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Hard Rain
Hard Rain
@Ray’san
#WritcoAnthology
Principal Mackenzie
.....
Principal James Mackenzie woke up in the morning with the familiar feeling of a sense of loss, which had remained over the years.
He wished his intermittent grief was like the rains in the hills, which washed away the dirt and made the world green and beautiful again. But then, at times when it poured hard, it destroyed everything that remained close and dear to people.
Today however, was not a day for rumination. The Missionary Boys School of Scottsgunj was celebrating its Centenary Remembrance Day.
He stepped out into the verandah of his bungalow, overlooking the valley down below to the river Nadi Ganga. The school building, along with the old chapel, the student dorms and the masters quarters were laid out on the hill, leading down finally to the steep banks of the river.
The river was voracious, eating away at its slopes every year, as it rose and fell along with the heavy rains that came pouring down. Many of the old structures lay ravaged by this annual ritual of wrath, their remains strewn around the steep banks of the river.
Principal Mackenzie thought he could still recognise the ruins of the Auld Cote. An observatory post affording a sweeping view of the river below, it had been built back in the old days. The old stone walls and the heavy wooden doors had remained strong until that fateful night twelve years back, when the rains and the mighty Nadi Ganga had brought it crashing down along with his life.
The Auld Cote lay in ruins, just like his life, trapped in this remote hill town of Scottsgunj.
He looked away to avoid seeing The Bluebells Cottage, further down the slope. The sight was still too overbearing. Heather had passed away a few years back, leaving him alone to deal with the emptiness of their lives.
To his dismay the early morning sun was now disappearing slowly.The dark heavy rains were coming and he shivered silently at the memories that came flooding back.
Hard Rain, and of his precious Morag.
....................................................................
Rewat Ram........
Rewat Ram, the gardener, always got up unfailingly at the break of dawn.
He now stood perspiring quietly, after tending to the small garden of the Bluebells Cottage. The garden looked neat with the hedge of bluebells forming a boundary around the cottage.
He had spent his lifetime, growing up to be the school’s caretaker and gardener, following the footsteps of his father. Just like James Mackenzie and his father, the Old Principal Sahib who had come over from Scotland to set up a new life in the remote Himalayan town of Scottsgunj, in the north of India.
When young, he could recall the Old Principal Sahib telling his father about the bluebells that symbolised everlasting love and constancy.
Morag had loved them. Sweet little Morag, playing with the bluebells, always arranging some in her hair.
The bluebells, grew wild after that night twelve years ago, when the Mackenzies had moved away from the house, too heartbroken to stay in it any longer. Rewat Ram had stayed on in the house since then.
He remembered the Old Sahib saying it was unlucky to walk through wild bluebells because they were full of spells. He had tended to them as best as he could, but it seemed that they were all under a bad spell since then, even after all these years.
The Bluebells Cottage, seemed strange and eerie at times. He could swear on the holy Nadi Ganga, that he strongly felt the presence of someone during the long dark nights when it rained.
A drop of rain fell on him, breaking the spell of thoughts he had cast on himself.
It reminded him that the roof along the bedroom window needed repair.
As Rewat Ram hurried in to set up a ladder and fix the roof, the first drops of rains were already falling on the bluebells.
....................................................................
Inspector Tewari
........
Inspector Y.P. Tewari took a last bite of the samosa, washing it down with a sip from his glass of sweet milky chai.
Morning breakfast rituals concluded, he let out a content belch, settling down to a quiet reverie of his own.
The school always left him disturbed, a sense of something that that had slipped away from his grasp years back when he was the Chief constable up in hills of Scottsgunj. Now years later, plodding on strenuously, he was in charge of the police station at the main town of Rathinagar.
After a few thoughtful moments, he went to the cupboard full of handwritten old case files, still hidden away in dark cupboards, abandoned but yet to be closed forever.
The incident was recorded to have occurred before 9 pm on the night of the Annual Day of the Missionary Boys School, Scottsgunj, twelve years back.
