"Demons in the Desert"
Everyone in Agra was late. My taxi driver was on his
eighth near miss as he gave his road-runner horn another workout with
his palm. This time it was some kind of scooter. Three people were on
it. I could hear the back tire rub the fender. The cab driver stuck his
head out and yelled something in Hindi. He looked back and said, "Sons
of bitches." I guess he didn't want me to feel left out. In spite of my
features I guess I didn't look Indian enough. I did have that
American-right-off-the-plane look, and I wasn't exactly doing a good
job of hiding my discomfort with my surroundings. He quickly turned
back around and laid his entire big, sweaty body on the brakes and
lurched the car into an open space. I looked at my train ticket again.
Departure: 9:10. It was 9:11, but who's counting? I could see the train
station ahead in the square. Everyone was late.
I threw some money in the front seat and told him I was on the run. As I ran from the cab I could hear him screaming. I guess I didn't give him enough. The line had to be one hundred people long as I shoved myself in front of some guy at the window. "That's my train!" The pastel and rust train started rolling as he checked me in, then I was running again. I threw my my backpack onto the caboose in stride. An old man caught it for me and smiled big and wide with no front teeth. I jumped up to the step as I threw my overnight bag. It bounced off of the top of the rail and onto the tracks as I swung around the platform, then I watched with a painful smile as two kids ran off with all of my toiletries. The old man liked it too. He laughed and pointed as he shoved my bag into my chest. I offered a "thanks" too enthusiastic for the moment as I slipped into the train. "Yo-ah wel-coom," he said as he enjoyed another belly laugh.
My six-by-five quarters were a loud orange and red. Think of a circus train. That's close enough. Every joint in the wall must have been loose. I could hear each one rub and pop together like a fault-line. My head was about to split open with a throbbing head ache - a combination of the multiple near-death experiences, the lateness and the fact that it was a million degrees. My pain-killer was being tossed around by some Indian kids. "Damn." I bent my knees to get in my bunk bed and let the clanky train lurch me to sleep.
I'm in a King's grand hall. The cathedral ceilings echo with the violent rants of a king and a sage. They are arguing over me as I stand by with a room full of officials and dignitaries. There's the king. He stands from his throne as a vein pulses in his neck. I have no idea what they are saying, but the discomfort is mounting. I'm getting embarrassed. If I could just hear what they are saying. It sounds like they're at the bottom of the ocean screaming. I break the surface. The sage points to me and screams, "If you cannot send Rama, I need no one else!" Then he turns his back to the king and walks away as the officials in the room gasp.
Now dry desert is beneath my feet. There's a bow in my hand. It's beautiful. Then I notice how young I am. I'm a boy. I turn to the sage and say, "Where is she to be found?" On cue, a terrible monstrosity erupts into the horizon with a violent thunderstorm preceding it. The ground shakes. Soon I get a better look at the beast as she bounds with rage. Its teeth gnashing. Eyes twitching. I've never seen such hate. I stare up with astonishment. "It's... a woman?" I say. "Thataka. That's no woman. Give her no such consideration. She's a demon!" says the sage as a flaming trident flies at my face. I launch an arrow and the trident shatters. My next counter-attack sends an arrow through her neck. She falls lifeless to the ground. I walk up to her limp body and stare for what feels like forever as rain flows freely on the hard cracked surface of the ground. There isn't even mud yet. Then her head jerks up and says, "Ticket, please!" "What?"
As I woke up, my head hits the top bunk. "Ouch!"
"Ticket, please," said an impatient chief steward standing at my door. "Are you alright, sir?" he said without a shade of empathy.
"Okay, just battling demons in the desert. It felt so familiar somehow. Weird, huh?"
"No. You must be reading The Ramayana," he says. "Ticket, please."
"The Rama-wha?"
Author's note: I spent most of my time setting up the frame-table. I will add more context in the next story. I have shamelessly taken a lot of this scene from the opening sequence of the movie "The Darjeeling Limited." The details are all different of course, but a man is late for a train in a taxi and has to run for it in the movie. I love this movie. If you haven't watched it, you must. The dream is the story of Rama and Viswamithra battling the demon Thataka in the desert. I tried my best to divide up the story by changing tense. I do not know who effective this is. Some one let me know if it is just disruptive. The same goes for the asterisks. I wanted to start the stories off with action. We will be sticking with Rama throughout the storybook. By now, you are probably wondering about the karma aspect of my storybook. My storybook is called "Lessons in Karma" after all. I will admit that my ideas have developed and changed a lot since I've come up with the title, but I hope it all makes sense by the next story. My idea is for what's happening in these dreams to start affecting what is happening in this young man's real life. You can wonder about what implications that makes about his character for now. If this is too convoluted, please let me know and I will try to adjust the story so it makes more sense. Otherwise, I'm excited about the beginnings of my storybook.
