its well past midnight and its that time of the night or morning when i allow myself to feel drowsy with sleep - a strange thing happens, I always start to write in this strange old english sing song way - like see here -
Mine is a sad soul for it is in search of happiness not so that it can swim in it as though a sea full of wine but to settle into the mundane life of the normal. Where else can you ask for not a feeling of extreme but a search to feel warm, it is for life alone to feel the true warmth of the sun. A day of existence, without reason to smile, to feel alive and worth the smile that should otherwise sparkle in one's eyes. These short false goals cover me in a blanket of smog; through the hazy mix to see the foundation laid alive. What is that i see no more, so lost I wont believe in you. While walking along the shores so wild during the tempest wild about. Yet there she lies, a shy smile and raised hand to thee, was it a heed of caution or not, I tend never to look. closer and closer i approach the light, my fingers quiver... in fear? What is it, I shall never know for I carry on forward; beyond the fingers, beyond the light, far away from the smile; strange that it is to want so much yet shy away in tears.
Dragonflies
The screeching when the metal rod were being cut had become so familiar to Raju that it disturbed him no more, it has become part of the silence he lived in, everything had been absorbed, everything accustomed to. He would come in early and leave after everyone had left so he could earn a little extra for the medicines which were getting more and more expensive. Motilalji, the local pharmacist cum cashier kept telling him of the increasing taxes and would start cursing the Indian Neta’s on their greed.
Raju had first seen the shirt while passing through the row of shops, the new shop had opened up and had been decorated with lights and garlands, a pumpkin with red kumkum lay on the side in front of the shop and there it was that he had seen the shirt. It was a half sleeves shirt, sky blue in colour with thin lines of yellow twisting and turning in between the mass of blue. It felt like the suns rays shining across the blue blue sky, a wonderful sight to lift up your day. And here it was that Raju’s obsession with the shirt began. He would dream of wearing the shirt and walking around the mela on Sunday; he could see Chameli’s gaze follow him as he walked or skipped and hopped down the tiny lanes. As he floated down towards his house, a tiny worry would itch Raju and his sleeping face would spout a frown, he would twist and turn on the charpai and would be like this for a few moments before settling back into his sleep as the dream faded away.
His mother was just recovering from the mosquito fever when she fell sick again which something the doctor saab said was dangerous, her eyes had become yellow and hollow, a terrible smell seemed to come from her skin and it used to feel like she was on fire. Doctor sahib was always in a white coat, the collar and edges had become dirty but he never seemed to notice, he was always in his clinic, talking to a patient, listening into a black tube which looked like big mobile headphones but this he would hold against his mother’s chest and listen to something. He had told Raju to bring his mother once in 3 days and on every check-up doctor sahib would shake his head and say, “Raju, bring her in again after 3 days, continue the medicines without fail and make sure she drinks lots of water. See that the water is boiled, not warm, it should be boiled”. Raju would nod his head and bring his mother home slowly, she had become so weak that he felt he was half carrying her.
His mother’s fever did not deter him, the noise in the factory had become numb, he ignored the pain in his stomach which would start as the sun set every day, his one meal consisted of some rice and a watery curry which he bought beside the factory for Rs.4 every day. A day would not go without him hearing a stone dash and grind against his teeth. A wince and a swallow later and the stone would be forgotten. One evening, he had taken up the courage to stand in front of that window and peek at the price tag of the shirt; he had then hurried home and with a small candle which looked like it would give up anytime opened his notebooks. He had forgotten the last time, he had touched those books, they lay in his small trunk, under 2 sets of neatly folded clothes. Those books reminded him of his father, of his friends in school or a better life. Shaking his head to throw away those old memories, he opened up his math book and slowly counted with his fingers on how much he had to save everyday to buy that shirt. That shirt was slowly becoming his life, the blue was getting bluer and the yellow was looking more and more like the suns rays.
At the factory, he had been given two spanners; he had to tighten the bolts of a particular machine which kept coming to him on a big moving rubber mat. Every day these weird looking machines would come out one after another and he had to tighten the bolts on them as they came. They were shiny big machines that looked like engines but they didn’t look like any engine that Gafur chacha worked on at the garage next to his house. Ajeeth had got this job for him sometime ago, a little after his father had gone missing. Somehow, Ajeeth had become some kind of bada bhai to him, he was always there to help, he helped almost all the boys in the slum. He worked in some big office which had lots of shiny buildings and had all kinds of amazing machines. He had a phone which played the loudest music, had video games inside it and even took photos, it was an amazing phone and Ajeeth used to allow all the boys to play with it. A rule had been set, each boy had exactly 2 minutes to use the phone after which he had to give it to the next person. Once, there had been a fight and Ajeeth bhaiya had taken away the phone and didn’t give to anyone for 2 months, then he started giving it again to everyone to play. Ajeeth used to take tuition class in the evening, and Raju used to go initially… then he suddenly started working so late that it would become night by the time he reached home.
