Snippets and Visions

  The three friends were heading towards the lake to fetch water. Their buffalo card carrying 16 large earthen pots to bring the water back in. Hasu walked unnerved, chewing his cud on the earthen road in the early lights of the morning. Hasu may be unperturbed by the threats around but the boys were conscious. The attacks by tigers have been increasing recently.  In these dry months just before monsoon, most sources of water dry up and both animals and humans must visit the few remaining water holes. The heat during the day can easily scorch a living being and people spend the noon hours in the dungeon like chambers of the fort. It is funny that only a hundred years after earthly human civilization collapsed, most of the buildings from the bubble age were gone too. But the structure from medieval times stayed intact- being rehabilitated after hundreds of years. Our boys lived in Kumbhalgarh with 10 thousand other people. ‘We are nearing the waterhole, keep your eyes open’ sai...

  The meeting had commenced. The room was dark with only a candle in the middle or a large table lighting up the room. There were 20 people in the room, all in their late thirties. These were hard working men aged beyond the years and with looks of sombreness. ‘This cant be allowed to continue on.’ said one of the men standing at one end of the table, his head facing down and his hands leaning on the table.  ‘For generations we have depended on arzyl, it has kept our families fed and our societies thriving. And some of us are giving it up as if traditions mean nothing!’ There was a low hum from the room. People were looking at each other to judge the mood of the room. A few continued to look down. ‘These conversions must be stopped. What are we if we give up our traditions. How can we trust potaloo!’ Another man sitting in the corner calmly objected. ‘By turning to potaloo we are only looking after our families. We all know how tough the produce has been the last few years. Do...

  A strange girl has walked into the fortified village. Her green eyes are red and swollen, apparently due to excessive crying. A crowd has gathered to witness the strange creature. Some are confused, some scared, who is this person or more aptly what is this person.  She has white skin like the slaves but green eyes like those of the masters! The masters were aghast at the sight! The gods shouldnt allow this! Their slaves cowering behind them were only shocked! ‘You witch! How have you done this?’ asked the old shaman. ‘Why did the guards not stop you from entering!’ she thundered. ‘Why would the guards stop me? Any person with magical eyes can enter and go as per their will. Isn't that the rule? ‘ the girl said in a calm voice. She was barely 16 and wearing a fur robe. Her sleeves intentionally lifted to expose her arms - that weren’t brown! ‘Everyone knows that magical eyes can show up only in the ones descended from earth, not the ones descended from snow!’ the lady shaman...

  “The dream had crashed. The best of the talent available on earth had been settled on this land. Oh what idealism it had been! The declaration of universal rights of sentients! There was something cocky about the new inhabitants. Our ancestors had tried to build a society from scratch. One based on idealism, free of petty and erroneous ideas like race, religion, gender and wealth.” The thin and tall teacher paused for a moment as his pupils stared at him. They were sitting under a tree but there were no birds, no wind, no sunshine. Everything is controlled under a nano-fibre dome.  ‘Then what happened?’ asked a little girl, one of the youngest in the group. She had long curly hair of blue color and red eyes, a deep contrast against her pale white skin. She waited for an answer as she sat on the floor with her long legs crossed against each other. The teacher looked back at her and said ‘The plan was we are going to be a source of wealth for the mother populatio, but the real...

  The old monk was dying. He lived a long life of 94 years. For most part of his life he had not known much apart from the premises of the monastery.  He was remembering his childhood days of carefree play. When he could wake up and not have to worry about anything but only to run out of the house and meet his cousins and friends. What great days.  ‘Oh I have stopped breathing’ he realised.  The old monk was already dead but his brain had some activity left.  ‘So this life is over! Let us see what is to happen next’ He was satisfied. He was born into a rich family. He was an only child.  When he was 17 years old, he had to go to the passing out ceremony. Jack was excited to know how he had done in the exam. Where were the mistakes committed and where all he had shown character. He planned to use the practical skills learnt, to better his life and benefit the society in general. This was his time to learn from mistakes and not commit them again. He went to t...

  The times were tough. While the Manu were good at killing the Ruks they were not that good at fighting back the climate.  The strong and large Ruks would easily overpower an individual Manu if they got their hands on one. But Manu attacked in large groups with well laid out traps. It was like wolves falling on a bull! In the many caves, what an irony it was! The enslaved female Ruks were tending to the injured Manu- the same men who had butchered their fathers, lovers and children. No males no matter how old or how young were spared.  These females, sometimes themselves as large and strong as Manu men, were treated like animals. They were predated upon sexually and used as beasts of burden.  However the Female Manus were more understanding. Maybe because they themselves often were meted the same treatment especially those without strong male allies.  Among the children however there was something different brewing. They were free from the biases that the adult...