Manize Talukdar

The Eye of the Verse

Chapter One

    The Sandstorm tore through the desert with the passionate fury of a scorned woman pursuing an errant lover.  She spiralled skywards, venting her rage against the heavens, she stamped the earth whipping the sand into a frenzy: and threw up a mantle of darkness between earth and sky, totally blocking out the warmth of the sun. For nine nights and nine days, thus she fumed without rest, until every gulp of breathable air was soup-thick with sand.
    By the ninth day, vision was so obscured that one could no longer be certain if it was day or night.  Any creature unfortunate enough to be caught up in this savage maelstrom was dancing with Death; any person foolish enough to expose bare skin to it was certain to be lashed by the sand and uprooted by the wind.  Even the three camels which sat huddled nose to tail beside a small craggy outcrop of rock, had their heads down and their eyes firmly shut against the ravages of the storm. 
    In the shallow enclosure formed between camels and rock, an old Bedouin, swaddled in layers of cloth, clutched seven fragile bundles to his body, whilst praying to the universe: he offered up his life in exchange for the safe delivery of his treasures.
    The old Bedouin was tall and broad, with arms so long they reached beyond his knees.  In his youth he had earned the nick-name, “The Rock”, and was said to have once single-handedly wrestled and killed two giantcrocodiles in the murky waters of the Blue Nile; but on this, the final night of the storm, exhausted by weeks of travel through scorched terrain and blazing heat, each day sustained only by a handful of dates and a few gulps of water, the old man could feel his life-force ebbing away: he fell into an exhausted slumber, only opening his eyes moments before dawn to see the storm finally extinguish herself.
    By sunrise the desert was serene again; earth and sky had called a truce and were in harmony once more; the wind had dropped and the sun began to re-assert his dominion over the landscape.
    For the first time in days, the old man exposed his face to the air.  His breath came in rasping bursts, his lungs felt sluggish from all the sand he had breathed in.  His back against the rock was stiff and his throat burned like a brazier.  He looked out beyond the lee of camels at the vastness of the desert, and it was then that he noticed Death on the horizon, beguiling him with her carnal dance. 
    Gently shaking the two largest bundles in the crook of his left arm, he croaked, ‘The storm has finally broken; go and scout out the land’.  Two pairs of almond eyes gazed out from beneath swathes of cloth.  The two bodies scrambled over the camels to survey the terrain. 
    The two smallest bundles on the old man’s lap and the three in the crook of his right arm, still exhausted from their recent travails across mountain, desert and sea, continued to sleep.

* * *

    Fidelity removed the inky blue ghutra that covered her head and face, releasing her long dark hair.  She took a deep breath – the air was dry and hot, searing her nose and throat.  Trying not to think about the thirst that raged inside her, she shook out her ghutra and knotted it accross her rounded hips, then bending forward raked her fingers through her tangled curls; as she massaged her scalp, miniscule grains of sand fell back into the waiting arms of their mother, the desert.  She looked on as her older sister Courage mimicked her actions. 
    Gazing at Courage’s slim body which was visible through her thin cotton thawb and her short boyish hair, Fidelity realised why she, Fidelity, was often taken to be the elder sister.  Courage looked into the distance, becoming as still as a rock.  Fidelity shading her eyes against the rising ball of fire, followed her sister’s gaze.  She saw nothing but ageless, featureless sand in every direction, yet knowing how deceiving the desert could be, she looked more keenly at the horizon. 
    As Fidelity’s narrowed eyes harmonised to the landscape, she began to distinguish between the mounds and hillocks of sand and rock, the differing shades brown and tan: and slowly the true countenance of the desert came into view, then her eyes alighted upon the object of her older sister’s gaze.
    Fidelity gasped…

* * *

    Death approached the little encampment and smiled her knowing smile at the old man; she was so close now that he could make out her red eyes, scaly green body and the three black horns on her head.
    The Bedouin’s eyes grew cloudy, his breath shallow; hugging the remaining bundles even tighter to his breast, he whispered,  ‘O my beautiful sweet princesses!  Please, please, forgive me, for I could not save you, even though I promised.  My debt to each of you I carry into the next life.  I swear on the sun and the moon, the earth and the sky that I will find you again!’  The old man wept, but so parched was his body that his eyes could not even produce tears.

