Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Boulder

Boulder

A Very Short Story by Ehtisham Rizvi


No one in town knew where the boulder came from, and why it couldn't be moved, but as far as the people of Pak Town knew, the boulder was there and it had to be worshiped because it was good for them.

The boulder blocked the sunlight, it blocked the air, and most importantly, it blocked the only safe path out of town. The people of Pak Town had learnt to take another route to travel, but that path was full of bandits, beasts, and monsters. The elders had once tried to move the boulder to clear the path; but they failed miserably and started worshiping it as a divine stone.

The customs, culture, and everyday life in Pak Town revolved around the boulder. It was considered responsible for their protection and well being, for giving and for taking away, for life and for death. If you were a resident of Pak Town, you could not go an hour without the boulder being mentioned.

Things started to change when the monsters, bandits, and beasts started working together. Previously, they attacked people coming to and from the town outside the town walls, but now they started coming in through the woods. They attacked one house at a time, and left no survivors behind.

Everyday, the people went about their daily business, thanking the boulder that they were safe, and that at least their houses weren’t raided. Some had even started coming up with their own conspiracy theories about why the houses being attacked were being targeted. Every theory resulted in the same conclusion, that the family was pretty much asking for it and that the victims had it coming.

The town’s people who feared for their houses turned to the boulder for help, but it was as dead (or at least as deaf) as Nietzsche’s god. The attacks increased, and the elders kept trying to negotiate with the bandits. The youth was increasingly losing faith in the boulder, mainly due to its inability to protect the people, but the elders always told them to believe in the boulder, to pray to it, to worship it, for the boulder worked in mysterious ways.

If there was no boulder standing in the way, the safe path out of town could be cleared. The opening of that path meant better trading opportunities, and increased safety because then the King’s forces could come in and protect the people.

A small town was too insignificant for the King to risk moving his army through the woods, but if the boulder was removed, even a small contingent of the King’s men could come in and secure the town. That would most certainly scare the bandits away.

The town’s people could also arm themselves, but carrying a weapon for self protection was considered as blasphemy. After all, the boulder protected all. Carrying a weapon was the act of a disbeliever, and disbelievers were stoned to death.

The bandits kept raiding the town, the people kept getting slaughtered, and all kept worshiping the benevolent and merciful boulder. When every last one of the town’s people was slaughtered, the bandits and monsters moved in. 

As it turns out, they too worshiped the boulder, and were raiding, raping, and killing in the boulder’s name. The good people of Pak Town are now extinct, and the once beautiful town is now in ruins. The boulder is still being worshiped. It's just a coincidence that the worshipers are bandits and monsters.

9 comments:

Unknown said...

I got stuck at lot of points and had to read it again and again to get the meaning. It's rough yet I can relate to this roughness and negativity.
But you know, it's not boulder that ruined the city, it was people. We call arguing for a country's negative deeds patriotism and performing an illogical religious custom piousness.

Unknown said...

Great story

Anonymous said...

This seems allegorical to me, and Fizza has it, I think without quite seeing that. Rather than criticising the story (and I may have you wrong, Fizza, so I apologise), the criticism is exactly the blind adherence to a doctrine at the expense of rationality. We see that in so many places and so many injustices are perpetrated as a result. The only thing I would say in critiquing the story itself is that you deliver it with a certain elegance but that you demolish that with two expressions - 'way unimportant', and 'hey, at least ...' - each of which feels out of place and belonging to another narrator entirely. Otherwise, I think it's a very neat and nicely constructed little tale:)

Ehtisham Hussain said...

Thanks for the feedback. I added the 'hey, at least...' part today, while most of the story was written a few weeks ago, so I might edit that out. And yes, it is meant to be allegorical. :)

I usually have trouble writing stories without any dialogues, because that is when the narrator's true caliber is exposed. This story is more of an angry rant and an exercise to improve myself as a writer. Your feedback helps, as always. :)

Anonymous said...

So you had a different head on then when you wrote those two sore thumbs that are sticking out! Well, there you have it - making sure you're back in the shoes of your narrator and letting them lead your words and phrasing is an essential. Not always easy to live with though :)

Unknown said...

i think we should realize that by saying the religion is good but the people are bad again make a soft corner for religion and those who misuse religion can easily misuse it again.

Ehtisham Hussain said...

Kashif bhai gets it. :)

Anonymous said...

Interesting premise, Ehtisham, though not as much as the 'Good and Evil' duo's was (my apologies if that sounds like an invalid comparison).

You've already excused yourself from the liabilities of storytelling for this one (the rant excuse). So, I can't comment on the composition. Also, conboyhillfiction has already made a couple of good points in this regard.

I will add my two cents, though. Storytelling is not just about letting out frustrations. In fact, it should be anything but.

Hope to read more from you soon. Keep'em comin'!

Ehtisham Hussain said...

I didn't excuse myself from anything, so please go ahead and give some pointers. :)

To me story telling is an outlet, and fiction is one of the best ways of saying things that are politically incorrect. A great story should always come from the heart, and in our society, every heart is full of frustration. If I see something I don't like I would try to change it, and if I can't change it, I would write a story about it. Just my opinion.