(Recap– In the previous episode, the stone piece described its fateful journey, how it happened to land upon the bank of the river from his afar check-dam destination. Further he narrated about its being loaded on a tractor-trolley as apart of pile of stones. This trolley was destined to fetch it to quench the appetite of a nearby stone crusher plant…)
As I told , despite being a stone piece, I was able to recall the memoirs of my past life as a human being. Here also, when I am loaded as a stone piece as a part of stone pile I can reminisce my first experience of travelling on a tractor-trolley in my past life. That minor incidence was of a few years ago. At that time, as a little boy, along with other urchins I too was used to wander across the span of of river on foot in dry season. It was the part of our childhood gambol adventure at that time, in fact, those were the golden days of our life. We urchins, in a group were given to prank all sort of things on the name of “play.” At that time, we happened to pass whole day playing in the bed of river.
There we used to take bath in recessed, weak stream of river, tried to catch shoal of minor fishes and so many other sports we enjoyed there. It was to result in shape of heavy tiredness at the end. In that condition, it became arduous for us to tread on our foot at the time of retreat. Once, on such tired situation, we found a tractor trolley on our location that was heading on towards the road side. I meant, the destination where we had to reach back. We all children unanimously implored the tractor trolley’s driver to carry us onto the other side of the river. By chance, tractor driver was a denizen of neighboring village and one of the boys of our group recognized him. He assented us to get climbed on the top of the load of the trolley and instructed to be careful since river bed’s road were full of gradients.
Cheerfully, making a victorious clamor we all children climbed on the top of the load of trolley. The load by chance was of sand piles. The experience of sitting on the soft surface of sand piles exhilarated us. Our that short journey in sooth was an adventurous one. Though, it was of a very short duration and within no time we were on our side of the road to get off the trolley. But the lurching and crunching of wheels on the river bed, the throttle of engine, everything thrilled us. We all urchins seated on the surface of sand like a bundle of woods supporting each other so we could remain stable on our place. For days to come, the experience of that journey, of being loaded on the top of the sand pile remained our favorite topic of talks.
And how pitiable my present condition was! Now I was a mass of stone and as a part of pile, too felt the same lurching and throttle of engine but with a painful anxiety of my future to get pulverized into the jaws of stone crusher. Tractor-trolley was now heading towards the stone crusher plant, for now I can hear the clear sound of grinding machine of crusher. The rumbling sound of the grinder in high volume sending a cold sensation to my spine as much as we are approaching the site of the crusher plant. The trolley has come to a halt. The hydraulic shaft of the trolley is applied by the driver and from front side the trolley is raised high in oblique way and I along with other stones feel sliding down in shape of a heap.
Our this dry heap kept on placed there for some days, I know, we were kept for next shift to get grinded. Till that period of time, I have to suffer from feelings of a convict who had been sentenced to death penalty and kept in solitary confinement to wait for his day of hanging. This is a suffocating trauma and can only be felt and experienced by someone sentenced to death penalty but no other. One day, some laborers gathered around the heap in which I was intermingled. They had shovels in hand and to me they looked like executioner in fact. They began on there drive. Firstly they pushed their shovel with main and might into our heap and I too found myself seized in the scoop of the shovel and the next moment I was thrown into a big sized mechanical sieve.
In this sieve, the spare sand and dust were separated so only stones pieces remained there left. From there, they shoveled us onto a conveyor belt that was bound to take us upwardly to the mouth of crusher. The prospectus of being crushed and decimating into innumerable pieces was so painful in imagination. I don’t know about my fellow companions stone pieces, what they felt. But I still was in possession of memoirs of past life, it all sounded me an excruciating punishment, of which I was to undergo. The conveyor belt now poured us into a big funnel, of which I was to undergo. This funnel worked as the mouth of the main grinding machine. Now the big, cruel jaws of grinder is crushing me to the extinction with it ghastly din.
I opted to cry in pain but surprisingly neither my voice was heard nor I felt any pain. Whilst other stones got crushed into many pieces, I got powdered like a dust at once. Perhaps, I was a soft stone piece. Others too got crushed but partly in pieces and partly into tiny particles of sand. I entirely crushed to a dust. Now we are again passing through a big strainer, here I am trying to collect my all dust particles and suddenly I am extracted out as mini balloon of dust through the strainer. One thing, I forgot to relate. When I was being crushed violently inside, I tried to recall my sins of past life for which I was given this painful punishment ( though every thing was a mental perception,) but all in vague. It seems, rightfully I was not a sinner in my past life, for I didn’t suffer from any lingering painful experience.
I am out in shape of a mini balloon but grotesque in shape. Down the sieve, the air is so cold and shivering. A kind of strong cold wave it was. The current of cold wave is strong or I felt so for my own existence is now in shape of tiny balloon of dust. The piercing cold wave is taking me up and up in the sky along with. Here, I can feel the moisture of air is enveloping my dist size particles. I am gripped entirely into that shivering cold, as if, my whole existence is as cold as iced water. The acute spikes I feel growing inside my throat. I am writhing, because spikes make me unable to breath. I am trying to move my limbs, but I am not a human being but simply dust particles.
With a tremble, I am awake now! I want to eject a painful cry but I am helplessly numb. I find myself laying on my bedstead motionless gripped by shivering cold. Not only this, my entire body oozing out cold sweat. So I was not a stone piece in sooth. Collecting my all senses, I notice that quilt I had wrapped on to protect from the cold, that had been removed from my top. This was resulting into a cold, piercing experience. I heave a long sigh of relief. It all was a night mare. The cold sweat perhaps was due to the aftereffect of the suffocating and traumatic dream. For a while, I remained laying there motionless. Then got up and lit the light. It was 4.00 a m. Out side somewhere morning birds chirped with full vigor. On the side table, the same old magazine placed of which I had perused the story of same cruel, profligate, debauchee criminal. What am imaging IMPACT the story had produced in my sub conscious mind. But despite of all this, it succeeded in fetching a moral ethic in my mind to live a life within social norms and value. ( End of the story.) Penned by– Vinay Pharasi —–
