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Once a great storm gathered over
the sea. It grew and grew until it collected into a vast
battalion of the blackest clouds ever seen, until all the
sky was frowning menacingly. It threatened and groaned and
then like an army advancing, it slowly began to cross over
the water into the land. But it did not empty its clouds
and rain.
As it marched forward, a terrible
howling wind, deafening thunder and blinding flashes of
lightning accompanied it. All the trees, even the mightiest
banyans which had stood for centuries, bowed before it,
and some were uprooted. But still it did not rain.
Presently it came upon a quiet
valley, protected from the wind. There were huts, a stream,
and sounds of work and laughter. People tilled land, sold
vegetables and fowl, washed clothes, laughed and talked;
children skipped rope and squabbled; flowers bloomed everywhere,
gulab and sadabahar, and bees droned in the
sun.
When Dark Storm saw this happy
sight it could not keep its terrible temper. All its fury
gathered upon its brow, and in a rage it swept like the
hand of death upon the sunny valley below. It rained in
torrents, the raindrops like knives and the wind like a
scythe. A grim bank of black clouds hid the destruction
below. When Dark Storm passed there was nothing left in
the valley.
When people in the other village
heard of this tragedy they were frightened, but no one had
the courage to help the destroyed village. “The storm didn’t
hit us; why should we care?” they said. Hearing this Dark
Storm felt secretly happy. “No one will come to their aid,”
it thought, “And when I strike the other villages, no one
will come to theirs. I may devastate the world as I please.
These humans care nothing at all for each other.” It then
sang its terrible song of victory, roaring, thundering:
What is good, what is bad?
None knows, none dares.
Who is happy, who is sad?
None shows, none cares.
It then swept forward on its way,
laying waste the countryside. In the day the clouds hid
the sun; in the night their shadows obscured the stars.
One by one each village that had thought itself safe was
destroyed.
Continues next week
Mala Marwah’s short story, Dark Storm and Bright Pearl,
first appeared in the children’s magazine Target edited
by Rosalind Wilson. It was later published in the short story
collection, The Carpenter’s Apprentice, by Katha,
a Delhi-based non-profit organisation and publishing house.
Illustrations: Uday Deb
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