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Sep 26, 2010 Features / Columnists, The Arts Forum
NEW WRITING
[Nanda Sahadeo has always been passionate about her culture and heritage and is involved in cultural activities aimed at preserving the Hindu culture for future generations. Writing and story-telling have been her favourite pastimes and this short story is her first to be published. This remarkable woman is presently the Pandit at the Triumph Hindu Mandir, ECD, where she holds regular sessions that seek to revive and conserve old/ancient forms of singing such as the traditional/classic paan singing and ladies wedding songs].
Mukhrain was a well-known Ole Higue. She lived on the sea-dam, all alone, and people could see the bright firelight every night when she left her home. There was only one main road and the bridge from the sea–dam to the road had no rails. The boys in the village would tease her relentlessly whenever they saw her. As soon as they saw Mukhrain coming, they would run towards the bridge and wait for her. As she began crossing the bridge, they would draw unbroken lines with white chalk straight across the bridge from one end to the other. The old woman would scream and curse loudly but she would never cross the chalk lines.
One day, the boys waited until she was in the middle of the bridge then drew their chalk lines on both ends of the bridge. Mukhrain could not move and after a lot of screaming and cursing, she finally jumped into the trench to get off the bridge. It was well known that one way of finding out who was an Ole Higue was the chalk line test, as an Ole Higue would never cross a white chalk line!
Mukhrain was beginning to grow older and a rumour started that she was searching for someone to pass her curse on to. It was also well known that an Ole Higue must pass on the curse when he or she gets old. The people who lived in front of the cemetery noticed Mukhrain coming out of the graveyard early every morning.
Janny was a twelve-year-old boy who lived opposite the cemetery. He was one of the boys who loved to torment Mukhrain and it was he who first noticed her leaving the cemetery. After observing her for several days, he decided to stay up to see when she would actually go into the cemetery.
It was just after midnight and Janny was about to fall asleep, when he noticed a bright ball of fire coming down the street. The boy suddenly felt afraid, but he did not dare tell his mother that he was keeping watch on the Ole Higue. He quickly ducked down behind the railings of his little front platform so that just the top of his bare head and his eyes were visible. He knew that Mukhrain would not be able to see him because there was no moonlight that night and it was very dark. In those days, there was no electricity either.
Janny watched as the ball of fire came closer and closer. Soon it was right in front of his home. He ducked down against the floorboards. Was the Ole Higue coming to his home instead? By now he was so afraid and trembling, he could not think what to do. If he raised up he might be seen by the Ole Higue. For a moment, he was petrified, his heart thumping in his thin, bony chest.
“O Gawd”, he thought, “wah me goh do now? Ma di seh fo call pan Hanuman when me friken jombie”.
Janny squeezed his eyes shut. Jai Hanuman gyaana gun sagar. Jai Hanuman O Gawd me kan’t rememba de rest. Me shudda listen to Ma when she does sing am. Ow Hanuman ji, Ow Hanuman ji, pleez come help mi now, nah? Me friekn bad bad.”
Hanuman Ji must have heard him because almost at once his spirit returned and he was not afraid. Opening his eyes, he crawled along on his belly until he was at the very edge of the platform, then he peered along the side. The ball of fire was no longer in front of his house but was fast disappearing in the cemetery yard. In the daytime, going into the graveyard was no problem for Janny but on a dark night with an Ole Higue, it was a different story. Janny waited for it to come out but it did not. He soon fell asleep and it was dayclean when he opened his eyes again. He immediately looked towards the cemetery and, sure enough, he saw Mukhrain coming out. Janny could not wait to tell his friends his story.
At first, they did not believe his tale but they soon realised that he was not lying. They decided on a plan. That night, after Janny’s mother went to bed, his friends came over, only the three older ones were allowed: Raju, Kamal and Suli. They quietly sat on the platform and waited. Using the light from a torch that Raju brought along, they played ‘patience’ with Janny’s pack of cards.
Just after midnight, they noticed the fireball coming towards them. They ran downstairs and hid behind the big, red hibiscus flower plant just by the front gate. They watched as the fireball came closer and closer. They grabbed onto each other when it was just a few feet away. The light was so bright that they could not make out who it was. They held on tightly to each other when the light seemed to hesitate. Did it notice them, or could it smell them?
“O Gawd, e see us e see us,” Raju whispered.
“Shut yo ass,” Kamal whispered back fiercely.
“O Hanumanji, a need yo help again. A yo seh the Hanuman chalisa,”Janny whispered.
They began to mutter what seemed like the Hanuman Chalisa while trying not to make any sound. It seemed like eternity, then the light slowly moved away and into the cemetery yard. There was no question of anyone following it. The boys just slowly walked back to the stairs and sat down on the steps. They took turns to keep watch. When it was daylight again, they saw Mukhrain coming out of the cemetery. Who should we tell our story to? they wondered. The parents would all get mad if they tell them that they had kept watch on the Ole Higue. They decided to keep silent while they think about what to do next.
Janny kept on watching out for the Ole Higue though and he saw her every night. Then one night he noticed that something seemed a little strange. The fire was moving slower than usual, it was as if it was being held back. This was something he wanted to tell his friends immediately but they lived too far away for him to call and he was afraid of his mother’s wrath if she found out that he was watching the Ole Higue. The boy watched helplessly as the fire slowly disappeared into the cemetery. Next morning, he noticed Mukhrain coming out the cemetery, as usual. Later, as he was eating his breakfast, he heard a loud commotion. Rushing outside he saw some of the neighbours standing in front of the cemetery. Janny ran downstairs and out the yard.
“Wah happen, wah happen?” he asked.
“Dey see somewan in de graveyaad.”
Janny ran into the cemetery, behind some of the men. He stopped suddenly as he saw the figure of a little boy lying face down between two graves. There were bones and blood splattered around the place.
Janny watched as one of the men turned the body over. It was Bally, the ten-year-old nephew of Mukhrain.
“Wah Bally doin hey?”
“He dead?”
The little boy was unconscious but not dead. They rushed him to the hospital where he soon recovered consciousness.
“How com yoh reach till ah da berrin groun?” His mother questioned him as soon as he opened his eyes. At first the little boy just stared at her blankly.
“Ma, me nah no how me reech de.”
“But yo gat fo reech de somhow!” she answered. “Wen me lef yo home lass nite, who come afta me lef?”
“Yo Antie Mukhrain,” Bally whipsered.
“Da Holligue!” Bally mother screamed, then she began to sob loudly.
“Dat blasted Holligue ketch me son. Ow Gaad wah me gan do now.” She bawled.
She made so much noise that she had to be taken outside the hospital. In a fit of anger she went in search of Mukhrain. Some of the villagers followed her. There was no one at home when they went to the rickety house by the sea dam. Someone nearby said that they had seen Muhkrain leaving early that morning. They waited a while but still there was no sign of Mukhrain. They decide to arrange a search and combed the entire village for her but still no result.
The next day some fishermen discovered her body washed up on the sea dam not too far from her home. Bally was also discharged from the hospital the next day. His mother began taking him from one Pandit to the other. Eventually they moved away from the village and no one ever knew if Bally became an Ole Higue.
THE ARTS FORUM encourages new talent in the creative arts by publishing the work of new writers, poets and artists. New and emerging writers and artists who would like advice on their creative efforts are free to contact us.
The Editor of The Arts Forum Column, Ameena Gafoor, can be reached by e-mail: [email protected] or by telephone: 592 227 6825
The Art Editor of The Arts Forum Column, Bernadette Persaud, can be reached by e-mail: [email protected] or by telephone: 592 220 3337.
THE ARTS JOURNAL VOLUME 6 is in press.
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