By the time we were nearing Right Arrow again, it was around 5:15 in the evening.

The sky turned from a steady white to a mixture of cerulean and dark cobalt. Twilight,

was too plain a description of the canopy above us for the heavens appeared much

more complex than imagined.

We got dropped off, at the entrance of Jeter, Nin and Harris’s neighbourhood and set

an appointment with Ven to be picked and dropped in the same circumstances the

next day.

Approaching nearer, there was a lot of hustle and bustle in Jeter’s house; preparation

was underway for the carnival that night.

In his gigantic backyard, there were several pin striped tents with little flags at the

top, food bars, game stalls, an eclectically lit Ferris wheel and a large stage towards

the end of the yard for the clown performances, that overlooked the entire event.

Little fairy lights were placed in the great plant life of the Kits’ backyard. They

looked like suspended stars in the green kingdom.

As we walked in, arrangements were still underway. Mrs. Kit was frantically clicking

away on her personal PAD, instructing the miscellaneous workers to carry certain

gimmicks that were required of certain stalls. Food trucks were unloading their

supplies. It was tasty snacks galore!

Suddenly, Mr. Kit hurriedly walked towards his wife and asked if they had ordered

the carousel too.

‘No, we did not,’ she answered rather nervously, ‘remember we decided to let the

Ferris wheel provide the entertainment for the children because we wanted more

space for our expensive flower arrangements?’

Mr. Kit looked angry. ‘What? I do not want our guests thinking we had a limited

budget. Order it now!’

‘Now?’ Mrs. Kit was clearly mortified. She was the last person who would be

comfortable with random changes to her meticulously organised plan from days

before.

‘Yes, now!’ he roared, ‘and also see if there can be a band here. I want live music

playing all around instead of pre-recorded jives.’

‘Darling, it is too late to make these changes with the event right upon us,’ she

replied in a strangely composed voice, ‘but I will see what alternatives are available to

us, if any at all.’

And with that, the equally dominating Mrs. Kit walked off with the flower

arrangement employees to the stage area.

‘I would much rather have stayed in Left Arrow,’ Jeter said sulkily, ‘at least there

was some sort of interaction present. Here, it’s like mother and father don’t really care

about your presence unless it is there to complement their presence before their

guests.’

‘Oh calm down, Jet!’ Nin replied calmingly, ‘most parents are like that. There’s a

reason why we were given friends as compensation.’

There was a chorus of “yeah’s” that followed this statement.

‘Anyway, since Auntie Arantza is busy right now,’ Nin turned to face Jeter, ‘do you

want to quickly run to the kitchen and put in the plan for tomorrow on the organiser?’

‘Good idea,’ he replied, ‘let’s go right now.’

‘You guys check that out,’ Harris said, ‘I think I would much rather go to my room

and practice an MCAT past paper in the meanwhile.’

As he said that, he made his way to his own mansion, and I followed Nin and Jeter

inside the kitchen. But before that, just to see, I went back to the strange room behind

the staircase I had taken refuge in earlier. This time it really was locked. And what

was fascinating about the location was the darkness surrounding it. Holding up a torch

to it, I realised there was no camera anywhere to be seen. Whoever operated here

wanted it to be nothing but discreet. Thinking we needed to come back and check it

out some other time I went back to my friends, little did I know the series of events

that were soon to follow would be so frenzied.

‘Nin,’ I began, ‘is your cousin Gregory going to be here tonight?’

‘Yes, he is…thinking about talking to him about Badriya?’

‘Exactly. I was thinking about her play performance. If we could get her the role she

wants and actively campaign for a packed house, it might just give us the audience we

need to talk about our petition. It will spread the word faster, and the faster, the better,

really.’

‘Yeah,’ Jeter added, ‘the faster, the better. I am really interested in reading

Sophocles’ Antigone, now, and want to base my final school commentary on that.

And not the same old business model I submit each and every year.’

‘All right cool,’ I said, ‘it is super that we all have our incentives intact!’

‘Right,’ he agreed while putting in the plan for our next day into his mother’s

organiser, ‘so class ends tomorrow at eleven for all of us, I will just call Ven and tell

him to be there before.’

