(A One Act Play)
Characters in the play
The Mother
The Boy
The Radio
The king
The Minister
The public about ten in number
(The action takes place in an underground metro railway station where the citizens of a city have taken shelter during bombardment by its neighboring country. The time is well within twenty-first century.)
[SCENE: Bogie of an underground train waits motionless on the railway platform. About ten men and women all dumbfound, shattered and traumatized can be seen scattered across the station. Their unwashed face, their unclean dress and their bearing reveals all. They are discussing in a low voice the future of their country. Some are planning to get food which they believe will be in scarcity soon. One adult male with his right leg hanging and the left folded at knee is seen sleeping on an unused railway vendor’s van. On the right advertisement from a ‘Life insurance firm’ displays benefits but with an asterisk which mentions ‘wars not included’. From the left a baby (not visible on stage) is heard crying. The platform is dimly lit and appears dirty, not cleaned for a week.
On the forefront a mother aged about thirty-five, lean and thin is seen seated on a stool. Unable to read a book for distractions, she rests it on her right knee balancing it with her right hand. She is wearing the same dress for almost a week. Her look is uncertain, her hair uncombed. Her ten year old son hugs her and fiddles with his mother’s dress. He holds a cellphone in his left palm. The time by the railway clock is eight in the evening. Siren is often heard from above the stage, meaning from the road above. Near continuous sound of gun firing strains the platform below. Explosions from rockets fired and bombs hurled shatter the air beneath. Often a deadly noise from the rolling tank and the whump from its main gun hurt the ear. Today’s supper has not yet arrived from the NGOs who till yesterday had delivered.]
A boy is seen fiddling with his mother’s dress not caring much about the crowd around him.
THE MOTHER. [Not looking unkindly but disturbed, burdened with anxiety uses her left hand to free her dress. She speaks loudly but politely] Oh! Stop it.
[The boy frees his mother’s dress]
THE BOY. [Ashamed of what he was doing] Sorry Maa. [Pause] Is this a real war? [An earsplitting sound of bomb can be heard and everyone puts his or her hands on ears] When will this end? It’s boring and I’m so hungry, won’t they serve the dinner? How long will it take Maa? [The son abruptly squats, tired of standing. Then he rises again. Undecided what to do.]
THE MOTHER. [Irked but not losing her motherly love looks wistfully towards her son] Bored? Bored with the war games in your phone? [Pauses] Or the real war bores you?
[Continuous noise from bullets fired can be heard with very little interruption.]
THE BOY. [Stamping his right foot in disgust and making a sound] When will this end?
THE MOTHER. [Calmly] Which one? [Points sarcastically, at the cellphone which the son holds.] The real one or the one in the mobile?
THE BOY. [Displeased with his mother’s reply] Stop toying with me Maa.
[The mother bends and hugs her son affectionately.]
THE MOTHER. [Stops behaving childishly and the agonizing truth is about to be expressed. Makes herself sit erect, her left hand rests on the boy’s right shoulder] I don’t know my son. [Pause] The adults are playing a ruthless game. It is a matter of honour and prestige for both of them.
THE BOY. [Inquisitively] You mean fame and power? Like our Maths teacher who fought hand in hand with History teacher in staffroom?
[The mother quickly puts her left palm over her son’s mouth, afraid that he might spill more beans. Some men and women laugh. Obviously someone is listening. ]
THE MOTHER. [Reluctant to support her son’s views] Don’t say that, they are your teachers.
THE BOY. [Pressing his views quite convincingly somewhat nagging, to what he witnessed himself] But I saw them fighting Maa.
THE MOTHER. [A bit sternly] That is none of your business.
[The boy stops arguing, but he is unwilling to support his mother’s view]
THE BOY. [Speaking softly in a painful tone] Why can’t they air some music or some quiz in the radio mother?
THE MOTHER. [Rather abruptly] Because of war.
THE BOY. Then there will be music and quiz when the war ends?
THE MOTHER. [Not confident] Hope so. But it will take time.
THE BOY. [Looking at a distance to find what all others are doing he restarts to fiddle his mother’s dress again and asks rather involuntarily] Then why are they fighting mother? [Looking at the group of people]
THE MOTHER. The border.
THE BOY. [Understanding clearly what his mother meant] You mean the land? Which part belongs to whom?
[The mother in affirmation nods to confirm]
THE BOY. [Like a simpleton] What will they do with the land mother?
