Devil's Chronicles : Chapter 4

When she closed up the shop that evening and walked towards her apartment , she felt a moment of anxiety. It was unusually dark ; even the streetlights seemed to have difficulty penetrating its thick envelope , so much so that there were rings of light around each posts with sheer blackness separating it.

She held her purse next to her chest and walked faster .She didn’t slow down until she was in her flat with the door locked behind her. She went straight to the bedroom, changed into her night dress and started the dinner.

She called up her neighbour, who baby sat her son after he got back from his preschool, to let her know that she was back and that she will be there to pick him up. With the dinner still on fire, she went to the next door flat to collect her son.

She could hear the laughter and the running feet when she rang the bell. Her neighbour, a kindly mother of two , opened the door. Her son, wedged out from behind her with his school bag in one hand and the other reaching out to be picked up.

The same sequence every time. She picked him up , thanked the neighbour and carried him to her flat.

Her heart melts with each jibberish he spoke; a language only she understood, in some inner level. He mixed his baby language with common place words like ‘ok’ , ‘its ok’ , ‘naughty boy’. She asked him about his school, checked his lunch box to see if the sandwich and biscut she had packed in the morning was finished. She always worried about his eating. He was so thin. Big head and skinny body. Her husband kids about that by calling him a match stick.

Once in the flat, she undress the child and put him in his pyjamas. The dinner is done and she feeds the relectent child.

Her husband walks in when the child is nodding off to sleep, cradled in her arms as she watches the tv. The dinner is already placed on the dining table. The man walks over to his wife and takes the child, kissing him and takes him to the bedroom.

At that moment everyday, everything makes sense. They are a family; codependent, solitary,nuclear; loved , reciprocated : family.

She watched the father tucking his son into bed, sitting in the dark room, still in his office clothes. She stood by the door, hesitating to break the spell. She watches while her husband kiss her son's forehead and silently walks over to join her.

They stood together , holding each other , taking in the vision of their sleeping son; in silence.

Each together, yet separate , in the myrid of thoughts that passed through their minds.

Devils Chronicles - Chapter 3

I gave it couple of days before paying her my next visit. This time I walked in just before she closed for lunch. She seemed to expect me.

‘I was just about to close. Would you like to join me for lunch?’

‘That will be nice. I really would like to get another book after that. I read the book you gave me again. I always find it amazing how the same book which is never changing can have a different impact on you in relation to the time when you read it.’

She smiled. She knew what I meant. It was a movie. She had seen it when she was young and it had the most profound effect on her, and after marriage, she had insisted her husband to rent this movie. She could not stop raving about the story line to her husband. After dinner they had sat down expectedly to watch it. She, gleefully holding onto her husband’s forearms in excitement. But the movie proved to be a damp squid. The story seemed so ordinary and full of drawn out dramas. The actors seemed to be overacting. The heroine seemed so melodramatic and childish. The problems they faced seemed so petty. Her husband had tried to put on a ‘this is a great movie’ front for her benefit which irritated her more. What had happened? She had changed, evolved, grown. Her perspectives had changed.

‘I know what you mean’ she said as she switched off the lights and turned the sign to ‘Closed’. I stepped outside and waited while she locked the door.

‘I normally have my lunch at this restaurant on the corner. Its only walking distance away.’

I nodded. I followed her to the restaurant. It was not so crowded yet. We found a table near the window which faced the street. I like watching life go by. I told her to order for me also; something light.

After the waiter had taken the order and left she faced me, looked at me squarely.

‘I am really sorry about the other day. I thought about what you had said. I have to admit that there’s truth in what you said. I know that I believe in something that I have no experience of. I am not a very spiritual person. I don’t try to understand the great mystic reasoning behind life. I am a housewife who is also working. I got my own worries. I got a son who is ready to go to kindergarten. We are not financially well off. I try to do my part by taking this job as a librarian. I don’t even read.’ She laughed. I smiled.

‘What I am trying to say is that, when you said all those things, you were being cruel. Or so I thought. Later on I realized that you had not done that with an intention to hurt me. I am the one who initiated the conversation and you told me what you thought....’

‘Know’ I said quietly.