* * *

    …the very thing the old man had been praying for these last days!  The place the camels had known to come to despite the storm!  The onlything that in the desert is more precious than gold, emeralds or silken robes.  An oasis!  The Oasis!  Al-Aqdaas!  Sanctuary, at last! 
    ‘Al-Aqdaas!’  The girls cried in unison, racing back towards the camels.

* * *

     Death leapt over the camels and landed on the Bedouin’s chest, her back paws resting on the two smallest bundles on his lap.  The old man opened his mouth in a gasp of terror and Death penetrated her lizard-like tongue deep into his parched throat and sucked the life out of him; the two small bundles on his lap stirred briefly before falling into the deepest sleep. 
Death, greatly surprised to have reaped more than she had expected, disappeared back into the desert haze.

* * *

     Courage shook the old man, his head fell forward onto his chest: Fidelity cried out. 
    Fidelity roused the three similar-sized bundles sleeping in the crook of the old man’s right arm.  Courage knelt down to address them all.
    ‘Uncle is dead,’ said Courage.  The three bleary-eyed children blinked at her.  Courage continued, ‘He sacrificed his life so that we might live; we must not waste so precious and irreplaceable a gift.  We must continue the journey by ourselves; Al-Aqdaas is nearby - we must make haste!’
    Truth, Beauty and Justice watched Courage knitting and un-knitting her fingers, biting her lower lip.  They knew there was more.  The middle sisters looked at Fidelity - her face was wet, her body trembling.
    Courage took a deep breath and clasped her hands tightly before her.  ‘The babies, the twins…’, she began, one of the camels behind her made a loud snorting sound, making them all start. 
    ‘Love and Compassion…’, Courage’s voice was barely audible now, ‘could not bear to be parted from uncle and have chosen to keep him company on his long journey’.  An icy stillness fell across the company and seemed to chill even the desert.   
    Courage swallowed hard feeling as though the desert had clogged up her mouth.  ‘We have no time to mourn them now,’ she said, turning her eyes on Fidelity, ‘Save your tears for later, you may cry them only when we are safe.  We must gather up our things and prepare to mount the camels once more!’, said Courage rising.
    Fidelity caught herself mid-sob, damming the flow of tears and grief somewhere in the middle of her twelve-year-old chest and hurriedly rose to follow her older sister. 
    Moving like a flock of birds in concert, the sisters began gathering their few belongings; Courage checked their provisions; they had run out of food two days ago and all save one of the water skins was empty - and even that only a quarter full.  She was trying judge how long the water would last as she loaded the camels, when she heard sweet music behind her.
    Fidelity had laid their uncle’s body out flat - and in the crook of each arm lay one of the twins.  She knelt beside them, singing an ancient Bedouin prayer for departing travellers.  From her uncle’s left hand she took the many-jewelled ring, transferring it to her right thumb.  From around her hips she took the dark blue ghutra and let it fall over the three bodies, and with cupped hands began to shovel sand on top of it.  Her sisters joined her one by one - each one shovelling sand with the intensity of grief. 
    Truth, Beauty and Justice mounted the same camel together –
as they always did. 
    ‘One of you should ride with Fidelity’, instructed Courage, who was on the lead camel by herself.  The three middle sisters searched each others faces. Justice sighed and rose to join Fidelity.  The sisters spoke in throaty animal sounds to the camels, clicking their tongues, yanking on their reins and digging their calloused heels into the beasts hides, causing them to rise up.
    Courage turned her camel to face her sisters and declared, ‘Sisters, we have very little water left, so please be sparing with it; it is a full day’s ride to the oasis at Al-Aqdaas, but once there, you will be able to eat, drink and sleep to your heart’s content; we have come this far and sacrificed much ourselves, as have others for us, so let us not be defeated now.’  Then added, ‘Please also try not to weep until we reach our destination, for it will only aggravate your thirst; we must conserve water.
    The ragged princesses bound their torn ghutras tightly around their heads and faces.  The camels marched resolutely on towards Al-Aqdaas. 
    An angry sun, like a jealous cuckolded husband, blazed down on their departing heads.

* * * * *

Biography

Manize Talukdar was born in Pakistan, moved to Bangladesh and came to the UK at the age of 11.  After completing a degree in French and Arabic, she worked for many years as a PA/administrator in the NHS, Higher Education and the City. She is currently enrolled on the MA in Creative Writing at Goldsmiths College.
 
manize@fsmail.net