COLOURBLIND

Same features looked back at me. Same eyes, noses, ears, hands feet, skin and…yes, colour ,same colour. Jet black skin and a pair of white eyes stared back. The shining mirror could not mar the luster of my black skin. I was here because of this skin. I had been so abused, tortured and maligned because of my colour, that it seemed only natural that I develop some strong pride for it. It was a regal insignia – the colour of the oppressed.
It took me a while to realize it. I still remember being flogged. When I couldn’t stand it any further, each whiplash came as a boon. The final one didn’t fall upon me- it went through and I was jerked up in here. In this hallway of marble and gold. At the end of the hall there was a heavy golden door and there was a huge Venetian glass (well I know it was Venetian because someone told me later) mirror beside it. There was a huge inscription on the mirror “CHECK THY REFLECTION”. The door was plain gold- Spartan. No handle nothing. It all seemed very silly. No instructions like “Knock before you enter”- just that “Check Thy Reflection”. Since there was no one around, I took a tentative step and went through.
Oh! I forgot to mention. There was a murmur in the opposite side of the door. When I entered- it ceased abruptly. The room was semi dark.
“Ah! There’s another one of ’em”-came a drawling voice.
I was bathed in a flood light. It was so bright that I had to cover up my eyes. When I became accustomed to it I could make out shapes in the darkness around me. It seemed to be a kind of room. There was the dim glow of a fireplace at one side and there was a huge table in front of me. The dancing flames of the fire seemed to be etching charcoal relief on the table, and the shadows oscillated, looked faint and then again relapsed into pitch blackness. It was through this alternate play of light and shadow that I could actually make out the features of the table. And there were shapes behind it, engulfed in dark. They watched me, examined me with their eyes, like an animal at zoo, or a new exhibit in their museums. All the while the flood-light shone down upon me with the natural high-nosed complacency of a white master.
“Seems to be of fine built,” came a wheezy voice.
“Would be very effective in leading the mining team at hell” replied a drawling voice.
“Out of question!”, snapped a voice.” The tribunal surely recognizes the fact that such an allowance would seriously hamper the progress we have initiated out of serious mismanagement and…..”
“Aah! Sir Raleigh! Calm down. We all have our best interest at heart. We shall of course as always judge the newcomer” , the drawling voice spoke again.
Well to say that I was baffled, would be an understatement. It really went over me. Firstly, I didn’t get the reason for a light and darkness show. And then the voices, it was like people arguing in a courtroom. I felt afraid. Actually we all (we blacks) are afraid of courts. Four men from my village were taken to court by their masters and since then there was no news of them. In fact, I had no idea what happened at courts. But then I heard someone mention ‘hell’. Can’t describe how my heart just jumped into my mouth. So was it that I surely had died? Were I then in Heaven…the pedestial of highest judgement? I still remember the feeling- I trembled from head to foot, a stark realization that sent pulse of muted euphoria through my veins. To me, heaven was synonymous with freedom. Hadn’t the Father said at Sunday Mass that in God’s house every one was equal, irrespective of colour and social position. My heartbeat quickened and excitement showed clearly on my face as I eagerly took a step forward. Instantly, the voices broke off, the spotlight turned off and a mellow pleasant light lit my surroundings. I saw the Tribunal.
My jaws dropped. In front of me sat five white, decked in attires going back to my grandfather’s era. And more amazing (and disturbing!) was the fact that they held the similar appearance as that of mortals: a shiny whitish skin, and a frosty contemptuous haughty sneer dominated their lips. They sat in comfortable chairs across a huge rectangular table. Looked like I was in a Rectangular Table Conference.
“Consider yourself lucky, you people rarely form the centre of such an animated discussion”, a portly man spoke.
“Yeah!” , seconded the wheezy voice, a man in tweed coat, “generally you stuff are unceremoniously thrown into hell.”
“Gentlemen! I suggest we carry out the similar treatment with Bill Churney. After all he doesn’t seem to be very comfortable with the surroundings “, Sir Raleigh spoke.
Indeed Raleigh spoke true. I was speech bound with the flamboyance I saw around me. Generally for a slave it was hard to imagine the true essence of the term grandeur. But occasionally, I saw in my master’s house what magnificence meant. The rich, naked display of wealth : money spent like water on all sorts of entertainment. I had grown up witnessing the beauty, splendour of money ,skin and social position. As a result what my brains recorded was just a pinprick of light- I never caught the sheer radiance of the sun. My grandma spoke of stories of kings of a bygone world- but those were dazzling wealth- what I encountered now was far more awesome than any thing else.
It was immense- a structure of swirling clouds; the expanse of the room lay shrouded in mist. And it continuously morphed into shapes. The outright brilliance of the golden hue which seemed to encase the entire place stunned me: and Dawson’s remark singed me with his sarcasm, evidently aimed at my pathetic life on earth. His comment was aimed at my discomfiture in a setting far above my bearings, and the slur in his casual remark gave me voice.
“I am afraid you all are being very vague misters. Who the hec are you anyway?”.
“Silence!”, thundered the drawling voice, “You impertinent beast, how dare you speak out of turn?”
“This ain’t life mister-and you ain’t ma master-so could you please come to the point eh!?”-strangely I seemed to be harbouring on the borderline of outright courage and immature recklessness.
“So you mean you don’t know who we are?”-spoke a younger fellow, with amusement in his eyes.
“Nope.”
