The Declarations of an Orange

Chapter 7

Kashtur

Can winds whisper a name?
Can trees sing a song?
Can clouds dance a while?
Can a moment last lifelong?

I have always believed in one thing and why I believed it, has no reasons but beliefs, as blind as night, as deaf as stone, and this belief says that hills, the big beautiful giants, perhaps have something to say. They are in a deep slumber and I don't wish to tickle them but if they open eyes and I see them talking, and if I could have a word with them, would be a great achievement. 

If not mountains or hills, at least trees could talk. I want to know what they have to speak. I want to know what they desire. We call them, 'Fathers!', as it is known that they are the ones who raise us. I sometimes wish to call them mother but what if they scold me? 

How foolish of me to even think they would talk. They haven't uttered a word in past thousand years. They haven't blinked an eye and eons have passed. The time flew like a big giant bird with wings as big as oceans and a mountain sized beak, squealing all along, taking millions of lives, innocent and cruel, big and small, in its grasp and flying continuously towards its nest. That's what the famous tale of blue bird says. It's a common story among fruits, which we tell each other in our sleepless nights. I am an orange and I think too much. I am not a sweet fruit but a sour one, and that makes me sad. 

Sadness is not real, it's just in our minds, like a page of diary on which we are stuck for a very long time, the pen ticking at the edges, but can't we just turn it over and write a new one? 

A happy one. 

This is what I was thinking when those men, masked monsters stopped our car and poor Tina squalled. The Little girl had caught me in her small arms, and I held my Peachow close, I still remember her frightful eyes and her cold shivering body. 

The bald man, the father, rushed out of the car but they placed a gun to his head. Slowly, they dragged the lady, Tina's mother, out and slapped her hard. Tina was sobbing continuously and didn't want to come out but those monsters, they...

They did something with her. 

Something unspeakable. 

I feel sad thinking all of this, but sadness isn't real, that's what I tell me, and after I am done with convincing myself, I cry. Sadness embraces me like a warm quilt in the Christmas winter. My tears freeze on my cheeks and pierce into my own skin.

I could understand none of this. Maybe our masters aren't bad after all. It's just the way they are, and they can't really help it. Violence is what they have instead of feelings. I curse God, now and then, why he gave us the bane of feelings, why can't I also be heartless like my masters? Why can't I hold a gun and shoot people like they do? Why can't I be remorseless after committing a crime as heinous as murder? 

I don't really remember how things happened that day. Most of the time, I had my eyes closed, as I saw hundreds of men and women and little kids, with bent knees and sobbing, their poor hands joined., begging lives from lifeless. Peachow's face was pale with fear and I knew she can't face it again. 

I looked around and I saw hundreds of frozen mountains and beautiful Chinar and Mulberry trees, the air was cold and mixed with morning hymns and cries, and the sky looked like a vast upside down-ocean, and I saw a few birds going east. 

It was a camp site, lush green shrubs, and pine trees spread in every direction, humans wandering around with guns and grenades. A terrorist camp. I don't remember when did little Tina lose us, for all I remember is that we rolled down on the ground, together, holding each others' hand securely. 

There were so many poor people there, captives mostly, their hands chained with fear and terror, death dancing around them like a little mad child, but my eyes were fixed on an old man who was praying to his gods. He looked feeble and lifeless, but he had a peculiar nose and a white band on his head. His hands were shivering with fear, his knees caressing the dust of grounds, his head bent down and his lips begging mercy from the God.  

We almost forgot everything, me and Peachow, as we saw them and a short smile danced on our lips. Apples.
And they weren't small and pale as I've always seen them but big, fresh and red. Apples, as big as cauliflowers, the redness of their skin was aromatic and soothing, and for a moment I felt like they aren't fruits but gods of fruits. Peachow was so happy to see them. We haven't seen any fruit in a very long time. It was time to say greetings to our new brothers in Kashmir but they were all looking at someone. 

The Old man. Gokul.

* * * * *

Kashtur, a village in Kashmir, wasn't as silent as they think.
Who are they, you ask?
The valleys and the snow, the green and the blue, the sky and the rain!  