The suspect, Satya Prakash, a graduating student of the school was reported missing and assumed to have fled the scene of crime. The medical help summoned from Rathinagar, had established the time and the nature of the crime. After a few years of lookout notices, Tewari had been forced to give up as they never had the resources or the technology to track down the suspected fugitive.
Yet the gnawing sense of failure kept bothering him at times, particularly now when Principal James Mackenzie had invited him to the Centenary Remembrance Day.
Maybe Mackenzie was still seeking answers, hoping he would have some. Inspector Tewari gave a quiet sigh deciding to attend. He looked out at the overcast sky and thought it would be raining up there in the hills soon.
Overcome by a strange feeling, he decided to carry the cold case file along with him as he drove off in his jeep to Scottsgunj.
The file cover with his hand note, read - Rape and murder of Miss Morag Mackenzie, aged 8 years, d/o William & Heather Mackenzie, residents of The Missionary Boys School, P.O- Scottsgunj , Zilla-Rathinagar.
....................................................................
The fear of the Unknown
......
I am sitting at the broken ruins of the Auld Cote. It has been raining since morning and I see the furious waters of the river rising up the slope slowly. This is a dangerous place to be in, but it does not matter anymore as time and place have stood still for me in my isolation.
After a while, I make my way silently up the hill to the Bluebells Cottage, watching Rewat Ram up on the roof, trying to fix the tiles. I wish I could tell him where he really needed to look at, but I can’t.
The waters run down the hedge of bluebells to the tombstone at the end of the plot. The Mackenzies have laid her to rest here. I sit there quietly, thinking of Morag.
Her broken body had been found by her parents when they returned to Bluebells Cottage after 11 pm at night on this day, twelve years back.
Morag, who had become too old to hold on to her innocence, yet too young to die.
Up at the School, the boys have been gathering for the Centenary Day celebrations since morning. It is late afternoon now and the crowd has gathered up at the Hall.
A large screen up on the wall is displaying old class photographs of the boys over the years. A huge roar of shouts goes up whenever a class sees themselves up on the screen. There had been a lot of drinking that night. The darkness had set in later when the haze of the liquor overpowered some of the young minds.
So young and innocent then, and all grown men today. But I know the innocence was a mask for some, hiding dark secrets behind them till today.
As I observe the crowd, I see Mr Mackenzie nudging Inspector Tewari, pointing at the screen. It is the customary group photo at the end of the night, but I have not seen this one before.
I see the three of them in the picture up on the screen, standing at the centre of the front row, wet clothes and hair, flush faces, the eyes wild and defiant, bravado on full display.
A voice in the crowd shouts out – “There is someone missing in the picture, you know who!! Has he taken this photograph?”
Another voice replies- “No, can’t you see this is the final group photo, just before 11 pm. He had taken his own photographs, but we never got to see them. He had done his dastardly act and escaped by then.”
Other voices ring out – “Satya… behen’chod rapist….Murderer … Rot in hell wherever you have run away to.”
I scream in despair silently, but there is nothing I can say anymore.
My mind has lost its way and is wandering over time now………………
They hear me as soon as I slip and fall outside her bedroom window at Bluebells, while trying to hide the evidence in hand. I manage to escape after the initial beatings but they hunt me down, wild and determined, as I run terrified, stumbling through the heavy rain, finally down to the Auld Cote, searching for a hiding place in my desperation.
Now they are right up behind me, slamming the big wooden doors shut and bolting it from outside. I am trapped inside, the waters of the river rising around the house and flooding inside in bursts and waves.
The rain is hard and driving. I hear it beating down on the metal roof and running down the walls into the mud outside , and I shiver uncontrollably. I wonder if they’re coming back at all...
.................................................................
The Centenary Night ......
Rewat Ram had lain down for some rest, his old body exhausted by his efforts to repair the roof and the shock of a discovery that he had made.
While standing on the high window sill running his hand along the edge of the bedroom window lintel, he had found something that appeared to be hidden there, lying forgotten over the years.
He was wide awake now staring at the object in his hand.
It was best to hand it over to the principal now, who would be up at the School Hall with all the boys. He set forth in the pouring rain, shivering as he sensed someone passing him by in the darkness, a familiar feeling he had at times when he was alone at the Bluebells.