THE MOTHER. [Angrily] Stop asking silly questions. [She frees her dress]
THE BOY. [Laughing, somewhat giggling] You don’t know the answer mom, so you are angry. Our History teacher often does the same when he had not prepared himself for the class.
THE MOTHER. [Uneasily] You seem to talk like an adult in these seven days.
[The boy listens, feels elated, but suppresses his feelings, not responding to his mother’s views]
THE BOY. [Inquisitively looking for his mother’s support] The maid next door was saying there must be some girl involved in the war.
THE MOTHER. [In utter surprise, not believing to what she heard, but somewhat smiling, raises her hand for a slap but she knows well, she will not deliver it.] [Angrily] These are the things you are learning in school.
THE BOY. Not in school Maa, in neighborhood. [The boy giggles for her mother’s wrong statement]
[The mother shyly accepts the ‘Freudian Slip’ she had committed.]
[Someone from the crowd laughs. One lady is enjoying the discussion]
A LADY [sitting behind the mother but cannot be seen] Your son looks intelligent.
THE MOTHER. [Responding, she turns her head backwards]. Nothing intelligent. He is just gathering all that dirty adult rubbish.
THE BOY. [Pointing at someone in the crowd behind] That uncle was saying that there are many dead bodies lying on the main square, even children.
THE MOTHER. [Holds her tears. Her hands clasped over her mouth. Her two thumbs touching her lips in silence.] Don’t say that [She pauses] Your father is fighting for his homeland there.
[The boy moves and calms his mother, his hands comforting her.]
THE BOY. Then why are they fighting mum? It’s so boring. No school, no friends, no TV.
THE MOTHER. [Recovering from her tears] It’s not boring. The adults are enjoying.
THE BOY. [Unable to believe] Enjoying? Killing others?
THE MOTHER. Why not? If you can do it in your mobile games, why can’t they?
THE BOY. [In a nagging voice] Stop maa, it’s just a game. [The boy tries to justify his war games in computer]
THE MOTHER. Don’t worry. You are learning how to do it.
THE BOY. Do what? Killing harmless people?
THE MOTHER. [Convincingly] Yes.
THE BOY. [In a very low voice] I will never do that.
THE MOTHER. [Now raising her voice, she insists] Say loudly, ‘’I will never do that.”
THE BOY. [Looking at his mother and speaking very loudly] I will never kill a man.
[The mother hugs her boy affectionately and brings him closer]
THE MOTHER. I believe, the king who is killing, has never been brought up properly by his parents.
THE BOY. Never?
THE MOTHER. May be. I don’t know for sure.
THE BOY. Hated by his parents?
THE MOTHER. [Angrily] How come I know? Hated or loved? [The mother chuckles] Stop silly questions.
THE BOY. You only started the thread.
THE MOTHER. It’s not Quora. Stop living in your computer world. [The mother pauses]. What I meant was much depends upon your upbringing.
THE BOY. What is upbringing Maa?
THE MOTHER. Raising one’s child. To guide him what is good and what is bad. What to do and what not to. And of course, loving the child.
THE BOY. I know that. [Pauses] [Rolling the word on his tongue] Upbringing.
THE MOTHER. Pretty smart you are. You know the word upbringing?
[The lady from behind laughs]
THE LADY. [The lady cannot be seen] I told you, your son intelligent.
THE BOY. [Looking behind at the lady who spoke] Not upbringing, it’s caring. My classmate who sits next to me always says that he is not loved by his mother. She hates him.
THE MOTHER. It may not be true my son.
THE BOY. [Stressing] No it’s true maa. The whole class knows that, even the class teacher. He says his parents always fight.
[The mother rather angrily and swiftly puts her palm over her son’s mouth for the second time, not allowing him to speak. The next moment the mother hugs her son affectionately.]
THE LADY. [From behind] You can’t stop the new generation.
THE MOTHER. [Exhaling in disgust] May be. [Pause] [Looking toward her son] I don’t know. I have to wait till your friend grows up. And find whether he has turned up into a good human being or not. [A longer pause] Some people are blessed with a quality to self-educate them and teach themselves good things.
THE BOY. Who blesses them Maa?
THE MOTHER. [Raising her right index finger pointing at the sky above] Numen.
THE BOY. Numen? What is that Maa?
THE MOTHER. The almighty.
