by Sudipta Das
It was not easy to move through that dense vegetation. They had to chop off plants and branches to make their way. After covering some distance, Kit said to everyone, “Be alert, I have this creepy feeling that we are being followed.”
A kilometre hence, Kit’s intuition horribly turned true. Their pursuer had been moving silently behind them. Its yellow fur with brownish patches perfectly camouflaged it among the branches of the Yellow trees. Before they knew it, the king of the Yellow Forest greeted them with its ten inch long dagger like fangs pierced into the left thigh of Jik, the tiller, who had fallen back forty metres behind the rest. It was a fully grown male pangor, twenty feet long from the head to tail and at least a thousand pound in weight. Robust, two hundred and fifty pound Jik coiled his tail around the pangor’s neck to stop its breath, hit its head with his tilling equipment and tried his best to free himself from the hungry beast. But his resistances were too feeble to the animal. In no time, it fixed Jik to the ground with its forepaws and mid-legs and sunk two of its fangs in Jik’s head. Then the animal leaped off with Jik’s body in its grasp and disappeared among the branches of the Yellow trees before anyone could reach out to Jik. The Yellow Forest had claimed its first casualty.
As tragic and as horrific as the mishap was, there was little time to mourn Jik’s death. The animal knows neither good nor evil. It kills out of its instinct to satisfy its hunger. But the Hoo, whom they sought, put the lives of tens of millions of innocent Hunthadians in endless misery and jeopardy for his utter conceit and insatiable greed.
Grieved, they quietly moved on. Then, the general quiet of the forest was perturbed by a faint but continuous sound of falling water coming from a distance. Sorbet said, “We are almost there. Let’s follow that sound.”
Gradually, the faint sound turned into a roar. It was clear that they were approaching a gigantic waterfall. After another half a kilometre, they heard the noise of the waterfall loud and clear and they knew that they were very near to it. Still the waterfall was hidden from their vision. That is why they called it the Hidden Waterfall. After trekking a few hundred metres more, they reached the foot of the Yellow Hills. Then they went over the first ridge of the hills through its dense vegetation and the mighty and magnificent waterfall revealed itself. Sorbet said, “The mouth of the tunnel should be somewhere here.”
They scanned every square metre of that area but could not find the tunnel. Was the secret of the tunnel a truth or had they been running after a figment losing the life of Jik in the process. Sorbet was tense but he reaffirmed, “The tunnel must be here. My scrupulous forefathers would not make such a joke.”
Kit told him, “Look Sobret, there is only one place left to be rummaged and that is behind that column of the falling water.”
He asked one of the villagers to use his sling and hurl a stone right through the falling water. Just as Kit had guessed, the stone went right through the water column and after a couple of seconds came the reverberating sound of the stone hitting some hollow place on the other side. “Oh, the tunnel is there! But how to reach it?” said Sobret.
Kit pointed to a hundred feet tall straight trunk Yellow tree and said, “If we can chop off that trunk and put it in place through the side of the falling waters where the flow is less severe, then we have a chance.”
As Kit said, so they did. Felling the tree was like bread and butter for the axe-men. Soon the job was completed. Then Kit asked them to stand in a line behind him facing the waterfall. Each held the tail of the Hoo standing before him. This increased stability and ensured that if anyone slipped while walking on the log, the others could rescue him.
Thus, they reached the mouth of the nineteen kilometre long tunnel. They switched on their torches and ventured into the claustrophobic, uncertain darkness of the tunnel. Anything could happen there. There could be dangerous animals burrowing in the tunnel. Then, there could be some obnoxious poisonous gas accumulated in it over the centuries. Even a mild earthquake could bury all of them alive and they would never see the light of day again. But, in their minds they had already overcome death.
