Hidden Fires: Manjula Padmanabhan

[The stage is dark. A red spotlight snaps on. A man is standing under it …. He appears disheveled. He looks over his shoulder a couple of times before he starts to speak. He is calm, but taut]

MAN: Yes. … yes! I can talk about it. Why not? I’m not ashamed. I am not afraid. Let me tell you  how it was, in that first week. I was there at the beginning.

Yes — ten! That was my score. I refuse to be ashamed of it. I can explain it all — you see, they weren’t really … people. Yes, ten or ten and a half — depending on how you count the one who was pregnant. In such a situation, do we count one … or one and a half? Or two? Anyway! The point is, ten … cases were involved.

It started without warning. I was standing in my shop. One moment I was thinking about my nephew’s engagement and the next moment … there was a sound. A customer in the shop, a woman — she heard the sound before me. She said, What’s that? Then I heard it too.

We both stepped out. We saw someone running. Behind him were seven others, maybe eight. They were carrying sticks. The one in front was running towards me. His mouth was open, no sound coming out. I knew what I had to do.

I stood in his path. He swerved to avoid me, but I held him. In that instant the boys caught up. They leapt at the man, jumped straight at him! And stamped him out.

I heard the crunch of his bones as they broke him. Scorching red juice spurted from his nose. In his final moment, he looked straight at me. The heat of his life was like a blaze in my face! And then … he was out.

Others like this one had begun running in the streets. Some of them were female. If you want to — yes, you could call them people. I don’t of course. There’s no point. That’s what you don’t understand. They looked like men, they looked like women. But in reality … well …

You have to understand. Some people are not … people. They share the street with you and me … but inside, deep inside … they’re not people …

How else can I say it? There are some things you just know. And once you know it, you can’t stop knowing it. It’s like red hot coal — it takes only one lesson to know everything you need to, about getting burnt.

You call them people? I call them red, hot coals. From an ancient fire. Not people at all. So long as they remain cool and unmoved, they’re all right. But the moment they begin to smoke, the moment they show that ancient heat — then! Ah then. That’s when we — we who can get burnt from that distant fire — that’s when we must take action.

Who fanned those coals back to life — was it Them? Was it Us? Who set the streets aflame with them? Was it Them or was it Us? Frankly, I don’t care. When a fire is raging out of control there is only one rule for dealing with it: put it out.

Here, there, everywhere … fires were running this way and that, threatening our city, destroying our country. Some were actually aflame; others were just barely smoking. But all were burning from within, lit by their own … otherness.

When your life’s in danger, you’ll do anything to defend it, won’t you? When your country’s in danger, you’ll do anything to protect it, won’t you? That’s what we did. Defended our selves. Saved our country. We saw fires and we — stamped them out.

I see it in your face — you think I did something wrong. I tell you, it was not wrong. It was right. It was the only thing to do. You would do it yourself, believe me, if you saw a fire coming your way. If you thought there was no other way to save yourself from getting burnt.

At the end of that first day, we heard the news. Two hundred dead. At the end of the next day, we heard the news. Three hundred dead. At the end of the month, we heard the news. Two thousand dead. At the end of six months, ten thousand dead.

The fire of otherness. A deadly scourge. But there’s a simple rule to follow: when you see a fire, stamp it out. That first day, I counted ten. But after that day, I stopped counting. I don’t know how many I killed. It became routine. Nothing very special. Like pest control. Like fire-fighting.

You mustn’t allow yourself to be confused. Some people – you for instance – you want to know: But HOW could I, anyone, actually kill people? So many people? I keep telling you: I didn’t kill anyone. Nobody killed anybody. We saw fires and we put them out.

It’s a useful approach, this one. Before, when I was still just an ordinary shop-keeper, looking after the store, minding my business, I didn’t realize how simple life could be. All these years I used to think there were many laws, rules, regulations. I did as I was told. I obeyed all the rules. But now I understand: there is only one rule. When you see a fire, stamp it out.