Why is the hamlet silent, then, Saheb? 

Obviously, it's not the honkings of cars or scooters. It's not the bomb blasts either.    

It was the beautiful morning brawl of young kids playing cricket, it was the sweet misunderstanding between neighbors, footsteps of school going little girls, whispers of lovers behind the old walls, clinking of bangles in closed doors, unheard cries of mothers who lost their loved ones, scratching on walls, howlings of winter, and unattended knocks on the doors. These were the sounds in Kashtur, and also the old Koshur folk songs on radios and Gokul Jaan's songs. 

Gokul Jaan, a seventy-five-year-old fruit seller, who would walk stroll the streets singing his melodious songs, selling his fresh fruits. He would bring the fruits in his big basket, which he named Rehmat, from the main city of Srinagar and would beautiful folk songs to attract people. He would sing of the beauty of valley or the romance of youth or some mythical songs. 

"They are here to see Gauri, and I hope everything goes well, Gokul." She paused and glared at the Gokul Jaan's eager face. "He is a doctor and they have a big house by god's grace."

"Blessings to Gauri, and I am sure the boy will like her, and gods are great, today is an auspicious day. Here, take some apples." A smile flowered on his lips, as he gave a dozen apples to Gauri's mother. She ran inside in hurry, and Gokul walked ahead. She will pay tomorrow or maybe at Gauri's wedding.

He started singing another song, it was about a swan falling in love with a rainbow, young girls would come running bare feet, as soon as they hear the old man's voice. They like berries and plums, but apples are everyone's favorite. 

"Cherries, old man, I want some cherries."  A girl of fifteen stood before her, swinging her braid in the air, and smiling secretly.

"Take em all, girl"  Gokul smiled at her and offered her a palm full of cherries. She gave him the money and ran back to her home. Gokul continued the singing and headed towards the famous temple of the city. He had a habit to offer fruits to the gods, and crack jokes with the priests. 

'It might rain tonight, Gokul, what do you say?'

Ramanujam, the chief priest of the temple said with joy, examining the poor conditions of the old fruit seller. 

'Why are you asking me?' Gokul sat comfortably on the floor, slowly decorating the fruits at Krishna's feet, 'Ask the gods directly. You seem to have a good connection with them.'

'No, the gods are fond of your fruits, Gokul, and if you sing him a good hymn he might talk to you!'

'I've been singing hymns since the day I was born and it goes like this-' 

He started his Kashmiri fruit song, slowly moving his fingers in a dance like motion and smiling carelessly. 

'You are so cheerful, old man, people of Kashtoor loves you!'

'They love these big red apples, lord, not me!' Gokul cleared his throat and gave one apple to the priest, 'I am going to the city tomorrow, what shall I bring for your grandkids?'

'Chinu wants to have a piggy bank but I couldn't find any in our town-market!' 

'I'll bring one for her and a toy car for Rudra, and say my blessings to your family! I better go now and yes-' He picked up his fruit basket, Rehmat, '-it will rain tonight and it won't be an easy night, Hare Ram!'

* * *

  The Old man. Gokul.  

She didn't even listen to me, my dear beloved Peachow, and rushed towards the apple army! I was a bit hesitant in meeting them at first but I followed my peach. 

'Something's wrong!' I warned her, 'Apples are talkative in nature but these stupid red balls are looking pretty mum. I wonder why!'

'Because of the cold, Orantus!'

'Yes, I am freezing, Peachow! You ought to take care of me and you are running mad!'

Peachow stopped suddenly and turned back. I smiled at her but she didn't smile back. She instead jumped on me and hugged me strongly. 

'I am not leaving you, I just thought that It would be better if we talk to apples about what's happening here.'

'Um yeah-' I kissed her head, '-you are right, Peachow! Let's go and talk to them!'

Peachow walks faster than me and I have to run, faster than usual, to walk parallel to her. I saw a few strawberries sobbing over each others' shoulders. 

'Hi apples, it's nice to meet you, I am Orantus!' 

'No one asked you a damn question, stop right there, and you, ah a Peach, beautiful, what's your name?'

