Daffodils of Death
By Raja Sharma
Copyright@2011Raja Sharma
Smashwords Edition
Chapter 1: Introduction
This play is dedicated to my elder brother, Arthur G. Finch. There is a definite reason behind dedicating this book to him. Arthur G. Finch, a former marine in US Army, a medico in the forces, has been serving the society in the capacity of a priest, spreading the divine light of the Almighty.
I see two distinct personalities in him: a soldier, and a preacher. To live somewhere between divided duties must have been a challenge to him, for the former duty demands of him to use force and weapons against the enemies, and the latter demands of him to shed every violent means and to spread the message of love and forgiveness. Likewise, I see the entire world lingering between two polarities, a kind of dilemma, where it is very hard to choose between right and wrong.
Characters
Teacher (A middle aged man)
Ramji (A student)
Hamid (A student)
Samuel (A student)
Boys and Girls (Students)
Police Officer
Anti Terrorist Squad –soldiers
Old Woman
Pundit –A Temple Priest
Love Birds-Sheela and Sajid
Flower Sellers
Chapter 2: Scene I
The curtain rises. The stage is empty. In the backdrop, there is a scene of the valley of flowers. The scene is just like that described by the English Poet William Wordsworth in his poem “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”. It may be anywhere in the world. Here the place lies between the legal borders of two neighbouring countries always trying to come up with new logics to spit out venom at each other. Let’s, for the convenience of dramatic presentation, call the place “Kashmir” that belongs to India.
The hall is dimly lit and the majority of the audiences consist of the teachers and students from Jammu University, Kashmir, India. Unfortunately, the person who had first discussed the idea of this play was shot dead by the militants who demand independent Kashmir. He was the professor of the university.
This first enactment of the play is a kind of homage to him.
Suddenly, a very pleasing voice fills the theatre. The voice recites William Wordsworth’s poem:
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
(Every line is recited very clearly and melodiously. The lights are focused on the flowers painted in the scene on the wall of the stage facing the audiences.)
Chapter 3: Scene II
(Nine students, three girls and six boys, led by their middle-aged teacher, Ahmad, are about to enter the valley of flowers.)
A boy: Wow! It is like Paradise.
Teacher: That is what a great Mogul Emperor once said, “If there is a heaven on this earth, it is here, it is here!”
Samuel: Some lines are so pleasing to the ear, Sir.
Teacher (Somewhat serious but definitely not sad): The music of words is more powerful than any kind of instrumental music.
(The teacher is accompanied by some students, carrying their bags on their backs, standing beside him. They seem to have a lot of respect for their middle aged teacher who teaches them English Literature.)
Ramji: Sir, flowers are really mysterious, aren’t they?
Teacher: Why only mysterious?
Ramji: How gradually but very definitely they are leaving us, I mean, they are disappearing.
Hamid (Cutting him short): I don’t think so. We have plenty of them in our beautiful Kashmir.
Samuel (Interrupting before others can add their opinions): Yes, plenty, only to be used for making wreaths for the dead bodies!
A Boy: Only soldiers and police officers receive wreaths when they are dead. Our boys don’t even get proper burials.
A Girl: Right. Their bullet ridden bodies rot in jungles and birds of prey feast on them.
Teacher: Hey…Hey! You all are being emotional and biased. We have visited this valley of flowers to see whether these beautiful and colourful stars can motivate and inspire us in some way. Don’t discuss the current situation, I mean, social and political, and definitely religious.
Ramji: We use flowers for various purposes. In our temples they are offered to God, they are used as symbols of love and affection; on dead bodies they symbolize peace and solace.
Hamid: We are not allowed to offer them to God. It is forbidden.
Samuel: You pluck and sell them though?
Teacher: No, personal remarks! Just the literary aspects of flowers.
Hamid (Somewhat angry, and disregarding the dictate of the teacher): Plucking and selling is not prohibited. It is not mentioned in the Holy Book!
Teacher (Realizing where the conversation is heading to): Boys…boys, listen to me. Why don’t we just concentrate on the aesthetic aspects of the nature?
Chapter 4: Scene III
1st Girl (In a whisper): Why are the boys always trying to pick on others?
2nd Girl: They are born like that.
3rd Girl: I love flowers but my parents don’t.
1st Girl: My father brings flowers for my mother even after twenty years of their marriage.
3rd Girl: I wish someone could bring flowers to me!
2nd Girl: You will get when the time comes.
3rd Girl: No, our religious taboos keep us away.
1st Girl: Let’s listen to Ahmad Sir.
Chapter 5: Scene IV
Pundit: Good morning, Sir.
Teacher: Good morning, Punditji. Plucking flowers?
Pundit: Yes, sir. Early in the morning I get the best of the flowers, otherwise, they are taken away by the flower sellers.