Fortunately for them and amazingly, but for a few blockages, the tunnel had withstood well the test of a thousand years’. The tillers did good work at digging the way through the bottlenecks and blockages. At times, the end of the tunnel seemed near and yet it was so far. The tunnel seemed unending. Their progress was slow and laborious. But, they persevered and, at last, reached the other end of the tunnel. But there was no light at the end of that tunnel. Before them was a large block of yellow stone cube, the stone with which the Yellow Palace had been constructed.
21
In The Yellow Palace
They did not know what awaited them at the other side of the block of stone. So, they carefully chipped the block and made a hole through it. They found a small vacant stone compartment.
One by one, they came out of the tunnel into the congestion of the stone compartment, which seemed like a vacant space in the basement. Once out of the tunnel, Kit, the warrior, came to his being. There was a small trapdoor at a corner of the room. In no time, Kit opened the trapdoor using his sword. Then they entered a passage. Hunet’s guards could be there around every corner. They cautiously proceeded through the passage. The air was a bit stinky. Then they heard the first sound in the palace other than their own breathing and whispers. It was an intermittent sound of groaning in pain. As they followed the sound, the stink of the air became prominent. The groan was coming from around the corner ahead of them. Kit peeped around the corner to find a horrible sight.
There was a large open space of the basement with several stone pillars in it. Metal chains and rings were fastened to each pillar. Skinny prisoners were tied to some of the pillars. They looked starved and tortured. While a few groaned intermittently, others appeared to be unconscious. Or were they dead already? Kit slowly entered the room. The prisoner chained to the nearest pillar noticed him and taking him for a palace guard, cried out, “Don’t hurt me anymore. I cannot stand the pain of my wounds. I don’t remember when I ate or drank the last time. You better kill me now.”
Kit gestured at him to be silent, went near him and whispered in his ears, “Don’t be afraid, friend. We have come to rescue you.”
They gave water and some food to the prisoners and set them free from the shackles and fetters. The brief conversations revealed that some of these prisoners were either sobers whom Hunet abhorred the most or youths who had refused to join the military. The rest were charged with various offences. The prisoners also said that there were others put behind the bars in the cells adjacent to this area of the basement, awaiting the fate of these prisoners.
Thus, the basement bore the signatures of Hunet’s tyranny. Perhaps, in the urgency to defend the palace, the guards were mostly deployed at its gates and periphery. An intrusion through the basement was not expected and so the basement was left relatively unguarded. Kit asked his squad to free all the prisoners and wait in the basement for his signal. He, Sobret and two others took the stairs to the upper floor. The door at the end of the stair was ajar. Two soldiers guarded the door from the outside. Kit and his people burst open the door and took them by surprise. Before the soldiers could react both of them were down. Then they passed through a corridor and came before a door with delicate designs curved on it. Above the door was written a word in Hoo language which means ‘treasury’. This door was towards the internal side of the palace. It was locked from inside and there were no soldiers guarding it. Kit and his people broke open the door. The treasury was a huge room with safes, vaults and chests. They opened one chest. It was full of jewels, ornaments and precious stones. Kit said to Sobret, “This treasury can make our world rich but poor Hunthadians are starving. We will come back to this place later. Let’s now find Hunet.”
They went across the treasury to its main entrance door, which was closed from the outside. It was obvious that there would be guards outside the treasury. So they positioned themselve
s on either side of the door, ready with their weapons. Then Kit made a hard knock on the door with the handle of his sword. As expected, soon the door opened and half a dozen soldiers entered the room. Before they could raise an alarm, Kit and his fellows attacked them from behind and got the better of them. They tied and gagged five of the soldiers. Kit placed the tip of his sword at the sixth, relatively frail, soldier’s throat and sternly asked him, “Where is Hunet?”
Shaking with fear, the soldier replied, “He is in the central hall with his generals.”
“Take us to the hidden chamber below the podium of the central hall. If you make any false move I shall cut you to pieces,” ordered Kit.
