Wednesday, January 19, 2011

SIMIYON




A point on paper. I sat there, leaning against the cold, hard wall- imagining myself to be that single point over that sheet of clean white paper. That was what I was. An atom. Years of life had taught me finally, to define myself. Place myself into that frame of life's camera. An atom. A closer shot, perhaps might give you an idea of how I look. The length and breadth or may be, even the depth!

He, however always believed that we spread out! We take shapes. Forms. "What do you mean"? I remember, asking him once. He would not know. But he was more than an atom. He believed it. Simiyon.

Villages. Now that I think about them- provide you spaces deep within- that later expand within you. Spaces- so vast, that the valleys in our heart- begin to fill with memories of the dust from the first harvest of the season. The bunch of Neem leaves in the hands of the temple priest. Bangles from the fair. The statues of silver and bronze in the temple. They held life in them. A life that came out of thoughts, beliefs and hopes of people- who believed that tomorrow could be a day that would end all their sufferings.

The music in the school bell. The era of black or white; no grey. Careless. Unafraid. An age characterized by its innocence. It’s a pity that the beauty in innocence is only realized after losing it. I now would wonder at times- "I was all that"! Some people, I've seen, are born old. Old granny says, ".. remains of the gone lives..". I don't know. I would imagine myself dying and being born. In flashes. A splash of colours. Cockeyed. But wonders, back then!

Our school was quite big. Children from neighbouring villages would also come in there- to learn. Just before the bell rings at four in the evening, we’d hear the coconuts, being broken and offered to the Lord, in the nearby temple. There begins a race- the first race of my life, the winner- collects the maximum coconut pieces off the ground. A rush of life, straight towards the temple, where the broken pieces of coconut awaited the tiny little hands to pick them up and dust them.

“Krishnaa….”

I turned to my left. Dark- yet his eyes, sparkling like diamonds- his forehead, sweating hard- his eyes knew joys unknown to others. His words, his voice, his thoughts- were all unlike those of the boys of his age. The shirt was torn- yet it held, in it- a small bundle, which he held close over his upper abdomen- his prize!

"Didn't you get any? Here.. Take some..", said Simiyon and offered me a few of those coconut pieces! He gladly shared his prize, with me.

A hero is someone who inspires. Kind, helpful and efficient - the one, everyone looks up to! Simiyon, I could tell, was one. His bright eyes- always looked for new paths to tread, new tasks to try. Often, between classes, he told me stories of his “work”.

“Giving shape to a piece of wood”- he would say. “You would see the shape grow in front of your eyes- it’s as though you create! Like God”! He would say. “Fetching the fallen vessels from the bottom of the well…”! I would ask him- in wonder- “But how would you go into the well? Aren’t you afraid? My granny says, there are ghosts down into the well”! “Afraid?” he would reply, “Why should I be? It’s a very simple job! And believe me; I have been there many times. There are no ghosts. Besides- the well is a step closer to Earth. Don’t you feel so”? I remember very well- how I could not sit for a week, after I was beaten up by father for trying to get down our well!

A pocket full of coins! A rarity. A symbol of richness. Especially for a school boy. When he showed me a hand full of coins, I could not help but wonder at his achievement. Simiyon was my Hero! He said he “worked”. He can do anything. He can be anything! I remember the autumn fair- in my village that year. I was a crying little boy- named Krishna, craving for the unaffordable sweets and cotton candies! And there he was- actually selling them! I secretly prayed that night- “Oh God! When I grow up, I want to be like Simiyon”!

May be it was my thoughts- that had outlined my life. Limiting my transformation- to an atom! Thoughts have been my hobby! I used to wonder, what he sought. I used to ask him- what he wanted to be. “Oh.. Many things..”, he’d say, smiling. “How can you be many things? You can be just one thing”, I would say. I wanted to prove, at times, that I can be impressive to him. But he’d just say- “Oh yes, you can be”! Just that. Nothing else.

Years had re-written my life into the pages of the city. A life I had not imagined back then as a small boy. A life away from all my friends- yet a life that gave me new friends, a better education, a job and a new family! But I wanted to look back- see the reflections of a boy Krishna, whom I had left behind. And last summer…

Simiyon knew me the moment he saw me. His eyes reflected the same joy as mine. He was just the same. Dark- yet his eyes sparkling like diamonds- beads of sweat upon his forehead. Yet, his wrinkles could pass him for an older man. His face was that of a man who had endured wrath of the Time. A family to support and money scarce- he worked round the clock- on jobs, countless. The hero in him lived, still young- though I realized that this time, it was my eyes that failed to see the hero in him.

Heroes- I realized for the first time- are a fantasy that kept human minds alive. My present eyes saw him as a kaleidoscope. An ever-changing pattern of colourful images, blurring the eyes with beauty beyond imagination when seen in light. Yet, deep down, they are, but broken pieces of glass. Heroes are just the same. The big screen shows only the white. No Black, no Grey.

