The Boy who rescued Me

At 25, I was in a bad relationship and felt completely disconnected with myself. I was struggling with a life that I didn’t want and work that did not gratify. As far as I was concerned, life had dealt me an unfair hand. Despite the fact that I had loving parents, who were willing to support me always, I felt alone and misunderstood. Having made a series of bad choices in my life, I was not willing to accept the responsibility of any. Like most people in my position, I was focused only in blame shifting, complaining about life’s unfairness and wallowing in self pity.

October 2005 saw a disastrous earthquake hit Pakistan. Many were dead, injured, homeless and missing. There are times in your life, when a catastrophe so great occurs, every personal thought is drowned in the tidal wave of the colossal loss. Driven by grief, I would make my way to the local hospital almost every evening, hoping to be able to make some difference, hoping to be able to help. A lot of people were being evacuated from the Northern regions and brought to the Capital for medical aid and to be provided shelter, since all that they had known had been destroyed. Men, women and children homeless, without proper clothing and no one to turn to. The hospitals were crammed with the effected and the volunteers; who came in huge numbers everyday to help those in need.

It was on one such visit that I met Bilal, a young boy of about 8 years, sitting outside a children’s ward. He had a very serious and mellow expression on his face and looked aloof from his surrounding.  I went to him and asked him the usual questions, what was his name, where did he come from. First, he ignored me, when he saw that I was not ready to budge he told me that his family had died when the roof of their house collapsed. When I questioned him further he just got up and left.

Feeling perturbed, I again went the next day looking for him, this time I found him sitting beside an injured young girl of about four years. He was holding her head affectionately in his lap and stroking her hair. The girl had a bandage around her head and was holding his hand. Not wanting to intrude, I waited aside, till he got up, apparently to fetch something. I went after him and said hello in a familiar manner. He looked at me and the same indifferent and cold expression returned to his face. Seeing that, I told him that all I wanted to do was help; did he need warm clothes, food, and shelter? Could I inform his guardians? Was there some emotional help that I could provide him? He remained quiet for a few moments as if calculating an appropriate response, he told me that his father’s brother was all that was left of his family other than that an injured sister, then he left.

Encouraged by his willingness to open up, I ventured back the next day. He was with his sister, who was fast asleep. I had with me a small token that I set aside and inquired after his sister. He gave a brief response of her being better than before. I sat there beside them silently for a while and then dared to ask where this uncle was and why were the kids not with him. The same indifferent look returned and looking me straight in the eyes he said that the Uncle had returned to the village to help with the rescue efforts and after a pause added, “My uncle has told me that now I am the head of my family and am old enough to shoulder my responsibilities. My sister and I are neither in need of your sympathy nor your charity. ”

I stepped back and with a weak smile, begged leave. This young boy indeed did not need my help. That day I returned home in a trance, what had he said that had shattered something so deep in me. I felt like a mirror had broken in my face and now the shards of glass were cutting through my skin and reaching my brain. Old enough to take responsibility???? A boy of 8 who 24 hours earlier may have been playing in the street and yelling to his mom for snacks. Whose life had changed in the few seconds that brought his home, his village and everything he knew tumbling to ground and reduced to dust? He was sitting there, aged beyond his 8 years and had acquired the dignity of a seasoned caretaker. He had understood that his life had changed forever and he was up and centre, ready to face the worst, with courage in his heart and dignity drying his tears. He was not complaining to the whole world about the earthquake that had shaken his life. Instead of complains, there was poise and fortitude. He did not cling to me, a temporary relief for any sympathy.

I kept reeling for a few days not able to focus my attention on anything. Soon it was clear to me that I was at the crossroads of my life, I had two courses of action open and it would be my call whatever I chose. I vowed then, to take responsibility of every action that I took and deal with life upfront. I went back to look for him after sometime later but he had gone and no one was able to give me any leads to find him.

I cleaned up the mess in my life, it took time and courage, but every time I was faced with something too difficult to handle, instead of burying my head in the sand I took courage from Bilal. Six years later, I am a better person and have a blessed life.  Every now and then I think of him and say a silent prayer for him in my heart.

The boy I had intended to rescue had saved my life. 

Book Review: The End of Mr. Y by Scarlett Thomas

‘Indeed it is even possible for an entity to show itself as something which in it self it is not.’