Inspector Tewari had started on the community dinner, when he heard Principal Mackenzie calling out to him.
The Principal held an old and small digital camera in his hand , explaining how Rewat Ram had found it – “ Inspector, I recognise this, it belonged to Satya !!”
The next hour passed by in a whirl.
Inspector Tewari downloaded the contents of the still intact memory card, on to the computer all by himself. He opened the images one by one on the computer screen, struggling with the unfamiliar territory of technology, whilst the Principal stood over him looking intently at the screen.
They settled upon one, taken at exactly 9 PM, during the ritual of the sounding of the bell.
Principal Mackenzie said -“That’s Satya in his red windcheater, standing at the far right of the front row. He had given me his camera to take this shot. After which I had returned it back to him, requesting him to go down to Bluebells to check up on Morag and if she had settled into bed. I trusted him as he was always nice with her and never imagined……….”
Inspector Tewari looked disturbed and called up the old picture once again, the one shown on the screen earlier during the day.
He said- “Lets look at them again, Mr.Mackenzie , you see the one taken on that day at 9 pm has Satya in it but there are three others missing , while the final group photo taken later at 11 pm has the three of them back again, while Satya is missing, assuming he had escaped from the school by then.”
Quietly adding “Morag left us before 9 pm and remember it was raining heavily that day, just like today “. He continued – “ See the 11 pm picture , look at it closely and you will see the three of them appearing to be wet with mud on their shoes and the big one among them has a flower stuck in the buttonhole of his half open shirt .”
Principal Mackenzie’s voice came out in a whisper – “They only grow down there at our old cottage. It’s a bluebell……”
By now the last picture that showed up on the camera index was on the computer screen. Mackenzie cried- ““This one is not at the school. It is at the Bluebells Cottage!!!”
Tewari stood up saying – “We need to find if those three are out here today and talk to them ……” and then, he froze .
The computer had remained connected to the big screen in the hall, the last image was now up there on the wall for everyone to see !!!
He ran around the hall trying to spot the three of them, but they were nowhere to be seen. Inspector Tewari cursed, the choicest of his expletives now directed at himself.
..............................................................
The Hunter and The Haunted......
They had run out of the hall as soon as the last image had come up on the big screen. It was terrifying to look at, threatening their secure lives after all these years.
The three of them were now running towards the Auld Cote, driven by their guilt and fear, perhaps imagining that they would somehow be able to uncover and hide any traces of evidence that still remained.
I moved along with them till the edge of the steep bank of the river, watching them trying to get ahead in the blinding rain. The river was roaring down below, the swirling waters shifting the stones of the ruins of the Cote, creating a new landscape in its dance of fury.
I do not know if they sensed my presence or maybe it was the crumbling wet and slippery slope that led them to their fate.
Their screams vanished into the sound of thunder and the rain, as they fell into the raging froth and vanished into the dark waters.
I watched silently, the memories of the Nadi Ganga flowing over me would never go away.
...................................
The day after..........
The search parties had set out in the morning, as early as they could , after the weather had returned to normal.
Tewari and Mackenzie led the groups, looking out for any traces of the three missing men, but there was none, till
Rewat Ram called out to them.
Everybody ran towards the edge of the slope, looking down below at the landscape that had been created overnight by the NadiGanga.
The Auld Cote ruins now lay scattered far and wide along with other debris the river had washed in.
Inspector Tewari stared disbelievingly at a group of rocks down below where the remains of a human body was lying washed up. The tattered red pieces of a nylon windcheater attached to it, held everybody’s attention.
Were these the remains of Satya, they were looking at!!
……...........
Epilogue
I observe quietly, watching the men go about their tasks of bringing up the remains of my body up the hill.
I move up along with hill with them, past the Bluebells Cottage, when something catches my attention.
She is sitting there, smiling at me, a single bluebell flower stuck to the radiant curls of her hair.
I smile back at Morag.
I ,Satya Prakash, have been set free – the truth about me has been finally revealed.
..........................
