WALLS
Lal Chakraborty

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21Ân ®gh˦u¡l£, 2003

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Part I: Chapter 6 

The walls initially were growing in length, promising to reach the horizon. The shadows were long and the network of walls - too close. Then someday it started reaching the sky, too. The height of walls became a fascination and a wonder to marvel at. The builders took pride in their work and competed against one another. And the walls threatened the sky above.

People grew lonely. The more walls they possessed, the more secluded they grew. The higher the walls they built, the longer shadows were cast. People toiled throughout the day and night, just to possess a few more feet of the wall. And every inch that they earned isolated them from the others. They were enclosed within the boundary of their wealth; their hearts were encroached by the cold dissipating from the walls. Yet, they went on. They boxed themselves with pride and a sense of achievement. They were the winners of the system. 

The losers fared worse. They did not have walls; they did not have the sense of belonging or pride; they did not even have the necessities of life. In the dark, hungry and poor, the losers met. The walls cast huge shadows of their hunger and the rooms heard their plight.

The king was dead but Semia, his nephew was not. He charted the only path to a free world before them, "It is our toils that create the walls and we shall have it. We will take it by force, and make it for all. Walls will not be owned by one. They will be everyone’s.  

People went to those nightly meetings. There they learned to dream, to dare. Miro asked me to go, too.  

"No. They will be in trouble. You remember last time what happened. All those men had broken their head over nothing. The Banya is too strong. He will crush them." 

Miro was angry, "Will you remain a coward? The eastern wing is complete. We will attack there and take that." 

"You won’t. All you will do is get some broken bones. And what if you take them today? Tomorrow Banya is going to take back everything and Semia who is leading this will either be bought with a few bottles of wine or just deposed. And you all will be left in the cold. Take lessons from the King’s fight." 

"You don’t understand. This time we are fighting for ourselves. We are not fighting for Banya or the King. We are fighting for ourselves. Everyone is going to enjoy the walls. Everyone will be equal, those that farm, those that work in the brick machine. It will be our world. Our own. We will have the wall behind our house. We will put our name on it. We will paint it blue and we will keep it small so that we can feel the sun." 

"You are just a dumb simpleton. Do you believe that Semia and you will be equal? Never. You fight either for Semia or for Banya. It’s just the same. With Banya, at least he is humble. You know even if he hits you he will apologize before. Semia is plain insane and will just knock you down. No Miro, Zen is not that big a fool to destroy his own life." 

I refused to join them and Miro went alone. That night and afterwards she walked with a lighter heart and a sterner face. She was someone different. Not the same Miro that I knew. Semia had magic in his words. He didn’t turn out to be bad after all. Maybe I should have joined her, but I was afraid. I had always been afraid. And Miro always dared the impossible.

I was still in the house that morning when fight broke out. Miro had kissed me in the night and had slept in my arms. In the morning, she was gone. I didn’t go to work that day. I waited the return of Miro. Semia’s men started the attack on the eastern wing and within a few hours had captured power there. Banya did not fight Semia directly. He had been pinning his hopes on buying out some of Semia’s men. Though many were bought, it was clear, that, that was not enough. By the afternoon, both the parties had brought their men on the sides of the Red Gate. Both the parties just stood waiting on the two sides. Both knew that beyond the gate was something quite unachievable. Then Banya ordered his people to seal his side of the Red Gate. Semia had won the fight. The Red Gate stood tall in his side. Miro was trapped in there. 

I never knew how accustomed I had grown to Miro, and an empty house without Miro stared at me and silently accused me "Coward." Every room, every nook, every little space was empty, completely empty and there was absolutely nothing in there. The sense of nothingness and vacant space was too much to endure and I recoiled back from that house immediately. I hurried to the gate and I wanted to be on the other side. But the gate was sealed and guarded on both the sides. I couldn’t cross it. I asked Parisan, my old friend, now the guard to the gate, to allow me to pass.

"I can’t. I have strict orders. And even if I would, what good would it really make? You can’t go past those guards on the other side. They won’t let you. You are an enemy in their eyes. And if you try to jump the walls they will break your head without even stopping to look at you." 

"I just want to see Miro." 

"No, don’t do that. If you see her then they will grow suspicious of her and she will have problems." 

"If they create problems for her then she will come back with me." 

"Like hell she will. Do you think Semia will let her go? He will slit her throat before that. He can’t allow anyone to escape. Then we will know what’s happening there." 

I knew he was right and my last hopes crumbled as I sat down on the bare earth before that gate. I could never know whether Miro was sitting on the other side of the gate like me.  I could never know what happened to Miro. I could never know what happened on the other side of the gate.

But there were rumors. There were always rumors. Rumors that spoke how happy people on the other side were. Rumors that told us how Miro, my lovely, homely Miro, now participated in architectural review meetings. Rumors that made us believe Paradise was just a stone’s throw ahead. Then they raised the red flag over the Red Gate. We all could see that. It fluttered higher than anything on our side. The flag had a picture of bold happy people proudly marching ahead. It became a dream world for many.  

Banya became envious of the flag and soon he was paying twenty of our people for building a higher monument that would carry our flag. It became an obsession.

"Their flag stands on a pole. Ours will stand on a monument. It will mock them and show what our powers are."

Our blue overtook their red in a few months. We lit a fire and sang and danced and soaked ourselves in whiskey.

Then it was their turn and they raised their pole and added twenty smaller poles around the main one in a circle. Since it is easy to make poles than monuments, even their smaller poles were higher than our monument. The twenty-one flags fluttered in the breeze and every wind that touched those flags soured the food in Banya’s plate. He employed more men, invested more money and the race was on.