I wrote this in a hurry before the story frizzled out of my head - its in its raw form without any corrections or re-writes to make it beautiful to read - wrote it in one go so please ignore the mistakes -
The incessant coughing woke him up from his hallucinations and he slowly tilted his head to see the dark green stained army overalls and dusty black boots. A smile appeared on the edge of his, “even now, you wake me up with that god awful sneezing.” He went back to their childhood when winters made the cough worse and nights generally meant hot water with menthol and balm. He still smelt the strong smell of the balm when he thought of their mother. Funny how things turn out, he thought.
Slowly without moving his back, he reached out to his backpack and ran his fingers in it till he felt the smooth round steel can and offered it across. “This is as best a remedy as we can have any day, don’t finish it off like you always do, its special, more than 10 years old.” A hand reached out and he got a glimpse of the bent finger he was the cause of god alone knows how long ago,…those were better times, those days they played football the whole day. “Hey A, whatever happened to Ameya? Did you guys get married, I never got the invitation.” the owner of the bent finger whispered out. The crisp English now had a tinge of the middle grounds, the words came out as though almost from the throat, more of a guttural heavy voice, so different from what he could remember. A… A? A & A+...thats what it had been, childish sibling rivalry had sprouted out nick names for them. He was A & the younger fellow just to get onemanship had gone across the house writing A+ across the walls to introduce himself. The thrashing he got from Pa later didn’t matter but the names stuck & they called each other that all through college too. He patted his chest pocket and slowly pulled out a photo with a woman & two boys smiling away at the person taking the photo. They were at a beach & it had been a clear blue day. “Here, Amar is the younger one, on the right; he reminds me of you all the time, the same nautanki, the same smile, he even broke his front tooth last year; almost the same age when you broke yours I think.” The pain that shot up his spine brought tears to his eyes and he barely was able to control the scream that almost escaped his lips.
He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep or what time it was now, the dust had dried on his eyelids and glued them together. He slowly rubbed his eyes, vaguely remembering his dream of Sara. It was always the same, the same smile, the same green salwar and the spot of red that suddenly appeared on her forehead as he stared into her dark brown eyes. The whirlwind that followed, he didn’t care about, all he wanted was revenge. He slowly looked down on and saw that the blood had clotted, the pain in his twisted broken leg had ceased. Amar looked up at the sun and felt its warmth as tears slid down his cheeks. Why… why? What had he done to deserve this, have everything taken away from his life? Sara, Ma…. “Bhai…” he called out and heard no response. Was he asleep? How badly was he injured? How long ago had he seen his face? He had to see him right now. Slowly he shifted himself & felt the pain in his stomach, bent down to straighten the shredded leg. The urge had become too strong, he didn’t feel the pain anymore, he didn’t notice the wound open up. He slowly pulled himself towards his brother, he could see his black shoes and the dust covered camouflage pants. He winced as he felt something scrape out as he dragged himself closer. There he was, looking at him with those soft eyes, those eyes that were so reassuring. As he moved closer, he saw the iron rod and wanted to turn away but couldn’t. The iron rod had pierced his brother close to his lungs and ripped through him almost cutting him into two. A deep sorrow grew within him, the pain felt like it was choking him and he couldn’t get himself to close his brothers eyes. And then he saw the coin in his brothers hand, the Sholay coin which they had melted together one summer break. They had felt invincible then, they had their fate in their own hands with that coin. He wrapped his fingers around the coin and slowly lay down on his brothers lap. He had always been there for him, the elder brother, the loving bhai… and he smiled knowing that he was joining his brother in another world where they would melt coins together again and live their invincible lives together.
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Dragonflies
The badly lit metal works shop was having a routine day; Anand was wearing that big iron mask and was hunched down with the phosphorus welding rod, sparks flying all across him. Raju had at first been fascinated with it, it looked so beautiful, like the sparklers the neighbourhood children held with happy smiles during Diwali. But it had long since lost its sheen, like everything around him, everything had become part of his life, the heat was now noticeable now, he didn’t feel the fumes which had earlier burned inside his throat when he breathed, 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. He had to come in early to clean up the room and stayed well after the sun had set. Malik was paying him Rs.30 more for cleaning and taking care of the errands of the shop. That was the only thing that mattered to Raju anymore, that little extra money so he could buy those medicines. His hand involuntarily went to his heart where he had stitched a piece of cloth making it into a pocket & inside it lay a worn out prescription which doctor sahib had given his mother a long time ago. The medicines were becoming more & more expensive. Motilalji, the local pharmacist kept telling him of the increasing taxes and of some doctors who increased some prices. He never understood what Motilalji was saying, all he cared about was that blue medicine syrup that his mother needed to drink two times a day, once in the morning and then when he got home in the night.