‘What?’ she seemed surprised by my intrusion into her monologue.

‘Know…what I know, not what I thought.’

The waiter came with our order. He laid out the dishes and left. We remained quite until he left.

‘I don’t understand. Your opinion about that is always an idea, like you said mine were. How can you state that it’s the way things actually are? How can you for certainty claim that what I believe in or the faith that I follow is wrong?’

She seemed more in control today than our tirade before. I was glad that finally we will be able to discuss this without an outburst.

I took the salad leaf with my hands, ignoring the fork. Always liked touching what I eat. Using these senses. It was so beautiful. She waited while I chewed the crunchy lettuce leaf.

‘Have your lunch, while I devour this salad. Since you asked me, I shall tell you but you must promise me to listen…truly listen with your ears. Let what I say be understood by your head. Detach your feeling when you listen. Pretend as if you are reading a book. What we are having is a discussion, not an argument. Understand this. My intentions are not to hurt you nor am I saying this in any personal context. The truth is simple, its you who complicate it’

“Me?’

‘Not you personally but all of human beings. You expect things to be complex where it is not. You seek to hide. You don’t want answers, you want orders. You are a scared race. Fear is your driving force.’

‘Fear?’ a piece of chicken dangled from her fork which she held in her hands.

‘Yes, fear. Think about it. Forget your religious books, let’s not even go there. It’s filled with words to inspire fear. Look at your life. You live in constant fear. You are taught to fear early on in your life. The boogy man will come to get you if you don’t go to sleep. You will grow thin and die like those kids on TV if you don’t eat. You will be living on the street if you don’t study. You will spend all your life alone and miserable like that aunt if you don’t marry at the correct age. You have to put up and compromise your needs in your marriage if you don’t want your husband to leave you or worse find someone else. You have to have a child for ‘what will the others think of us’ and then you do the same to your child. You live in constant fear. So it’s not surprising that you are scared about your god also. You created him to be a fearful god.’

‘Created God? We didn’t create god, he created us.’ She had stopped eating. Yet this time I didn’t feel from her repulsion, she wanted to know.

‘You do believe that you are made in the image of god?’

‘Yes.’

‘God is attribute less, which means that you can attribute any qualities to him and that too will be him. You take away any qualities, yet he will not diminish. He is experiencing himself through his creation. So you can give god any mask and everything will fit. The god you worship is created by you. All forces in nature are neutral. You can harness those forces. God too is neutral. You can harness god to create anything. Like electricity, wind, sunlight, gravity…anything. Think about it. Electricity is responsible for the light in the bulb, but you created the bulb to harness that electricity to create light, you created the heater to make electricity into heat, the electric car to create transportation. The forces exist for you to harness any way you choose. So too is god. Nothing is hidden from you. You can learn and understand the working of the infinite by just observing the world around you. Nothing is complicated, everything is simple. Your fear prevents you from accepting the truth.’

I stopped here. The salad was beckoning me. I let the time I spend eating for her to assimilate what I have revealed to her and to give her time to finish her food. She ate in silence. So did I.

We didn’t say anything even when the waiter brought the bill, which was paid by her, absentmindedly. I smiled at waiter and thanked him before following her out.

We walked towards the bookshop.

‘I still got 40 minutes more before I open the shop again’, she said. ‘ I normally go and sit in that park until its time , sometimes I bring a magazine. Would you like to join me? I would like to continue the conversation’

‘Sure’

She lead the way to a park near the restaurant. It was a median converted into a park, with couple of benches and some trees offering shade from the sun and well manicured lawns. She sat on a bench which was not too sullied by pigeon shit. I sat next to her.

‘ What about evil? If what you say is true, then you can harness god for evil purpose also.’

‘ Yes you can.’

‘ That does not seem right.’

‘ Why doesn’t it seem right? You are assuming that god will reject any evil purpose done through him. Is gravity responsible for the death when you push someone from a building? Then again what exactly is evil? Is not good and bad a perception ? Sati was considered in ancient times as an honorable way for a hindu widow to die, today you find that barbaric. Women were tried ,tortured and put to death in Salem in the name of witch craft, today you would laugh at the reasons which could have condemned a person then. A man murdering another is considered by you as evil, yet when your courts sentences him to death, that becomes justice. Everything is relative. In the natural order of things theres no chaos. Everything is perfect, where it should be, how YOU want it to be .’

