Utopia page 45: Three stars to separate thought processes
Yüklə 1,05 Mb.
|
- Bu səhifədəki naviqasiya:
- {(From the Code of Hammurabi (about 2000 B.C.)}
- YOUNG INDIA DREAMS (A MIRACLE)
WICCA “If a man has put a spell upon another man and it is not justified, he upon whom the spell is laid shall go to the holy river; into the holy river shall he plunge. If the holy river overcome him and he is drowned, the man who put the spell upon him shall take possession of his house. If the holy river declares him innocent and he remains unharmed the man who laid the spell shall be put to death. He that plunged into the river shall take possession of the house of him who laid the spell upon him.” {(From the Code of Hammurabi (about 2000 B.C.)} “Oh, no, not the bees! Not the bees!” Atkinson shouted. But they wouldn’t listen to him. ‘The White Man’ was held down and his legs broken at the knee. A wire mesh helmet was placed over his head and live bees were poured in. After Atkinson lost consciousness, the helmet was removed and he was revived with a shot of epinephrine. “No, no!” “Someone please help!” Atkinson shouted as his body burnt and as they kept chanting “The drone must die!” “The drone must die!” “No Heather!” “Heather No!” “Go back!” But they would not listen to him. They had never listened earlier although he had told them he could not be a good sacrifice if he did not believe in their religion. As the fire engulfed his body and as his burning head fell off, the Wiccans rejoiced. It was time for a fresh bee-harvest again… *****
Contemporary “witchcraft” arose in the 20th Century, generally portrayed as revivals of pre-Christian European magic and spirituality and falling within the broad category of Neopaganism. It took many forms, but often involved the use of divination, magic, and working with the classical elements and unseen forces such as spirits and the forces of nature. The practice of herbal and folk medicine and spiritual healing was also common, as were alternative medical and New Age healing practices. The first groups of neopagan witchcraft to publicly appear in the 1950s and 1960s, such as Gerald Gardner's Wicca operated as initiatory secret societies. Other individual practitioners and writers such as Paul Huson also claimed inheritance to surviving traditions of witchcraft. More recently a movement to recreate pre-Christian traditions has taken shape in such practices as Divination, Seid and various forms of Shamanism. The most famous witchcraft incidents in the British North America were the witch trials that took place in Salem, Massachusetts. Followed by county court trials in Essex, Suffolk and Middlesex Counties of colonial Massachusetts, between February 1692 and May 1693. Over 150 people were arrested and imprisoned, with even more accused who were not formally pursued by the authorities. One man who refused to enter a plea was crushed to death under heavy stones in an attempt to force him to do so. At least five more of the accused died in prison. The preliminary hearings in 1692 were conducted in a variety of towns across the province: Salem Village, Ipswich, and Andover, as well as Salem Town, Massachusetts but also in Ipswich, Boston, and Charlestown, producing only 3 convictions in the 31 witchcraft trials it conducted. Likewise, alleged witchcraft was not isolated to New England. In 1706 Grace Sherwood the "Witch of Pungo" was imprisoned for the crime in Princess Anne County, Virginia. Author C. J. Stevens wrote ‘The Supernatural Side of Maine’, a 2002 book about witches and people from Maine who faced the supernatural. What may be the last witchcraft trial in North America was the Ipswich witchcraft trial of 1878, in which a member of the Christian Science religion was accused of using his mental powers to harm others. *****
“You have reached the desk of Sheriff Burt Atkinson. I am out of Office. My sincere apologies for the inconvenience caused…Please record your voice at the beep.” It was the Office of the Sheriff of Boston, Massachusetts. “I’m calling from the outskirts of Boston. This is an emergency. Please call me immediately on this number. I’m sorry I can’t leave my name.” And the anonymous caller hung up. Back home, Burt Atkinson was cuddling up with colleague Rachel when the phone rang. “Sheriff, there have been numerous calls coming in from Boston country. Callers are refusing to leave their names however.” It was his Secretary Madison Brown. “Al right, I’ll be there soon!” And Burt kissed Rachel before getting dressed. Meanwhile, a strange message had poured in on his home fax machine… “I’ll come with you.” “No, Rachel…you must not.” “I can foresee danger.” And right he (Burt Atkinson) was. ***** As Sheriff Atkinson drove his jeep into Boston country, he could see… No one. All doors and windows were closed, and it was completely desolate. Looked as if this part of the town, actually the countryside was uninhabited for long. There was no one in sight! Then suddenly he could feel a piercing pain in his spine. Atkinson however knew that he was on a mission. Using the full force of his hands, he just about managed to pull out the arrow from his back before losing consciousness… *****