Don’t wait for help or call for the police. When you see a fire, stamp it out.

And there are a lot of fires around, believe me. Not so easy to see all of them. Some of them are hidden. Even from the people in whom they burn. It takes special eyes to see them. My eyes for instance … but I am starting to doubt them. At one time, everyone I saw, I knew exactly who they were. Where they came from. No longer. Now everyone wears the same clothes, the same marks on their foreheads, the same spectacles and ties … sometimes I have trouble guessing: is that one of Them or one of Us?

I used to think, If I don’t see, immediately, from your expression, or the clothes you wear, or the style of jewelry around your neck or the colour of your bangles, or the cut of your blouse that you are one of Us, the chances are I will assume that you’re one of Them. That’s how I used to think.

It’s like that amongst the animals. There are lions, there are deer: does anyone say, Oh the lions are the same as the deer and the deer are the same as the lions? No, of course not! Of course we say they are each of them different from the other!

Similarly with us. Some of us are deer, and some of us are lions. That’s all there is to it. Very simple. It’s normal for the lions to eat the deer. It’s normal for the deer to run from the lions. After all, no-one wants to be eaten. Even when it’s just their … how shall I call it? Their destiny. As deer. As prey.

It’s the law of the jungle. And when the law of the jungle is broken, there is Chaos. That’s what. And no-one wants Chaos. Not even the deer. Ask me? I should know! I don’t want Chaos. That’s why I’m talking to you. Because I want to help you — to avoid Chaos, that is.

I’m sure you don’t want Chaos, either. You just want to get on with your life. That’s true, isn’t it? It’s true for me too. I’m sure you can see that. Of course you do. I am sure you’ll understand then, why I’ve come to you now. Why I’m standing here today. I just need a little of your time and …

Please — no — don’t turn away: just listen to me. Please.

Till yesterday … it was all so clear. Like I’ve described to you. Everything was simple. It was the law of the jungle, and I was a lion. Till yesterday. That’s when they came to my house and — no, wait, please! Don’t turn away!

They didn’t even ask questions. They just began to beat me up. Then they threw me out of my house and set fire to my wife. She was not yet forty. They took away my sisters and their daughters. They strangled my son in front of me and pissed inside his dead mouth.

I screamed! I cried! I said, I am one of you! All they said was, Hidden fires. You have hidden fires. And we’ve got to put them out.

I said, No! No! You’re wrong! I have no hidden fires! I have nothing you don’t have! But they were deaf. They were blind. Hidden fires, they said, we’ve got to put them out.

Show me! I begged them. Show me one sign that I am different to you! But all they said was, We need no reasons, don’t you see? That’s the law of the jungle. You believe in too, don’t you? Just like we do. You say you’re a lion, but your great-grandmother, three generations ago, SHE was a deer — someone told us — and that makes you a deer! And that’s your hidden fire. So we’ve got to put you out. Then they told me they would be kind to me. They would spare my life. Then they told me to go far away and never come back. They told me to forget about my shop, my house, my property. And that was all they said.

Don’t you think it’s unfair? Don’t you — no! Please! Why are you turning away? Why don’t you understand! There’s been a mistake — isn’t it obvious? Why don’t you listen! They had NO REASON for beating me up! I have NO HIDDEN FIRES! If they could beat me up, they could beat you up — no, no, no! You must listen, you must! Please! It’s for your own sake — believe me! If it could happen to me, it could happen to you —

[light starts to fade]

Please! Listen to me! Please! For your own sake, never mind about me — don’t turn away — don’t laugh and shake your head — please — listen to me — please …

[lights and audio dim while he talks, till all that remains is a small red flickering pin-point of light on the front of the man’s chest]

— I take back what I said earlier — I see that I was wrong, I was blind — I was intolerant — but it was all because I didn’t understand! That’s why I’m pleading with you — listen to me — it’s for your own good — no! Don’t turn away — don’t … please …

[the small flickering light goes out too]