We were having supper. There was bread, of course. Brother and I were waiting in greedy anticipation for mother to come and give us our share. She came and served us our loaves giving brother a much bigger helping. I remonstrated but Mother wouldn't hear of it. She said he deserved a bigger loaf because he worked on the fields and I didn't yet. Tears were swelling up my eyes and I was experiencing injustice for the first time. To no one is it as keenly perceptible as it is to a child and I decided to rebel. I got up and with a swift move of hand snatched the pieces of bread from brother and mother and ran away into the woods forever. They were calling out to me telling me to come back, put I was soon out of range and out of their world.
I was running blindly and aimlessly, with two hands full of bread (3 loaves), a mind full of glee and a heart full of exhilaration. But as my luck would have it, I bumped into a hungry bandit who caught me by the scruff and pointed his dagger at me smiling mirthfully with his yellow teeth and blood-red eyes. And while I was experiencing helplessness, he snatched a loaf and began chewing it like a yak all the while holding me by the scruff and laughing at me. With a final grunt of disgust he released me and went on his way knowing that he had left a good deal of indignation for me to ruminate upon for quite sometime.
I pulled myself up and resumed my journey. I ran tirelessly with bread in my hands and a growing determination inside. I stopped all of a sudden on seeing a frail woman lying unconscious on a bed of dead leaves. The sun was upon her body; the colour of her skin was slowly metamorphosing to those of the leaves around her and soon she would be indiscernible. Her head turned slowly and her mournful eyes sought my help. She was beautiful. I felt compassion and broke a piece of bread to feed her. She closed her eyes momentarily to express plaintive disapproval and then compassion turned to empathy as I knew it was water, not bread that she needed. I started looking around again, experiencing a different kind of helplessness and then suddenly I felt a blow strike my head and I fell on the leaves. I turned around to see the woman and a man with a club who I assumed was her mate laughing at my semi conscious body. The woman bent down and released the bread off my hands. Her colour had changed and she no longer looked like she was in need; but the dead leaves stuck on her body as a signature of the deceit she had played upon me.
I woke up to see a lioness staring at me with her hungry eyes. She had drawn her mouth into a ferocious grin and I could see her incisors were craving for a bite. Once again I felt helpless and powerless before her as she came closer. She was in a crouching position and ready for action. I was so petrified that I could not even remember the name of the God we used to thank before supper, much less invoke the being. But to my surprise I saw the lioness draw away and disappear into the woods. As my fear subsided, I understood what power really was. I stood where I had fell knowing I had no bread to eat and nowhere to go. I had heard stories that the woods have a mind of their own and they change their topography to confuse travelers so I realized that tracing my way back home would be out of the question. I decided to tread along the path that was most illuminated. I walked a few steps and saw two bodies lying on the ground. They were the woman and her mate, both dead. The man had been disemboweled but the woman had been mauled and bitten on her neck. I understood what justice meant but I was told later at an older age that what had happened was fate and not justice. The loaves of bread that they had robbed off me lay on the ground beside the woman.
I picked them up and with a queer sense of invigoration, resumed my aimless journey. The illumination was gradually increasing as I walked and I realized that I was walking to the place where the sun never sets, another fact which mother had told me when she put me to sleep. I saw a swallow flying to a tree and from it again continuously. I stood there watching the swallow carry on its recursive routine. Later in my life I heard a fable of a man called Sisyphus whom the gods had cursed to roll a rock up and down a mountain till eternity. What the swallow was doing didn't seem so much of a curse when I saw that it was carrying food for its fledglings. I had felt something watching it, something which I was able to interpret only much later. It was humility.
I walked on the green and auburn fields of the land where the sun never set. There was a small hut, much like our own. I walked to the window and looked inside. There was a woman and a boy looking at the open door with anticipation on their faces.
I was running blindly and aimlessly, with two hands full of bread (3 loaves), a mind full of glee and a heart full of exhilaration. But as my luck would have it, I bumped into a hungry bandit who caught me by the scruff and pointed his dagger at me smiling mirthfully with his yellow teeth and blood-red eyes. And while I was experiencing helplessness, he snatched a loaf and began chewing it like a yak all the while holding me by the scruff and laughing at me. With a final grunt of disgust he released me and went on his way knowing that he had left a good deal of indignation for me to ruminate upon for quite sometime.
I pulled myself up and resumed my journey. I ran tirelessly with bread in my hands and a growing determination inside. I stopped all of a sudden on seeing a frail woman lying unconscious on a bed of dead leaves. The sun was upon her body; the colour of her skin was slowly metamorphosing to those of the leaves around her and soon she would be indiscernible. Her head turned slowly and her mournful eyes sought my help. She was beautiful. I felt compassion and broke a piece of bread to feed her. She closed her eyes momentarily to express plaintive disapproval and then compassion turned to empathy as I knew it was water, not bread that she needed. I started looking around again, experiencing a different kind of helplessness and then suddenly I felt a blow strike my head and I fell on the leaves. I turned around to see the woman and a man with a club who I assumed was her mate laughing at my semi conscious body. The woman bent down and released the bread off my hands. Her colour had changed and she no longer looked like she was in need; but the dead leaves stuck on her body as a signature of the deceit she had played upon me.
I woke up to see a lioness staring at me with her hungry eyes. She had drawn her mouth into a ferocious grin and I could see her incisors were craving for a bite. Once again I felt helpless and powerless before her as she came closer. She was in a crouching position and ready for action. I was so petrified that I could not even remember the name of the God we used to thank before supper, much less invoke the being. But to my surprise I saw the lioness draw away and disappear into the woods. As my fear subsided, I understood what power really was. I stood where I had fell knowing I had no bread to eat and nowhere to go. I had heard stories that the woods have a mind of their own and they change their topography to confuse travelers so I realized that tracing my way back home would be out of the question. I decided to tread along the path that was most illuminated. I walked a few steps and saw two bodies lying on the ground. They were the woman and her mate, both dead. The man had been disemboweled but the woman had been mauled and bitten on her neck. I understood what justice meant but I was told later at an older age that what had happened was fate and not justice. The loaves of bread that they had robbed off me lay on the ground beside the woman.
I picked them up and with a queer sense of invigoration, resumed my aimless journey. The illumination was gradually increasing as I walked and I realized that I was walking to the place where the sun never sets, another fact which mother had told me when she put me to sleep. I saw a swallow flying to a tree and from it again continuously. I stood there watching the swallow carry on its recursive routine. Later in my life I heard a fable of a man called Sisyphus whom the gods had cursed to roll a rock up and down a mountain till eternity. What the swallow was doing didn't seem so much of a curse when I saw that it was carrying food for its fledglings. I had felt something watching it, something which I was able to interpret only much later. It was humility.
I walked on the green and auburn fields of the land where the sun never set. There was a small hut, much like our own. I walked to the window and looked inside. There was a woman and a boy looking at the open door with anticipation on their faces.
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