The Decoy

Siji awakes. The day is finally here. She is dressed in all black attire from head to toe. Guards help her get into the special wagon that would take her to the arena. Merely to exist feels at this moment infinitely precious. She is a representation of their pain and like a cancer they need to cut out. She tries to be calm but her mind is in chaos.

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Lari is overseeing her transport. Finally climbing the hierarchical structure of his career. As the wagon moves along the paved streets, the wheels and the horses’ hooves create some sort of rhythmic tune. On taking a turn, a farmer’s wagon seems to have broken down. His fresh produce scattered on the ground. Lari is furious but realises that his anger might be misplaced. He orders his comrades to help clear the way.

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Suddenly a group of masked men ambush them. Having been caught unaware, they cannot retaliate. They are blindfolded and their pockets rid of any possessions before the thieves disappear into the narrow streets. Lari, in a panic,

removes his blindfold to find the prisoner still seated in the wagon. He sighs in relief. Thank God they were just petty thieves! Now that the obstruction has been cleared, they continue on to the arena.

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The arena is packed to capacity. A sea of humanity. Huge the chants, the singing, the murmur like a beehive.

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At the apex of the crowd are the sisters of Amani, members of a religious sect dressed in white attire from head to toe looking like the angels they supposedly represent. Beyond them is the podium. Thari stares at their white garments.

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‘How ironic.’ Words flow from his mouth unintended.

‘How so?’ A lady sitting next to him asks,sparking an unintended conversation.

‘That their name Amani is derived from peace yet they are here to

witness and maybe even celebrate execution.’

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His words fall on even the unintended ears earning him glances from a few.

‘Indeed, very ironic,’ the lady says, shaking her head.

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A lady turns from the row in front of his, it's Sasi. She stares at Thari for a minute then turns back.

‘He doesn't look as helpless,’ she notes.

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Other dignitaries and politicians arrive. The podium fills up as well. The merchants of Vagary arrive with their workers and finally the guest of honour is here. The one they had all been waiting for, The Marked One. This was her day, her last day. Two horses pull the ceremonial wagon majestically, one white the other black. The beginning and the end. They stop at the podium.

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Guards guide the prisoner out and onto the stage as from the ceremonial head to toe garment, the prisoner can barely see.

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The prisoner takes her seat. From that position one can pick up the sounds around her. The chanting from the crowd, the drumming from the entertainers, the cheers, the screams, the murmurs and charters from the podium.

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The war of words began. Each contender with their turn, taking a hit at the opponent. Sometimes it’s a hit, other times a miss. The audience decides-instant feedback. Some speakers like dancers are able to move with the rhythm of the crowd fluidly. When one dropped a holy scripture to defend their position another would give yet a different scripture to counter that. For a minute, it seemed like both sides were of equal capacity. That wasn't good. The prisoner would still be executed and her time was edging closer. One speaker talked about how fear has

been used to chain them. That their actions were predetermined by the puppeteer. Another argued that this wasn’t the time for hesitation for it would be interpreted as weakness.

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‘The battle for attention; from the market to the household, wherever a human being is, if you can summon their attention you can tell them your story. You can influence what matters to them. Where attention goes, energy flows,’ someone murmured in the row behind Thari.

‘Is it even possible for light and darkness to be confused?’

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This was getting interesting, Thari turned to look. It was Kubachu.

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‘Seems bizarre but most times those who are in complete darkness tend to think they are in the light’ Kubachu continued.

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‘You know the Nomads and the Triad aren’t that far off from each other; they’re like two sides of the same coin.’

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Now he definitely had Thari’s attention.

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‘Some call it the ‘dark triad’, they say its members are blind to reality. The members of the Triad on the other hand believe that they are in the light. Is it even possible to confuse light and darkness?’ Kubachu paused for a moment before he continued.

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‘Solzhenitsyn wrote that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes nor between political parties – but through every human heart...To do evil, a human must first believe that what they’re doing is good.’

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After the thought-provoking words, Kubachu stood and left.

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On the podium the war of words was still being waged. One speaker pleaded with them to reach deep and find their humanity, another reminded them that there was pain that not only needed to be avenged but for steps to ensure that no attacks will be successful in future. Another blamed Sasi and her agents, The Intelligence Network, for it was their duty to fight evil in the shadows so that come daybreak the innocent would? be spared. He added that this was incompetence and that it was time for a new beginning. Another defended her passionately. After all she had delivered the head of the insurgents, maybe even the orchestrator of the whole attack.

