The Declarations of an Orange

Chapter 8

Broken Hearts

The old man, Gokul was his name, held the basket high and headed north. We were in the basket, Rehmat, graced by the army of apples, and in the royal companionship of Lord and Lady Apocalypse. I was shivering with cold, my frozen breaths strangling my seeds, and my eyes shed some tears of strange grief. 

I wasn't really enjoying the company of apples. I tell you they are very talkative in nature but it surprised me that most of them were silent, more likely dead and a few of them were whispering. I tried to listen and they mentioned something about black apples. I swear I've never seen black apples. 

I found a corner to sit, and I relaxed for a moment, but my eyes went on searching my Peachow who was busy with Lord and Lady Apocalypse. They were talking about Deodar trees and Gokul's village. I didn't mind it, even I needed a few moments of peace, but I knew we were in the wrong place. Silence is the harbinger of war, not peace. The mountains-the flesh frozen giants, our supreme Gods and protectors, were not looking delighted. They were sobbing. I could feel the cryptic presence of their icy tears mixed with the winds, I could hear the howling of the wolves, the creepiness of the dark looming above our heads. 

The air carried the ghostly smell of blood and I wanted to stop breathing, feel dead for a few moments and if there was still some life left, I would return but not with memories. 

I glanced at my Peachow, and she looked happy, a smile traveling on her lips, a glisten in her eyes, blush on her cheeks, and she looked beautiful. I closed my eyes but she didn't vanish, she remained there, under the drapes of my eyes or was it just my imagination?  Everything froze for a moment, the world stopped spinning, the man with the basket stopped, the stupid apples disappeared in the mist and we were alone, me and Peachow in the basket, and the night descended in the sky. The stars magically appeared but I couldn't find the moon, a ripple of clouds burst in the sky and in those ephemeral moments, the world turned resplendent. The smell of blood was gone and I could hear a music, a piano tune in the winds and we both smiled but it was as transient as a blink. Everything went still and silent again, everything the air, the sky, the leaves, the roads, became just colors and shades,  inscribed on a paper and I realized I was a painting, not a fruit but a painting and Peachow too. It's strange that how reality shrunk and our world became as thin as paper, our existence and cognition was nothing but a painter's dream.  

The painter...

I observed him, but he wasn't looking at me but at the top, and I figured it out, he was drawing the moon of our world. I could see his trapped smile, his eyes rested deep behind his blue circular specks, the beads of sweat ran on his cheeks and neck, and for a moment I felt like I knew him. People call him August, I suppose, or else why would he write his name at the bottom. He probably didn't know that I could see him, feel his breath on my face but I am just a painting and I can't tell him that. He must know about me or Peachow. We are nothing but just a painting for him. A few colors, here and there. 

It was the loud screech of owl which woke me up from my dream, and I thank god that it was just a dream. I am not a painting but an Orange, and there is no Mister August, I must have imagined him and I care no more. I don't want to think about anything. 

I wished if the old man could sing a little louder because I couldn't hear his song or maybe he was just humming.  

*     *     *

He didn't bother to wipe his tears. He didn't bother to turn his back. He knew it, all along, that he was being followed. He felt like he escaped a lion's den and entered a forest full of vampires. The dark clouds roared above his head, his legs hurt from the long walk and dirty road, sweat following carelessly on his face, getting mixed with blood and sweat and falling on the rustic ground. 

The thoughts of Kashtoor swam before his eyes, and he thought of his dead parents who named him Gokul, but he couldn't remember any of his childhood memories. He was old, older than he thought, and his smile was lost, lost in the tangles of life. His song faded in the eeriness his heart felt in those moments. The words wouldn't fall his lips but he could hum, and he hummed well. 

He thought for a moment, and the very thought made him smile a little. 

What if my apples could listen to my song? What if...

He didn't know about the Orantus or Peachow or lord and lady Apocalypse. He didn't even know that the Orange was trying to listen to his slow humming. His slow beating heart was digging a grave in his body. He felt dead for a  few moments, a corpse returning home with a basket of fruits and a terror man at his back. The terror man. The masked man. He breathed heavily. 