Thus they were taken to the hidden chamber. They locked the exit door from inside, tied and gagged the frail soldier and hid him behind a stone column. On the video display of the hidden chamber they saw Hunet sitting in his throne. His generals and officers sat in the gallery. Hunet was as animated as ever. He said, “Brave soldiers of Hunthad, we must bring the prophecy of the Book Reverend to reality at any cost. The thirteenth chapter of the Book clearly mentions that all Hoos should live in unity. Lord Huntha shall be pleased with us and bless us with His riches when we achieve this. I know how to handle the present attack on Hunthad. We will teach them a good lesson. Prepare the fusion bomb.”
“But Hunet, what about the international ban on the use of weapons of mass destruction? Millions of civilians will be killed and generations will be crippled if we use the nuke. Moreover, it could snowball into a global war and destroy Hoola itself,” opined one of his generals.
“Ah! Nothing is above the Book Reverend, you fool. With the fusion bomb we will unite the race into our yellow colour. This is an extreme situation. So, extreme measures are necessary. Our colour is in danger. It doesn’t matter whether Hoola remains or goes. Our yellow colour must live on,” pronounced Hunet.
No one dared to ask Hunet where the yellow colour would be if Hoola itself was gone? Someone from the gallery shouted, “Long live, the yellow colour.”
Then, everyone repeated in chorus, “Long live, the yellow colour.”
Hunet arose from his throne and ordered, “Prepare the fusion bomb.”
Everyone chanted, “Hunet, Hunet; Hunet, Hunet.”
The trumpet blew. Hunet held his posture. The throne descended and disappeared from the podium.
As usual, the mobile throne came to the hidden chamber below the podium where Kit and his mates were hiding to greet Hunet. Hunet stepped into the chamber. His face looked stern with authority and his ropy tail was still hoisted upwards. Then, it was the moment of truth for him. Suddenly, he was surrounded by Kit, Sobret and the other two sobers. Before Hunet could react, the tip of Kit’s sword was at the despot’s throat. They quickly tied him to the throne. Shocked beyond his wits to see both Kit and Sobret alive, Hunet’s tail dropped and so did his jaw. His nervous yellowish eyes grew as restless as ever. Kit calmly but firmly said, “Any false move and your chance to a fair trial will end here and now.”
Getting over the effects of his first shock, Hunet tried to muster some courage and said, “I don’t know how you got here but there is no way you will get away alive from here. Drop your arms and I may be lenient to you.”
“I have had enough taste of your leniency, Hunet. You have done all the harm that you can do. Your time is over now. By the name of Lord Huntha and for the sake of the innocent Hunthadians, I seize your ruling powers and arrest you,” said Sobret.
Hunet found that his first tact to raise fear in their hearts failed. Faced with imminent disaster, he resorted to his time-tested weapon, the best weapon he had ever known, his ability to debate. Amazingly, in his mind even now he seemed sure that he could not only justify all his past actions but also win over his adversaries with his words. He said, “I am Hunet, the wise. No one knows the Book Reverend of Hunthad better than I do. I rule Hunthad by the authority of the Book. Everything I have ever done was for the sake of our Yellow colour. I worked my heart out to manifest the prophecy of unity of the Hoos as stated in the Book.”
Now, Kit said, “Books can be a Hoo’s good friend. There are books full of knowledge on every conceivable subject: science, economics, history, arts, literature, philosophy and so on. Then, there are books written by outstanding authors who have mastered the art of writing interesting and entertaining stories. There is also another genre of books whose scripts purport and deliver great inspiring wisdom.
“The third kind of books has had the most profound and long lasting effects on the psyche of our race. While some of these effects have been immensely beneficial to the Hoos, the others have been equally harmful. Most devastatingly, the exclusive reliance on any one of these colour scriptures has caused the fragmentation of every aspect of the existence of our race; from the internal psychological space to the outward physical space giving rise to, among other evils, inter colour conflicts.
“Today, there is a need for a new book written with earnest and brave aspiration, envisaging an attempt at bridging the enormous gulfs of colour differences that have been caused by the exclusive reliance on any one of the existing colour scriptures.”
