The Third Eye : A Narrative

I don’t remember how long I had known Little Sam but I’ve vivid memories of watching him play in the dust. Clad in an odd green gown, he grew up with a happy smile. His nose was always filled with a thick white snot which he snorted every now and then out of habit. Sometimes, when it really hung low and threatened to go into his mouth, he spread it on his cheeks using his sleeve. He was good at games and he ran really fast. He beat the neighbors’ kids at bull fights and the races alike. He was a kind one too, that Little Sam. He did not mind giving away his coat to the little boy who came to his door with the holy man begging for alms. 

He grew up a fine young man. He was a good hand at the farm and his village folks often called upon him to help them clean the backyard or mend some broken fence. A good lad as he was, he never said no to anybody. He was not exactly the village Jack, no, he stammered when he spoke and he did not make toys for the little kids with his pen knife. He went to school and the Head Master thought he was a bright kid but he was out of there in a couple of years. I never blamed him. You see, school was boring and besides, he could already plough. By village standards, you get the first brew of the ale if you are good at the plough. And if you could drink, you were a man. He fell in and out of love several times. Sometimes, I thought it was infatuation but some other times, it was intense. My memory failed me with the accounts. 

Tonight, Young Sam is a broken man. His eyes are bloodshot and there’s an evil aura about him. Nay, my friend, I do not wish to speak ill of Little Sam. I hate to tell you this, but our Little Sam is chained and handcuffed tonight. Yes, like an anima, locked in a cell. A man in Khaki blue stands guard without, clasping a heavy gun. The walls are cold and dirty. Little Sam is crying in the corner. The stench of urine burned his nose. The cold concrete chilled him to the bones. He hasn’t eaten in days and his every bone ached in him. There’s fear in his face.The smile is gone. Tomorrow, the judgement will me made, the verdict passed and Little Sam will be locked in like an animal for ever.......

It was a hard day at the plough. The two young bulls were newly yoked and they tested his strength till sun down. The ladies cheered when the bulls bent low and breathed steam under his strength. The men jeered when the bulls dragged him across the field. Man and beast, the war went on until the entire field was turned. And they did before the sun kissed the mountains goodbye. He set the bulls free to let them graze for the night. Little Sam collected his yoke and plough, and announced the job done for the day. 

It was at dinner, the workers gathered in a circle. Little Sam prayed for good harvest over the sumptuous meal and the ale passed on. Aged and brewed, the ancient concoction healed the tired souls. Laughters blessed the season. They danced and sang into the starlit night. The ale passed on. Little Sam drank with glee. The moon came up and the world surrendered into a deep slumber. One by one, the workers left. 

Little Sam and the men remained. They talked and they laughed. The ale passed on.

They talked about electricity and it’s wonders. They discussed about the need for a motor-able road for the village. They talked and they laughed and they drank. The ale passed on. It was good and it tasted better as they drank more. The show went on. Some slurred their words, some threw vomits in their pockets. The supply of ale went round and round....

Suddenly, a shrill war cry broke the silence of the night over the village. Heavy feet hurried and voices whispered in the corners. Somebody struck a match and lit an oil lamp. The flame sent dancing shadows on the walls. There was our Little Sam, hiding under the stairs. His eyes were bloodshot and he was shaking from head to toe. He was cursing and praying. Then heads turned and somebody fainted plop on the floor. Uncle Ray lay there, in a pool of blood. His head was smashed to a pulp and a river of blood and brain flowed free. A hush descended into the house from the silent night. The village head was called and along came the village committee. They shook their heads and they whispered amongst themselves. Then, all eyes stopped at Little Sam. Four strong men bound and tied Little Sam to a post. They whipped him and they beat him till morning light. 

Alas, Little Same spoke. He cried and he pleaded mercy. He did not do it. He hasn’t appeased the deities well when he drank the ale. Bad fortune befell him. It was about something somebody said in the nightly stupor. Little Sam remembered disagreeing with it. Then, Uncle Ray said something and lectured Little Ray about a lot of grown up issues. What followed next was a flurry of fists and blades. Little Sam remembered reaching for a burning piece of wood from the hearth. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. He struck again and again........

The village head nodded and sighed. He wrote a long message in ancient words. He gave it to the village messenger and bade him forward. The young messenger bowed and took off on the wind to town. Then came the men in uniforms who took Little Sam away.

The villagers gathered to mourn the ill fortune that had befallen the little village. The ale passed on, soothing the bereaved souls..............