"The Girl on the Balcony"
"The Ramayana is a very
popular, very important story in India. You're telling me you've never
heard of it?" said the chief steward as he threw a little faded black
book in my lap.
I handed him my ticket. "No. I haven't. You're saying that this is like my dream?"
"What you described is in that book. Kind of weird if you've never heard of it," he said as stepped backwards out of the tiny cabin and slid the paper-thin door shut.
"The Ramayana. Alright." The fan in my cabin was working very hard, but you'd never know it. It was hot as hell. The fan blades rubbed against the outer guard intermittently with the shifts in the train. I didn't really notice it much anymore. We were already outside of Agra. I watched a man lead a small herd of lean cows across a bridge. There was no work involved. They followed him like eager children, matching each footstep with perfect pace. I smiled to myself.
I was starting to feel a little less claustrophobic. Agra is a very crowded city in a very crowded country. It's like a rock festival everywhere - a perpetual logjam of people. Now huts dotted the landscape. I could actually look out for a while without seeing a single person. I decided would read the book for a while when a big cloud of dust gathered outside my window. "What the hell?" A man had jumped from the train or fell from the train. I didn't know but he rolled for what seemed like forever. I opened my window and looked. When he stopped rolling he wasn't moving. No one else was looking. I guess I was the only one who noticed.
There was a hard slap on my door. It scared me. I hit my head on the top of my window and fell back into my tiny dining table. The door slid open and a woman collapsed into my arms. Blood was everywhere. I could feel it soaking through my shirt. She was horrified. She was trying to say something, but she was choking on her words. "Vis... Vish," was all she could get out as she feel to the floor. I gasped. There was a gaping hole in her neck. It looked like a stab wound. I stood there in shock - staring. My trance was broken by a woman's scream. She was walking by my cabin. The only thing she saw was me standing over a dead body with blood all over me. Perfect. Before I could react, half of the train was outside of my cabin yelling at each other. I was convicted. Everyone flew sideways as the train screeched across the track to stop. Word got to the engineer fast. "No. No. No. Listen, I didn't do this! I don't have a-" Security broke through the madness and pistol-whipped me. Now there was nothing but black.
I have an entourage. The guy that was with me in the desert is walking with me. We are dressed like princes as we approach this huge castle. Lots of things are happening at once. People are everywhere. There's a market. There's a festival. Everything is moving fast in double, triple-time. An elephant glides past. There's an arena with a crowd cheering. It feels like I walk a couple miles in ten seconds as we approach the entrance to the castle. Everything slows down as we cross the moat. Now it feels like I'm walking in sand. I look up to the balcony. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen is playing with her attendants. Our eyes meet. She's royalty. Her jewels flash like lightning in the sun. Everything has stopped now. We're staring. Everything fades.
Now I'm in another great hall in front of a king. My muscles tighten. Everyone watches as I bend this massive, beautiful bow and wrap a string around both ends. The king looks both frightened and thrilled as the girl I saw steps to the bottom of the stairs in the hall. She smiles and says, "Wake up."
"Wake up," said the chief steward. He slapped me. "Wake up."
"Alright. I'm awake," I said. I had a feeling that I was going to be sorry I was awake.
"Don't sue me," he said.
"What?" Everything was still cloudy. I felt dried blood on my forehead. I didn't know if it was mine or hers. I felt my forehead and a shot of pain shot across my body.
It was my blood.
The steward was agitated. He was really concerned about my bleeding head. The bastard who hit me was standing over him looking underwhelmed. "We know you didn't do it," he said. "Found knife on other side of train." The security guard walked away. His half-ass job was done, I guess. "I will move your things to another cabin while we clean this up," the steward said as he walked out. "Your trip is free for as long as you like. Just don't sue me." A beautiful train attendant took his place and placed a wet rag on my head. Our eyes met. After a few seconds, I realized I was staring. She was embarrassed and flushed. Maybe it was the head wound making me woozy, but I was stunned by her. She had the prettiest eyes I had ever seen. She was knelling over me with both hands pressing on my gash. She started to look away from my eyes to see what she was doing and jerked up to meet her eyes again. She laughed. "I'm going to get you some medicine," she said. Then she left. "Wow."
Author's note: Now we are to the story of Rama and Sita where they meet for the first time. I hope now that my karma idea makes more sense. In the first dream, our protagonist dreams about fighting the demon Thataka in the desert. If you read my first story, or if you remember from the Ramayana, Rama pierces the demon threw the neck with an arrow. Now our hero is blamed for the death of a woman with a wound in her neck. I realize now how much more time I'm spending on the frametable than the stories. The main reason behind this is the way dreams usually are. They are distorted and choppy representations of events. There is not a lot of detail. They happen quick and they bend reality. I hope that this isn't a problem for anyone. If you would prefer more of the actual dream, please let me know. I'm open to adjust the way I'm presenting everything for the last story. I'm a little disappointed, because I really think that I need about three more of these stories to develop this thing the way I want to, so I'm going to have to figure out a way to either get where I want to go in a shorter amount of time or change the ending. I'm a little torn.
Bibliography: Narayan, R. K. (1972) The Ramayana: A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic.