After work, he liked walking through the mall street with its brightly lit shops and hanging street lights, somehow these lights always seemed to have current, the local current shutdown never seemed to affect mall road & Raju always smiled when he thought of that. He had noticed it & no one else in his jhopadi had! Raju had first seen the shirt while passing through these rows of shops on night, a 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 rubber 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 every fortnight and on every check-up doctor sahib would shake his head and say, “Raju, bring her again, continue the medicines without fail and make sure she drinks lots of water. See that the water is boiled, not warm, it should have bubbles coming you understand?”. 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 sun’s 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 gotten this job for him some time 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, Ma would become better, now that the medicines were there & she was eating so much food, he had even brought Nariyal pani for her once and she had smiled. That day, he had cried so much, he had cried well into the night before the darkness stole away his tears.
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 he didn’t know what that meant, just that she wasn’t going to be with him anymore. He slowly moved away from his mother and came to the entrance of his house; he didn’t know what to do, he felt numb and cold. 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.
After work, he liked walking through the mall street with its brightly lit shops and hanging street lights, somehow these lights always seemed to have current, the local current shutdown never seemed to affect mall road & Raju always smiled when he thought of that. He had noticed it & no one else in his jhopadi had! Raju had first seen the shirt while passing through these rows of shops on night, a 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 rubber 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 every fortnight and on every check-up doctor sahib would shake his head and say, “Raju, bring her again, continue the medicines without fail and make sure she drinks lots of water. See that the water is boiled, not warm, it should have bubbles coming you understand?”. 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 sun’s 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 gotten this job for him some time 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, Ma would become better, now that the medicines were there & she was eating so much food, he had even brought Nariyal pani for her once and she had smiled. That day, he had cried so much, he had cried well into the night before the darkness stole away his tears.
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 he didn’t know what that meant, just that she wasn’t going to be with him anymore. He slowly moved away from his mother and came to the entrance of his house; he didn’t know what to do, he felt numb and cold. 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.
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.
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 3
The excitement died down, Huo felt a strange sense of tiredness and he knew it was because of the barrage of emotions that was running through him. He had a smile which he couldn’t control as he settled himself among the soft cushions beside Wei. They both sat silent for a while; all one heard was the occassional sipping from the cups. “Huo, do you see that corner there, there is a dagger on that table, can you bring it here?” said Wei, pointing to a dim corner of the room. Huo slowly traced the fingers to where they were pointing and noticed a small table with a wooden stand. He picked up the dagger to see that it was a small iron dagger with a simple hilt. There was a copper ball at the end for easy handing of the dagger. It was the kinds used by experts who used them from a distance; he recognised it as a throwing dagger. He balanced it on the tip of his fore finger and felt a small tilt. The dagger hadnt been balanced properly, it was of poor quality. As he turned and walked back to his seat, Wei had moved to his desk and pulled out some documents.
“I wanted to talk to you about a few things, which is why I called you over. I know I was the one who had forbidden us speak of business during our dinners but I feel happy today and I want to share everything with you today Huo.” Huo didn’t know what to make of it, the fleet was one of the best if not the best in the whole of the Southern seas, everything was in order, so what could it be? “Don’t worry, there is no problem” said Wei, looking at Huo enquiring eyes. “I just wanted to talk to you about a few things here and there, show you some things, its nothing to get alarmed about.”
“Did you notice the carpet? Want to take a guess from where it originated?” said Wei. “Well, I first thought it was a Persian from Azarbaijan but then I noticed that the colour combinations used were different from what is weaved in Bagdhad. Their designs are more prominent and the motifs stand out like the ones we brought in from Khorassan and Sistan last year for the emperor. I was very sure that it was from Persia but when I walked on it, I felt the threads which had been woven with an Anatolian knot. The Persian carpets are generally stitched with a single looping knot but this has a double loop knot. From everything I know, this then should have a more of a block print kind of design but the curves and delicacy of the angles are nothing like I have seen before. The wool and silk threads have lightness to it, the whiteness told me that it is indeed a Chinese carpet and not woven outside. The Ujumqin is coarse yet, this is fine but I will still stick to my instinct that this is Ujumqin wool and the fat has been removed first.”