THE BOY. What is Numen doing right now Maa? Can’t he stop the bullets so that I can watch some TV shows at home.
THE MOTHER. [Answers indignantly] You don’t have the right to say like that.
THE BOY. [Knowing well what he said was not right] Only Daddy has the right? He keeps saying words like this.
THE MOTHER. [Vexed] Stop silly arguments.
[A long pause ensues. Only talking amongst the public can be heard. They are still discussing their fate, their home, the war, politics between the two kings. The man continues his slumber on the vendor – trolley. A focusing light points at the sleeping man. And then it moves on a transistor radio lying beside him. A silence of about fifteen seconds is suddenly broken by the boy.]
[The boy is seen fiddling with his mother’s dress again]
THE BOY. Maa. Those who are not loved always turn ferocious?
THE MOTHER. [Jokingly laughing] Like tigers?
THE BOY. Oh stop kidding maa . [Throws his right hand in anger]
THE MOTHER. You mean aggressive?
THE BOY. That’s right maa, you know so many exact words.
THE MOTHER. [Caressing the boy] You too will learn, if I teach you properly. It’s important that you utter the right word at the right time. Most of us do not know how to speak, it invites misunderstanding, confusion. And if you are not aware of this you will have a growing list of enemies. Even if you are not fighting, you are losing your valuable time.
THE BOY. You are lecturing me Maa? This is what Daddy often does to you. [Pausing] And you get angry. When I keep on playing with the mobile games, Daddy keeps on saying, I’m losing my time. A wasted time never comes back in your life.
THE MOTHER. Daddy says that? And you believe that?
THE BOY. [Pauses to answer, scratches his head] Yes I do, at least now I do. When the adults are fighting and making me lose my time.
[One lady from behind is found laughing. But she cannot be seen]
THE BOY. [Questioning inquisitively] You love Daddy? Maa.
THE MOTHER. Yes, that’s the reason I wait anxiously. [Pause] And it’s not only your Daddy, for others who have nothing to do with the war. They have just been sucked into.
THE BOY. [Not understanding a word of his mother] You mean sucked into?
THE MOTHER. Yes sucked into. Just like, being pulled into a vacuum.
THE BOY. You mean the ‘vacuum’ ? The vacuum from General Science?
THE MOTHER. [ Laughing, hugs her child again] What should I do with my little Teddy. [She pauses to explain the word ‘vacuum’.] Here vacuum means…… [The mother falters to explain, not finding the exact word]
THE BOY. [Understanding that his mother is at a loss of words] I understand Maa. They are pulled into the war , to fight people and kill them though they don’t like it.
THE MOTHER. [Now relieved that her son has understood exactly what she meant] I told you, you have suddenly grown up.
THE BOY. [ Not believing what his mother said] Are the people, fool? They suddenly start fighting against their wish?
THE MOTHER. [Whispering in negation] Uh-Hooh. [Then loudly] They are no fools but they can easily be tricked into the war.
THE BOY. Tricked? Like in magic?
THE MOTHER. [She is quite serious and understands that her son is not yet ready for this] This is not my word my son, Goering said that. [Pauses] Forget that.
THE BOY. Who is Goering Maa?
THE MOTHER. I told you to forget that. It was just a slip of tongue.
[The boy pulls his mother’s dress repeatedly and insists about Goering. The mother at last is forced to comply.]
THE MOTHER. He was Hitler’s right- hand man, Herman Goering. You will come to know of him when you grow up. And you must know him well or else you face the same mishap again.
THE BOY. What’s mishap Maa? [Pauses] And what is Right- Hand?
THE MOTHER. The closest man Hitler trusted upon. To some he is God. To many a monster.
THE BOY. [Quite inquisitively eager to know] Who’s Hitler Maa?
THE MOTHER. I will tell you about him another day.
THE BOY. [Confused] A monster and God at the same time?
[One more pause ensues. The boy now confused with what his mother said. ‘A monster and God’]
THE BOY. [Speaks like a grown up man] Am I losing my childhood Maa?
THE MOTHER. Who told you?
THE BOY. From the Television, Maa.
THE MOTHER. A cinema?
[The boys nods in affirmation but does not speak]
THE MOTHER. Yes. And you are losing your time too. It’s more vital than a childhood.
THE BOY. [Speaking convincingly] Then there must be a girl in between, what the maid said.
