A Philosophy in Flames

This story is inspired by the 'untouchables' caste in India. The depiction may not be accurate.

Shouts rang out as Layla crossed the street. People announced their wares, children screamed with laughter, Aunties exclaimed at those children, and Uncles loudly criticised everything between the sun and moon.  Everyone had to crowd in, making sure they were included. This was why she always ensured she was done with her work by the evening, so if groceries were to be brought she could conveniently do so. 

The grocery shop was in the middle of the street; she wished it was at the end so she could view and bask in more of this street. Alas, the shop came and she walked in through the back, a greeting placed on her lips. However, when she entered the shop, she was met not only by the shop owner, Radhesh bhai but also by another bearded man hunched over from fieldwork.

 As soon as their eyes met, he busted into action and said, “Out! Out! Go away! You thought you could sneak in here and take whatever you want. You can not use these things, they were not made for the likes of you.” Her heart sprang, at this unexpected sight. She did not even bother to gasp as she ran away to the street and took cover behind the vendors as she retreated. 

It took her a further couple of minutes to reach their street, and sat, back pressed against a white-washed wall. Second, a minute, a half hour passed, before she could fully breathe. Sweat had collected at the nape of her neck. She slowly made her way into her house. “What does this mean? Why are you empty-handed?” her mother greeted her. When the whole story came out, her mother came forward to hug her but seemed to only pat her, stuck between anger and worry. Layla felt guilty after the shock had passed. She had not only failed to get the groceries but created trouble for Radhesh Bhai. 

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She carefully listened for any breathing or footsteps across the door. Next, she angled here and there to take a careful look at the whole room. Finally, she knocked loudly and flinched at the loud sound it made. Radhesh bhai gently smiled and extended his hand. She shook it, eyes downcast. “What a spectacle yesterday was!” she nodded, embarrassed to form an answer. There could be no excuse for what she had done. If she had not run away, she would be in no shape to talk today.   

Bhai placed the usual stuff in the bag, and asked, “Anything else for today?” She quickly shook her head and inquired, “How are you able to touch us?”

 “It is not that I can. It is that I choose to." She had always believed that Bhai had been chosen by the gods to go to the city because of his intelligence and his deep well of kindness. He had returned with a look in the eyes two years ago when she was only 10, that showed an ignition to change the world.  

She ventured further than she had ever gone, “What does it mean? Why do they not want to touch us?” 

“People have made theories and philosophised. But the real reason they don't touch you is because they are scared.” 

“What can they be scared of us?” 

“They are scared of the theories they have made. I am not scared of losing my mother, because she is not with us anymore, and it is not a possibility to lose her. But because they know they can easily become filthy vile creatures they have dreamt up, they restrict you.'' She understood half of it and understood that Bhai was truly a spirit who suffered intensely when he saw others suffering. 

That evening, as she was wiping dishes, their next-door neighbour, banged with urgency, “There is a mob gathering! Chal! Chal!” Her mother hastily unwrapped her sari and ran out, Layla at her heels. 

“They have not only taken our freedom! They have not only refused to associate with us! They have agreed to let us die!” a voice boomed from the gathering. 

There were protests, whisperings and a woman quelled the uproar. “What is the meaning? Don't throw words around.” 

The man stood straighter, shoulders back as if bracing for an attack. “Someone saw one of us at the store and they have banned Radhesh from dealing with us. The closest city we can buy from us is 6 hours away. Surely they mean for us to starve and relieve them from us once and for all.” 

Among another outburst, Layla swayed with the realisation. She had never thought that the repercussions could spread beyond her and Radhesh bhai. Her mother discussed the situation with other aunties, all while sending meaningful glances at their daughter. It was truly the end of the world.

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Layla had hidden from the world for a week. She knew the supplies would be running low by now across the street. She was stitching her brother’s trousers when her mother entered and filled herself a glass of water. 

Layla was too afraid of the answer to ask, but she was supposed to have it. “Someone came back from the city today so we are good to go for another two days.” Maybe they could keep this up, and survive day by day. “I want you safe inside, along with all of your brothers and sisters.” The blossom crushed, and her hair stood on the end knowing what was to come next. 

“The men will be lighting our neighbours' street today. They plan to flush them out. I do not know if it is folly or bravery. Either way, I am going to go pray to the gods.” 

The sky darkened, the darkness so oppressive that it was a struggle for the siblings including Layla sit still on the mat. One by one they dosed off, their dreams still circling the heroic act the adults had gone to do. 

Layla, twisting around, thought of Radhesh bhai. No one would have thought to warn him. She could not let him face something. She quickly and nimbly stole across the back streets, waste and dung cakes decorating the path. 

As she climbed up to Bhais’s apartment her heart thundered. She quickened as she saw the torches carried on the streets. Bhai opened the door and inspected the staircase behind startled by the expression on her face. Before she could utter a word, a torrent of screams, rang out in the night. A burst made them rush to the lone window in the apartment. A hundred people crowded the street, half-dressed, hair wild, running to and fro. It seemed that no one could sense any direction. On the other side, 30 people progressed torches in hand here to deliver the end of this chaos. There was weeping, and no stop to the people pouring out of the houses. The coughs and panic made Layla worried if things would pan out as planned. The fired were supposed to flush them out, not consume their houses and sit the survivors.

 Radesh bhai pulled her out of the building and upon a close view, she could not only smell char and wood but taste the triumph and sickly excitement from the group approaching. A man, hair peppered with grey, stopped in front of the flickering torches, his shirt swaying with the same wind. “When all this gets sorted, you and your group will pay. Through your women and children.” 

“Don't say things, you will come to regret.” a torch separated and replied. 

“You and your people are truly bereft. Only you can do something so atrocious.” 

“The real filth lies within you. Go before the fire spreads further. Leave this village and leave us alone.” 

“Give us half an hour. Remember this, Upon our leave, the gods will never visit this place.” As people trickled to the road leading to the next village, women wailed for their children, men clenched their jaws on their empty backs and hands, and children were dragged along not comprehending the change. That night Layla was told they had attained freedom. Yet in her dreams, she knew that with unjust acts they weren't truly free.