#12: The Innocent Extortionist!

The Innocent Extortionist…

By: Syed Umar Shams Shah

(This poem is based on a true theme which I originally intended to narrate in a prose form, but then I chose poetry for reasons of intrigue and finesse).

 

It was a day I still recount,

When his shadow lurched in the street;

The street of my city, filled with people

Of all hues, all shades;

Rumbling noises all around.

As I walked past his throne of power,

He set his eyes on me, I knew.

For he was the extortionist

And I was his prey.

But I kept moving as if I didn’t care.

I passed through the alley,

Where the elderly sat,

On their porches protruding into the lane.

I passed through the thick jungle of people,

Amidst the food street of my city,

The smell of delicacies all around.

I crossed the bridge where swans float,

And into my locale, I made a retreat.

But his deathly shadow wasn’t far behind.

The sun was sinking, so was my heart,

Trouble it was, that I surmised.

But now I was among my kin

No harm would dare reach me.

I sat under the awning of my shop,

To sell my catch of fish.

As I started pruning the fins,

With my back turned to sun;

I felt a little prick in my rib.

It was the dagger

That he held close.

I couldn’t move an inch.

His shadow fell into the tub

Making him look like a boy.

I was perturbed and very confused.

He shouted in a shriek voice,

“Hand me the money you have”

And I realized;

He was just an Innocent Extortionist.

He was a kid sent by his master.

Though I had a machete, I tried to hide

For I didn’t want to panic him further.

He was in hurry and a lot of shiver

His wobbly eyes didn’t rest on a thing.

I tried to make things very calm

For him to know that I was no harm.

Then in a moment of frenzy,

My kin came out, with a long sword in his hand

He yelled at the kid;

Threatening to kill.

The kid faltered and withdrew,

His dagger fell with a loud shrill.

I caught his dagger but kept him close

As my kin looked menacingly bold.

He asked the kid to lay on the ground.

Shaken and sweating in his torn rags,

The child leaned over on to the mound,

“No, wait, don’t lean over there”.

For there were termites, his body wouldn’t bear;

I stopped him and pointed to a different place

The poor little kid, Ah! He looked so innocent,

He sat there fast, as if in a game.

With no time to react, my kin put a lash

His bare body bore the prompt red mark.

The cry of the child, ugh! My heart couldn’t bear

The lash left a mark – crimson,

Not on his body but on my tender heart.

I knew that he was a tool of extortion

But his childish appearance I couldn’t ignore.

He had to be taught

That his ways were rogue,

But beating him violent

Was no means to teach.

My kin wanted to show

That extortion could him kill;

So, imitating the execution,

We did try

To instill fear in his tender heart.

I too fell for the plot,

Asking the child to lay still.

I lay my machete bare on his nape;

Wanting only to scare.

But lo behold!

My own heart sank to a depth

Feeling a shooting pain, deep inside,

My thoughts inquired;

How dreadful would it be for this young mind?

Immediately withdrawn, my weapon fell away.

I pushed my kin and raised the kid

Hugged him tight, and held his hand;

For my heart was tender and meek as his tone.

Looking into his dilating eyes –

Fear written large over his face;

I asked him the reason that made him come,

“Haar Bhayya sent me” was his only reply.

“Haaroon” I suppose was his extortionist kin,

Who plotted against this kid and me.

I held his hand and wanted to move,

To face the real extortionist at his throne.

But suddenly I felt blood dripping down my cheeks,

Bewildered! I touched my face,

It wasn’t blood but the drops of sweat,

That had drowned my whole body.

Waking me up from a perplexing dream!

 

{The whole incident described in the above poem is a narration of my today’s dream (22 Feb, 2013) which was, in fact, more  vivid and impacting than the above poem may convey.

Picture only meant for representation and does not belong to the author.