Doctor sahib’s frown had become worse, he didn’t shake his head but looked very worried. He asked Raju again and again if the medicines had been given, did he boil the water, what had his mother eaten? Raju didn’t understand, he had bought the medicines just as doctor sahib had said, he had spent so much to buy the aluminum vessel to boil the water, why was doctor sahib worrying so much, mummy would become better, now that the medicines were ther
The street lights were already shining when he stepped out of the factory, he could see the dragonflies buzzing around the halogen bulbs. It always mesmerized him, just like the winged insects which would approach close and then fall down dead. It was one of those things he just couldn’t understand. He slowed down as he passed the shop window, almost dreamily looking at where the shirt had been displayed, there was the shirt, the blue shirt … then he stopped, the shirt was there, it was blue but the suns rays, the yellow lines were missing… something had happened and he could comprehend it for a moment. Someone had already bought the shirt, his shirt; somebody was wearing his beautiful shirt! Who would dare take his shirt, how could they… his anger slowly turned to despair, tears started welling at the corner of his eyes and he started trembling. Not now, not now, he had to save for only 3 more days, if only mother had been ok, then he would have bought the shirt a month ago with his savings.
As he thought of his mother, he realized that she had been asleep in the morning and had not taken her medicine. He became scared, he had shouted out to her on the way out to take her medicines, had she replied? He wasn’t sure. He ran home in a blur, as he neared his small tin roofed shelter, he couldn’t see a candle light through the bare opening which served as a window. He ran in and made out the sleeping form through the dim light of the street light. She didn’t move when he called out to her, he shook her frantically but she didn’t awaken, her chest was not moving up and down. Raju couldn’t breathe, he just stood still, he couldn’t think, his little mind knew that she was not alive but it hadn’t yet accepted it. He slowly moved away from his mother and came to the entrance of his house.
He just stood there, tears ran down his cheeks, the night rain slowly started as it did always; it fell on his shirt and torn shorts. The drops mingled with his tears and rolled down in small rivulets as he stood there in the dark. The streetlight across the road giving out a dim light as the bodies of the fallen dragonflies joined the streams flowing down the road.
My Passion
The most important thing I have learnt in my life and what I strive towards is to be dis-passionate. You can even say it is the only passion I have in my life.
The problem with tolerance
Traffic in Bangalore while heading back home in the evenings post work is always resultant; you will always without fail spot a mishap, you are bound to spot a new pothole on the road or find a new pipe that has just been laid and quickly filled in with mud so as not to annoy commuters too much. It really doesn’t matter if the patch dug up has been re-tarred, we somehow seem to believe and accept it if the whole dug is just covered to let me through. I was weaving through traffic with this in mind when I realised that this same concept actually lives through me in various forms and associations. I have a level of toleration which allows me to turn a blind eye till such time that I can no longer take the irritation or it crosses my tolerance zone. I’ve built such zones through out my daily activities allowing for sacrifices to be made again and again so when I finally look back, I see the entire road filled with potholes.
Copenhagen??
Do I really care of the generations to come in all honesty? Though I’d like to stand up and vehemtly agree with it; I have after thinking it over come to terms with the fact that I either do not or that I do not care. With Copenhagen Summit on the anvil, everyone is suddenly jumping into the ‘save the environment’ melee. Given the speed with which information travels today, I am not longer surprised to read front page articles which would even talk of Obama farting or Manmohan using his hands to eat in the days leading to the summit.
Everyday life across the world seems to be moving at its usual pace, the millions of Indians are still spitting pan on the road sides, using plastic and thousands of industries will carry on belching pumes of smoke into the air and colouring our rivers black with contaminants. I hear and read about blocks being formed and discussions/ disagreements being made on the percentages of emission reductions by the year 2025. Countries are bargaining and selling carbon credits, something I will never understand; it’s like going to the pot and asking someone else to flush simply because you can afford to.
Its amazing how countries are promising a 15-30% cut in emissions, so what happens if we don’t meet our targets? There will be bans and trade blocks? A developed country who acts as boss will stand up and spank you across? Is that it? Not meeting the emissions cut would still mean, we’re polluting more than within reason. Spanking someone won’t reduce the pollution, will it? A few countries on the developed block have an even funnier version which when we simply sounds something like this – ‘I messed up everything before the standards were set so you should not put any additional burdens on me to help clean up. That was before, that was before..!!’. If you agree you messed up, should you be doing something to fix it irrespective of when it was that you created the mess?
In the end, I think we fail to see it in our everyday lives - the changes that are happening around us and the destruction that is happening around us. I don’t see the glaciers melting and I don’t comprehend the gravity of the increase of sea levels by a foot or two. When I don’t see it, it doesn’t strike me hard enough to move towards change. The guys on some remote island say, they’ll lose their land, how would that affect me? Isnt this why we all doing absolutely nothing? Have we actually allowed ourselves to think that these so called man made borders being used to setup structure in the form of states and countries have any effects on the environmental disasters we are facing? Its almost like saying, your dirt flows only in your territory, the pollution be it on land, water or air will stay within your borders without flowing into my country. I wish it did but we in the end, we have only one earth to work with and it belongs to nobody. Simply put, don’t damage what is not yours.
