Impact (Part-1st) —

The revelation that now I was a piece of stone and lied in the same hilly territory of my  own village side, near a check dam, this amazed and distressed me . But, if say in its entirety, I was not prepared to assume myself as an inanimate object as such. For, I felt some pulses inside me.  Even if, that pulsating into my existence were not discernible to the rest of world. I lied here motionless as a lifeless object in the eyes of the other living beings. Yes, if I was knocked or kicked by some one or some one dislodged me from my present  motionless position, naturally I was to come into motioning position. It entirely depended upon the  whim of that fellow who efforted to dislodge me. It was also true, externally, I was having no pulse, as stone ostensibly gave the impression.

I meant, when for the first time, I heard the noise of children gamboling near the check-dam, then suddenly I caught the sight of a child’s uplifted foot, who was just to rest upon me. Once, it felt to me, I was about to die an excruciating death under the weight of the foot. You can compare it with an incidence. When I was a little boy, god knows why, it exhilarated me greatly to crush small snails under the feet. On crushing them, the crunching sound of snails’ exterior shell always filled me with a satisfying air. The same feeling I experienced at that time when I watched the stepping foot of the child heading upon to crush me. Inside my heart, I wailed in writhe unable to move my position to protect me from the disaster, in anticipation of heading on torture. I shut my eyes tight, but nothing occurred to me. In fact I felt no excruciating pain. Just I heard a crunching sound  of being stamped under the foot only. But I was intact not pulverized.

This made me realized agonizingly that now in sooth I was turned up into a stone piece. But why so? Just… just…. a few days ago, I was a human being in my early adolescence with perfect limbs and all my faculties in full possession. A fully grown boy, who was fond of reading all kinds of books. Specifically,  all kinds  of stories fascinated me greatly. There I was living a life happily with my parents and siblings. Then what chanced that now I lied here in shape of a flat piece of small stone. I can’t recall all that.

Suddenly, a story written by some by foreign writer flashed into my mind. That story related about a hard core dreaded criminals. This criminal in his life had tried his hands almost in every sphere of heinous  crimes. Be it from a petty perpetration of theft or big robbery, or be it eve teasing  with women to molestation to ravishing and killing them to find a pleasure in those crimes committed as such. There was a long list of his crimes, that seemed to cover all aspects of abominable crimes. After his untimely demise, (as it often happened with such offender that he died during committing of some crime,) he was brought forth before the God of Death. The God of death scrutinized his register of deeds of his life on the earth and was taken back aghast by going through his records.

It was generated an abhorrence and acute anger down to the every atom of the God . In the utterly incense spell, God bursted out and roared, ” You deserve most hellish punishment for crimes you committed on the earth as a human being. Your every move in life was in contravention to the morality.” The demised soul gave a challenging laugh and then resumed a calm posture and raising a finger on god began in rebuttal, ” Oh God! Basically I am not liable for committal of all these crimes. It’s you who stands responsible. You are the creator, who create a man and send him on the earth, rather you in yourself deserve the same conviction order.

You gave me a robust body with muscular limbs and full of physical strength.  It was you who gave me the faculties to hear, watch, touch and feel the world. Just don’t interrupt me and listen me intently. By using my all faculties I happened to watch beautiful women and felt an arousal in me. You provided me the limbs to penetrate and feel sensual libido, I only enjoyed your facility. You gave me hands to commit murder, I did that. All crimes I committed were an outcome of the facilities you provided me as a man. My mind, my feelings, my physical strength and courage all were blessed by you. How you can blame me for all that. In fact you should have blamed your own process of creation of man, honorable God!”

It was enough to enrage the god to the extremity, he said, ” I delivered you too a mind harnessed with discretion, but you didn’t apply that in judging right and wrong, you foolish man. Now I punish you to turn up into an object devoid of all these facilities for thousands of years to come. You will turn into a massive rock devoid of all virtues of human being. ” And at the next moment, that abominable offender was dropped down on the Earth in shape of a huge rock.

But here, I  was in a laying position  as a small piece of stone. I don’t remember whether I had been indulged in any kind of criminal activity as such which might be of some considerable degrees. Though in life, every one commits some mistakes or petty offences inadvertently, but they never counted in the category of crime, as been described in the books of law.  Yes, in childhood, crushing snails and the crunching sound generated in effect a pleasure, was certainly a moral crime, but that too was in innocence. In that innocent age, perpetrating some carrots, reddish, cucumber from others’ fields too come under the category of theft, but all children happened to do the same innocent perpetration. Never in my village, such children were punished on being caught red handed. Simply, all we were chided either by parents upon being complained of or by the field owner.

Further, when I was on the thresh hold of my adolescence, I too tried to maintain false relationship with young girls in the name of “love.”  But never I crossed the limits of “moral ethics” in that relationship. In total, I don’t recall any heinous offence I committed for which I could be convicted to become a stone piece. I also recall, myself lied here always as a small piece of stone only, who might probably be the part of the huge rock narrated in the story. But how could that be possible! It seemed to me that I was an independent piece of stone from the beginning. In its entirety, I don’t remember to commit any heinous crime in my past life for which I could be punished to turn up into a piece of stone and lied here on the side of the check dam. ( End of the Part 1st of the story. Contd.) Penned by — Vinahy Pharasi —–