‘ How can you call the world around you perfect?' She retaliated, ' What about the thousands dying of hunger in Africa when surplus food stocks are being destroyed or wasted in other countries? Why wasn’t the earth created with equal amount of abudance ? Why are some fertile while others are not? Why are some cruel and others kind? Evil exist all around us and only by god’s intervention can we hope to survive in such a hostile world. Its only by his benevolence that we can understand and be good human beings in this world. I belive that we are punished to live amongst evil and if we hold god within us we can surpass the evil around us and become one with gos and live in paradise. I belive that we are given this so that we will strive for paradise….’

‘where is god in this picture?’ I enquired.

‘Stop! Let me complete' She snapped, 'I know what you will say. This is all to do with us. Where does god picture? God exist all around us just like evil. All around us is the battle between good and evil . Just like there are good people and bad people. Just like there are fertile areas and deserts. By going with what you are saying and that if I have to understand the working of the universe all I have to do is look around me , then what I see is a constant struggle between bad and good. If everyone obeys the commandments that has been given by god himself , we can make a heaven on earth. Jesus has said that the kingdom is at hand, I believe that if we can all strive to be like what has been told to us to be, then we can remove evil and change the very world that we live in and make it the kingdom. We can have heaven on earth.’

She stopped. I was ecstatic . Finally she was speaking , revealing.
Passion . What is life without it?
Questions…what is life without it?
Anger…what is faith without it?

‘ Let me get this clear.' I said, 'Evil exist and so does good. God is good and evil is not part of his design. You live in this world that is abundant with bad. God has given you a set of rules to live by to overcome the bad times or rather understand what is going on around you and if the whole world lives by these rules then the evil will cease to exist and you will make the world around you heaven … hmmm.. is it only me or do you also see how naïve that sounds? You had answered most of your questions in your question.What I understand from what you just said,is that you are the one who has to do all the doing. You have to live by the rules. You have to make the changes. You have to obey. You have to. My question still stands, where does god picture? The one who made the rules? He creates a world , makes it intentially evil and then puts you there and gives you rules to fight the evil and make it all whole again. Where is the reason? For what purpose? Divine plan? Whats divine about such a sadistic plan? Seems to me that the odds are stacked against you and pray, let me ask you, what does happens if you don’t partake in this game? Are you punished? Why are you punished for not accepting this game that god seems to have invented for his own delight? Aren’t you capable of understanding that you are behaving likes pawns when you are given enough sense to understand or know when you are being a pawn? Don’t you think its more pathetic when you are aware of your status and yet you continue your actions and thoughts? Don’t you think its cowardly? Did your god want you to be cowards?’


She looked at me. The afternoon heat enveloped us.

‘ So much hatred .' She wispered,'who are you? There seems to pulsate from you so much anger. Are you asking me or are you stating? Why do I get this feeling that this is not a passing debate between two strangers? You are here to get an answer. Iam no longer comfortable. I don’t think its because you are shaking my faith any longer ; its something about you. Who are you?’

There always comes a time in my existence that my real self shines through. If you meet your conscience on the street, either you will consider him your best of friends or your worst enemy . No matter who or what I portray when I approach you, I have learned to realize that , some inane sense in you always recognize me for who iam. Iam not you.

‘ Iam whoever you want me to be.' I answered,'Iam one like you, who sees things and cannot accept this drummed in concept of how our religions wants us to be. I see and understand my real nature and respects it, knowing that that what iam is the only real thing that I know exist. Every thing else is a perception . my view of the world around me. To me , acknowledging without understanding is the worst sin that I can do to myself. Therefore iam also a questionnaire .’

I sat back . The wooden bench back rest was warm. I knew that I have answered her question to satisfy her for the moment. Later on , when she is lying down in her bed with her husband she will see that I haven’t answered her real question. What am I supposed to tell her? Iam the devil? That is always such a conversation stopper.