We all sagely nod our heads when someone says that we are destroying the earth, but do we really understand or comprehend the meaning of that phrase? I still have a roof over my head, my three meals come easily, my fuel I can purchase at any time and I get to do everything I want to without having to struggle for it; the sky above is blue, I have no difficulty in breathing and I live a relatively safe life. When we have millions thinking on similar lines, then the so called strength of a bottom to top approach becomes our main weakness and we have nowhere to go but deeper into the graves of pollution we are slowly building around ourselves.
The sad thing about all this is I also am a culprit, I not only not work towards cleaning up my mess, I don’t particularly think about saving the world during my day to day activities either. So where does that leave me? Drowning with the rest of the wasted lot I guess… see you all at the bottom. Cheers!
Chinaman – Part 1
This is my second attempt at writing a story- I hope you like it. Since its a little long, I broke the story into 3 parts. - all three parts have been posted below. In case you read it, do let me know what you think of it and where I could have made improvements. Thank you for your time in reading this long 'short story'.:
The room itself was not big; it was a comfortable room with carpeted flooring. The soft Persian carpet reached across all the corners of the room. Soft, full and intricately designed, it had a ten thousand stitch pattern across every metre; everyone who entered the room would have instantly recognised its richness and value. Veins of red ran through the torquoise blue, weaving itself around the leaves and flowers which were in a deep green and red making them look like real rose buds fallen on the floor.
The room itself was tastefully decorated, each piece of furniture was at just the right place and each article in the room had been thought of before being made for the room. An old chest made of dark oak occupied the far end of the room, its hinges and handles made of hard wrought iron; giving it a time seasoned yet trustworthy feel. The small mirror that hung just above it stood almost all by itself in the air. Only if observed carefully could one see the silk wires holding up the oval glass giving it a look of delicateness yet knowing that it would never break. The darkness of the drawers in a strange way complimented this fragile magic of reflection giving a certain balance to the whole room and everything that stood inside it.
Beside it rose a sturdy bookshelf, built into the room from floor to ceiling. Wei had cured and build the three sets of slides racks himself, measuring each board to accommodate every size of book which had been written or published. From ancient history to modern science, Sima Qian & Confucius sat beside Aristotle, Rousseau & Jonathan Swift; Su Shi read pro’s to the approval of Pope while Kepler & Copernicus discussed science and the astronomy with Aryabhata and Shi Shen. Calligraphed writing on papyrus lay side by side with Caxtons block printed paper and the top shelf was reserved for scrolls and manuscripts which dated back to the Tang Dynasty.
On the opposite side of the wall lay a small pile of firewood next to suitably sized fireplace. A warm glow came out of the fireplace, allowing each corner of the room to receive some warmth without making it feel hot. Beside the fire sat a middle aged man, dressed in white cotton nightware with a dark rich red robe loosely tied around. The man sat quietly, listening to the crackling wood, pushing embers that popped out of the fireplace back into the fire. You could see the reflection of the small fire on his glasses and he stared away at the burning wood lost deep in thought. A broad forehead, with deep lines; intelligent eyes looking far into the distance, a small moustache in line with style carried by the affluent traders of the time; Wei Long sat erect but comforatbly in the chair he had fashioned out of his own hands. He had walked into Shanghai 30 years ago as an orphan with 2 RMB and the tatters he wore. He had fashioned a pendant out of the pearl which belonged to his mother, that pearl had at one time been on a string adjoined with 107 others; a gift of love from his father. Holding the pendant between his fingers, Wei was so lost in the memories of his parents and younger brother that he didn’t hear the first gentle knock on the door.
It had to be Huo Qiubing, his counsellor and trusted advisor whom he had summouned for supper. Wei had met Huo more than a decade ago, when he was struggling to get the nuances of the spice trade. Huo had been deep in debt after his ships had sunk in a storm leaving him with creditors who were getting angrier by the day. Wei had paid of Huo’s debts, saving him and his family and taking him into his fold.
Wei noticed early that Huo had the knowledge of the markets and traders but knew nothing of spices. Slowly the team built up Mei Li Spices to become the biggest traders in South and East China. With a fleet comprising of over 50 junk ships ferrying spices to Japan, the British & French provinces; Wei had built an empire in just over a decade and ran it with an efficiency that brought recognition even from the Emperor. Wei had learnt art and science from his father who had been one of the ship architects in the Emperors ship yards. As a boy, his enquiring mind had been encouraged by his father to learn as much as he could, buying books which were far from their reach at that time but making sure that Wei was kept busy.
His mother had been the daughter of a rich landlord, the eldest of 4 sisters; she had been looked down as a burden to the family. Daughters were valued for their prettiness, their blemishless skin and for their knowledge of the arts. While his mother had learnt and was better than all her sisters in the various arts, a large dark birthmark ran across her forehead had made sure that she was kept indoors at all times, away from everyones eyes. She wasn’t sent to school nor allowed to play with the other children; she was considered bad luck for the family and was kept as a secret. During her childhood, she immersed herself in art and science; she learnt new languages and ancient history. She learnt music, dance and mastered several perforaming arts; growing up knowing more than her 3 sisters and 2 brothers would knew together. Wei remembered his mother well and the love story of his mother and his father who was nothing more than an employee of her fathers. He had been working late one night in the dockyard and seen a stranger stealthly moving about studying the design of the ship. Thinking her to be a saboteur, he had confronted her only to find that the landlord had not 3 but 4 daughters.