“Aha! Wonderful Huo, it’s almost as though you knew the sheep by name! This carpet was woven by a dear old woman in a small factory in the North Jiangsu Province Suqian City. You know I keep going up North because that is the only place I am not recognised and can walk about in the open without any hesitation. Well, I found it along one such trip. Her son runs the small carpet business and the shop is well known for its special stitching. Even with the double loop, that old lady was able to stitch with 36 symmetrical knots per square centimetre and provide the delicate natural flows that you see in the leaves here.” Wei walked up to the canter table and poured out another glass for both of them. “The sake is exceptional don’t you think? It is the right temperature and I my friend am already feeling nice and happy.” Huo was slowly reading through Plato’s writings and Wei couldn’t make out if his fingers were shaking from the excitement of reading or the effects of the sake. “it is strange my friend that you are reading from The Apology while I lace our drinks with the very same hemlock which took Socrates away from all of us. Do not worry; you will feel no pain, as you can see you have difficulty moving already.” To Huo shock, he couldn’t move his hand; he tried to get up but couldn’t feel his feet. He frantically tried to raise himself but couldn’t move. He turned to Wei with confusion written in his eyes wondering if this was another of Wei’s jokes. Wei himself was seated and was dangling the throwing dagger by the ball of his thumb and index finger.
Wei slowly looked at Hou and said, “Everything about today is from the north Huo, the food cooked has been according to Shandong cuisine and were my favourite foods as a boy. My birthplace is a small village north of the city of Tai'an, in Shandong Province. My father was a shipbuilder for Quinliang, a local warlord in the state of Lu. He was a good man but fate dealt him an untimely death, murdered by the neighbouring landlord. My father had gone to meet Quinliang when they attacked and he was killed along with everyone in Quinliang’s home. I had accompanied my father that day and the only reason I lived was because his body lay on me, hiding me from the assassins. Do you remember that day Huo? Do you remember this blade? You threw it at my father.” Huo looked alarmed, his mind raced back to that day when he had gone on order of his lord to kill and vanish. He had been paid a lot of money and had later moved with his wife to the South where he wouldn be recognised. He tried to stand up but he couldn’t feel his hands or legs anymore. “Don’t struggle Huo, the more you try, the faster the poison will act on you. The poison was distilled so it gave out no smell or taste, the ycall the poison coniine, it freezes the body, it makes one paralysed so don’t struggle. You might find it a little difficult to breathe so my advice to you is to relax yourself and you will live longer.”
“Quinliang’s house was set on fire and my mother thought I had died along with my father. She took my younger brother and moved further up to protect him. I found them years later in a small village where she was making carpets for a living; this carpet was woven by her. As you learnt today of my secrets, I too know yours my friend. Several years ago, I had come to terms with it; I had found solace in my family, with Mei and had forgiven you. I knew I had you in front of me and that you would do no more harm to my family. I was wrong wasn’t I Huo? I didn’t favour the partnership with the Wang family and you along with Anderson tried to take over the organisation didn’t you? Mei found out about it and was coming to tell me when you had her killed. Anderson told me everything before I killed him Huo. You don’t have to say anything. It is fate that everything I cared for and cherished was destroyed by you, my friend.”
Huo just looked at Wei blankly, there were tears trickling down his eyes. “Over the years, I have helped my younger brother grow his carpet business; today Lin Carpets is one of the biggest factories in the entire North. My will allocates everything to my younger brother and his family. Even though you destroyed my family, do not worry my friend, I have made sure your family is taken care of well. They will not suffer for the actions of their father. You took away my little Lin from me Huo and I died that very day. These past years have gone into planning for this evening and today everything is complete, everything is taken care of.”
Wei was finding it difficult to talk, he was making an effort to breathe, “I have no more responsibilities and no more burdens. My mother is frail and old, she doesnt remember me well anymore. My family is gone and this world is not the place for me anymore. When the servants come tomorrow morning and noone opens the door, they will break it down and search for us. All the cooks were given a holiday today and I cooked the dinner myself so no one will be held responsible for our deaths. I am very glad you loved my cooking.”
When the servants broke down the door, on the following afternoon, they found Wei with his eyes open, staring into the embers at the fireplace, one hand holdiing the dagger and in his other hand a small portrait of his wife and daughter.
