Page 15 - The Lotus Aug-Sep 2020

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When Brigette thinks back to her youth,
there are moments of fog followed by
memories,
so clear and vivid, quite a contrast to the
recent years. These memories are buried
deep in the wrinkles that have formed at
the corners of her eyes, always there to
transport her to a different time-not
better, not worse, just different. She was
different
back then, younger and freer. She was
still free, it was just a different kind of
freedom.
Freedom: how had it changed throughout
her life? She was once free to explore,
run around, love. Now she was free to
just, be; enjoy time as it passes slowly,
not as it had rushed by, when she was
young. She thinks back to one very slow
summer in 1940, during
the war. The destruction hadn’t affected
them yet. Her town continued on, very
much in adversity, but not
adversely affected. They rationed their
food, they adhered to the curfew, and
they lived, not in fear, but
with caution. Every day was the same;
normalcy in the face of war is a privilege.
Her days comprised of
helping her mother tidy the house, wash
the clothes and make the soup. And that
was her circle of life, of
routine. The predictability, at a time of
uncertainty was a blessing, and yet, she
wasn’t happy; she wasn’t
sad either, just, waiting. Waiting for it to
get to her, because she felt that was
inevitable.
And then she met him. Julien. He had left
Paris in the midst of all the bombings and
retired to the dwelling
of his uncle. He worked as a museum
janitor, but the war had forced the
shutdown of his livelihood, so he
stood in front of his uncle’s house in the
narrow cobbled street of Terra-Sul, the
mystical town that would
be his home for the time being. And
besides all his belongings, he carried
baggage that didn’t belong to
him; baggage that was bestowed upon
him, as if it was a medal of honor, and
not a huge responsibility.
Lumiere, they called it. With its
captivating beauty, and legend had it, all
the bad luck it had brought to its
previous possessors. It was captivating,
and perhaps it was this mystique, this
magnetic spirit that blinded
all its possessors from seeing beyond it.
A yellow diamond, a shiny piece of
carbon and nothing more, and
yet it had been sought. People had killed
for it, fought for it, sacrificed for it, and
there it was, with Julien,
who had never sought it, fought for it,
searched for it or ever desired it. Even in
Paris, Lumiere was a
harbinger of myths and rumors. Some
said it was an ancient stone from East
Asia. All its previous owners
were said to have committed suicide. It
was said that anyone who touches it with
bare hands will lose all
the people they love dearly. It was the
star of the museum Julien worked at,
looking divine as the sunlight shone
through it, creating mysterious reflections
of the walls. When the museum was
made to close down
because of the air strikes, all the exhibits
were moved to a safe house outside
Paris, and yet, something
compelled the museum officials to
believe that Lumiere was safer in the
hands of a janitor, a modest man
who spent his free time making wooden
carvings and walking aimlessly around
the city. Perhaps it was
because of his unassuming demeanor, or
maybe his quiet, simple countenance.
For Brigette, getting to know him was a
whirlwind. She loved meeting new
people. It was like this new
opportunity; a chance to define herself,
rather than being defined by her actions
or the observations of
others. It started off with just a quick hello
over the fence that separated Brigette’s
house from Julien’s .
Her family and Julien’s old uncle had
lived side by side for as long as she
could remember. So, when they
heard about Julien, they were excited to
see a new face, they wanted to hear
about his adventures in the
great big city. It was a refreshing
distraction.
LIGHT
had claimed her mother and just like that,
~ Jade da Silva
And so the quick morning greetings over
the fence became drawn out
conversations, and there they had it, a
friendship. He was the boy who had been
to the big city; she had a lot of questions.
‘Do you think
that Lumiere is actually cursed?’ Brigette
asked Julien one day. ‘A diamond is
nothing but a
glistening piece of coal that has been
suppressed inside the earth for eons. It
cannot harbour a
curse more than, perhaps, a stone, or a
leaf. Chance is not a curse, nor is bad
luck,' he reminded her. No one knew that
he carried it with him, the weight of its
curse, or its lack thereof. They’d
sit on the rocks, beside the sea and
watch the current flow, enjoying the time
they had left, not oblivious to
the trouble that was brewing on the
horizon.
Julien continued with his woodwork. It
kept him busy. He collected discarded
wood that he’d find in alleys
and junk piles. He made some carvings
for his uncle but the project that definitely
took the most time was
his project for Brigette. It was a carved
block. The wood had been scuffed and
damaged when he found it,
but he managed to carve it into
something quite decent.
Brigette wasn’t expecting a gift. In the
midst of the war, when food was so
scarce she couldn’t even think of
receiving a gift. And yet, he made
something for her. A professional by no
standards, it had its scuffs and in
places the woodwork was uneven, but
she believed it was the most beautiful
thing there ever was. It was
Photograph: Mithil Anup
quite heavy and nothing more than a
showpiece; a showpiece she didn’t know
she would need in the time to
come.It all happened very suddenly, he
was summoned back to Paris, to the
museum, for a week. But it was
much longer. Brigette badgered her
friend’s uncle, her father, whoever would
listen, but she felt like they
weren’t nearly doing enough. She
couldn’t acknowledging how powerless
she truly was, her non-acceptance
wasn’t making anything better. And as
she felt the uneven ridges of the wooden
block, weathering its
grooves with her fingers, she stared at
the truth in disbelief-he wasn’t coming
back.
They slapped him and asked him once
again, whether he knew about the
whereabouts of Lumiere. He just
stared at the red band wrapped around
their arms, with a white circle and a bold
black symbol-the swastika.
He didn’t dare breathe too loud. Julien
heard a loud noise and then felt a
searing pain ignite through his
chest. And then, nothing.
Brigette thought that her time of trouble
had begun. It had been long overdue,
anyways. The winter chill had
swept the town with pneumonia, which
she was gone. Brave, a
word that was used very often to
describe her. A title she feel she didn’t
deserve. She just lived through her
circumstances. That wasn’t brave. That
was the only thing she could do. She
would sit on the rocks
whenever time permitted, clutching her
wooden block in her hand. And then one
day between the well worn
ridges, she felt it, a crack. At first she just
thought it was the damage the wood had
sustained long before
Julien had made something of it. But on
closer inspection and after some
prodding and twisting, it opened. It
wasn’t just a block after all, not a mere
showpiece. The inside was stuffed with
scraps of cloth, and very well
concealed within the folds of a white
handkerchief was the manifestation of
sunlight, as if somebody had
captured a sunray and had somehow
managed to hide it in a box. Lumiere.
Mystery and beauty
materialized. So mystical, yet seeped in
ill fortune. She felt its sharp cuts and
each smooth facet, for she
knew that this was never a situation she
could dream up. And yet she had it right
in her palm, a treasure she
never sought. Its previous owners had
been too busy admiring it, too
materialistic. But not her, she saw
nothing but a ‘glistening piece of coal’.
And so, very silently, she clutched it in
her palm, and placed it in the
shallow water, hidden among the rocks.
And there it stirs, Lumiere, with the
current it shifts, rising and falling with the
incessant, untiring waves.
Under the many layers of moss, fish
swim among it, snails move around it; it
dances with the rhythm of the
world.