Over the next few weeks he met with her at night and soon fell in love with her. They discussed ship architecture, she showed him better designs; they discussed ancient history which he thought himself an expert till he met her. After about a years time, he had approached her father pensively for her hand in marriage and to his surprise, her father was happy to be rid of her under the condition that she never be associated to his family name ever again. One rainy night, they had gotten married and Wei had been born in the second year of their marriage. He remembered his father lovingly talking to his mother calling the birthmark his lucky charm without which he wouldn’t have been able to marry her or even seen her.
Coming back from his trance, he quietly opened the door and stepped out into the long passagway slowly heading towards the family guest room where Huo would be waiting. Huo always made him think of his parents, he had become almost like an elder brother to Wei. They had been through everything together, struggling as two novices against the spice barons, working sleepless nights carrying sacks on their backs because they didn’t have enough money to hire enough labour. They had even scrubbed the deck together on their first ship together; those had been reckless and adventurous times. Huo had approached Lin’s father for his daughters hand for Wei, he was there when Li had been born. He had rejoiced as though his own son had been born.
The last 3 weeks had been busy for Mei Li Spices; Wei had set up an audit structure which took up a whole month every year. About eigth years ago, James Anderson, the chief financial consultant had tried to make his own fortune out of Mei Li which resulted in the deaths of 12 employees and the loss of Lin and Li. Lin had carried little Li for a walk along the cherry orchard behind the warehouse which had been made into the work spaces for Mei Li Spices. She had walked straight into Anderson and a rival traders meeting. On being seen, Anderson had panicked and shot at her; the round metal ball had gone through the delicate little Li taking his life instantly and then buried itself deep inside Lin’s chest. She had survived for a week, deep in pain as the region aound the metal ball turned from flesh to poison. In the end, she had died in Wei’s arms, crying out for little Li. While Wei had been with his dying wife, Anderson had tried to wrest control of the warehouses and ships. Huo and three dozen loyal workers had in the death of night gone into the main warehouse where Anderson had built his stronghold and clubbed their way through to Anderson. Not wanting to be tortured by Wei’s men or be held in a Chinese jail, Anderson had taken the barrel of his gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger just as Huo had made his way into the main office. Wei was lost in his own world for six months, the grief and sorrow ate into him every second, and he would wake up in the middle of the night and go to Li’s room wanting to see his little son sleeping. Every evening he went along the path through the Cherry orchard where Lin had been shot. Huo had been there, taking care of the business and supporting Wei through the ordeal.
Six months later, Wei walked into the main office warehouse and resumed work as though nothing had happened. He worked from dawn into the middle of the night going through all the details, he read through hundreds of reports, analysed the spice trade and markets in South China, picked on every number in the books; he made sure he had complete knowledge of what was happening in his organisation. Huo had many times walked into work the next morning, only to find Wei still going through documents or asleep on his chair. Within four months, the company had already increased its profits by 40%; Wei’s command over the spices, the ships and the trade allowed no room for mishaps. Within two years, the company had grown three times over and made its mark with the English and the Dutch trading outposts.
The room itself was not big; it was a comfortable room with carpeted flooring. The soft Persian carpet reached across all the corners of the room. Soft, full and intricately designed, it had a ten thousand stitch pattern across every metre; everyone who entered the room would have instantly recognised its richness and value. Veins of red ran through the torquoise blue, weaving itself around the leaves and flowers which were in a deep green and red making them look like real rose buds fallen on the floor.
The room itself was tastefully decorated, each piece of furniture was at just the right place and each article in the room had been thought of before being made for the room. An old chest made of dark oak occupied the far end of the room, its hinges and handles made of hard wrought iron; giving it a time seasoned yet trustworthy feel. The small mirror that hung just above it stood almost all by itself in the air. Only if observed carefully could one see the silk wires holding up the oval glass giving it a look of delicateness yet knowing that it would never break. The darkness of the drawers in a strange way complimented this fragile magic of reflection giving a certain balance to the whole room and everything that stood inside it.
Beside it rose a sturdy bookshelf, built into the room from floor to ceiling. Wei had cured and build the three sets of slides racks himself, measuring each board to accommodate every size of book which had been written or published. From ancient history to modern science, Sima Qian & Confucius sat beside Aristotle, Rousseau & Jonathan Swift; Su Shi read pro’s to the approval of Pope while Kepler & Copernicus discussed science and the astronomy with Aryabhata and Shi Shen. Calligraphed writing on papyrus lay side by side with Caxtons block printed paper and the top shelf was reserved for scrolls and manuscripts which dated back to the Tang Dynasty.
