart of heaven, I presented myself right in the very aim and flash of it.”

“But why did you tempt the skies so much? It’s our habit to fear and tremble when the skies send such dreadful messengers to petrify us.”

“Ranee, wake up from your dumb state. You’re lacking those sparks of life that should be in a Wessexian. You either don’t have them or you’re not using them. You put on a pale look, and you gaze, and you put on a show of fear, and you throw yourself into a state of confused wonder on seeing this strange impatience of the heavens. But if you were to think about the real cause of it: why all these fires, and these gliding ghosts, why birds and animals of every kind, why old men, and fools, and children can understand why all these things have reversed from their natural direction to such monstrosity – then you’ll see that some person’s wicked deeds are flashing in front of our eyes, and Nature has sent these things to warn us of some monstrous situation to come upon us. Can I name a man who is most like this dreadful night? Who thunders, flashes, opens up graves and howls like the wolf here? A man no mightier than yourself or me in personal action, but yet grown as huge and fearful as these strange eruptions are?”

Ranee grinned. “You mean Rudi, don’t you, Shasht?”

“Let it be whoever it is. We have muscles and limbs just like our ancestors had, but sadly, our fathers’ minds are dead and we have our mothers’ minds. Our willingness to accept all wrongs shows us to have become soft-hearted and pardonable.”

Ranee nodded. “I know. The word is around that Rudi will be awarded a gold medal for his contribution to Literature and philanthropic behaviour towards the orphans. And he’s going to wear it and strut about from then onwards everywhere he goes.”

Shasht jerked his head left and right, as if searching for something.

“I know where I’m going to wear this dagger then,” he said. “Shasht is going to liberate Shasht from slavery.” He held the dagger up against his throat. “With this, you gods, you will make the weak strong. With this, you gods, you will defeat tyrants. Stony towers, and walls of beaten brass, stuffy dungeons and strong iron chains can’t defeat the strength of my spirit. Life, when tired of these worldly barriers, always has the power to end itself. Of all the things in the world that I know, I know this: if I am the victim of tyranny I can shake it off at any time I please.”

“So can I,” Ranee said. “Every prisoner holds the power to cancel his captivity in his own hands. We know enough of Raudi’s past. And now he’s going to experiment the behaviour of his blood on us, his friends.”

“And how is Rudi, the descendent of Jashwant Singh able to be a tyrant then?’ Shasht said. “Poor man. He can’t be a wolf if he didn’t see that we aren’t sheep. He can’t be a lion unless we are deer. Those that want to light up a forest start it with the strike of a lone match stick. We, his friends, are trash because we perform unskilfully to give him the opportunity to become great.” Shasht paused and allowed his anger to subside. He shook his head slowly. “But oh grief, where have you led me to? But perhaps I’m saying all this to a willing prisoner. Then I know you’ll attack me. But I’m armed and all dangers are a matter of indifference to me.” He turned to go.

Ranee put her hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“You’re talking to Ranee,” she said. “And to a lady who is not a fawning tell-tale. Wait. Here’s my hand. Do something to organise others and I’ll go as far as all of them.”

Shasht took the proffered hand.

“It’s a deal, then. Now you should know, Ranee, I have already persuaded most of our friends to join me in a noble but dangerous project. And very soon they’ll be waiting for him at the steps of the ruined and shut down fort of King James the seventh. Because of the weather there’s no-one out doors. The state of the weather is like the work we have before us – bloody, fiery and most terrible.”

Ranee pulled him back as he was about to go.

“Wait,” she said. “Stay hidden for a moment. There’s someone coming. He’s in a hurry.”

“It’s Ambrose,” Shasht said. “I recognise his walk. He’s one of us.” He stepped out and stopped the young man. “Ambrose, where are you going in such a hurry?”

“To look for you,” Ambrose said. “Who’s that with you?”

“It’s Ranee, one of us. Are they waiting for me, Ambrose?”

“I’m glad she’s with us,’ Ambrose said. “What a terrible night this is! Two or three of us have seen some strange sights.”

‘Are they waiting for me?’ said Shasht.

‘Yes, they are,’ said Ambrose.

Shasht took a few steps and Ambrose stopped him. “Don’t go, Shasht,” he said. “If only you could get David to join us. He’s so noble, you know. Filled with fine personal qualities, high principles. Moral values. And though he is Rudi’s cousin, his hatred for Rudi is immeasurable.”

“Don’t worry,” Shasht said. “By the way, Ambrose,” and he took out his wallet. “Take this money and buy several sim cards. With each, send text messages to David in different names. When you’ve done all that, go to Pablo’s Café where we’ll already be?”

“Sure will. Well, I’ll get going.”

“When you’ve done that meet us at the café.” Shasht turned to Ranee. “Come. You and I will see David at his house before morning. He’s already brain-washed quite a lot. And by our next meeting, he’ll be totally ours.”

“Good,” Ranee said, swinging her pepper spray. “He’s so highly regarded by everyone that things that would appear offensive if it were just us, his involvement will change to virtue and worthiness.”

“You’ve judged that correctly, Ranee. We need him and his qualities. Let’s go because it’s way past three. We’ll wake him up and begin brainwashing him before dawn.”