                                                                                                     Martin Heidegger

The enigma of “Thought Experiment”; vigilantly and intricately woven, with the web of an adventurous journey, this is the flavour of, “The End of Mr Y” by Scarlett Thomas. Unlike most young authors, her diction is frank and candid and from the very beginning the book has some magnetic quality very much like the old time novels that you sneak to finish, during your lunch hour. She discusses thoughts, emotions and associations as they appear in her own thought process. She chalks out the process of karma and chance element in the movement of her thoughts and like a gushing torrent the reader is carried  away on a high fevered intrigue. Scarlett Thomas, has lent a new freshness to the age old concepts of metaphysics and various philosophies of Being.

The novel is a modernistic look at the nineteenth century philosophy. Our almost eccentric heroin is Ariel Manto, whose life consists of smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee, and researching nineteenth-century author’s work on thought experiments.  Thomas sends Ariel on a quest, that’s has the exuberance of a sci-fi novel yet has the depth of a most amazing journey of self introspection and discovery. The trip into the “The End of Mr. Y” is like marrying one of Stephen Hawking’s with a Paulo Cohelo, metaphysics backed back logic and fact.  The work is not only thrillingly imaginative, but Thomas’s grasp of challenging philosophical concepts weaves a very satisfying thread of commentary through the story. If you’re interested in Derrida, Phenomenology or the interrelation of science, faith, and language, you will find Ariel’s musings fascinating and well-informed.

Providence leads Ariel, to an almost fabled book in a used book store; the last copy surviving, since the late 1800s. Part of the reason that the other copies were destroyed is the rumour of a curse, wherein anyone who reads the book dies shortly afterwards. Feverish with her discovery and baffled at her luck, she scurries home with her treasure, caring mixed feelings of fear, wonder and intrigue. She is torn between the temptation of the knowledge within and petrified of the consequences so legendry. Fate deals a strange hand to our heroin and a jigsaw puzzle of strange happening starts to unravel. Ariel Manto, obsessed by her knowledge is carried away in her quest for Truth. Her search for the answers leads her to questions and more questions. The cursed book brings together a strange mix of people entirely disconnected and yet absolutely connected in another realm. Her journey has starts with destitution, obsession, self deprecation, lust, and finally takes the form of truth, hope and love.

Despite the fact that the novel is based on principals derived from history , philosophy and physics it is by no means a dull commentary; Thomas has a knack of mixing fact with poetry in a most blended manner, ‘What folly takes fight through ether to each eye from every horizon? And beyond this is not truth but what we have made truth; yet this is a truth we cannot see’

Ariel Manto, is a thoroughly modern woman with strong ideas. At one point, Ariel self-deprecatingly laments, ‘Sometimes I think I see my own ideas floating around, but they usually don't last long. They’re more like mayflies: They're born, big and gleaming, and then they fly around, buzzing like crazy before they simply fall to the floor, dead, about twenty-four hours later.’ This thought however, is not applicable to this book which has all the ingredients of leaving a strong imprint on the mind of the reader.

Scarlett Thomas, builds Ariel's world like a scientist may build a thought experiment, letting it unfold for us naturally, and it becomes as persuasive as our real world. She is also willing to face the darkness and complexity of human decisions and interactions with humour and ethics, but without judgment. Her narrator is flawed but understanding, a refreshing point of relation for the reader. The question is never the act, but the thought behind that act which moves and shapes the realities as we see them, the question of evil, good and bad is left entirely to the judgement and perception of the reader. Ariel herself, a home to all the proclaimed vices, also displays a great understanding of the Soul of the Universe, ‘In anyplace that I take flight the dark will mutate into light’.

The book has entirely lucid lines, finely merging the hard core concepts of reality into the realms of unreal, but it has a strong essence of being entirely relevant. While going through the book one feels various moments of déjà vu. Our unconventional novel however has a conventional outcome and although the plot is well thought out, the ending leaves a quite a few questions unanswered. This quality however, lends it a more interesting appeal and though not as powerful, it sinks in leaving the reader to draw its conclusions.

In 2001, Scarlett Thomas was voted among United Kingdom’s top 20 best Young Writers and in 2002 won the Elles Style Award. She currently teaches Creative Writing and English literature at the University of Kent.