Tags:
Journalism of Courage
It was a twisted night, fit only for the demons of the underworld to cavort around in the haunting gleam of the moonlight. It cast its white light all over the countryside, resisting the moody efforts of the clouds to overshadow it. Not a single creature stirred in the cold emptiness, not even the occasional owl with its huge wingspread, which was unusual on a cold winter evening. Crickets didn8217;t chirp either, it was as if some invisible pair of scissors had cut off all their wings. A single pathway zigzagged through the white fields: a winding road that seemed to beckon any wayward passers-by to some strange doom.
The grass shuddered in the cold of the night, a pale wind brewing up from the South West. The moon beat down with unrelenting fury, turning everything to a brilliant white fire. It was about one am when the entire landscape was disturbed by a humming: faint at first but getting more distinct by the second. The countryside seemed to awaken, perplexed by this unusual occurrence. The insects began avigorous noise, but that was soon drowned by the highpitched hum. Rodents curiously peered out from their holes skywards, eyes widening. Even in their primitive language, their primitive world, every creature could comprehend the weird event, and it did not make them happy. For it was passed down from generation to generation, a message spanning millenia, timeless centuries that passed within the blink of an eye, waiting for a time that never seemed to arrive, until tonight. This8230; thing, this entity, was the very reason that life existed, the reason that life continued without seeming purpose. They had been told by their forefathers, who in turn were told by their forefathers, that the day would arrive, a day when it would return.
It was here.
Not even evolution could defy the arrival of the Supreme Being. It recognised its children even though its absence had seen the face of the earth change, dramatically. As little eyes looked up in awe at the descending entity, panic signals ran scurriedly from onesoul to another, awakening those asleep, bringing every species into one huge congregation. They would have to forget hunting, foraging, sleeping, and doing whatever chore they were engaged in that night.
And then the world was cast into darkness. It was horrible. The sun and the moon were both blotted out, inked by some unknown presence. Stars that twinkled did not do so any more. Light vanished as though it had never existed. The screams of creatures everywhere echoed throughout the universe, the cries of a world in its dying throes. Unknown to anyone, the universe was self-destructing. It was swallowing itself in one mighty mouthful, gluttonous and indifferent. Though darkness prevailed, life flashed before the earth8217;s eyes in a blaze of glory. And then, a final tumultuous roar singed the air. It was the last sound that was heard by anyone in a long time.
The universe had to start from scratch. The second creation, the first destroyed by it. Our quest to know the truth had abruptly ended. Maybe thesecond innings would reveal the secrets of creation. To the ears of the Supreme Being, the silence was deafening.
The author of the story, is a student of Bombay Scottish, Mumbai.