I needed the eyes of a little boy named Krishna, whom I had left behind, long ago- on the sand and rocks of a small yet beautiful village. I had left him behind, hoping that he’d live there, forever- unblemished by the burning rays of a stubborn rat race. He, I knew would certainly to see things the way they are- uncontaminated by the ego of intelligence. I looked into his eyes and tried to see my friend again, to see him in the light, to see my lost hero, my Simiyon.


PS: Picture courtesy- Thank you Google!


32 comments:

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

You know, this is the second instance today when I am reading/hearing anything of this sort. The first one was a radio broadcast shared by a friend on facebook, and no matter how different the two stories were, the central theme was the same. The hero, whom we recognized when we were small, young and now when we looked back upon the same, we couldn't find him.
But as you said, the hero in him never died, our eyes changed. Beautiful story, for beauty lies in simple things.

Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete

magiceye said...

brilliant! vivid imagery!!

பார்வையாளன் said...

gud raiting . Tankz

Chitra said...

I knew would certainly to see things the way they are- uncontaminated by the ego of intelligence. I looked into his eyes and tried to see my friend again, to see him in the light, to see my lost hero, my Simiyon.

..... More meaningful .... I liked it.

Kalyan said...

very well written.

Bedazzled said...

Lovely flow of writing ! so poetic and lyrical.. "Thoughts are my hobbies"..lol.I am a little in love with Simiyon myself ,now :-)

Arv said...

Hi Matangi,

quite a thought provoking post... makes me wanna take a trip down the past :)

well written mate... have a nice day... cheers...

Alka Gurha said...

That is some imagination....Bravo!

Bikramjit said...

first time here and i am amazed at the skill of writing ... I loved the story
awww and he shared the coconut pieces niceee...

and so many ideas you have put in the story the village ,the mandir.. friends school..

Glad one went back to see the same old friend again. mmm I like that part cause i myself am a firm beleiver of friendship, once a friend shud always be a friend .. I know situations chage things change priorities change but our central values should not change ..

Loved the story :)

Bikram's

Tanvi said...

Simplicity personified!! Very lovely.. :) Visited a bit too late though, sorry! Thanks for visiting me.. keep coming!

Cheers,

Vivek Chamoli said...

Hi,

Thanks for dropping by and leaving lovely comment.

you are fantastic , the way you write amazing.
you should star writing a Novel soon.
I truly loved it :)

thanks for sharing ..
take care
keep smiling :)
Vivek

Ria said...

Beautifully written post!! Kudos to u for writing it.

Amber Light said...

Children see goodness in everything and they are right about it. Grownups see things that don't matter at all.
Good one Matangi! Love the imagery.

Sayak said...

Poignant tale of a true hero narrated with incessant fervour and stark simplicity. Wonderful!

RamMmm said...

The first time I read this post, Mao Zedong's picture distracted me. I was looking for a reference to him somewhere. Nope, it wasn't to be. Next was intrigued by the name 'Simiyon' (rare name though, Google yields a few people/firms with Simiyon as name). Looked somewhat like a sci-fi name. Again, no sci-fi references in your narrative.

Pass 2-Your last 2 paras define the post. That was an interesting perspective of a hero being a part of a glass in a kaleidoscope and typically projected white. Thought you were playing with singularity and dualism in one of your paragraphs and with the name Krishnaa, subtly, but let them be as is; actually were you?

As magiceye states above, the imagery that you bring in is brilliant. Nice one.

faitaccompli said...

This is the best I have read here so far...
beautiful beyond words...
Matangi... you're made for bigger things..keep it going! :)

Parul

Matangi Mawley said...

@ blasphemous...

ya... Heroes are life-defining at times...
thanks! :)

Matangi Mawley said...

@magic eye...

thanks!

Matangi Mawley said...

@ parvaiyalan...

thanks!

Matangi Mawley said...

@ chitra...

thanks!

Matangi Mawley said...

@ kalyan...

thanks!

Matangi Mawley said...

@bedazzled...

:) me too... a writer does fall in love with his/her character...

thanks!

Matangi Mawley said...

@ arv...

thanks!

Matangi Mawley said...

@ alka...

thanks!

Matangi Mawley said...

@ bikram...

friends make life livable!

thanks!

Matangi Mawley said...

@ tanvi...

thanks! :)

Matangi Mawley said...

@ vivek...

:) thanks a ton!

Matangi Mawley said...

@ ria...

thanks! :)

Matangi Mawley said...

@ amber light...

thanks! :)

Matangi Mawley said...

@ sayak...

thanks!

Matangi Mawley said...

@ ramm...

Simiyon-- even I had not heard of the name before... It was my dad who told me about him... I am guessing when you 'Tamilize' Simon- you get Simiyon... :)

thanks a ton! :)

Matangi Mawley said...

@ parul...

thanks! :)

A BLOG FOR ALL...

OnePlusYou Quizzes and Widgets

Created by OnePlusYou

ad on the top..