Nin and I both agreed it was fine.

We went out again to view how the final touches were being carried out. All that

hustle and bustle with the flower arrangements was still underway. There was a fallen

tulip on the ground, which I picked up and examined. It had a shimmer and allure like

I had never seen before. The Kits were very particular about their flowers. At that

very moment, Nin went towards the gate as she saw her parents enter and Jeter

accompanied her in greeting his family friends cum relatives.

The clown caravan had arrived about ten minutes after we had gone into Jeter’s

kitchen and I ran out to see if my father had come too, but there was no sign of him.

The one the Kits had chosen was busy getting out his props and all his tricks while the

other “back-up” clowns chatted away on how the eliteratti discarded the magic act for

being too passé and so on.

‘Hey, where is Spud the clown?’ I asked them.

‘Spuddy ain’t comin,’ the clown with a blue nose and red ballooned lips said.

‘Why? It was a big deal to him to come out here and perform in front of them!’ there

was an unexplainable kind of fear that swelled up inside me…I had tears welling up

in my eyes. ‘Where is he?’

‘Dun say where he be,’ he replied and went on with picking up polka dotted boxes

and taking them to the stage away from the parking lot.

‘Wait!’ but he would not wait, because, unlike me, he had a job to do.

‘Ma’am!’ I turned to one of the she-clowns with indigo gossamer fleecy hair.

She looked at me with penetrating eyes, the upside down triangles crayoned under

them naturally; it felt as if she heard my pain, felt it, and let me see a fragment of it

through the windows to her soul.

‘Do you have any idea where Spud the clown went?’ I asked helplessly and

hopelessly. This was not the first time my father pulled off a disappearing act. And for

how long this would be, bothered me in a strange way. It was like a familiar ghost

haunting me even though I had condemned it years ago.

‘Nut much I am know,’ the minute she uttered those words that seemed to pinch my

ears, I knew I would have to forget and suppress any optimism in knowing where he

was, and would have to leave the matter unresolved yet again, when she added, ‘but,

what he do I should be produce-able.’

‘Yes? Anything!’ my disbelieving voice blared from my mouth.

‘He work it like them,’ she motioned towards the Kits’ backyard with her eyes,

‘said I learn as I know son will pave route and let me clap hand.’

It felt surreal for a second. My father actually had hope in me? And he had gone on a

learning voyager. He was really delving into the books, really getting into law, hard. I

felt more determined than ever to make sure he walked that courtroom. It is amazing

what an inch of belief from your loved one can make you feel.

‘Thank you!’ I exclaimed in plain happiness.

‘Here,’ I added, handing her the tulip I picked up earlier, ‘good luck with your

show.’

Now it was my turn to leave her feeling the way she left me: appreciated. And how

my gesture made her glow.

By the time I got back to the middle of the backyard, Nin’s parents had dispersed

and banded together with the growing amount of eliteratti adults. She and Jeter were

standing with a third individual and it was not Harris.

As I approached them, the third individual, a slightly older looking version of Nin

stood tall and proud before me. She winced a little after seeing me, but I am quite

accustomed to that by now.

Nin introduced me to her as the ‘subject of a great and historic piece of socioliterature!’

She, in turn did not introduce herself, but relaxed once it became clear to her that I

was only present at the function freely walking unrestrained among them because Nin

was using me for her project – how ironic.

‘This,’ Nin said motioning towards the individual, ‘is my older sister, Mina, who is

known as Min.’

I had no idea she had a sister.

‘Thanks, Nina,’ replied Min.

So Nin’s real name was also revealed.

‘Min specialises in the art of dance,’ Nin elaborated, ‘she captures that in response to

different mediums of abstract mediums against a back drop of near, disco or trance.’

‘How very interesting,’ I said much to Min’s dismayed shock at my equality in

opinion, and what further added to this flabbergasted state, ‘if I went on stage and did

my own take in the medium of physical artistic presence, would you say I have an

inner artist within me?’

She gave me a quick view from head to toe and added very cynically, ‘honey, forget

within, you have no without to begin with.’

‘Hey, Min,’ Nin said coldly, ‘this is my friend you are speaking to.’

