Gurbhim's Chair - A Short Story Series
Gurbhim's Chair - Part III
"The Incident at Chappalpur" - Part I
Long before Gurbhim had known of
Krandugal, long before Gurbhim was aware of Chacha Sehru, when Gurbhim was an
abstract unnamed thought floating in Sepharim’s (Gurbhim’s Father) mind, a very
young Chacha Sehru evoked stark admiration and jealousy in Sepharim. The tides
of mechanical contraptions were rising higher day by day even as the City of
Kejristan breathed into existence several manual labour saving devices through
the industrious intelligence and creativity of its Metallists, among who, one
was Chacha Sehru. Sepharim had other pre-occupations that were increasingly
approaching the status of veritably vulnerable punching bags of quick derision.
Sepharim, despite his respect and admiration, was hesitant to wade over to the
new science being created by the Metallists and continued to stick to his
alchemical endeavours. But one day, when Gurbhim was still a young teenager,
Sepharim in a fit of great frustration, piled up over years of directionless
and failed efforts, cursed himself and Gurbhim for becoming the town’s
spectacle as he was. Sepharim, then vowed secretly never to return to alchemy, while maintaining a facade of continuity in his alchemical experimentations, and
decided to spend the rest of the time available to him in advancing the cause
of Metallism. But as they say, Sepharim was too late to the party and had a
hard time in moving his conceptual faculties away from the nebulous world of
alchemy to the concretized lattice-work of Metallist knowledge and ended up as
an object of ridicule in much the same way a first generation convert might be
seen by purists. Sepharim was a man of knowledge and therefore was not prone to
be put down by jibes and jokes but what finally drove the nail into his coffin
of despair was the fact that his conversion implied admittance of failure of
alchemy, for which he was forever shame-faced in front of his teenage boy, Gurbhim,
in who Sepharim had produced a flame of magical curiosity and which, he was
afraid now, would be put down if Sepharim’s failure became all too real in the
mind of the growing Gurbhim.
So one day, Sepharim sat down
huggingly next to Gurbhim and stared intently into his eyes, with a hope to see
if the magical light of alchemy still burned in his eyes, whether his youthful
innocence will be blind to his spectacular failures and still carry on the torch
of unproven possibilities and unimagined impossibilities. There it was, a
child-like wonderment ensconced within a golden-bowl of alchemical curiosity,
radiating from the pupils of Gurbhim, whose eyes were now becoming afraid to
ask his father if alchemy was rubbish or not? Sensing the fact that, sooner or
later, he would have to inevitably face the question that swam in Gurbhim’s
ocular oceans like hungry sharks, Sepharim, in a split second decision, to
murder the shark then and there itself, rose to his feet and told his son, “You
know why my alchemy has suffered so far? It is because all this years, I have
been most misled to believe that I can make it work without providing my concoctions
with the herb, Angelicus Incardia, which are found in a distant island,
unapproachable by men of ordinary spirits of adventures. But alchemy is real,
it is wonderful, it has its own will to power, its own intrinsic spirit, its
own mind and will not yield to the efforts of any individual until and unless
the right ingredients are provided. That is why, I will have to set myself on a
long journey, the duration of which, I am no oracle to know of before-hand. It
can take me months, or years, or decades, but it is a journey that I will have
to make my son.” So with that valedictory speech, Sepharim separated himself
forever from his son, Gurbhim, not to seek out in search of an imaginary herb,
but to ensure that his son was not led to believe that alchemy was a spurious
activity, after seeing his failures.
Gurbhim, on his part, continued
from where his father had stopped, at his father’s laboratory and soon grew up
to forget the herb for which his father had set out. The fire his father had
kindled in him burned inside him continuously to fuel the desire to create
divinity out of mortal materiality and Gurbhim was thoroughly immersed in the
art of alchemy. Gradually he realized
that alchemy operated on a much grander plane, at a much higher level,
incorporated a multitude of variables, and thus was not susceptible to the
mental prowess of even the most intelligent humans. Either alchemy had an
intrinsic personality of its own that decided what to give to the alchemist, or
owing to the vast number of variables involved, getting the right result often
predicated to a large extent on pure chance than definite and interlinked
logical sequences.
Gurbhim, on his part, would not
agree with himself on the consideration that alchemical results floated on a
sea of chances, and was fanatically immersed in reducing it to observable
logicality, a quality which had made Metallists in his city so prominent. On a fateful
night, he had finally struck gold, although in only a metaphorical sense, since
what he produced finally was not actual gold, but a pair of wings which when
attached to a person would enable the person to fly and the pair of wings would
interact with the person much the same way his other biologically attached
limbs interact with his body. Gurbhim was excited at his alchemical invention and was eager to display it to the greatest number he could possibly show to.
Gurbhim experienced a fountain of sweet nectar exploding within himself envisioning
prospects of exhibitioning his alchemy right in front of the shop of Chacha
Sehru situated in Chappalpur, the largest section of the City of Kejristan. The
thoughts of triumph and grandeur started muddling his perception of alchemy’s
soul even as his self-conception as an alchemist slowly chewed away at the
independent mind of alchemy. Not in reality, but only in his mind. His success
at producing perfectly attachable wings edged him towards powerful self-belief
of individual prowess than being the benefited of an independent alchemical spirit.
Coupled with a deeper understanding of alchemy, Gurbhim, started to think that
with alchemy at his disposal, he was free to do anything. Stretching the limits of the possibilities that could be potentially made his', he could even explore the most detested taboo of his society? The taboo of claiming oneself as so incorruptibly pure to be declared the Shepherd in coming? He could perhaps lay
claim to himself as the Supreme Leader of the leaderless city of Kejristan itself? With
that in mind, he packed his bags, his ingredients and his pair of wings to
visit Chappalpur and thwart the rising influence of the Metallists. He wanted
to do that in style, in grandeur, in supreme brilliance to a great effect. So
he decided he will fly over to Chappalpur with his brand new wings and land himself on a busy street during the busiest hour of a day.
Gurbhim's Chair - IV
Gurbhim's Chair - IV
Image from here.
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