‘ So,' She retorted,' in order to get your answer, you seek it from others? So your truth , or whatever you derive as your truth, will have to come from another? Is your questions meant to understand or is it meant as a prelude to my teaching of your truth? Either way you just negated your concept of your understanding, of your real self. If you know the truth , why do you question? If I knew the truth, I would shut up’

Bravo!

Sometimes you realize yourself. I have seen that for eons . In my presence you become sometimes heroic. What she said was so true. When you come upon real knowledge you will become silent. What else can you be? No one who has not experienced it will be able to understand it. Explaining it will be like the age old story of the blind men who describe what an elephant is. So, the only solution to an enlighted one is silence. The eternal paradox : I have caught up ,now you catch up.

My test for her was far from over. Like most of you, in the midst of your emotions you have struck upon a truth. A truth still remains a myth until you realize its worth , its potential to release you. So I stalled . If you can recall and still feel its worth , given time , then you know that you have stumbled on something worthwhile.

‘ Its getting late. You have to open the shop’ I stood up.

It never ceases to amaze me how much you value your work. You seem to always forget that you started to work as a mean to sustain your life.

‘ You are right,” she said, glancing hastly at her watch.

She got up from the bench and we walked towards the book shop. We didn’t speak until she reached the door. She took out the keys to open the door. The keys wre dangling from a cute mickey mouse keychain.

‘ I will see you later’ I said, moving towards the road . She turned towards me and smiled . She had forgotten.

I watched her as she entered her library and went into her automode of turning on the lights and arranging the books on the counter. Then I dissipated.

Pride. I agree . Whats the fun in being what you are if you cant be recognized?

I saw her surprise in not seeing me where I was supposed to be when she sat at her desk. But it quickly vanished , when the next customer walked in.

Devils Chronicles - Chapter 2

When she walked back to her shop, her mind was still on the conversation she had with the old man. She was still feeling guilty about her outburst. It’s been such a bad morning. Of late she has been noticing an eagerness to please in her husband, which she viewed with a little suspicion. In the beginning it was very flattering. She had gone back home with her son to visit her parents and her husband had stayed behind. He has been extremely attentive when she came back. Very attentive. Compliments..gifts..restaurant dinners. She reveled in all the attentions. Now she has thing nagging feeling with she cannot put her finger on. It started last night. The child was asleep and she moved towards her husband and she felt a distance in his loving making- as if she wasn’t there. She felt undesired and strangely unsatisfied by the end of it. Maybe it was all in her head. Maybe he had a tiring day at work. Who can know what goes on in a man’s head?

The old man. There was something so fatherly about him. As if he carried the worries of the world on his shoulders. He had this tired look and the first time he came to her shop, she immediately poured a glass of water for him and he drank it with such a relish. He has always been quiet and it’s funny how very little she
knew about him. He had no routine timing. He sometimes walk in just when she is about to close and asks her for the book she has picked for him. That’s another thing she has started doing for him. She had a fair idea the books he likes to read. He is so not into fiction.

‘There’s so much of life around and no amount of fiction can really be fictitious, since it will be contain someone’s life in it- I would rather read life’

Whatever that means. This is what fascinated her about him. She reminded her of her favorite chemistry professor. These ramblings which made sense when she heard it but cannot put in context to anything later.

She liked talking to him. She always felt she is the one who had to initiate it. He was quite and non intrusive, one has to draw him to a conversation and it’s a delight to hear his insights which are always such an eye-opener.

She was surprised at today’s conversation. She never realized how provoked she became. She had assumed him to be something else in regards to religion. He did have a priestly look. His discourse was a shocker for her. It was the passion in which he said it, as if this is what he is all about. For a brief moment, he sacred her. How silly!

‘Perhaps I should invite him during my lunch break. That should make it up for my behavior. He looks like he would like some company.’

Well, that was that. She felt a lot better after she had made her resolution. She always did have remedies to suit all situations. Like a kiss on a child’s bruised knee.

Devil's Chronicles : Chapter 1

The shop was in decrepit. Part of a residential complex. Ground floor, facing a one way street. A book shop.

“We sell, buy and lend books” a small type written A4 sheet taped on the door.