On the opposite side of the wall lay a small pile of firewood next to suitably sized fireplace. A warm glow came out of the fireplace, allowing each corner of the room to receive some warmth without making it feel hot. Beside the fire sat a middle aged man, dressed in white cotton nightware with a dark rich red robe loosely tied around. The man sat quietly, listening to the crackling wood, pushing embers that popped out of the fireplace back into the fire. You could see the reflection of the small fire on his glasses and he stared away at the burning wood lost deep in thought. A broad forehead, with deep lines; intelligent eyes looking far into the distance, a small moustache in line with style carried by the affluent traders of the time; Wei Long sat erect but comforatbly in the chair he had fashioned out of his own hands. He had walked into Shanghai 30 years ago as an orphan with 2 RMB and the tatters he wore. He had fashioned a pendant out of the pearl which belonged to his mother, that pearl had at one time been on a string adjoined with 107 others; a gift of love from his father. Holding the pendant between his fingers, Wei was so lost in the memories of his parents and younger brother that he didn’t hear the first gentle knock on the door.
It had to be Huo Qiubing, his counsellor and trusted advisor whom he had summouned for supper. Wei had met Huo more than a decade ago, when he was struggling to get the nuances of the spice trade. Huo had been deep in debt after his ships had sunk in a storm leaving him with creditors who were getting angrier by the day. Wei had paid of Huo’s debts, saving him and his family and taking him into his fold.
Wei noticed early that Huo had the knowledge of the markets and traders but knew nothing of spices. Slowly the team built up Mei Li Spices to become the biggest traders in South and East China. With a fleet comprising of over 50 junk ships ferrying spices to Japan, the British & French provinces; Wei had built an empire in just over a decade and ran it with an efficiency that brought recognition even from the Emperor. Wei had learnt art and science from his father who had been one of the ship architects in the Emperors ship yards. As a boy, his enquiring mind had been encouraged by his father to learn as much as he could, buying books which were far from their reach at that time but making sure that Wei was kept busy.
His mother had been the daughter of a rich landlord, the eldest of 4 sisters; she had been looked down as a burden to the family. Daughters were valued for their prettiness, their blemishless skin and for their knowledge of the arts. While his mother had learnt and was better than all her sisters in the various arts, a large dark birthmark ran across her forehead had made sure that she was kept indoors at all times, away from everyones eyes. She wasn’t sent to school nor allowed to play with the other children; she was considered bad luck for the family and was kept as a secret. During her childhood, she immersed herself in art and science; she learnt new languages and ancient history. She learnt music, dance and mastered several perforaming arts; growing up knowing more than her 3 sisters and 2 brothers would knew together. Wei remembered his mother well and the love story of his mother and his father who was nothing more than an employee of her fathers. He had been working late one night in the dockyard and seen a stranger stealthly moving about studying the design of the ship. Thinking her to be a saboteur, he had confronted her only to find that the landlord had not 3 but 4 daughters.
Over the next few weeks he met with her at night and soon fell in love with her. They discussed ship architecture, she showed him better designs; they discussed ancient history which he thought himself an expert till he met her. After about a years time, he had approached her father pensively for her hand in marriage and to his surprise, her father was happy to be rid of her under the condition that she never be associated to his family name ever again. One rainy night, they had gotten married and Wei had been born in the second year of their marriage. He remembered his father lovingly talking to his mother calling the birthmark his lucky charm without which he wouldn’t have been able to marry her or even seen her.
Coming back from his trance, he quietly opened the door and stepped out into the long passagway slowly heading towards the family guest room where Huo would be waiting. Huo always made him think of his parents, he had become almost like an elder brother to Wei. They had been through everything together, struggling as two novices against the spice barons, working sleepless nights carrying sacks on their backs because they didn’t have enough money to hire enough labour. They had even scrubbed the deck together on their first ship together; those had been reckless and adventurous times. Huo had approached Lin’s father for his daughters hand for Wei, he was there when Li had been born. He had rejoiced as though his own son had been born.
The last 3 weeks had been busy for Mei Li Spices; Wei had set up an audit structure which took up a whole month every year. About eigth years ago, James Anderson, the chief financial consultant had tried to make his own fortune out of Mei Li which resulted in the deaths of 12 employees and the loss of Lin and Li. Lin had carried little Li for a walk along the cherry orchard behind the warehouse which had been made into the work spaces for Mei Li Spices. She had walked straight into Anderson and a rival traders meeting. On being seen, Anderson had panicked and shot at her; the round metal ball had gone through the delicate little Li taking his life instantly and then buried itself deep inside Lin’s chest. She had survived for a week, deep in pain as the region aound the metal ball turned from flesh to poison. In the end, she had died in Wei’s arms, crying out for little Li. While Wei had been with his dying wife, Anderson had tried to wrest control of the warehouses and ships. Huo and three dozen loyal workers had in the death of night gone into the main warehouse where Anderson had built his stronghold and clubbed their way through to Anderson. Not wanting to be tortured by Wei’s men or be held in a Chinese jail, Anderson had taken the barrel of his gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger just as Huo had made his way into the main office. Wei was lost in his own world for six months, the grief and sorrow ate into him every second, and he would wake up in the middle of the night and go to Li’s room wanting to see his little son sleeping. Every evening he went along the path through the Cherry orchard where Lin had been shot. Huo had been there, taking care of the business and supporting Wei through the ordeal.