©Raysan@45rpm
@Ray’san
#WritcoAnthology
Principal Mackenzie
.....
Principal James Mackenzie woke up in the morning with the familiar feeling of a sense of loss, which had remained over the years.
He wished his intermittent grief was like the rains in the hills, which washed away the dirt and made the world green and beautiful again. But then, at times when it poured hard, it destroyed everything that remained close and dear to people.
Today however, was not a day for rumination. The Missionary Boys School of Scottsgunj was celebrating its Centenary Remembrance Day.
He stepped out into the verandah of his bungalow, overlooking the valley down below to the river Nadi Ganga. The school building, along with the old chapel, the student dorms and the masters quarters were laid out on the hill, leading down finally to the steep banks of the river.
The river was voracious, eating away at its slopes every year, as it rose and fell along with the heavy rains that came pouring down. Many of the old structures lay ravaged by this annual ritual of wrath, their remains strewn around the steep banks of the river.
Principal Mackenzie thought he could still recognise the ruins of the Auld Cote. An observatory post affording a sweeping view of the river below, it had been built back in the old days. The old stone walls and the heavy wooden doors had remained strong until that fateful night twelve years back, when the rains and the mighty Nadi Ganga had brought it crashing down along with his life.
The Auld Cote lay in ruins, just like his life, trapped in this remote hill town of Scottsgunj.
He looked away to avoid seeing The Bluebells Cottage, further down the slope. The sight was still too overbearing. Heather had passed away a few years back, leaving him alone to deal with the emptiness of their lives.
To his dismay the early morning sun was now disappearing slowly.The dark heavy rains were coming and he shivered silently at the memories that came flooding back.
Hard Rain, and of his precious Morag.
....................................................................
Rewat Ram........
Rewat Ram, the gardener, always got up unfailingly at the break of dawn.
He now stood perspiring quietly, after tending to the small garden of the Bluebells Cottage. The garden looked neat with the hedge of bluebells forming a boundary around the cottage.
He had spent his lifetime, growing up to be the school’s caretaker and gardener, following the footsteps of his father. Just like James Mackenzie and his father, the Old Principal Sahib who had come over from Scotland to set up a new life in the remote Himalayan town of Scottsgunj, in the north of India.
When young, he could recall the Old Principal Sahib telling his father about the bluebells that symbolised everlasting love and constancy.
Morag had loved them. Sweet little Morag, playing with the bluebells, always arranging some in her hair.
The bluebells, grew wild after that night twelve years ago, when the Mackenzies had moved away from the house, too heartbroken to stay in it any longer. Rewat Ram had stayed on in the house since then.
He remembered the Old Sahib saying it was unlucky to walk through wild bluebells because they were full of spells. He had tended to them as best as he could, but it seemed that they were all under a bad spell since then, even after all these years.
The Bluebells Cottage, seemed strange and eerie at times. He could swear on the holy Nadi Ganga, that he strongly felt the presence of someone during the long dark nights when it rained.
A drop of rain fell on him, breaking the spell of thoughts he had cast on himself.
It reminded him that the roof along the bedroom window needed repair.
As Rewat Ram hurried in to set up a ladder and fix the roof, the first drops of rains were already falling on the bluebells.
....................................................................
Inspector Tewari
........
Inspector Y.P. Tewari took a last bite of the samosa, washing it down with a sip from his glass of sweet milky chai.
Morning breakfast rituals concluded, he let out a content belch, settling down to a quiet reverie of his own.
The school always left him disturbed, a sense of something that that had slipped away from his grasp years back when he was the Chief constable up in hills of Scottsgunj. Now years later, plodding on strenuously, he was in charge of the police station at the main town of Rathinagar.
After a few thoughtful moments, he went to the cupboard full of handwritten old case files, still hidden away in dark cupboards, abandoned but yet to be closed forever.
The incident was recorded to have occurred before 9 pm on the night of the Annual Day of the Missionary Boys School, Scottsgunj, twelve years back.
