Should be a easy thing to write about, right? I thought so.
In a land far far away, there existed once a very odd kingdom. Odd, well because they didn’t know the meaning of even. Their brilliant minds had postulated once that the creation they saw around, the people, the houses, roads and bridges, these were so very much against the way nature behaved, that all this was too odd to exist.
In this odd land, there were many odd things. An ode to this odd land was recorded as below in a poem:
এক যে আছে মজার দেশ, সব রকমে ভালো,
রাত্তিরেতে বেজায় রোদ, দিনে চাঁদের আলো !
আকাশ সেথা সবুজবরণ গাছের পাতা নীল;
ডাঙ্গায় চরে রুই কাতলা জলের মাঝে চিল !
সেই দেশেতে বেড়াল পালায়, নেংটি-ইঁদুর দেখে;
ছেলেরা খায় ‘ক্যাস্টর-অয়েল’ -রসগোল্লা রেখে !
মণ্ডা-মিঠাই তেতো সেথা, ওষুধ লাগে ভালো;
অন্ধকারটা সাদা দেখায়, সাদা জিনিস কালো !
ছেলেরা সব খেলা ফেলে বই নে বসে পড়ে;
মুখে লাগাম দিয়ে ঘোড়া লোকের পিঠে চড়ে !
ঘুড়ির হাতে বাঁশের লাটাই, উড়তে থাকে ছেলে;
বড়শি দিয়ে মানুষ গাঁথে, মাছেরা ছিপ্ ফেলে !
জিলিপি সে তেড়ে এসে, কামড় দিতে চায়;
কচুরি আর রসগোল্লা ছেলে ধরে খায় !
পায়ে ছাতি দিয়ে লোকে হাতে হেঁটে চলে !
ডাঙ্গায় ভাসে নৌকা-জাহাজ, গাড়ি ছোটে জলে !
মজার দেশের মজার কথা বলবো কত আর;
চোখ খুললে যায় না দেখা মুদলে পরিষ্কার !
Now, in this odd land, they had a ritual very similar to our world. The naamkaransanskar. The naming of a newborn child was considered a very auspicious and special day, because it would dictate his/her future life. A child’s destiny was cocooned in their name, and any deviation was not taken well. 21 lashes was the usual punishment.
Right on the border of odd-land, there lived a couple. A lovely couple who had fallen in love and had run away from home, as far away as they could get. They had a small orchard, a few ducks and chickens, a lot of sheep, a well in their front yard and a tiny little house under a hillock. The man tended the sheep, and the lady kept the house clean and tidy. They were deaf, but their life was full of laughter and fun, and their eyes brimmed with hope. The only thing missing in their life was the joy of a child. Years and years passed on by, and then came the blessing. A little tiny boy came to the world. Alas, he lost his mother within minutes of coming to this world.
The boy grew up tending to his father’s flock, cared and loved by his father and never knowing his mother. He ran along the rim of the orchards, making the ducks running here and there, and making the chicken fly off in tangents. He would climb to the hilltop, and stare at the horizon, wondering what lies beyond the borders of his sights.
One day, while his father slept, the boy packed a bag with little food and few clothes, and went out exploring. Every night there after, he would go out to find paths and streams and rivers and roads, all around his hill. On some nights he would watch as travellers would pitch tents, tend fires, cook their meals and sang aloud. He never knew what they said to each other, for he knew no words himself. His deaf father had never taught him any words to speak, for spoken words were rarely handy to them in their home.
Seeing all the sights on those nights, it filled the boys heart started filling with the wish to see more. One night, he sneaked into the horse cart of one of the travellers, deciding to see where it went.
Next morning, he woke up in a village, surrounded my men and women and children, who stared at the stowaway unknown boy as he slept in the cart which had come to a halt in the main village square. Unknowns were not liked, not trusted in these regions. Soon two sentries showed up who took the little boy to the village chiefs office. The elderly chief tried asking the boy all the usual questions. Where was he from? Why was he here? Who was he? But to no avail. The boy knew not what to say. He spent the next few weeks at a house, a place where trouble making children were sent to be straightened out, and also to be tutored.
After a few weeks the chief summoned him again, and asked him his name.
“I’m blank”, said the boy.
Apologies if you didn’t like this try at fiction.