Six months later, Wei walked into the main office warehouse and resumed work as though nothing had happened. He worked from dawn into the middle of the night going through all the details, he read through hundreds of reports, analysed the spice trade and markets in South China, picked on every number in the books; he made sure he had complete knowledge of what was happening in his organisation. Huo had many times walked into work the next morning, only to find Wei still going through documents or asleep on his chair. Within four months, the company had already increased its profits by 40%; Wei’s command over the spices, the ships and the trade allowed no room for mishaps. Within two years, the company had grown three times over and made its mark with the English and the Dutch trading outposts.
Chinaman - Part 2
Huo was already waiting patiently; it had become a custom between them to have dinner once a week together. Each week would be different, one week they would dine like the English, another week there would be sambar and Indian curry while on other weekends, there would be served dishes from across the world. They both had a liking for trying different foods and would often sit discussing dishes, cuisines and customs for hours together. Wei had made sure today was a surprise and Huo who usually was the one to choose the cuisine had to settle for not knowing what was in being prepared in the kitchen. He was excited and his wife had gone on the whole day trying to guess what Wei had planned out for them. Wei poured a clear liquid into 2 glasses and handed one over to Huo. A light frangrance of ginger and lotus petals arose from the Sake. Huo took a small sip and couldn’t believe the smoothness as the liquid slipped down his throat. There was a tinge of lime, a certain sweet lime… he had had this drink before but couldn’t pin point when or where. He could feel the sake go down his throat and felt a warm glow inside. He could see that Wei too had become engrossed in the drink and was happy to see Wei smile; Wei had almost forgotten to smile ever since Lin had been taken from him. He could see her portrait at the corner of his eye, the one carrying little Li in a small white kimono. The painting had been ordered for his first birthday and Li had made such a racket during the painting session; it had been a good year.
Wei looked light hearted and happy, “Huo, you still have to guess where today’s food is from. It’s been cooked by an expert I had secreted in from somewhere in China only.” Huo had already finished four glasses of the lively sake and could feel a certain excitement building within. Steaming trays with a rich aroma of seafood came in; he saw a feast which included scallops, prawns, clams, sea cucumbers, and squid. Beside it was a dish surely made of corn but he could get a grassy aroma from it; while his thoughts rushed in various directions trying to pinpoint the cuisine, another tray holding peanuts and Zhou (porridge made of Millet, wheat, oat and barley) were brought in. Wei was up to something, he could see the sparkle in his eye, was his friend trying to pull a fast one on Huo? Huo considered himself an expert on Chinese cuisine but there was something special in every dish on the table; the roast duck had a sprinkling of a rich herb he could quite guess, the corn was toying with him, it could be from the southern province where it was very sweet, this was a sticky and starch variety so it must have come from the north. The vinegar most certainly gave it away to be North Chinese cuisine, only fro mthere would you get this kind of vinegar which left such an impression on the food without actually affecting the cuisine’s taste. The mixture of sea grasses, and bell peppers with the hard cabbage dish was new to him, it had a sweet sour taste and the sea grass left a salty taste in the mouth. Each dish tasted unique and different, he knew he had tasted someof these dishes a long time ago but just couldn’t remember where. He still couldn’t pin point the location of the cuisine and had to admit that it was probably among the best meals he had but could only guess it to be from the North. Wei only smiled and told him that he’ll learn soon enough about the fabled chef and the exquisite dinner.The evening went on in lively fashion, they discussed his sons education, Lou was just finishing high school while Mei was quickly growing up to becoming a beautiful lady. He would soon be chasing away suitors trying their luck; a few had already come in. Grandmother as always was complaining about her eyes and her legs and her aches, it was a never ending tale of hers. Time quickly passed by and Huo couldn’t remember having such a good supper earlier. He felt drowsily satisfied and the sake also was numbing his senses.
“Come into the study Huo, I want to show you something” said a loud and jovial Wei. Huo suddenly became alert, his eyes lit up; he couldn’t believe it! No one had ever entered Wei’s study, there were rumours of all sorts of that room, the ceiling was supposed to be out of gold and exotic paintings adorned its walls, various busts of wild animals decorated the walls and it had two exquisite chandaliers hanging from its roof. Wei had always cleaned the room himself, always locked it when he went in or left; he had built the furniture inside by himself and setup up the stones for the fireplace with his own hands. “Bring the sake” said Wei as he turned around and headed in the direction of the study. Huo quickly grabbed the bottle and a couple of glasses before hurrying behind Wei wondering what it was that he was going to be shown inside that fabled room.
Wei slowly inserted the key and Huo heard the click of the lock, he walked into the room and felt like he was walking on air. He looked admiringly at the beautiful thick carpet as he wanted towards the table to set down the bottle. There were different models of boats set on his opposite side and his keen eyes picked up the suttle differences in each of their designs. The hull of the junk ship closest to him was different, the shark boats seemed to be sleeker and tilted backward, models of double masts and 160 footers lay open at the other end. He looked at the massive book shelf taking up one wall of the room and wondered if Wei had read all those books. He probably would have and memorised every page. There were a few paintings, small and beautifully done hanging next to a mirror which seemed to be just standing in the air. He saw Wei assessing him, looking at him with warmth and a smile in his eyes while he took in everything he saw in the room.