The man was following him since he started the journey, just like the dark of night follows the light of  day and in the end, when the day gets tired, the sun stands on the horizon, slowly sinking in the sea, the dark of the night swallows the light, and takes over the sky, conquers every corner with the shadows of night. Gokul, out of breaths and out of patience, looked up, and the day was about to end. He filled the air in his nostrils and hastened. 

The man kept following him, keeping a good distance, but never letting Gokul out of his sight. He was told to follow him till the great temple of Kashtoor, where the priests feast and gods dine, where the common folks pray and the faith rises high. He walked, embracing all the silence of the dark, with no thoughts but one. War. 

Gokul knew that the terror man will shoot him if he stops, or even turns back, so he kept walking with all his strength.  But he was old and tired, his feet were hurt, blood oozed out of them, his cries were sinking in the winds and he saw his death inviting him seductively. He bit his lower lip to grasp the reality, to walk more and more towards the place he loved the most. 

Kashtoor. 

It wasn't far now. He was about to reach and the playfields, the big pine trees, deserted houses, familiar faces, running kids, fresh roses, mating pigeons, narrow roads, the scent of Biryani and Gulmohar, Salams and Namestey, Ram-Ram and Aadab, would all come alive. The older folks would greet him, younger girls would come running, and ask him for fresh apples the children would dance around him. And he would smile again. 

Another tear came running down his cheek. He didn't even notice. He could see the evening slipping like sand from the fist of some sky god and night was arriving like a silent ghost but he was close, close to the town. A few more steps and he would be at his home. He could run to a safer place, inform the folks, or lit a fire or fly a dragon. 

A dragon. What? 

What am I thinking, lord? 

He stares at his bleeding feet and then looks up, his eyes searching the moon in the endless sky., 

But where is the moon? The dragon...the moon...the blood...the black apples...the terror man! 

Stop thinking. Stop it. Stop it. This is madness. 

He knew he was losing his senses, imagining terrible things. He was scared and all of a sudden he couldn't breathe. The darkness embraced his soul, silence screeched loudly in his mind, his feet bleed more and his knees hurt badly. 

He imagined a big blue butterfly crossing the sky and he saw a burning sun in the middle of the night but it wasn't night. The day was about to end, evening perhaps, and he'd to stop his mind from imagining things. Hallucinations were taking his senses. 

He stepped in his village, Kashtoor, with a heavy heart and he didn't even realize that he was there. He was at the Tri-center, a few unknown men were smoking hookah in the corner, smiling at him. Gokul took a left turn and headed towards the temple.  The sun finally sank in the sea and the stars begin to appear

But the moon...?

He looked up, eyes still searching the moon, and all of a sudden he saw a paintbrush,  as big as a tower and someone drew the big moon in the sky, and the brush vanished in the dark. The moon stayed, and moonlight slowly kissed his face. 

Stop Imagining, old man! I've to go to the temple. The temple. The priest, the boy, the toys. The apples. 

*     *    *

I saw a happy village
in her eyes and I told her
I want to live there.

I wanted to talk to Peachow, my Peachow, but she was busy, thinking something, away from me, away from everyone!  The Apple sqwere staring at her too. They seemed to like her a lot. She was the one with whom they enjoyed talking. I felt isolated. 

I ran my eyes in all directions, and I saw a beautiful village, a pleasant bucolic scene, and as they say, Kashtoor was beautiful in the evening. I saw a lot of kids running barefoot in the streets. Women were cooking something delicious in the kitchen, and I suddenly felt hungry. 

I felt as if I should talk to Peachow. 

'Hey!'

Everything happened so suddenly. Gokul stopped at the corner of the street and a man appeared from nowhere, his face covered with a black mask, but I knew him. He was the one who followed us all in the journey. They sent him,  the terror men! He came to hunt us. He came to scare us. I had to protect Peachow. 

'Old beard!' The man showed his gun to Gokul and the old man froze to death, 'You don't understand instructions, huh?' He scared him, 'Go straight to the temple! The pandits await you, old man or I'll shoot ye in the head, the blood will flow red!'