The suspect, Satya Prakash, a graduating student of the school was reported missing and assumed to have fled the scene of crime. The medical help summoned from Rathinagar, had established the time and the nature of the crime. After a few years of lookout notices, Tewari had been forced to give up as they never had the resources or the technology to track down the suspected fugitive.
Yet the gnawing sense of failure kept bothering him at times, particularly now when Principal James Mackenzie had invited him to the Centenary Remembrance Day.
Maybe Mackenzie was still seeking answers, hoping he would have some. Inspector Tewari gave a quiet sigh deciding to attend. He looked out at the overcast sky and thought it would be raining up there in the hills soon.
Overcome by a strange feeling, he decided to carry the cold case file along with him as he drove off in his jeep to Scottsgunj.
The file cover with his hand note, read - Rape and murder of Miss Morag Mackenzie, aged 8 years, d/o William & Heather Mackenzie, residents of The Missionary Boys School, P.O- Scottsgunj , Zilla-Rathinagar.
....................................................................
The fear of the Unknown
......
I am sitting at the broken ruins of the Auld Cote. It has been raining since morning and I see the furious waters of the river rising up the slope slowly. This is a dangerous place to be in, but it does not matter anymore as time and place have stood still for me in my isolation.
After a while, I make my way silently up the hill to the Bluebells Cottage, watching Rewat Ram up on the roof, trying to fix the tiles. I wish I could tell him where he really needed to look at, but I can’t.
The waters run down the hedge of bluebells to the tombstone at the end of the plot. The Mackenzies have laid her to rest here. I sit there quietly, thinking of Morag.
Her broken body had been found by her parents when they returned to Bluebells Cottage after 11 pm at night on this day, twelve years back.
Morag, who had become too old to hold on to her innocence, yet too young to die.
Up at the School, the boys have been gathering for the Centenary Day celebrations since morning. It is late afternoon now and the crowd has gathered up at the Hall.
A large screen up on the wall is displaying old class photographs of the boys over the years. A huge roar of shouts goes up whenever a class sees themselves up on the screen. There had been a lot of drinking that night. The darkness had set in later when the haze of the liquor overpowered some of the young minds.
So young and innocent then, and all grown men today. But I know the innocence was a mask for some, hiding dark secrets behind them till today.
As I observe the crowd, I see Mr Mackenzie nudging Inspector Tewari, pointing at the screen. It is the customary group photo at the end of the night, but I have not seen this one before.
I see the three of them in the picture up on the screen, standing at the centre of the front row, wet clothes and hair, flush faces, the eyes wild and defiant, bravado on full display.
A voice in the crowd shouts out – “There is someone missing in the picture, you know who!! Has he taken this photograph?”
Another voice replies- “No, can’t you see this is the final group photo, just before 11 pm. He had taken his own photographs, but we never got to see them. He had done his dastardly act and escaped by then.”
Other voices ring out – “Satya… behen’chod rapist….Murderer … Rot in hell wherever you have run away to.”
I scream in despair silently, but there is nothing I can say anymore.
My mind has lost its way and is wandering over time now………………
They hear me as soon as I slip and fall outside her bedroom window at Bluebells, while trying to hide the evidence in hand. I manage to escape after the initial beatings but they hunt me down, wild and determined, as I run terrified, stumbling through the heavy rain, finally down to the Auld Cote, searching for a hiding place in my desperation.
Now they are right up behind me, slamming the big wooden doors shut and bolting it from outside. I am trapped inside, the waters of the river rising around the house and flooding inside in bursts and waves.
The rain is hard and driving. I hear it beating down on the metal roof and running down the walls into the mud outside , and I shiver uncontrollably. I wonder if they’re coming back at all...
.................................................................
The Centenary Night ......
Rewat Ram had lain down for some rest, his old body exhausted by his efforts to repair the roof and the shock of a discovery that he had made.
While standing on the high window sill running his hand along the edge of the bedroom window lintel, he had found something that appeared to be hidden there, lying forgotten over the years.
He was wide awake now staring at the object in his hand.
It was best to hand it over to the principal now, who would be up at the School Hall with all the boys. He set forth in the pouring rain, shivering as he sensed someone passing him by in the darkness, a familiar feeling he had at times when he was alone at the Bluebells.