She gave Nin a light touch on her shoulder and casually said, ‘tell me where you

found one of these, will ya? I might just get one to help me carry my dance gear,’

while walking away.

Nin turned to look at me with a worried look.

‘Don’t sweat it,’ I reassured her, ‘she seems like a very nice person.’

Jeter let out a little snicker, ‘Yeah, glad you can see life for what it truly is.’

‘Oh yes, brother,’ I added, putting my arm around him, ‘too bad brother Harris is

trapped in the tower, guarded by the giant dragon of MCAT.’

I am glad nobody pointed out how terrible my joke was. Comedy was definitely

ruled out for both my father and myself.

‘Yeah, let us go rescue the dainty princess!’ Jeter responded spiritedly.

Or maybe not. Never rule out any profession!

Before we could proceed with our master plan of entering the Mahmood mansion,

Nin spotted her cousin. ‘Gregory!’

Gregory Wilde had his great, great grandfather’s signature droopy, romantic eyes

and wore his hair long too. He was draped in flamboyant furry skin that was black;

the rest of his skin towards his lung area was suede in texture. His legs were a little

flappy, making it seem like he was wearing black and white piano style pants. He also

carried with him a cane.

‘Cousin Nin!’ he cried in a demure, low, manly voice, though he seemed to be only a

few years older to her, yet exuded much maturity in form and feature.

Nin grabbed me by the arm and took me to meet him right in front. She made with

him a little small talk before diving right into what I was desperately waiting to hear

about.

‘Did you know, one of your plays is being performed in the land of the

miscellaneous, Left Arrow?’ she spoke excitedly.

‘Oh reallllly?’ he said, deliberately hanging on to his l’s for more musicality, ‘fame

is the only virus they urge you to catch!’

‘Ah, still peppering your speeches with those inversions and epigrams, I see!’ Nin

said rather proudly.

‘Of course, cousin. I have pepper in my breakfast, lunch and dinner,’ he remarked

coolly.

‘I am sorry to interrupt but where else are your plays performed if not by the

miscellaneous?’ it felt as if all the curiosity in the world had been stored up within me

to burst on this one fine day.

‘Why, my jolly good friend, are you from the Wilde, Marlowe, or Shakespeare crew

of actors? By George, I have never seen a character quite like you, which makes me

very much like you,’ Gregory spoke while pushing back his satin like locks.

‘Actually, my friend is special, and will make history someday,’ Nin remarked on

my behalf.

‘Good, good,’ Gregory replied, ‘history is always boring, unless you’re in it.’

We all let out a little hearty laugh.

‘Well, to answer your initial question,’ he added, ‘my plays can be performed

anywhere. There is a grand theatre hall towards the west hall of Right Arrow, where

only the most qualified miscellaneous actors come and perform. And those actors

form a crew that elevates them a little in rank to the other miscellaneous. But in Left

Arrow, there are several theatre houses where plays like mine are a regular.’

‘Why can’t those actors earn an elite rank?’ I asked further. I felt this person was a

little open minded like my friends.

‘I suppose their talent in the field they’re born into ought to put them in the same

league, but the profession is considered inferior so they could never be as great as the

eliteratti.’

‘But what if,’ I persisted, ‘someone from the eliteratti, say Min, were to perform

among the actors. Would she still be lauded as superior to the actors who did much

better than her theatrically?’

‘Yes, she would still be revered, because it is unheard of to have a miscellaneous be

considered more than an eliteratti, especially when Min is not an actor, she’s a dancer,

and there is a lot of difference.’

At that point, it felt like this was going to turn into a long debate, especially when

what Gregory was saying did not make much sense towards the end. And it was not

because he had some animosity towards the miscellaneous, it was just that he was

narrating the eliteratti alphabet. Their inherent belief at being more cultured and

superior at any and everything was problematic. Especially, the universally prevalent

view in Silverns that one could only perform the task they looked like they could do.

Who even cares about talent? That comes later.

Nin, interjected the conversation then. I suppose she too realised the futility of

discussing or re-hearing concepts she herself was tired of. So she diverted everyone’s

attention towards our most pressing concern at the time.