The latest Harry Porter book was being sold for half the price. Used books. There was a hanging sign which showed the shop was closed. I am a patient one. I walked to the small grocery next door. The malayali shop keeper saw me walk in and saw a fellow expatriate.

“Oru laban up vennum” I asked.

How I love the things you make. The shopkeeper, whose name I knew but never uttered, whose life I knew, the worries that he carried on his shoulders …all I knew.

I served myself. Paid him. Took the small blue tetra pack of salted buttermilk and went outside.

The desert sun burned brightly. I took my stand in the parking lot, leaned against the hood of the parked car and drank my Laban up. Then I waited.

She came in a rush. Like always. Time is not the same for you and me. With making breakfast just right for her husband, who demands his dosa to be freshly made so that it is crisp when he eats it and a child to be sent to school; freshly fed, bathed and clothed; time for her is never enough.

How I knew her.

Timing is everything in my role.

When I walked in she had already completed the daily routine that she always did every morning for the last 3 years. She had switched on the lights, switched on the computer, arranged the stray books on the counter which the customers had debated to lend or buy and have changed their mind, then she called up her husband to let him know that she’s in the shop and asked him to specifically comment on the lunch she had packed for him after he eats it. All in that order and all everyday.

Sometime my being fills with such immense love for you and your routines.

I waited for the next door grocery to deliver her morning bottle of water. I waited and watched the woman on the same block, enter, return her book and rent another self help book and leave.

I crushed my tetra pack, threw it on the ground, already knowing its destiny, (scrutinized by a cat, kicked by a kid under the car, swept into the bin by night and then dumped in the municipal garbage heap, serving as a home to a family of cockroach, and then being sorted and taken by a recycle plant to be turned again into something else – see the pattern?) ; and I entered the shop.

Of course, she saw me as one of her regulars. She greeted me with genuine happiness. I was old, a fellow man, someone who spends the little time I spend there , while I select my read, conversing with her. Nothing personal, always discussion, opinions, debates. She believes that she knows me. I am sure she does in her own ways. I am not a threat, dangerous or rude. I am kind to her opinions .I am waiting for her to talk about her faith. Christianity. Today I will put her to her test.

As usual I walked towards the fiction. As usual she had a book which she felt I would be interested in. Today it was ‘Possession’. In her experience with me previously, I have shown a penchant towards books that have won some awards. It’s always heartening to realize that you have been thought of.

‘Lovely book, but I am afraid I have already read it’

It gave me pleasure to see the slight disappointment that flitted across her face.

‘Iam so sorry..hope you didn’t go through too much trouble. That’s a nice necklace. Gift? ' I asked.

‘You like it?’ her hand holding the pendent. The book forgotten.

‘Yes, it’s interesting. Where did you get it from?’ I was already heading towards the shelf next to her reception counter.

‘It’s a gift. My husband gave it to me. No occasion; just out of the blue.’ Her fingers were stroking the pendent as she spoke; an American diamond clasped on a simple gold frame. It was simple yet beautiful. The gift, a symbol of guilty repentance for that one time her husband gave in to a temptation of the flesh.

‘It’s lovely. I wish you knew where he got it from, my wife would have loved it’, I reached for the stray books that were not put back into order. I have always liked to find that book which is found as if by some divine design.

‘She lives here with you?’


‘Hmmm, this one looks interesting. Yes, she does.’ I placed the book on the counter. ‘The blood and the shroud’. A study on the authenticity of the Turin shroud and other Christian relics.


‘You like this one? Maybe you would like to read another book, which is also along the same line’

I already knew the title she was thinking about. She placed the paper back version of ‘Da Vinci code’ on the counter.

‘I have read this. Lovely concept, don’t you think?’

‘Actually I don’t think so. He has sowed discord among our faith with this book.’

‘Your faith? How so?’ I am afraid I was smiling at her indulgently when I asked her that. She saw that as a challenge to establish her statement and she sat a little more erect, faced me square and said:

‘What’s your faith?

‘I am of no faith. I believe in an existence, that’s supreme. It’s logical for me to accept the fact of a creator. As of attributing it qualities, I don’t think it’s rational to believe that with a human beings limited attributes, we can ever truly understand it; we will only have theories but never a fact. Therefore to have a faith in something that I have never experienced with my senses will always remain a belief and I am too old to have faith, which to me means total realization and therefore is unquestionable. So, to emphasize what I asked you; how can anything shake your faith?’