Inspector Tewari had started on the community dinner, when he heard Principal Mackenzie calling out to him.
The Principal held an old and small digital camera in his hand , explaining how Rewat Ram had found it – “ Inspector, I recognise this, it belonged to Satya !!”
The next hour passed by in a whirl.
Inspector Tewari downloaded the contents of the still intact memory card, on to the computer all by himself. He opened the images one by one on the computer screen, struggling with the unfamiliar territory of technology, whilst the Principal stood over him looking intently at the screen.
They settled upon one, taken at exactly 9 PM, during the ritual of the sounding of the bell.
Principal Mackenzie said -“That’s Satya in his red windcheater, standing at the far right of the front row. He had given me his camera to take this shot. After which I had returned it back to him, requesting him to go down to Bluebells to check up on Morag and if she had settled into bed. I trusted him as he was always nice with her and never imagined……….”
Inspector Tewari looked disturbed and called up the old picture once again, the one shown on the screen earlier during the day.
He said- “Lets look at them again, Mr.Mackenzie , you see the one taken on that day at 9 pm has Satya in it but there are three others missing , while the final group photo taken later at 11 pm has the three of them back again, while Satya is missing, assuming he had escaped from the school by then.”
Quietly adding “Morag left us before 9 pm and remember it was raining heavily that day, just like today “. He continued – “ See the 11 pm picture , look at it closely and you will see the three of them appearing to be wet with mud on their shoes and the big one among them has a flower stuck in the buttonhole of his half open shirt .”
Principal Mackenzie’s voice came out in a whisper – “They only grow down there at our old cottage. It’s a bluebell……”
By now the last picture that showed up on the camera index was on the computer screen. Mackenzie cried- ““This one is not at the school. It is at the Bluebells Cottage!!!”
Tewari stood up saying – “We need to find if those three are out here today and talk to them ……” and then, he froze .
The computer had remained connected to the big screen in the hall, the last image was now up there on the wall for everyone to see !!!
He ran around the hall trying to spot the three of them, but they were nowhere to be seen. Inspector Tewari cursed, the choicest of his expletives now directed at himself.
..............................................................
The Hunter and The Haunted......
They had run out of the hall as soon as the last image had come up on the big screen. It was terrifying to look at, threatening their secure lives after all these years.
The three of them were now running towards the Auld Cote, driven by their guilt and fear, perhaps imagining that they would somehow be able to uncover and hide any traces of evidence that still remained.
I moved along with them till the edge of the steep bank of the river, watching them trying to get ahead in the blinding rain. The river was roaring down below, the swirling waters shifting the stones of the ruins of the Cote, creating a new landscape in its dance of fury.
I do not know if they sensed my presence or maybe it was the crumbling wet and slippery slope that led them to their fate.
Their screams vanished into the sound of thunder and the rain, as they fell into the raging froth and vanished into the dark waters.
I watched silently, the memories of the Nadi Ganga flowing over me would never go away.
...................................
The day after..........
The search parties had set out in the morning, as early as they could , after the weather had returned to normal.
Tewari and Mackenzie led the groups, looking out for any traces of the three missing men, but there was none, till
Rewat Ram called out to them.
Everybody ran towards the edge of the slope, looking down below at the landscape that had been created overnight by the NadiGanga.
The Auld Cote ruins now lay scattered far and wide along with other debris the river had washed in.
Inspector Tewari stared disbelievingly at a group of rocks down below where the remains of a human body was lying washed up. The tattered red pieces of a nylon windcheater attached to it, held everybody’s attention.
Were these the remains of Satya, they were looking at!!
……...........
Epilogue
I observe quietly, watching the men go about their tasks of bringing up the remains of my body up the hill.
I move up along with hill with them, past the Bluebells Cottage, when something catches my attention.
She is sitting there, smiling at me, a single bluebell flower stuck to the radiant curls of her hair.
I smile back at Morag.
I ,Satya Prakash, have been set free – the truth about me has been finally revealed.
..........................
©Raysan@45rpm