'I am Peachow and he is my-' Peachow looked at me, '-my kingfruit Orantus. I am his queen!'

'-and we are your royal army at your service, my queen!' One of the little apples spoke and many of them passed a deadly laughter.

Why it's always difficult to talk to Apples? I thought.

'No jokes, Appapo, they are our guests, where are your courtesies. Show some respect. Oranges are our brothers and Peaches, well, we have our differences with them, but we can surely give the pleasure of our company to this little-'

'Lord Apocalypse speaks the truth, gentlefruits, we must not forget our dignity. This foreign Orange, Orantus and his sweet queen Peachow is new to our state, so it's our duty to serve them!'

Well, it might sound weird, but apples do have kings and queens, whom they call Lord Apocalypse and Lady Apocalypse, and they are the wisest of the lot. Most of the apples are loud-mouth but their captains are disciplined. The apple squad helped us to climb the big basket and every one of them shook hands with us. Well not really, they shook hands with Peachow and only received a smile from one of the rotten apples. 

'So what is this place, Young apples?' I tried to break the awkward silence. 

'Masters call this place a land of heavens' Lady Apocalypse spoke, 'Kashmir! The beautiful valley on the face of the earth and look around, Orantus, for what you see are our fathers and forefathers and their fathers!'

'You mean the mountains-'

'The great mountains are gods and these great apple trees are our great fathers, the land is blessed with their auspicious presence and I must ask you, from where are you coming and what purpose do you seek, Orantus the orange and Peachow the peach!'

'Crossfruits!' 'Dirtybugs!' 'Squash them!' 'Throw the Peach down the hill!'

The murmurs were not exactly murmurs but clearly audible words. Most of the apples were disgusted at the thought that a cross-fruit union has occurred between us. 

'We love each other, Lady Apocalypse, and  I beg to differ from the majority's viewpoint!' I stood up and held my Peachow's hand, 'Yes I am an Orange and I love her and I am not ashamed of it!'

'But It can not happen, Orantus!' One of the apples loudly cried, 'Love between same fruits is rare and here you are claiming that your heart belongs to a peach! So ridiculous!'

'Orantus, love is just a fable that we tell each other at night. It's not real!'

'It is!' Peachow stood up too with me and I wanted to hug her but apples won't be ready to give us privacy, 'It is as real as pineapples!' The name gave a huge terror wave among the crowd. Apples are scared of pineapples and for right reasons. Pineapples think of apples as their little brothers, and so they have a habit of hugging them, but it kills the skin of apples and they begin to look ugly, so they avoid them as much as they can. 

'I love Orantus and I can do anything for him! He jumped for me, you know, he jumped for me from a big monstrous truck, and he saved me, none of you can do that for anyone but Orantus did, he is not like everyone! He understands. He feels.'

'Okay, the queen thinks we have feelings too, claps for her!' The apple squad laughed thunderously. 

'On your knees Old man! One word and we will shoot you in the brains!'

I couldn't stand apples and their shitty opinions. Peachow was trying to argue with them but my attention was still with the old man. The masked humans were angry at him and I have no idea why! I just watched the old man begging for his life. I could see his small cotton bag, and I saw that he brought a small plastic house shaped like a pig and a black toy car.  

'Let me go! Please!' He fell on their shoes, cleaning them with his cheeks, begging again for life, 'I want to see my kids!'

'Sahir?' The masked man yelled, 'What about him, brother?'

Another man came and examined the old man with scrutinizing eyes, 'Gods be good! He is the fruit seller! How much for apples?' He laughed.

'We'll let you go but on one condition, old man!'

'Anything! I'll do anything!'

'You won't stop anywhere-' The masked man said in a harsh tone, ' and as you said you were going to Kashtur, well it's not far, you can still reach there before daybreak, and gods be good, you will go directly to the temple. Is that clear?'

'Can I take my rehmat-my fruit basket too?'

'I'll shoot you in the eye if you don't run away and take your damn baskets and your damn fruits!'

The old man, scared and weak, held the basket high in the air and rushed towards his village, Kashtur! 

* * *

(TO BE CONTINUED) 

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