“I wanted to talk to you about a few things, which is why I called you over. I know I was the one who had forbidden us speak of business during our dinners but I feel happy today and I want to share everything with you today Huo.” Huo didn’t know what to make of it, the fleet was one of the best if not the best in the whole of the Southern seas, everything was in order, so what could it be? “Don’t worry, there is no problem” said Wei, looking at Huo enquiring eyes. “I just wanted to talk to you about a few things here and there, show you some things, its nothing to get alarmed about.”
“Did you notice the carpet? Want to take a guess from where it originated?” said Wei. “Well, I first thought it was a Persian from Azarbaijan but then I noticed that the colour combinations used were different from what is weaved in Bagdhad. Their designs are more prominent and the motifs stand out like the ones we brought in from Khorassan and Sistan last year for the emperor. I was very sure that it was from Persia but when I walked on it, I felt the threads which had been woven with an Anatolian knot. The Persian carpets are generally stitched with a single looping knot but this has a double loop knot. From everything I know, this then should have a more of a block print kind of design but the curves and delicacy of the angles are nothing like I have seen before. The wool and silk threads have lightness to it, the whiteness told me that it is indeed a Chinese carpet and not woven outside. The Ujumqin is coarse yet, this is fine but I will still stick to my instinct that this is Ujumqin wool and the fat has been removed first.”
“Aha! Wonderful Huo, it’s almost as though you knew the sheep by name! This carpet was woven by a dear old woman in a small factory in the North Jiangsu Province Suqian City. You know I keep going up North because that is the only place I am not recognised and can walk about in the open without any hesitation. Well, I found it along one such trip. Her son runs the small carpet business and the shop is well known for its special stitching. Even with the double loop, that old lady was able to stitch with 36 symmetrical knots per square centimetre and provide the delicate natural flows that you see in the leaves here.” Wei walked up to the canter table and poured out another glass for both of them. “The sake is exceptional don’t you think? It is the right temperature and I my friend am already feeling nice and happy.” Huo was slowly reading through Plato’s writings and Wei couldn’t make out if his fingers were shaking from the excitement of reading or the effects of the sake. “it is strange my friend that you are reading from The Apology while I lace our drinks with the very same hemlock which took Socrates away from all of us. Do not worry; you will feel no pain, as you can see you have difficulty moving already.” To Huo shock, he couldn’t move his hand; he tried to get up but couldn’t feel his feet. He frantically tried to raise himself but couldn’t move. He turned to Wei with confusion written in his eyes wondering if this was another of Wei’s jokes. Wei himself was seated and was dangling the throwing dagger by the ball of his thumb and index finger.
Wei slowly looked at Hou and said, “Everything about today is from the north Huo, the food cooked has been according to Shandong cuisine and were my favourite foods as a boy. My birthplace is a small village north of the city of Tai'an, in Shandong Province. My father was a shipbuilder for Quinliang, a local warlord in the state of Lu. He was a good man but fate dealt him an untimely death, murdered by the neighbouring landlord. My father had gone to meet Quinliang when they attacked and he was killed along with everyone in Quinliang’s home. I had accompanied my father that day and the only reason I lived was because his body lay on me, hiding me from the assassins. Do you remember that day Huo? Do you remember this blade? You threw it at my father.” Huo looked alarmed, his mind raced back to that day when he had gone on order of his lord to kill and vanish. He had been paid a lot of money and had later moved with his wife to the South where he wouldn be recognised. He tried to stand up but he couldn’t feel his hands or legs anymore. “Don’t struggle Huo, the more you try, the faster the poison will act on you. The poison was distilled so it gave out no smell or taste, the ycall the poison coniine, it freezes the body, it makes one paralysed so don’t struggle. You might find it a little difficult to breathe so my advice to you is to relax yourself and you will live longer.”
“Quinliang’s house was set on fire and my mother thought I had died along with my father. She took my younger brother and moved further up to protect him. I found them years later in a small village where she was making carpets for a living; this carpet was woven by her. As you learnt today of my secrets, I too know yours my friend. Several years ago, I had come to terms with it; I had found solace in my family, with Mei and had forgiven you. I knew I had you in front of me and that you would do no more harm to my family. I was wrong wasn’t I Huo? I didn’t favour the partnership with the Wang family and you along with Anderson tried to take over the organisation didn’t you? Mei found out about it and was coming to tell me when you had her killed. Anderson told me everything before I killed him Huo. You don’t have to say anything. It is fate that everything I cared for and cherished was destroyed by you, my friend.”
