The Village of Kheruddin

Welcome to the village of Kheruddin. Here the days pass as slow as the ravine that does not flow but lingers. Life here moves at a pace lost on man. The wind is never too harsh and only breezes at best. The trees rustle in the afternoon as though singing a rustling lullaby to those who slumber in their shades. Everywhere you go you will find living things in a horizontal mode, men dosing off on charpoys, women drowsy from their chores and children sleeping soundly around the stream. Even the Sun is never too harsh on the village, and if it is, there are shades aplenty. You will also never find cattle, or animals or horses, which are upright in this village.

Have you ever seen a horse snore, you will as almost everyone snores here at Kheruddin. Even when villagers meet they speak in a hushed voice, mild and sleepy, as though the effort of talk is too exhausting. There is a strange sense of numbness here, a quiet solitude from everything and everyone almost like fear.

People who live together here, live only in their own worlds. Children are shown to live a way of life that is numb and self-induced. In this village of Kheruddin, you will never be bothered about anything as no one really cares enough. Life here is like the drowsy walk to death. It is said, and I am no witness, that when someone dies in this village of Kheruddin, people will reach the graveyard and smile, as they know that this is the place where they will not have to bother to get up again.

It is another strange custom here to buy the land for your graves in your life. I have seen men in graveyards happily building large graves for themselves and decorating the outside and the inside with lavishness that you will not find in their mud houses. I found this most amusing and smiled at this spectacle. A middle aged man turned towards me and I immediately seized my laughter, he looked at me, and smiled. He then turned around and looking at other men who by now were looking in our general direction and started laughing a hushed Kheruddin village laughter. A moment later we were all laughing. I do not know what was it that we were all laughing at, but I have to say, it must have been the happiest graveyard in the world.

You would think after spending time at Kheruddin that this is the most peaceful place in the world. The inhabitants pacified and unhindered by the evils of the world. Distant from the groveling desires of greed and far from the reach of the fires of hate that men all over the world ignite so willfully to burn each other so wistfully to ashes. And of that feeling of love that is man’s last hope of survival and salvation, there does not seem to be any evidence of it, here in Kheruddin.

I have seen men look at their wives and mothers look at their children only as a labour or love rather than love itself. There seems to be a desire to go back to the solitude that is being disturbed and emotionality seems to be a hindrance in the passive scheme of things here at Kheruddin. Instead the greatest love here is for the quiet solitude and numbness of it all, and men, women, children and animal seem all too aware of it. Almost resembling fear of something, someplace, someday.

You almost never hear shouting, except on one occasion. On the last day of the last week of the last month of every year, you will hear wailing like you have never heard in your life, here in the village of Kheruddin. It is as though every living thing is crying or gone mad with passion and anger. On this day everything transforms as gale force winds sweep the village and violently shake the trees to their roots. Beware in this village of Kheruddin and stay away from the trees as they will crush you to death on that day. And violent thunderstorms and dark cloud gather at midnight and deliver a violent torrential rain and the ravine that only knew how to linger will turn into a swollen river and flood the village. Beware of this ravine too as it will not be so picturesque and will drown you on that day.

On that day you will see men and women and children shouting, skirmishing, laughing, loving, fighting and killing each other. You will see anger erupt, as lovers will run wildly after their beloved and kill and be killed for their passions. Children will ferociously ask their parents questions about the meaning of life, the nature of god, the reason of their existence. And families appear to debate the very structure of their society. You will see men feuding over their share of lands. And blood will be spilled as passions rise. Women will be seen castigating their neighbours for their evil ways and they will group together to isolate some for violent reprimand as they are blamed to be less virtuous. You will see the shine of lust in the eyes of men and women and morality will stand aside on that day.

Rape, Murder and the human virtues from the pits of the human soul will raise their heads on that sordid day. Everywhere in kheruddin you will find houses on fire and blood flowing on the street. This is kheruddin on the last day of the last week of the last month of the year. Beware and stay away from Kheruddin or you will be crushed to see this heaven turn into a hell. You will be petrified to find that everything you loved about this village has transformed into something else and someplace else. This place will be Kheruddin lost in Kheruddin. For the entire length of the day Kheruddin will burn and its inhabitant will epitomize all that is wrong with the rest of the world but with a blinding fury.

And then the day will pass, Kheruddin will find itself and its inhabitants will regain their hushed existence. All the damage will be repaired patiently and without a word of complain. All the dead will be carried in processions and taken to the graveyard and everyone will smile.