He slowly walked over to the library and though he knew his master to be a learned man, he couldn’t but admire the wealth of knowledge Wei had collected over the years. Huo was renouned to be a master in poetry and had studied it for years; his knowledge of Daoist had no equal in South China. Yet as he ran his fingers along the stacks of books, he felt inadequate looking at the collection in front of him. With his favaourites Chinee poets Lao Tzu, Tu Fu & Li Po sat Huang Po, Chuang Tzu, Wu Men, Confucius, Khalil Ghibran, Virgil, Homer, Ovid, Horace, Beowulf another so many others whom he had not even heard of. He saw scrolls of Waka, Haiku and Shi; there were books in the English alphabet but not in English, he slowly flipped though scrolls in Persian and Urdu. Here was a treasure trove of knowledge and emotions, a compilation of the finest writings in the world. Yet during all these years, during all their interactions Wei had never come out to be more knowing than him, he had always listened to Huo, always made Huo to be the master while Wei had been content to listening as a pupil. Huo was so engrossed and in admiration of the collection that he didnt hear Wei till he was beside him. Handing a glass of sake, Wei left him to soak in everything, silently going back to his seat and enjoying his drink.
Huo didnt know how to react, he was thrilled and wanted to shout with joy, he wanted to cry, he wanted to jump and throw his hands up in the air and shout, and he had this great desire, a burning sensation to sit with all the books immediately. Yet at the corner of his mind, a question was beginning to form though he hardly gave it a thought. He whipped around and slowly went to where Wei was sitting, he was so weak kneed with excitement that he felt like he was in a trance. He sat down and let it slowly sink in, the sake was still in his hands and he took one small sip following the smooth and tingling sensation flow down from his mouth down his throat.
"What do you think my friend, is my collection up to your standards?" Wei asked with a twinkle in his eye, Huo could see that sly grin and knew Wei had expected exactly this reaction from Huo. He burst out laughing aloud and found tears running down his cheeks at the same time. His chest felt like it would explod, there were so many emotions running through him. "Huo, how long have we known each other? 10- 12 years? You've been by my side all along, supported me through everything. You've been a brother to me, been my mentor and looked after me as a father would. For this I can never repay you but I want you to have this collection. It’s a small gift for something I can never repay in full measure. I hope you will honour me by accepting this small gift." The moment was too much, Huo couldnt say anything, his chest swelled up, he felt almost breathless; he could only slowly bring his glass to his lips and take a small sip to clear his throat. When he spoke, the voice felt strange to him, "Wei, I dont know how... I have no words to... how did you, where did you get them from?”
"Ah my friend, you forget we run a fleet of ships and we trade across the world, it was nothing. I just got the captains to pick up copies of several journeys. The look on your face was well worth it, I hope you enjoy them." Huo had seen so many occassions when people, complete strangers had fallen at Wei's feet on the streets and thanked him with tears in their eyes. His house was always receiving gifts, trinklets from traders and home cooked food from the poor in gratitude. Huo felt that same sense of worship at that moment, Wei had risen ten fold and he knew that this man was special. “Well my friend, for one I think it would be wise to close your mouth and stop staring and me so; I don’t know if I should call the doctors.” said Wei, laughing and completely enjoying the moment.
Wei looked light hearted and happy, “Huo, you still have to guess where today’s food is from. It’s been cooked by an expert I had secreted in from somewhere in China only.” Huo had already finished four glasses of the lively sake and could feel a certain excitement building within. Steaming trays with a rich aroma of seafood came in; he saw a feast which included scallops, prawns, clams, sea cucumbers, and squid. Beside it was a dish surely made of corn but he could get a grassy aroma from it; while his thoughts rushed in various directions trying to pinpoint the cuisine, another tray holding peanuts and Zhou (porridge made of Millet, wheat, oat and barley) were brought in. Wei was up to something, he could see the sparkle in his eye, was his friend trying to pull a fast one on Huo? Huo considered himself an expert on Chinese cuisine but there was something special in every dish on the table; the roast duck had a sprinkling of a rich herb he could quite guess, the corn was toying with him, it could be from the southern province where it was very sweet, this was a sticky and starch variety so it must have come from the north. The vinegar most certainly gave it away to be North Chinese cuisine, only fro mthere would you get this kind of vinegar which left such an impression on the food without actually affecting the cuisine’s taste. The mixture of sea grasses, and bell peppers with the hard cabbage dish was new to him, it had a sweet sour taste and the sea grass left a salty taste in the mouth. Each dish tasted unique and different, he knew he had tasted someof these dishes a long time ago but just couldn’t remember where. He still couldn’t pin point the location of the cuisine and had to admit that it was probably among the best meals he had but could only guess it to be from the North. Wei only smiled and told him that he’ll learn soon enough about the fabled chef and the exquisite dinner.The evening went on in lively fashion, they discussed his sons education, Lou was just finishing high school while Mei was quickly growing up to becoming a beautiful lady. He would soon be chasing away suitors trying their luck; a few had already come in. Grandmother as always was complaining about her eyes and her legs and her aches, it was a never ending tale of hers. Time quickly passed by and Huo couldn’t remember having such a good supper earlier. He felt drowsily satisfied and the sake also was numbing his senses.