Hunet interrupted, “But, aren’t equality and unity great ideals?”
Kit explained, “Equality and unity may be extreme ideals but freedom and harmony are a more pragmatic approach to come to terms with the reality of the diversity that is existent in the Hoo race. For freedom and harmony, diversity must be accommodated.
“But, in their obsession with equality, the extreme Hunthadians forgot the diversity of nature. Ages of psychological grooming effected by their traditional conditioning made them want to paint the whole of multi-coloured Hoola with their monochromatic yellow. And you, Hunet, took full advantage of this psychological grooming of your compatriots to advance your selfish designs mainly by misinterpreting the Hunthadian Book Reverend. Originator of the yellow colour, Hun, and the subsequently written Book Reverend profess the unity of the race but neither dictates the destruction of freedom of all under a dictator.
“Why should everyone be called Hunet? Why should we have to paint our planet with a monochrome yellow? The moment you give a name and a form, you inevitably limit the infinite potency inherent in the innumerable diversity existent in the Hoo race. Seven billions of us are here on Hoola; so similar and yet, each one of us is so unique with unique physique, personality, intellect, temperament, needs, desires, hopes, aspirations and so on. Then, how can there be a single panacea which may suit all?
“Through different series of ‘causes and effects’ we, the Hoo race, have come this far where we find ourselves segregated into 300 odd colour countries, which, in turn, have segregated our psychological internal space as well. Interestingly, our basic and prime goals remain the same: to reach the truth and to come to terms with our existence, as it is, and to realise the essence behind that existence both externally as well as internally.
“Every child is born pure, pristine and free. It descends from freedom and then it gradually imbibes all these contaminations from its external environments, which are anything but perfect. We, grown-ups, have already been contaminated enough to merely reflect the externality in which we find ourselves. As we have dived into ignorance, our visions have become narrow and blurred and we are unable to see the truth. No matter how we may like to distinguish ourselves, after all, we are one Hoo race, the multitude of external manifestations of that one Supreme Being, one Spirit and one Soul from Whom we have descended.
“While it may be important to preserve, maintain and develop the unique identity of each colour entity, it is more vital to simultaneously remain aware of the entire whole of which each is a part and parcel.
“The name Book Reverend implies that it is not an inert object, not a mere collection of words with only meanings attached to those. It is a personality and Its essence is in Its spirit.
“Hunet, you have mugged up the Book Reverend word by word, learnt the meanings of those words and
stopped there. You never made the effort to realise the Book’s spirit and live that realisation from inside out. You have not witnessed any ascent in your own spirit. Your spirit has remained where it was before you read the Book Reverend. This is why, even now, you selfishly want to control all and transform everyone into yellow without giving any heed to the others’ freedom and their inherent right to choice of colour.
“See, where you stand now. In your plight to rob others of their freedom, you have lost your own. Your intolerance of others was bound to, sooner or later, evoke intolerance for you in the others.
“Unity by force has an inherent disadvantage. As soon as the force is taken away, that unity falls apart. Because each Hoo aspires for the freedom to be the way it is. Life under duress is agonising and unfulfilling. Unity can come from Love alone, by expanding the Self to transcend all barriers and encompass all, as they are.”
For the first time, Hunet’s most effective weapon, his power to debate, did not work. All his reasoning efforts convinced none and fell apart before the pure and unselfish wisdom of Kit. Fear started to grip his being now. He tried to hide his fear and said, “Kit, I understand now that you are the best and not me. I shall make all the arrangements to return you to Kithad with full state honour. Forgive me.”
Kit smiled and serenely said, “That won’t be necessary. I shall return to Kithad anyway. I forgive you but there are millions of others to whom you owe countless apologies.
“Now, tell your soldiers that you have transferred all your ruling powers to Sobret. Our sober friends are waiting at the prison. Ask your guards to free all the illegally arrested political prisoners. Hand over the charges of the Yellow Palace to the sober villagers and make all the arrangements so that we can reach the tower.”