Peachow discovered something, and I could see that in her eyes. The old man's hands were shaking, and the basket was about to fall from his hands! I couldn't control myself but I rushed towards my peachow. 

The apples were in panic and for a moment, just a moment, I saw something which I have never seen in my life, the black apples. The moon shone above our head and I saw one of them, silent as grave, black as night and hiding behind the apples. Peachow was rolling here and there, her mind caging a thousand thoughts and I wanted to open that cage. 

"Peachow listen to me! I sense something bad here..."

The old man walked towards the temple, the rings and evening hymn resonated loud in the air, and suddenly I felt the dread taking over my sense. Peachow's eyes were full of tears and I saw a human hand taking her in its grasp. The terror man.

The terror man was threatening the old man, and he now had my Peachow. I wanted to jump from the basket and I was about to, but apples caught me and threw me in the backside. I stood up, kicked them as hard as I could, jumped over them and I saw it. I saw it and I almost fainted because it was too much. The terror man pierced his sharp teeth on my Peachow's skin and I heard her scream. Her eyes went red but didn't scream. She just went silent.

"What is this?" He examined the Peach carefully and laughed, "This is not an apple, old man!" He threw the peach back into the basket and took another apple, "I don't want to hurt you, Old bird, listen to me, look here, do what they told you to do!"

Gokul's face turned pale with fear and he turned, hi feet slowly walked towards the temple, the holy bells chimed loud and the evening prayers intensified. Peachow was surrounded by apples, her wound was visible, and she sobbed like a little child. 

I ran towards her, cursing the damn apples, as they were now in panic. I held my Peachow in my arms and kissed her tears. 

"Oh! Peachow! Love, what did he do to you!"

"I'm fine Orantus!" She said looking away but I could see it in her eyes that she hid something from me. She was not the Peachow I knew. 

*   *   * 

Gokul remembered all the gods that he knew, begged them for strength as he lost all, his arms were now light as papers and he was about to faint. The temple was right in front of him, hundreds of people rushing inside to get the glimpse of god. 

He walked. 

The weight of his basket, Rehmat, never bothered him but today it was as heavy as a mountain. And a thought crossed his mind, and it scared him. 

What did they put in my Rehmat? It was not as heavy as I feel it now! 

And then he thought of the Pandit, he must be waiting for him, and he fulfilled his promise, he has brought the toys for his grandson. He would be so happy to see him. 

He would present all of his fruits to him for the prayer, and gods would bless him. The air of Kashtoor had magic and he could feel it. He sensed a new strength in his body and walked towards the temple. 

Just a few steps and I'll be there, he thought. 

*   *    *

There was something strange about Peachow which I could sense, as she stood up and I didn't know how, because she looked so weak an lifeless. The teethmark of terror man were still visible on her skin. She headed to the edge of basket and I ran towards her. 

I hugged her. She didn't say anything. 

"Peachow tell me what's bothering you!" I asked politely.

"Orantus! Maybe I am not the one you deserve!"

She spoke and turned towards me.  There was a strange sense of fear on her face. 

"Why do you say so? We both love each other so much!"

She held my hand and pulled me close, maybe she wanted to kiss me, I thought. 

"No! It's just you who is in love!" She held my hand so strongly that it begin to hurt, "I am happy with them, the apples, the lord and the lady Apocalypse treated me well and with respect and they don't want you, Oran!" 

Her eyes changed and for the first time, I felt scared of her, and then I saw her lips moving, and she said something, "I am sorry but you have to go!" 

And then she took a deep breath, "-and forget me, Orantus, I don't love you the way you do!"

And then she pushed me out of the basket and I hit a cold stone, my inner juice spurted from my peel, and when I looked above, the old man with the basket was gone. 

~~~~~~~~

* I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. This story is still undergoing editing and if you find anything worth correction, then feel free to bring it to my attention!

* Thanks a lot for reading, and if you enjoyed the work, you can show your support by pressing the vote button for each chapter and comment as much as you would like.

* If you think that the work is unique and Imaginative, then please help me in increasing the readership. Share the story with your friends and family on various social sites. It would mean a lot to me. Thank you!