“Come into the study Huo, I want to show you something” said a loud and jovial Wei. Huo suddenly became alert, his eyes lit up; he couldn’t believe it! No one had ever entered Wei’s study, there were rumours of all sorts of that room, the ceiling was supposed to be out of gold and exotic paintings adorned its walls, various busts of wild animals decorated the walls and it had two exquisite chandaliers hanging from its roof. Wei had always cleaned the room himself, always locked it when he went in or left; he had built the furniture inside by himself and setup up the stones for the fireplace with his own hands. “Bring the sake” said Wei as he turned around and headed in the direction of the study. Huo quickly grabbed the bottle and a couple of glasses before hurrying behind Wei wondering what it was that he was going to be shown inside that fabled room.
Wei slowly inserted the key and Huo heard the click of the lock, he walked into the room and felt like he was walking on air. He looked admiringly at the beautiful thick carpet as he wanted towards the table to set down the bottle. There were different models of boats set on his opposite side and his keen eyes picked up the suttle differences in each of their designs. The hull of the junk ship closest to him was different, the shark boats seemed to be sleeker and tilted backward, models of double masts and 160 footers lay open at the other end. He looked at the massive book shelf taking up one wall of the room and wondered if Wei had read all those books. He probably would have and memorised every page. There were a few paintings, small and beautifully done hanging next to a mirror which seemed to be just standing in the air. He saw Wei assessing him, looking at him with warmth and a smile in his eyes while he took in everything he saw in the room.
He slowly walked over to the library and though he knew his master to be a learned man, he couldn’t but admire the wealth of knowledge Wei had collected over the years. Huo was renouned to be a master in poetry and had studied it for years; his knowledge of Daoist had no equal in South China. Yet as he ran his fingers along the stacks of books, he felt inadequate looking at the collection in front of him. With his favaourites Chinee poets Lao Tzu, Tu Fu & Li Po sat Huang Po, Chuang Tzu, Wu Men, Confucius, Khalil Ghibran, Virgil, Homer, Ovid, Horace, Beowulf another so many others whom he had not even heard of. He saw scrolls of Waka, Haiku and Shi; there were books in the English alphabet but not in English, he slowly flipped though scrolls in Persian and Urdu. Here was a treasure trove of knowledge and emotions, a compilation of the finest writings in the world. Yet during all these years, during all their interactions Wei had never come out to be more knowing than him, he had always listened to Huo, always made Huo to be the master while Wei had been content to listening as a pupil. Huo was so engrossed and in admiration of the collection that he didnt hear Wei till he was beside him. Handing a glass of sake, Wei left him to soak in everything, silently going back to his seat and enjoying his drink.
Huo didnt know how to react, he was thrilled and wanted to shout with joy, he wanted to cry, he wanted to jump and throw his hands up in the air and shout, and he had this great desire, a burning sensation to sit with all the books immediately. Yet at the corner of his mind, a question was beginning to form though he hardly gave it a thought. He whipped around and slowly went to where Wei was sitting, he was so weak kneed with excitement that he felt like he was in a trance. He sat down and let it slowly sink in, the sake was still in his hands and he took one small sip following the smooth and tingling sensation flow down from his mouth down his throat.
"What do you think my friend, is my collection up to your standards?" Wei asked with a twinkle in his eye, Huo could see that sly grin and knew Wei had expected exactly this reaction from Huo. He burst out laughing aloud and found tears running down his cheeks at the same time. His chest felt like it would explod, there were so many emotions running through him. "Huo, how long have we known each other? 10- 12 years? You've been by my side all along, supported me through everything. You've been a brother to me, been my mentor and looked after me as a father would. For this I can never repay you but I want you to have this collection. It’s a small gift for something I can never repay in full measure. I hope you will honour me by accepting this small gift." The moment was too much, Huo couldnt say anything, his chest swelled up, he felt almost breathless; he could only slowly bring his glass to his lips and take a small sip to clear his throat. When he spoke, the voice felt strange to him, "Wei, I dont know how... I have no words to... how did you, where did you get them from?”
"Ah my friend, you forget we run a fleet of ships and we trade across the world, it was nothing. I just got the captains to pick up copies of several journeys. The look on your face was well worth it, I hope you enjoy them." Huo had seen so many occassions when people, complete strangers had fallen at Wei's feet on the streets and thanked him with tears in their eyes. His house was always receiving gifts, trinklets from traders and home cooked food from the poor in gratitude. Huo felt that same sense of worship at that moment, Wei had risen ten fold and he knew that this man was special. “Well my friend, for one I think it would be wise to close your mouth and stop staring and me so; I don’t know if I should call the doctors.” said Wei, laughing and completely enjoying the moment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