She looked at me…no, she stared at me. I knew she would. I returned that stare, waiting for her response.


‘I am a Christian, I believe in the holy immaculate conception of Jesus, I believe in the trinity of the father, the son and the Holy Spirit. It’s what I believe in; it’s what I have been brought up to believe in. Faith does not mean what you say it means. Real faith means that I believe without having to experience.”

‘What will you base it upon? ‘

‘What?’ she seemed confused but I knew that she understood but was bidding for time to frame her answers.


‘In order to believe in anything, you have to have a foundation. How can you believe in something that has no foundation?’

I knew her answer before she even spoke it.


‘There is foundation in believing in god. The very creation around you is the proof of his existence.’


‘I wasn’t asking you about your belief in god. I already told you that I too believe in a supreme existence that has created all that we see around us. I am questioning your wisdom in believing the rest of the baloney surrounding him- like the holy conception and the so called miracles and the special people of god. I mean, if you truly believe in your bible, then obviously you must believe that the Jews are his special people and you may have become a Christian but you certainly are not a Jew.’

I could see her twisting the handkerchief that she held in her hand but I wasn’t about to stop.

‘My worry is that we call him the father, but has he acted like your father? If the whole of human kind were his children would a father have chosen children? If he does then doesn’t it make him a not so ideal father? Why would a father have to send down another son, but this one, apparently more in connection with him, to make the rest of his children see his way? He is god; he can make you see if he wants to without resorting to any of this. You are after all his creation and why should he resort to such drama for the sake of removing the ‘sins of the world’ by having his divine son dying on the cross? If you were his children, why aren’t all of you Jesus?’

‘Jesus is the son of god!’ she screamed. She quickly checked herself. ‘I am sorry. It’s just that, I can’t argue with you. You are obviously older and better read than me but all I know is my faith. It makes me happy. It gives me comfort and most of the time it offers me hopes. But when you talk like this, it makes me insecure. Why can’t you just leave it alone? Let’s not talk of this anymore. Let’s just talk like a librarian and a book buyer. I am scared by what you say.’ She was on the verge of tears.

I lack compassion. I know what the term implies and since I know what it means, I don’t feel it. I see you for what you really are. Mere shells that identifies your self as shells, mere mortal thoughts that you call your mind which lives and dies with your shell. You have a concept of the soul but no understanding of it. You yearn for immortality which you already have. You have the knowledge right in front of you but you never see it. So, and for millions of other reason, it’s difficult for me to be compassionate to you.

I smiled. Knowing perfectly well that it will ignite her emotion. I was right.

‘You think its funny isn’t it? Questioning someone’s faith, shaking their beliefs? I wish you would go now. I know that I seem to be rude and it’s not intended towards you wholly. I am at a stage in my life where I cannot afford to give up or even question my foundations. Try and understand. Please buy what books you want and go. Let’s end our conversations here.’

I stood for sometime in silence. I wished her to assimilate all what she has spoken and therefore to bring out the guilt that normally always surfaces.

I picked up the book she had suggested. ‘I will buy this’

She rang up the till and I paid.

‘I am truly sorry’ I said, ‘I had no intention to hurt you or even to question your faith. I am old and I guess when engaged in an interesting conversation, I tend to show off my knowledge on the subject. I want you to know that I truly love all what your religion stands for but I will always have my apprehensions and questions about how the truth is handled and interpreted by you’

I stood by the door, my hand on the knob, ‘there are things we both can learn from each other. My intentions were only that. I am sorry.’

I stepped out and walked out into the burning afternoon sun.

She called out for me standing near the opened door when I was ten steps away. She had an apologetic smile on her face. I stood where I stopped. She came towards me touched my sleeves. ‘Do come again. Perhaps we can talk more on this subject when aim in a better mood.’

I smiled, ‘I intend to. I know a good soul when I see when.’ I placed my hands on hers and patted it.

I walked away. I knew she was smiling when she went back to her job.