Huo just looked at Wei blankly, there were tears trickling down his eyes. “Over the years, I have helped my younger brother grow his carpet business; today Lin Carpets is one of the biggest factories in the entire North. My will allocates everything to my younger brother and his family. Even though you destroyed my family, do not worry my friend, I have made sure your family is taken care of well. They will not suffer for the actions of their father. You took away my little Lin from me Huo and I died that very day. These past years have gone into planning for this evening and today everything is complete, everything is taken care of.”
Wei was finding it difficult to talk, he was making an effort to breathe, “I have no more responsibilities and no more burdens. My mother is frail and old, she doesnt remember me well anymore. My family is gone and this world is not the place for me anymore. When the servants come tomorrow morning and noone opens the door, they will break it down and search for us. All the cooks were given a holiday today and I cooked the dinner myself so no one will be held responsible for our deaths. I am very glad you loved my cooking.”
When the servants broke down the door, on the following afternoon, they found Wei with his eyes open, staring into the embers at the fireplace, one hand holdiing the dagger and in his other hand a small portrait of his wife and daughter.
The Cherry Tree
It had just snowed and the children of the house had come out into the backyard, screaming in excitement as the first flakes had touched the ground. The trees were bare and the leaves had been removed one by one by the wind which was getting colder and colder by the day. The big cherry tree which stood at the center of the yard was all but bare, with a few stubborn leaves still hanging on but losing their fight against the changing weather. The flakes kissed the branches gently and one could almost feel the tree shiver in its touch as they melted into the branches. The breeze rattled the windows panes on the top floor, asking for permission to enter and then moving on when none was given.
The house itself was a magnificent old house; it was one of the first to be built in the neighbourhood and had been handed out through three generations. It had two floors and an attic filled with all the memories and lost treasures of the family. This was where they stored all their old and broken furniture, that antique cupboard which belonged to great Grandma, the little cots and prams which hthe children had grown out of and a million other trinkets which gets stored in such places till a curious grandchild creeps up one day and starts exploring it like it was Treasure Island. That was when curtains became ghosts and the old sofa set in the corner became the spring board from where the pirates pushed innocent maidens into the shark infested waters of the vast attic ocean. This was also where little Rafeek hid during a game of hide and seek and fell asleep for hours while the entire family had searched frantically for him, till he came down rubbing his eyes woken up by hunger.
The cherry tree had been there ever since I remembered, it has given us its shade during the hot summers when we lazed out talking about cops and robbers and the new neighbours who were always fighting among themselves. It used to bear these red ruby coloured cherries which we’d run back from school to pluck and savour. Every day in summer, it would give us a treat without fail; the tree seemed magical back then as it never ran out of the sweetish sour fruit which came in colours of red and yellow and sometimes even green when we just couldn’t wait for it to ripen. I still remember that neighbour boy Prateek who had sneaked in once to get a hand full of cherries and was clumsy enough to fall and break his arm instead. Pa found him wailing in pain on the ground and had to quickly be rushed to the hospital to set his right hand. Grandma always told us that the tree had magic and we never thought of questioning her words.
The window from our room gave us a perfect view of the backyard; it was a big place with all kinds of plants and trees. Ma had a green hand and was always winning some prize or the other for her wonderful garden at the annual garden and flower competition. It was always magical in spring and the house which looked asleep in the winter also seemed to have a kind of new sheen to it every spring along with the greeness of the cherry tree.
During one of the storms which frequented our place, it had been fierce enough to knock out the lights and the phone connections, we heard a huge thud outside and Pa was wondering if the old Oak tree beside the house had finally given in. He had always been complaining of the roots being diseased and that it was his nightmare that it would one day fall on the house. The house seemed intact since we were still alive inside it and there was no draft or rainwater in the darkness to tell us otherwise. The next morning, the backyard was abuzz, some neighbours and workers had already come and chopped up the tree into a couple of big logs. We kept hearing of how lucky our family was and when we finally got a glimpse of the damage, it pulled at our heart strings and little Nishu started crying. The big Oak had fallen straight onto the house and it was the cherry tree which had saved us all. The beloved cherry tree had broken its fall and moved the oak just away from the house but not before snapping into two pieces. There it lay, our shelter from the sun, our accomplice in all those escapades, our silent friend to whom we had whispered so many secrets, lying broken in the mud, gone for ever.