“Where am I?” “And who are you…and these people?” Atkinson said pointing to the waiters. “You were almost dead when we brought you here…this is the price you must pay if you ever again dare venture into alien territory.” They were all referring to her as ‘Sister’. “We are man-haters!” “And see men only a means to propagate the race.” “Our race needs a man. Although men are weaker, we see you in particular as an instrument that can continue the species!” “This is ridiculous!” “I don’t believe in your crazy shamanistic religion!” “If you ridicule us, you shall be imprisoned and then beheaded.” “If you comply, chances are I may forgive you.” “What do I have to do?” Atkinson enquired. “You have to impregnate this (pointing to a young girl) virgin.” “The child emerging out of this relationship will carry our dynasty forward.” “The future Queen of the Shamans!” “After that, we shall see!” “You cannot do this to me, and definitely not to an innocent girl!” “I can do what I like.” “Take him away!” Her harsh tone would have most certainly shaken the heavens, the earth and the netherworld… That night, it rained bees like never before. As the Shamans feasted on pancakes and honey, Burt Atkinson was being prepared for death and the innocent virgin for conception. *****
Meanwhile, back home in Boston, Rachel was getting nervous. Burt had been gone for quite some time now and there were no signs of his return. It was quite chilly, but she just about managed to put on her long coat and rush… “Can I help you, Rachel?” “James!” “It’s about Sheriff Atkinson.” “He’s been gone for quite some time now!” Rachel’s palms were twitching and sweaty. “Oh, he said he was going to Boston country.” “I saw the faxes and checked his e-mails as well.” “Seemed rather strange to me, you know!” “What about them?” “All the faxes and e-mails were rather unconventionally written…and anonymous.” “Where did you say he was going to?” “Boston country.” “Why, is anything the matter?” By then, Gillian White, the ‘Super Sleuth’ in the City of Boston had joined them. “Boston Country?” “Let me recall, O my Gawd!” “Gillian, you remember the ‘White Man’ cases of the 17th Century?” “Ah yes, but…?” “It’s Sheriff Burt…this time around.” “We have to rush!” “His life may be in serious danger!” This time, James Gardner; Rachel Evans and Gillian White were driving to the country. ***** Almost six months prior to his coming to the island, Burt had received news from his ex-fiancée Wendy Bull that her daughter, Heather was missing. However, Burt had been seriously held up for various reasons, primarily the department’s inefficiency in dealing with the growing cases of lynching in Boston country. Was this a conspiracy? This time, however, Burt was determined to secretly visit the island where Wendy and her daughter were supposed to live. Besides, the anonymous calls and the faxes were pouring in… As Sheriff Atkinson drove his way into Boston country, his every step was being watched by the evil Sister Blackie O’Hara, an elderly woman whom the locals treated like a goddess. She was actually a sorcerer and a witch-doctor whom they worshipped. The economy of the place relied entirely on the production of local honey, which had had been down recently. ***** “Hello there…could you tell me where Wendy Bull and her daughter Heather live?” The men in the masks looked at each other, and then pointed in the northern direction. Neither of them spoke however. But Atkinson was determined to find out more. He kept asking the country folk about Wendy Bull and her daughter. They all gave him evasive answers until one of them pointed to the… Only unmarked grave in the cemetery. The grave turned out to contain a doll with a noose tied around its neck but there was also a sweater with the initials H.B.A. marked on it! “O my Gawd!” “What the…?” Sheriff Atkinson soon found the bodies of two men hanging from a tree (by the noose). “This place sure has a creepy feeling!” (Atkinson thought aloud to himself) *****
At the country school, teacher Sister Juanita, also a part of the cult, tried to prevent Atkinson from seeing the class register. When he saw that Heather’s name was missing, he enquired from the evil teacher who told him that she was burned to death. *****
The virgin was laid on the bed and the bed itself was strewn with flowers. It was the day of the ritual. “Shucks, I hate this!” They were forcing him to make love to the virgin girl. “Down with the weaker male species!” “We want a girl this time!!” As the drums beat faster, the crowd roared louder and louder. They (Burt Atkinson and the virgin girl) were forced to make love until the two got exhausted. Thereafter, the most extraordinary thing happened… ***** A girl was born with the powers of the Shaman! A few rituals were conducted following which a baby emerged…The virgin had given birth without a formal gestation period so much a part of the ‘homo sapiens’ species! “Now the weaker species must die!” “Now the weaker species must die!” (The crowd frantically chanted) Following the love making and the birth of the girl, Burt Atkinson was chained and carried to and shut inside a giant wicker man… “Go Heather, do the needful to your father!” Heather moved closer to the wicker man, leaving the Sheriff extremely perplexed that Wendy hadn’t told him earlier that he had fathered Heather. *****