Bibliography: Narayan, R. K. (1972) The Ramayana: A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic.
Image Information: Train station in India / Web source: India Outside My Window
I threw some money in the front seat and told him I was on the run. As I ran from the cab I could hear him screaming. I guess I didn't give him enough. The line had to be one hundred people long as I shoved myself in front of some guy at the window. "That's my train!" The pastel and rust train started rolling as he checked me in, then I was running again. I threw my my backpack onto the caboose in stride. An old man caught it for me and smiled big and wide with no front teeth. I jumped up to the step as I threw my overnight bag. It bounced off of the top of the rail and onto the tracks as I swung around the platform, then I watched with a painful smile as two kids ran off with all of my toiletries. The old man liked it too. He laughed and pointed as he shoved my bag into my chest. I offered a "thanks" too enthusiastic for the moment as I slipped into the train. "Yo-ah wel-coom," he said as he enjoyed another belly laugh.
My six-by-five quarters were a loud orange and red. Think of a circus train. That's close enough. Every joint in the wall must have been loose. I could hear each one rub and pop together like a fault-line. My head was about to split open with a throbbing head ache - a combination of the multiple near-death experiences, the lateness and the fact that it was a million degrees. My pain-killer was being tossed around by some Indian kids. "Damn." I bent my knees to get in my bunk bed and let the clanky train lurch me to sleep.
*****
I'm in a King's grand hall. The cathedral ceilings echo with the violent rants of a king and a sage. They are arguing over me as I stand by with a room full of officials and dignitaries. There's the king. He stands from his throne as a vein pulses in his neck. I have no idea what they are saying, but the discomfort is mounting. I'm getting embarrassed. If I could just hear what they are saying. It sounds like they're at the bottom of the ocean screaming. I break the surface. The sage points to me and screams, "If you cannot send Rama, I need no one else!" Then he turns his back to the king and walks away as the officials in the room gasp.
Now dry desert is beneath my feet. There's a bow in my hand. It's beautiful. Then I notice how young I am. I'm a boy. I turn to the sage and say, "Where is she to be found?" On cue, a terrible monstrosity erupts into the horizon with a violent thunderstorm preceding it. The ground shakes. Soon I get a better look at the beast as she bounds with rage. Its teeth gnashing. Eyes twitching. I've never seen such hate. I stare up with astonishment. "It's... a woman?" I say. "Thataka. That's no woman. Give her no such consideration. She's a demon!" says the sage as a flaming trident flies at my face. I launch an arrow and the trident shatters. My next counter-attack sends an arrow through her neck. She falls lifeless to the ground. I walk up to her limp body and stare for what feels like forever as rain flows freely on the hard cracked surface of the ground. There isn't even mud yet. Then her head jerks up and says, "Ticket, please!" "What?"
*****
As I woke up, my head hits the top bunk. "Ouch!"
"Ticket, please," said an impatient chief steward standing at my door. "Are you alright, sir?" he said without a shade of empathy.
"Okay, just battling demons in the desert. It felt so familiar somehow. Weird, huh?"
"No. You must be reading The Ramayana," he says. "Ticket, please."
"The Rama-wha?"
Author's note: I spent most of my time setting up the frame-table. I will add more context in the next story. I have shamelessly taken a lot of this scene from the opening sequence of the movie "The Darjeeling Limited." The details are all different of course, but a man is late for a train in a taxi and has to run for it in the movie. I love this movie. If you haven't watched it, you must. The dream is the story of Rama and Viswamithra battling the demon Thataka in the desert. I tried my best to divide up the story by changing tense. I do not know who effective this is. Some one let me know if it is just disruptive. The same goes for the asterisks. I wanted to start the stories off with action. We will be sticking with Rama throughout the storybook. By now, you are probably wondering about the karma aspect of my storybook. My storybook is called "Lessons in Karma" after all. I will admit that my ideas have developed and changed a lot since I've come up with the title, but I hope it all makes sense by the next story. My idea is for what's happening in these dreams to start affecting what is happening in this young man's real life. You can wonder about what implications that makes about his character for now. If this is too convoluted, please let me know and I will try to adjust the story so it makes more sense. Otherwise, I'm excited about the beginnings of my storybook.
Bibliography: Narayan, R. K. (1972) The Ramayana: A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic.
Image Information: Train station in India / Web source: India Outside My Window