‘Gregory,’ she asked, ‘there is a young actress in Left Arrow who had put her heart

and soul into the character of Poppy for your play and -’

‘Poppy? They are performing Poppy? How completely splendiferous! It was actually

one of grandfather Wilde’s incomplete scripts that I sort of tweaked a bit. Fantastic!’

He had that I-really-am-an-old-chip-off-the-old-block kind of look.

‘Yes, and her part was taken from her by the director who put his niece in it instead

and -’

‘I must admit cousin Nin, art really is no art without its fair share of politics

therefore -’

Now it was Nin’s turn to interrupt her enthusiastic cousin.

‘Yes, you are totally right. But you will do it as a favour to me, signing on this slip

that you want no one but Badriya Sohni to play the part of Poppy!’

‘Poppy is the boy’s name in the play,’ Gregory corrected, ‘she must be talking about

the part of Ally!’

‘Yes, yes, whichever one is the main female lead…oh thanks, cousin!’ she took the

paper from him as he finished signing it.

As a writer and creative evangelist, Nin always carried with her pen and paper. Good

show.

‘And now, you should go and try out the punch! I made it with mother yesterday!’

she said, reverting back to her gleeful self.

Gregory made a little bow, and excused himself away politely. He possessed that old

school quintessential Wildean vibe indeed.

Now, it was I who turned towards Nin, ‘you are such a fighter! That sort of

persistence is just what we need to make the eliteratti change their minds, of which I

keep getting more and more confident!’

Nin’s face began to glow like a little strawberry.

Right at that point, Jeter and Harris approached us, and precisely then the stage

started changing into vibrant colours, and the drumbeat started picking up pace. It

looked like the show was also about to begin.

‘You know this was one princess that did not want to be rescued,’ Jeter said of

Harris, who clung closely to his MCAT book.

Nin pointed towards the book and said, ‘really? Out here too?’

Harris just robotically replied, ‘my work is never over,’ without making eye contact

with his friends who were just itching to snatch it away from him.

Before we could get involved with what he was saying an intense solo of guitar

playing filled the air. I turned my head around the backyard and saw just how quickly

the carnival filled up with eliterattis. Younger eliteratti children, around the ages of

six and seven, started to air guitar with the music, getting on their knees and losing

themselves quite completely. The smile that spread across my face flickered away

when I saw their matching mothers give them the classic finger shake of “stop it” and

made them come away with them.

What was the point of having a carnival in the first place then if you weren’t allowed

to rock it out, to just forget and have fun? Oh no. The eliteratti made sure to act like

carnivores through and through. Tearing apart the miscellaneous professions. Why?

Because it was a miscellaneous profession. The prey’s profession. The weak,

domestic, non-predator’s profession.

That very moment, the clowns took centre stage and performed their tricks. There

was some fabulous juggling synchronised with the happy go lucky yet intense,

pumping music. Then there was a body balancing act on top of a rotating ball, that

really had every single eliteratti on the edge of their seats. All these actions elicited

such a positive response from the little ones. But the adults? Completely forgetting

that the acrobatic skills were feats they could never even dream of doing, their snarky

remarks could be heard from a mile radius, ‘Oh what a circus!’ and even some

literally ridiculous statements such as ‘so glad we’re too civilized for this kind of

birth’ echoed. The opinions were self centred but not quite as centred within their

selfish spheres because some of the performers furrowed their brows at the

unnecessarily derogatory commentary.

They just acted as complete carnivores that gnawed away at the spirit of their own

carnival.

The clowns ended their act with some fancy fire play that left even Mr. Kit’s face

open.

Around ten, the carnival ended. I heard many of his business associates, or rather

business lookalikes express their amusement. Their little mini me’s or tiny clones who

had been oozing electric energy, now sleepily tugged at their mother’s skin flaps,

indicating they wanted to be in bed now.

Harris had already retired to his house with his parents after gobbling down five

samosas and eight jalebis. Nin, too left with her family, her favourite ladoo in her

plate, while Jeter and I quickly had beetle leaf together and went to our rooms.

Morning could not come any sooner as I had a different kind of appetite to satiate. I

was craving a trip back to Left Arrow.