Colors of the Sky

by Nivedita Bangolore CHANDRAPPA

That evening my great grand son came from his commune, the commune  brought up hundreds of young ones like him, they used aptitude education, children were identified for their aptitude and were given the tools to master their skills; each one of them knew what they wanted to do when they grew up.

It has been a generation since humans have banished all doctors and science of medicine. We have lived over hundred years without diseases. cloning which brought a new twist to our lives; made everything possible between life and death. We do not have any illness that erodes our bodies; we have managed to be young for over hundred years.

Many of us have our clones who replace our body parts now and then when they wear out, the quality of life has changed after all these dramatic changes. People are not bearing as many children as they used to,when you are forever young -you are open to adventures!

My  great grand son hasn’t seen his parents for years,  he doesn’t know who is god..he doesn’t pray..all his life he has to live with certainities of life..We have stopped praying since we found out it was mere human fear against a pattern of life. The concept of god doesn’t exist anymore.

Human mind has conquered fear and thrived. There are no criminals in our society because every one has everything,  we have enough FOOD enough WATER and AIR.

“Aaee  what are you doing there”

 as if woken up to a dream I shuddered at the truth of having my great grand son with me.

“When did you come here darling”

Kamal? Or should I call him q234 as they numbered him at his commune.

All of his sixteen years and handsome- kamal has a glitter in his eyes.

“Grand ma, were you dreaming? I was at the library the other day and it was very amusing to read about your gods and goddesses, were they real? Why did you have gods? Why did you pray? Did god really punish the bad?

What is so BAD anyway? Do we know god now?

 His questions were pelted at my sensibilities; they were so unreal, why doesn’t he ask about his mom and dad? Ask how he was born? was he born to the same parents...

It has been two generations since men and women stopped believing marriage.  weddings are a rare phinomenon, Somewhere along the road, men and women sarted drifting apart as sexes, they could no longer tolerate living together as husband and wives. There were relationships of all kinds but marriage was not mandatory as it used to be when we were young.

The children who were born out of togetherness were left in a commune, nobody cared any more, they shifted partners like animals, they did not take care of anything, any one, everyone lived for themselves.They paid the commune to TAKECARE of the children. The commune did not teach children about parents or family but taught them values without god- just what should be right or wrong, the culmination of all these changes is my great grand son- who is brave, majestic, sensible.

But...living in between these two extremes, I sometimes grow emotional

years of living with myself has drained my sanity, I needed change and stability so,  I took up the task of finding my grand son and adopted him;and there he is!... What do I do with him!?

Kamal stands next to me..”Okay you must be sleeping, let me get you another time”

Kamal is almost like a robot, he does his things meticulously-he eats and sleeps at fixed times, his whole life is written in schedules; he might find me eerie with my erratic ways.

Now do I answer him about god, I don’t want him to know god, knowing god is fearing, fear is powerful, I don’t want him to fear something in his life.  Of course scientists have long before have wondered who wiered us to spirituality, they haven’t found answers, but they know for sure it isn’t god

What else kamal would ask? About his mother, father? Their father who is my son, who at the begining of all these changes left me and did what he wanted. A small pain jabs at my heart, though I was the first mark of rebellion; by not living like mundane women did at my times, it was hard when my son rebelled. I couldn’t understand why he did what he did.  Why din’t he think   about his old mother, he just lugged his life, all by his effort -

his affairs, his relationships; they were his own responsibilities, nothing connected me to them.

Somewhere a voice questions -what happened with your parents? Did you tread on their path? Din’t you override all the norms of the time and lived-in- to everyone’s amazement ;with a low caste lowly man?

What would Kamal do if he knew that we had this weird caste system, which segrigated humans, that was more devious than the racism.

A smile crossed my lips; as I felt the horror it would create in his brain.

He can only hear what he wants,... finally I would be teaching him our culture. I wanted him to know how a family lived in my times ..I needed to make him a human.

“Kamal”.

“aaee”

Do you want to know what happened to your mom and dad and your grand pa?

His grand pa- my son, had gradually withdrawn in to a state of ‘samaadhi” where a person consciously goes in to a deep sleep for years, so much for his free living.he was fed up of it all in the end.

“Aaee..May be we should talk more about god it is interesting to know that this fear kept all of you from being bad ...didn’t you guys have as much sense?

I feel knowing god is more realistic than knowing about one’s birth, I don’t want to know the cause of my birth. I am born, isn’t that a greatest truth aaee? I am separated from them, I do not want emotions to overwhelm my being...even with you, I do not need a bond I came here because the commune thought- you would be my best guide to history, once I finish with that I would be living on my own, on my terms”.

Why am I here,  I asked myself, .. I would have been dead and buried 50 years ago if I preferred to....why did I live so long?

How do I live without bonds, relationships, committments, the very emotions I questioned year’s ago; when I was still young.

May be? What I had was good, what we had was right. I was happy with god, now I am not even happy.

The sky lookes the colors of... dismay....while I brood over my hundred years of solitude... Kamal my only hope to humanity , takes wings in his “pushpak”... He flies away far away from a place called home.