The house itself seemed to realise what had happened. Pa had always been telling us of his grandma’s stories of the cherry orchard which our neighbourhood had once been and that lots of pieces of the house itself was made from wood of the cherry trees. The roof gave away in six months time and the stair case suddenly started detiriorating. In about a year’s time, most of the door hinges had to be replaced and some of the railings of the porch in front broke. We moved out of the grand old house a little more than a year after the incidence of that night as it was getting too dangerous to stay in the house. It was almost like the house didn’t want to live anymore and had given up. It felt like the house was in pain and was mourning the loss of its loved one.
The house is now in an abandoned state and no one lives there, the place is under some litigation among brothers and the place as such hasn’t been touched. I visited the place yesterday and it brought back a flood of memories. As I brushed aside the cobwebs and carefully climbed up to my room, I saw outside from the window which we spent the summers looking out of, a small cherry tree growing proudly beside the stump of where our beloved cherry tree had lived.
The house itself was a magnificent old house; it was one of the first to be built in the neighbourhood and had been handed out through three generations. It had two floors and an attic filled with all the memories and lost treasures of the family. This was where they stored all their old and broken furniture, that antique cupboard which belonged to great Grandma, the little cots and prams which hthe children had grown out of and a million other trinkets which gets stored in such places till a curious grandchild creeps up one day and starts exploring it like it was Treasure Island. That was when curtains became ghosts and the old sofa set in the corner became the spring board from where the pirates pushed innocent maidens into the shark infested waters of the vast attic ocean. This was also where little Rafeek hid during a game of hide and seek and fell asleep for hours while the entire family had searched frantically for him, till he came down rubbing his eyes woken up by hunger.
The cherry tree had been there ever since I remembered, it has given us its shade during the hot summers when we lazed out talking about cops and robbers and the new neighbours who were always fighting among themselves. It used to bear these red ruby coloured cherries which we’d run back from school to pluck and savour. Every day in summer, it would give us a treat without fail; the tree seemed magical back then as it never ran out of the sweetish sour fruit which came in colours of red and yellow and sometimes even green when we just couldn’t wait for it to ripen. I still remember that neighbour boy Prateek who had sneaked in once to get a hand full of cherries and was clumsy enough to fall and break his arm instead. Pa found him wailing in pain on the ground and had to quickly be rushed to the hospital to set his right hand. Grandma always told us that the tree had magic and we never thought of questioning her words.
The window from our room gave us a perfect view of the backyard; it was a big place with all kinds of plants and trees. Ma had a green hand and was always winning some prize or the other for her wonderful garden at the annual garden and flower competition. It was always magical in spring and the house which looked asleep in the winter also seemed to have a kind of new sheen to it every spring along with the greeness of the cherry tree.
During one of the storms which frequented our place, it had been fierce enough to knock out the lights and the phone connections, we heard a huge thud outside and Pa was wondering if the old Oak tree beside the house had finally given in. He had always been complaining of the roots being diseased and that it was his nightmare that it would one day fall on the house. The house seemed intact since we were still alive inside it and there was no draft or rainwater in the darkness to tell us otherwise. The next morning, the backyard was abuzz, some neighbours and workers had already come and chopped up the tree into a couple of big logs. We kept hearing of how lucky our family was and when we finally got a glimpse of the damage, it pulled at our heart strings and little Nishu started crying. The big Oak had fallen straight onto the house and it was the cherry tree which had saved us all. The beloved cherry tree had broken its fall and moved the oak just away from the house but not before snapping into two pieces. There it lay, our shelter from the sun, our accomplice in all those escapades, our silent friend to whom we had whispered so many secrets, lying broken in the mud, gone for ever.
The house itself seemed to realise what had happened. Pa had always been telling us of his grandma’s stories of the cherry orchard which our neighbourhood had once been and that lots of pieces of the house itself was made from wood of the cherry trees. The roof gave away in six months time and the stair case suddenly started detiriorating. In about a year’s time, most of the door hinges had to be replaced and some of the railings of the porch in front broke. We moved out of the grand old house a little more than a year after the incidence of that night as it was getting too dangerous to stay in the house. It was almost like the house didn’t want to live anymore and had given up. It felt like the house was in pain and was mourning the loss of its loved one.
The house is now in an abandoned state and no one lives there, the place is under some litigation among brothers and the place as such hasn’t been touched. I visited the place yesterday and it brought back a flood of memories. As I brushed aside the cobwebs and carefully climbed up to my room, I saw outside from the window which we spent the summers looking out of, a small cherry tree growing proudly beside the stump of where our beloved cherry tree had lived.
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