“Oh, no, not the bees! Not the bees!” Atkinson shouted. But they wouldn’t listen to him. ‘The White Man’ was held down and his legs broken at the knee. A wire mesh helmet was placed over his head and live bees were poured in. After Atkinson lost consciousness, the helmet was removed and he was revived with a shot of epinephrine. “No, no!” “Someone please help!” Atkinson shouted as his body burnt and as they kept chanting “The drone must die!” “The drone must die!” “No Heather!” “Heather No!” “Go back!” But they would not listen to him. They had never listened earlier although he had told them he could not be a good sacrifice if he did not believe in their religion. As the fire engulfed his body and as his burning head fell off, the Wiccans rejoiced. It was time for a fresh bee-harvest again… ***** Ten years later… Wendy and Lily (another member of the cult) were visiting downtown Boston to hunt for other ‘potential mates’ in the same way that the former had lured Sheriff Atkinson into ‘the trap’. “Hey, you girls from downtown?” One of the two men enquired. “Yeah!” The two witches had already picked up the accent. “I’m in Massachusetts, Amherst!” “I see.” Wendy and Lily were letting the two men do all the talking. “You girls, care for a drink?” “Sure!” “Are you guys going home after this?” “Can we…come?” “Hey, you got it!” Nobody knew what happened to the two men following that incident. As for James, he was subjected to the same fate while Rachel and Gillian managed to escape… This is where our story of ritual sacrifice and the ‘Wiccans’ begins…
Nandita is a 26-year-old woman, single who lives with her widow mother in a small flat her father had purchased years back. Her father is no more in this world but Nandita thanks her father for giving her the best of Convent-education till the completion of a double post graduation in English and the Social Sciences. Currently she teaches in an English medium school. But she has a dream – a dream that “the world shall be a better place to live in for our children, citizens of tomorrow’s world”. She dreams of starting her own NGO one day and working with ‘underprivileged children’ and embarking on a life long mission, provided she gets some funding. She has been mailing various agencies but no positive response has been received till date. However she is hopeful that one day, GOD will listen to her prayers and pave the way for fulfilling her dream. She firmly believes that children are the future of any society and that all of us need to do ‘some thing’ or the other for them and that “we must give back to society a part of what we, as individuals, have got from it…” ***** One day Nandita comes home late at night after having dinner with her friends. The doorbell rings. Her mother answers the door. Nandita tells her mother that she wouldn’t have dinner tonight and straight moves to her room. She changes into her nightgown in hurry and drops into bed like a hog. In the evening, while with her friends, and munching on snacks and coffee, she has had a debate, amongst others, on Politics and the “NARMADA BACHAO ANDOLAN” (SAVE THE RIVER NARMADA MOVEMENT)…However, amongst others, this discussion was also inconclusive… She puts off the night lamp and retires for the night… ***** Suddenly she hears the cries of a child “Didi Mujhe Bachao, Didi Mujhe Bacha Lo, Didi Mujhe Jine Do” (Dear sister-referring to an elder one, please save me; dear sister please would you save me; dear sister please help me live (survive)… She is fast asleep; however, she still tries to get up, tries to listen to, and finds, much to her amazement that from every corner of the room, there is a soft groan emanating from within: “Didi Mujhe Bachao, Didi Mujhe Bacha Lao, Didi Mujhe Jine Do”. These are the shrieking voices of children of all ages, some as young as seven, some nine, some are eleven, and for some it would be difficult to imagine their age. Some are boys, some are girls but one thing is common: (the) ‘commonality of attribute’ on all these faces: poor ‘wrinkled’ (‘scars of a difficult childhood’), haggard looking. Tattered clothes, semi-nudity, tearful eyes expecting hope, space, solace, shelter, mercy, pity, compassion and love.... For a moment, Nandita is dumbfounded. She goes to the one who is close by; others rush to her from every corner. She tries to comfort one; others jostle to get a share of love and comfort. She hears only the reverberations of the same monologue. She asks one, then another, then the third one and listens to each story; in the background the others keep sobbing and saying “Didi Mujhe Bachao, Didi Mujhe Bacha Lao, Didi Mujhe Jine Do”. These are the faces …of Aarti, of Raju, of Savita, of Ramu and of Zubeida to name a few…Nandita can hear the stories, the vagaries, and the sufferings of each…one by one…. ***** Aarti starts her story. Aarti lives in the slums of Mukherjee Nagar, Delhi. One day, the Mathematics teacher of her school, almost breaks the upper portion of Aarti’s left hand as punishment for not completing her homework. It is only after she started complaining of excruciating pain that she asks her teacher, who after much persuasion takes a closer look at the arm. Aarti has been severely injured. The teacher informs the authorities who take her to the local hospital. She is administered first aid after which she feels better. This case is clearly medico-legal. So, “What exactly do our Centers for Human Rights alternate reports