THE MOTHER. [Now angry and not smiling slaps the boy lightly on his back] Stop that adult rubbish. I told you earlier.
THE BOY. [Not proven guilty by the slap, abruptly joins the conversation without wasting his time] Then there must be money. Hard cash’.
THE MOTHER. [Facing another blow from her son and shaken by the dreadful utterances from him] God only knows where you are being taken to. Where from did you hear these words?
THE BOY. Television. Maa.
THE MOTHER. [At a loss] God only help this child. What the hell the T.V is teaching you? [The mother’s anger is utterly palpable] I will sell off the T.V when I get back.
THE BOY. You can’t Maa. Our city is put to rubbles. Our house is gone.
THE MOTHER. Now it’s pretty bad. Who told you that?
THE BOY. [Again pointing out at a person who is sitting behind at a distance] That uncle, he heard it from the radio.
[One person is seen rising from the crowd and walks towards the radio and switches it on. The cracking sound wakes the sleeping man. The man sits up, as if panicked, quite confused and unable to gather whether it is day time or night. Others laugh at him.]
THE MAN. [Asking the person facing him] Got a nice sleep?
[The man now sitting upright on the trolley doesn’t respond. Still confused. The other man keeps tuning the station in the radio set.]
THE RADIO. [Suddenly bursting into a high pitched speech] This is the ‘City Radio’ giving you the news in HAM frequency. Our city has been wiped off by the enemy. Every building has turned into flames. Our reporter says no high rise exist as of now. The buildings have turned charcoal like. Even the Montessori school has not been spared. The Central Hospital has been bombed. There were about four hundred patients admitted and a full strength of doctors when it was hit by a missile. It was further bombed by the tanks to ensure its complete damage. There are intelligence reports that the enemy is finding ways to gas the underground railway stations where many have taken shelter. They may try the Sarin gas which is odorless, colorless and highly toxic. We warn those in the underground platforms to keep a close watch to what is happening and keep their eyes and ears and nose open. The next bulletin if possible will be after half-an-hour. [The radio is switched off]
—————————————————————————————————————————————
[There is a pause for about twenty seconds. Everyone is suddenly muted by some unseen magic wand. None is found talking. Even the child has stopped crying. The boy waits near his mother, not speaking a word. One keeps watching the other in a stifling quietness. No way is left for them to escape. The stage suddenly plunges into darkness.]
THE CROWD. [Immediately after darkness, a noise like in chorus erupts] Oh my God. Oh my God
[Now, the crowd can nowhere be seen having plunged into darkness. The light solely focuses on two men standing with gas-masks on them, on the right hand corner of the stage. They are softly talking to each other, inaudible to the audience. One is dressed as a King and other his mentor is the Minister. The King stands on the right hand side of the Minister. The King breaks the silence first.]
THE KING. [Looking at his Minister] Hey Mr. Minister, can you hear me? [The Minister is looking at the other end of the stage searching for something. On hearing the King, the minister quickly turns towards him.]
THE MINISTER. [Shaky] Sorry Sir, I am slightly short of hearing in my right ear Sir. [Smartly points his right index finger toward his right ear]
THE KING. [Annoyed and sarcastic] Then I believe you do not require the right ear. Remind me to call the surgeon tomorrow.
THE MINISTER. [Afraid of losing his ear, he is not only shaken but stirred too. Trembling, he starts talking like delivering his speech, as if before a large crowd eager to hear him.] Yes my lord, the holy king, the God of all, the future of truth, the future of verity, the future of honesty and genuineness, the future of accuracy- correctness-rightness and validity. I mean the almighty.
THE KING. [Happy with the minister’s speech] It is the first flawless speech I have heard from you. It seems you have corrected and mastered your speech well. Hence forth dare not to call me “The President”. I prefer to be called a King [The minister nods, still feeling uncomfortable.] Anyway. Where is the child who speaks like an adult? And where is his mother?
[The minister points his finger below to an area within darkness where the boy and his mother sat.]
THE KING. There is not much need of them. The child has already turned an adult. Superfluous ones in this over congested world. And where’s the public? Discussing politics amongst themselves?
[The Minister points at the area in the darkness behind where the boy and his mother sat]
THE KING. [Turning his lower lip over the upper one in disgust] The crowd too appears superfluous.
[Smell of gas emerges from the backdrop slowly filling the stage and the auditorium too.]
THE CURTAIN FALLS