“We are the Tribunal-administrators of heaven.”, spoke the wheezy voice. “We decide upon what goes on in here, who gets in and who get out to hell-in fact we are the Government of Heaven.” “Wait a second!” , I cut in, “I knew that God, stayed in Heaven. He is in-charge here; that’s what Father said in church.”
“Your sickly Father is thoroughly backdated and misinformed. God stays in Heaven no doubt, but it’s a rare case when he chooses to interfere in petty things as you. He dispatched a Tribunal, to look after heaven, and now we are practically the head of heaven- God, bless Him, rarely makes an appearance,”
“And a fine job you are at- you people have taken over the highest abode of power?- I said, incredulous. Their words were as stunning as seeing it snow in July.
“No! you retard,” said the drawling voice,” we have rightfully acquired what is ours-in life or after life, know this, that –our colour retains its superior stature.”
I simply went hollow. To say that I was thunderstruck would be an attempt to undermine the tremendous impact that those words had upon me. Was there a ringing in my ear? Did my heart tremble or did it just miss a beat? Or did my blood boil and my lungs crave to scream out so loud that I got aroused into a frenzy of a psycho? It felt like they had crushed all my hope like they’d make us crush cane in the windmills. At the end, the prospect of getting this treatment, the situation of encountering the similar phenomenon that had ruled over my life was a fresh whiplash on my tortured back. And in reaction- I stared blandly across the table. The colour, the whiteness in their demeanour- it would forever, in eternity out shine our pitch blackness. My whole body went rigid at this revelation- I stood up abruptly: and like the fires of hell, there rose in me a fierce resolution. I decided to stand up to the test. I relaxed and I formed a plan. At least, they can’t kill me after my death.
“---- and duly sent to the Gates of Hell. You shall carry out work in the Necropolis, under the supervision of Satan. Any misbehaviour on your part will only make you more eligible for perpetual service in the worst dungeons of ---are you listening?”
Somebody was probably reading out my judgement.
“No!, I said coldly . Well, my heart trembled anyway! Nevertheless I continued with as much courage that I could muster, “I am not interested in listening, so why don’t you stop speaking crap and come to reality? You can’t just force me into hell if I choose to stay here at heaven. That too ,if my “deportment” can be challenged in front of God himself. I am not a dog, that you will put me in a lash and make me do rounds!”
“Really?”, spoke the young man, “ you seem very confident about yourself, eh? How about taking a look at this?” He pointed to the fireplace, which burned with an increased fervour. And through it I saw---- Hell.
I am not interested in recounting what I saw there because everything was in a whirlwind. The young man crept up beside me and suddenly he touched me and said, “I condemn thee in the name of my Lord”. The flames leapt up at me, I was sucked into a whirlpool of fire and ash- acrid fumes singed my nostrils- I was thrown into Hell. Oh! What a sight it was. To speak of Hell in Heaven is one thing and existing in that torturous place in full senses in another thing. It was also magnificient…indeed hideousness can’t really sink any low. The rotten smell, the changing skyline burning with the inhuman cries of pain from the condemned prisoners in there…the black dungeons, hidden inside the deep chasms of Hell, lava and muck pouring over them meticulously… the sub-creatures of Hell and their master…Satan-the unseen being. It was custom( I learnt later), that Satan welcomed the newest unfortunate lot. And precisely that happened with me. There in front of me stood grinning a toothy rotten grin- Satan , enmeshed into a swirling darkness , like a chasm with two red pricks of light.
“ So, the rebel comes. Would you like to lead the next work group Sir?”, the shadow spoke in a mocking high pitched voice.
Now this was different. I was in Hell no doubt, but I was not speaking to a white skin: Satan or whatever, it was decked in black-my colour.
“I am sure I don’t think so” said I equally cheerfully.
The shadow flustered. There was a momentary lull in the roar around me- I grabbed that opportunity.
“ I am not going to see this bloody colour code determine my future-enough of this crap- I protest. Where is the God who we worshipped. Where is the Divine Power that is supposed to guide us after life? I demand open confrontation”. My voiced boomed in the gorges of hell- the labourers, a multitude of blacks looked up, their tired face showing an unreal amazement. I stood there, fist clenched, a figure of defiance, upright against the black shadow. The red lights of the black chasm dimmed.
Suddenly, the stone ceiling of hell cracked, and through the crack came a white light engulfing me, it dazzled me, and then spoke, God. “I am touched, Bill. Your information is really remarkable .Who could have guessed that the Tribunal set alight the embers of flame in your heart?”
I was thrilled …. And determined. ”Yes, I shall grant you more than what you bargained for. I shall re-judge the decision for the condemnation of so many of your kind. And you, you shall have no respite. You will be resurrected. But in a new form, in another man who is fighting for his life. Bill you must continue what you realised today. Philosophising and enactment in real life and two incidents starkly different from each other. Bill, make a mark in your life. Live a new life, and give new lives to hundreds. Go, Bill, …..Go.”
The white light enshrouded me and then it lifted.
I gasped and woke up. The room around me was overcrowded. People drew breath and looked horrified .A Father on my left dropped his Bible in shock. They seemed to be reading the final mass for somebody. Someone muttered, ”He was nearly dead, how did he come around?”
“Yeah! Looks as fit as a horse.” I felt confounded. None of the faces were familiar. My hands and feet did not seem mine --- like my soul in another body. Memories of the new body came creeping in my mind and so came God’s last instruction and my beliefs. Then….A boy of seven broke through the crowd.
“Uncle Tom! Uncle Tom! You are alive! You have awoken!”