A SINGLE BEAM OF LIGHT by Venkat Subramanian

Rounak was sitting under an oil lamp, weeping. He had no one with him now,

except for a sacked up hut and this old oil lamp. He had lost everything- love, care,

affection and his parents just a few moments ago.

Blood splattered everywhere over his body and the corpses of his parents lay

before him, mutilated and torn and ripped all over. No one could have had the

second glance of it. And in moments, his thoughts were rushing behind. Those dark

days, which seemed to have no beginning or no end?

Years before there used to be these types of killings which would always take

place. Men armed with scythes and swords broke in many houses and then killed

many people to satisfy their fanaticism.

The same had happened with him now. The same murder of his parents.

Then he thought clapping his blood splattered cheeks, “Why do they kill in the

name of God? Why? And why does The God favour violence, not peace? This is

absurd. He will never do that.” Muttering, he ran as fast as he could carry him out of

the banged house.

He ran a few steps and entered a dark house. It was damp inside. Some sort

of blood smelt in. An old man with a foot long beard, silvery white, was lying

struggling for his breathe. A sort of reddish dyed over his face and beard.

“GRAN! GRAN! ” Rounak ran shouting and clutched the old man’s arms

tightly and resting on the lap.

“What happened? How come....?” Rounak was finding hard to speak, he was

shocked.

“They sta.... stabbed me. Th.. They didn’t li.... Like my views.... On their

God.... Hmmm..” said the old man. In a flash, he was lying dead on Rounak’s lap.

Rounak was emotionally moved. Tears rippled and fell in Gran’s face.

He was suddenly overtaken by rage. He felt something fiery overtake him. His

face turned red and he ran outside as fast his legs could carry him. A number of

houses were afire and before him, a group of armed men were marching, the same,

years ago, engaged in riots and bloodshed.

At the topmost of his fury, he ran and caught one of them by collar. “What

did you gain? Where is your God? Show me!” he yelled at the top of his voice.

“Leave, you little imp. One flash and I will kill you,” he yelled back.

“THEN KILL ME!” he shouted, “At least I will get to see your God. Let me

see how sym-PATHETIC he is!”

Hearing this, one of the armed men charged at him, with his bloody scythe,

then, “NOOO,” yelled an old man with his crooked nose contracting with anger,

“Let him speak. He has something to tell, before he wants himself to be dead.”

“Kill Me!” he was still shouting, “Why you are so blood thirsty? Which God

said that slaughter them if they don’t accept their religion? Which Holy Book ever

mentions that? Come on, tell me an answer. An answer, that’s all!” The men were

gazing dumbstruck.

“You know, very well know, that humans started this religion, community etc.

Nothing sort of these existed years before humans came into existence. Hey what is

God? Tell me who has seen him? No? Nobody has seen him. Then how can you be

sure that this is God or that is God? No? I want an answer to this before I breathe

my last. What is religion?”

They were hanging their heads in shame, while the fire was bellowing behind

them. “Hey what religion when it comes to human? Every human has red color

blood. The blood doesn’t change with the religion. It is we who are constructing

these walls, widening the gap!

“Who is God? God is none other than The Single Beam of Light! Like light

has many forms, characteristics like contrast, brightness, color, sharpness and many

more. In the same way God has many forms like Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Christian,

Parsees etc. And if a single characteristic lack, light loses its quality. That’s what we

have got to do with religion. Let the culture exists but lets not make a wall with it.”

The men dropped their arms and hung their heads in shame. Tears were

swelling from their eyes. Rounak said, his hands stretched, “Kill me now. I am ready

to die. But my wish is that these nonsense riots should be stopped. Swear on me!”

The old man proceeded over his shoulders; Rounak could feel the gentleness

and warmth of his touch. He said in a pale broken voice, “If we had thought of this

earlier, we would have stopped this. But from this time, Never... Never!” and saying

he embraced Rounak as if he were his own son.

And from then, no riots took place. Everybody loved and respected each

other and Rounak was a man now. He was staring over the stain glass photo of the

old man and him (as a boy) were posing by hugging themselves. Except something

that, the old man was no more