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After going in circles for a while, it was time to execute the prisoner. Ceremoniously, the headscarf was lifted to expose the prisoner’s face.

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Wait, this wasn't her. The crowd went silent for a moment then they started murmuring. The prisoner turns to face the delegates seated at the podium, eliciting shock waves.

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To Sasi it was like a spear had been plunged straight into her heart. It was

Ari, a very familiar face to many who had come across her volunteering at the hospital. Sasi was shocked the most, lost for words.

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‘There is some kind of mixup,’ she tried to say. She ordered all her available agents to embark on an immediate manhunt. Off to the bridges they went. Some remained behind displaying an open defiance. Truly the cracks in their leadership had reached the most critical of their structures of power.

Thari sighed in relief. Rimon had performed his task perfectly. The speaker tried to calm the crowd as they tried to figure out the way forward. Mani took to the stage. He was a charismatic farmer who through his ability to make crowds laugh had helped him rise the ranks of leadership. He was welcomed onto the stage, summoned to distract the crowd as they tried to figure out what next. First, he had Ari uncuffed.

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‘Can’t you see, things are not always as they appear,’ Mani began. ‘Everything has beauty but not everyone sees it. For a farmer like me, the dirt that the everyday person walks on has the potential for life. And from the darkness beneath the ground the seeds of tomorrow's harvest are getting ready to germinate.’

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It is with those words that Sasi realised she might have been outplayed. Ari was? just a decoy.

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‘Trade means interaction, cohesion and growth. That’s what the puppeteer is against’ Mani continued

‘I’ve heard the stories of the mysterious informer who helped our agents quell the attack on the island in time. For it could have been way worse. Is that right?’

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Mani asked, gesturing at Thari to respond.

Thari rose from his seat and nodded. Mani called him upfront.

?‘Is that informant here?’ he asks.

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Thari pointed at the sisters of Amani and one of them approached the podium. She removed her head covering exposing her face. Some cheered and others murmured: ‘Isn’t that the prisoner?’

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It was Siji.

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‘Arrest her!’ Sasi shouted but all that could do her bidding were out of sight, nowhere to be found.

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‘Much has been said…but I want us to finally put this matter to rest.’Mani continued.

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He removed a coin from his pocket, held it up for everyone to see and said, ‘Let fate decide-Heads, she lives. Tails, well…’

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The sisters of Amani led the cheer. The crowds sent confusing signals. Those who wanted her executed leaving it to chance, while those who didn't were reluctant.

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Without hesitation Mani flipped the coin. As it revolved in the air, the crowd was dead silent. Mani caught the now falling coin and slammed it on his wrist exposing the heads. The crowd went berserk with cheers and jubilations.

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It was done.

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Siji and Ari hugged and slowly got off the stage hand in hand.

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One in all black and the other in all white, finally free. It was done. Maybe, just maybe they had achieved their desire.

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Thari with appreciation and relief embraced Mani and thanked him but wondered how he could put such an important issue at the fate of chance. Mani smiled at him and said, ‘We create our own luck.’

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Thari exited the podium as well and followed Siji.? On checking his pockets, was a letter. It read: ‘Be afraid of cowardice, living as a slave, hating yourself, being held in contempt by those closest to you, living without purpose. These are the things to fear. Your bravery is scarier to the other side than any weapon you can muster.

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‘You give but only little when you give off your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.’ Paulo Coelho.

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‘The most important day in one's life is when they realise a cause worth dying for. Welcome to the Nomads of Consciousness.’ Thari smiled, unable to contain his joy. This is something that he had always wanted ever since he learnt of the Nomads.

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On checking his pocket again, was a coin. A double-headed coin.

We make our own luck indeed!

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There she is, Thari approached Siji and they embraced unable to hold back their tears of jubilation. After a moment Thari told Siji the exciting news. He would be joining the Nomads.

Siji’s reaction was confusing, she took a minute. Her reply sending Thari into deep thought.

‘When the good and evil ones are all outsiders, all intruders. What does that say about us?