for the UN Committee on the Rights of the Child” have to say on the issue of “children are being rendered Corporal punishment in schools?” ***** Raju starts his story: Raju too comes from a very poor family. His father is an alcoholic, does not have any work to do, sleeps the whole day, mother works as domestic help in the apartments nearby and in the evening, his father comes home drunk, takes another heavy dose of alcohol, beats Raju and his mother, and that’s Raju’s daily story. One day his father sells Raju to a middle class working couple from the city for a paltry Rupees 100 and (Raju comes to know about this only much later on) misleads him (Raju) about his future, talking about the so-called comforts in the city: car, TV, good food and entertainment. Raju feels that this should be somewhat better than getting beaten on empty stomachs literally every single day and goes with the couple. The dust raised by the moving car causes blurred vision between Raju and his parents. The last time he sees his mother, she is crying helplessly, and father waving. In the city as well, there is no respite with the couple.18 hours of work both as domestic as well as external help, inadequate food, no food on some days, constant scolding and beating is to become a part of his life for no rhyme no reason. The rebel in Raju wakes up… This is too much. He has seen the commercial on TV of a man in elegant suit flying like a bird. Raju wants to be a bird, to fly, to be free. He throws a padlock on the TV, which breaks into pieces and flees the house one day leaving all the “comforts” in the city: car, TV, good food, entertainment. Raju now feels that flying like a bird is better than 18 hours of work, scanty food, scolding and beating from the master. He lands up on the railway platform and meets Aarti, Savita, Ramu, Zubeida and others. Life here is worse than that is expected but is still ‘sans’ (“bereft of”) beating… ***** Savita starts her story: Savita comes from a very poor family. Her father works as a farmer but the ‘Rain-Gods’ have betrayed them, and thereby, food grown for the family of four (father, mother, 2 year old brother and she) is far from sufficient…. Besides, there are no proper meals during the day in addition to which she has to toil hard to get wood from the jungle and take care of household chores from dusk to midnight. One day she comes to know that her father has decided to sell her off for Rupees 2500/- (in the name of marriage) to an old man aged about 60. She has had a dream of life, marriage to her “Prince-charming”, children and a closely-knit ‘decent’ family and certainly the realities are far away from the dream. She dreamt of a small hut, her own home but what was this? As the D-day (DOOMS!!!) day draws near, she runs away, runs and runs and finally comes to the railway station. She lands up at the railway platform where she (refers to Savita) meets Raju, Ramu, Zubeida, Aarti and others. Life here turns out to be worse than what was expected.
Life goes on for Aarti, Raju, Savita, Ramu, and Zubeida…Nandita cannot stop crying listening to these stories. She knows that there are thousands of Aartis, Rajus, Savitas, Ramus, and Zubeidas in this world. The names are different, might be that the stories are different but every one of them has one thing to say... They want to live, they want to “Jinha Chahata” (want to live)… They might not be living like John and Bobby and Sheena and Ashita and Sameer and Rohan Sen and Salim Khan from among the elite society but they have a desire to live, to go to schools, to have food, to love and to be loved, to play, to laugh, to cry and to jump... Stark realities have taken away their innocence… ***** Nandita’s dream continues. She rides a horse and gallops to the distant horizon when the sun is rising in the East. The sound of the galloping horse mixes with the reverberating sounds of “Didi Mujhe Bachao, Didi Mujhe Bacha Lao, Didi Mujhe Jine Do”. The sun rises in the East. It is morning. Nandita wakes up at the wake up call of her mother: “Nandu, wake up beta. It’s already seven past. You are getting late for school.” She (Nandita) does not answer. She has a bad headache. She will most certainly sleep till ten in the morning. When her mother starts pestering her for getting up, mama’s lovely daughter (Nandu) tells her: “Mama, I will not go to school today. Tell Ruchika that I am not well. Tell her to inform Sister Desouza...” Mummy accepts the same. Nandita gets up late and sits at her lap top to check her mails as usual. It’s a miracle. She checks and finds a mail that informs her that she, in an individual capacity, has received grants and funding from an international NGO. Her headache is gone. She jumps from the chair and hugs her mummy. “Mummy, GOD is great!!! A miracle has happened. I have got funds, shall start my NGO and work for these poor, hapless children about whom I dreamt yesterday….” Mummy cannot understand a bit of what all Nandu rattled off in a jiffy... but can hear her Nandu murmuring: “Aarti, Raju, Savita, Ramu, Zubeida…do not worry!! I am there for you. You all will now live a decent life.” Mummy gets utterly confused but can see a glow in her daughter’s eyes after so many years. She smilingly goes to the Puja room… Yüklə 1,05 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
|