Image Information: Chief steward of the train. / Web source: Movie Reporter
I handed him my ticket. "No. I haven't. You're saying that this is like my dream?"
"What you described is in that book. Kind of weird if you've never heard of it," he said as stepped backwards out of the tiny cabin and slid the paper-thin door shut.
"The Ramayana. Alright." The fan in my cabin was working very hard, but you'd never know it. It was hot as hell. The fan blades rubbed against the outer guard intermittently with the shifts in the train. I didn't really notice it much anymore. We were already outside of Agra. I watched a man lead a small herd of lean cows across a bridge. There was no work involved. They followed him like eager children, matching each footstep with perfect pace. I smiled to myself.
I was starting to feel a little less claustrophobic. Agra is a very crowded city in a very crowded country. It's like a rock festival everywhere - a perpetual logjam of people. Now huts dotted the landscape. I could actually look out for a while without seeing a single person. I decided would read the book for a while when a big cloud of dust gathered outside my window. "What the hell?" A man had jumped from the train or fell from the train. I didn't know but he rolled for what seemed like forever. I opened my window and looked. When he stopped rolling he wasn't moving. No one else was looking. I guess I was the only one who noticed.
There was a hard slap on my door. It scared me. I hit my head on the top of my window and fell back into my tiny dining table. The door slid open and a woman collapsed into my arms. Blood was everywhere. I could feel it soaking through my shirt. She was horrified. She was trying to say something, but she was choking on her words. "Vis... Vish," was all she could get out as she feel to the floor. I gasped. There was a gaping hole in her neck. It looked like a stab wound. I stood there in shock - staring. My trance was broken by a woman's scream. She was walking by my cabin. The only thing she saw was me standing over a dead body with blood all over me. Perfect. Before I could react, half of the train was outside of my cabin yelling at each other. I was convicted. Everyone flew sideways as the train screeched across the track to stop. Word got to the engineer fast. "No. No. No. Listen, I didn't do this! I don't have a-" Security broke through the madness and pistol-whipped me. Now there was nothing but black.
*****
I have an entourage. The guy that was with me in the desert is walking with me. We are dressed like princes as we approach this huge castle. Lots of things are happening at once. People are everywhere. There's a market. There's a festival. Everything is moving fast in double, triple-time. An elephant glides past. There's an arena with a crowd cheering. It feels like I walk a couple miles in ten seconds as we approach the entrance to the castle. Everything slows down as we cross the moat. Now it feels like I'm walking in sand. I look up to the balcony. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen is playing with her attendants. Our eyes meet. She's royalty. Her jewels flash like lightning in the sun. Everything has stopped now. We're staring. Everything fades.
Now I'm in another great hall in front of a king. My muscles tighten. Everyone watches as I bend this massive, beautiful bow and wrap a string around both ends. The king looks both frightened and thrilled as the girl I saw steps to the bottom of the stairs in the hall. She smiles and says, "Wake up."
*****
"Wake up," said the chief steward. He slapped me. "Wake up."
"Alright. I'm awake," I said. I had a feeling that I was going to be sorry I was awake.
"Don't sue me," he said.
"What?" Everything was still cloudy. I felt dried blood on my forehead. I didn't know if it was mine or hers. I felt my forehead and a shot of pain shot across my body.
It was my blood.
The steward was agitated. He was really concerned about my bleeding head. The bastard who hit me was standing over him looking underwhelmed. "We know you didn't do it," he said. "Found knife on other side of train." The security guard walked away. His half-ass job was done, I guess. "I will move your things to another cabin while we clean this up," the steward said as he walked out. "Your trip is free for as long as you like. Just don't sue me." A beautiful train attendant took his place and placed a wet rag on my head. Our eyes met. After a few seconds, I realized I was staring. She was embarrassed and flushed. Maybe it was the head wound making me woozy, but I was stunned by her. She had the prettiest eyes I had ever seen. She was knelling over me with both hands pressing on my gash. She started to look away from my eyes to see what she was doing and jerked up to meet her eyes again. She laughed. "I'm going to get you some medicine," she said. Then she left. "Wow."
Author's note: Now we are to the story of Rama and Sita where they meet for the first time. I hope now that my karma idea makes more sense. In the first dream, our protagonist dreams about fighting the demon Thataka in the desert. If you read my first story, or if you remember from the Ramayana, Rama pierces the demon threw the neck with an arrow. Now our hero is blamed for the death of a woman with a wound in her neck. I realize now how much more time I'm spending on the frametable than the stories. The main reason behind this is the way dreams usually are. They are distorted and choppy representations of events. There is not a lot of detail. They happen quick and they bend reality. I hope that this isn't a problem for anyone. If you would prefer more of the actual dream, please let me know. I'm open to adjust the way I'm presenting everything for the last story. I'm a little disappointed, because I really think that I need about three more of these stories to develop this thing the way I want to, so I'm going to have to figure out a way to either get where I want to go in a shorter amount of time or change the ending. I'm a little torn.
Bibliography: Narayan, R. K. (1972) The Ramayana: A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic.
Image Information: Chief steward of the train. / Web source: Movie Reporter