When crows come calling

 Jacob was only twelve years old when he started to see the dream. As the third son of a decorated General, he had spent his childhood days within the campus of their city quarters. Yet, almost all nights, a vivid account of a river flowing across a dense forest would come as a dream to him. At first it was just the river. Then, gradually, after many nights, he could see for himself how vast it was. Twenty soccer fields, no, forty soccer fields wide! A stretch of dense woods along the banks came to him next. And finally, after months, he could see a small boat daring a course down the river. Jacob would, sometimes, jolt awake in the middle of the night. He would try to drink from the jug on his bedside table but he would fail. As the dream continued, recurring, each night, he told his mother about it. She could not help. Then, on a Sunday morning, after the holy mass, he told his father about it. As the words river, forest and boat escaped his lips, he could see his father’s face turning grim. He did not talk. His eyes were fixed on the back of the front row seats. The driver kept checking on him by throwing occasional glances at the mirror.

At some point of time during the quite afternoon that day, the Colonel shot himself in the head and fell down dead on to the expensive tiles which were imported from Italy. Blood formed a puddle and later the caretakers would caution each other not to step in it. Jacob’s mother went away and locked herself in a room. And then Jacob sat for days in a corner of their living room, looking at the visitors, and at the police, and at the military officers. A humongous warhorse, right out of a large painting looked at him with awe. Rifles hanging on the wall seemed to be throwing sad looks at Jacob, having lost their purpose.

A current of moist winds blew into Jacob’s face. He could hear the suppressed noise of the engines down under the deck . There were a couple of men on the deck, talking cheerily. Jacob looked upward and saw a flag fluttering right under the bright sky.

‘…Jacob!!’ He startled from sleep another time. His mother was about to hit him in the face. She then practically carried him away, from the living room, to the lawn outside to make him meet a few of the colleagues of his father. One of those colleagues would later marry his mother and live happily thereafter without Jacob.

As he tried to portray his dream, over years, the river, the forest and the motor boat, Jacob found his talents which were buried deep into his mind and heart. He could then sketch and paint. By the time Jacob was 20, he was living in his twelfth foster home near the National capital. Then, on an unusually cold day, he visited an old cathedral that stood right in the middle of the Capital and for some reason, he could drift no more. He settled down right outside the campus of the cathedral. On the first day, he sold his wrist watch to fund a week’s rent at an old lodge. After a few days, he started to paint portraits of people, live, on the streets. He bought back his watch after a month.

Once, as Jacob started his day, setting his chair, opposite to a blank canvas that was stretched out on a wooden stand, an old man approached him followed by thick smoke from his own pipe. A lady walked beside him with large eyes watching over his steps. ‘Captain Sir!…’ The old man said ‘…where is your sandalwood dagger, Sir!’ His words had to muscle themselves off from the midst hard coughs. Jacob paid attention and offered him a seat. The lady stayed after checking whether the chair was yet another canvas stand.

‘What dagger, sir?’ Asked Jacob. His long hair was going berserk in the winds. ‘I am young too, like you…’ The old man chuckled, pointing at Jacob’s hair, while he still clutched on to his large pipe. ‘This weakness.. this..’ he continued looking at himself. He dusted off ash from his chest and continued ‘…Ah.. this weakness, is just a mirage. Like the hammer crows above the Saneogi river..’ The old man froze. his eyes were away. ‘What river?’ asked Jacob.. ‘What river!’

The motor boat continued its course. Crows with their heads in the shape of hammers flew in circles and followed. The Sunlight coming from one side of the river was but blocked by the jungle, leaving the waters gloomy. It was as if the soul of the forest had spread out into the river.

Although Jacob and his men stood watchfully on the deck with their automatic machine guns, a white flag fluttered on a pole in the middle of the deck. The old man near the Cathedral was crouching at the rear, pointing his gun at the many invisible enemies who would spring out from the treeline. He was young then. Jacob tried reaching for his dagger tucked into his back pocket. He could feel the wooden handle. Sandalwood!- he thought. The boat went on slowly and the constant whirring of the engine varied at times with the currents in the river. ‘Captain!…’ a lean man called out to Jacob. He walked up to him and extended a plastic bag to Jacob.

‘…we are half way. we should leave them this now…’ said the lean man.

The bag was full of ice. A few strands of hair stuck out of it. As Jacob received the bag, he could feel the face of a man inside it. A severed head. Jacob placed his gun down and lifted the bag over his head. His hip rested on the safety rails running around the deck.

‘Le jao eh. Maaf Keejiye…’ Said Jacob as if he was reciting ancient scripture.

The lean man nodded. Then Jacob threw the bag high, into the forest. At the very moment the bag touched the ground, a pack of wolves appeared out of nowhere and bit away the plastic. Jacob and his men watched the wolves while keeping their guns aimed at them. The boat slowed down as the tides changed and then suddenly, hundreds of arrows rose in the air and rained all over the boat.

The hammerhead crows screeched and climbed to higher skies

The old man had fell down unconscious then. Jacob had to call an ambulance.

But he did come later, on some other day, on a Sunny day. He looked cheerful. His cheeks gleamed. His hair was darker and his hand which held on to his pipe trembled a lot less.

‘Look at me man!’ He said as he walked up to Jacob.

‘You look younger!’ exclaimed Jacob while fixing another canvass on to a stand.

‘The sin is being shared my boy. Inevitable’ said the old man.

‘I know the river.’ said Jacob.

‘Have you been up all night?’

‘The dreams..’ said Jacob

‘No! Have you lost your sleep yet?’

‘No. will I?’

‘Soon. That is how these dreams are. You know what it is, right? Captain?’

‘I am not a Captain!’

‘You were! Once. We fought there, over that cursed river’

‘What for? and it might be my father, you know?’

‘Yeah. and Oh yeah, another thing… don’t make children. They will lose their sleeps as well.’

‘What were you fighting for?’

‘For what. eh?. I don’t remember. But they were no fools. Who tricked who? Don’t know!’ The old man coughed more and took a seat then. Jacob stooped down to see his face and spoke loudly.

‘I saw a severed head. And a volley of arrows last night’

‘Yeah. I think…’ The old man froze again. His eyes were away, lost, once again.

Jacob looked for the old lady. She was nowhere to be seen. Then he called the ambulance, which never came.

The arrows came down with an otherworldly whistle. One of it went through the old man who was in his youth and dropped him dead. His blood oozed out and flowed out of the boat, into the river. Captain Jacob and two of his men had taken shelter under a tin sheet that protruded out of the side of the stern. They retaliated with their machine guns. Crackling of the guns filled the world. Bullets flew into the woods and then birds took off in waves. A few tree branches broke and fell. Then the boat came to a stand still. It was unbelievable. The river had stopped flowing.

Jacob found that his talents improved over days after the death of the old man. He could paint quicker now. He started painting a warhorse in the morning and by the evening, he had sold it for a fortune.

One day, while enjoying the view from his room, through the yellowish glass panes, a hammerhead crow flew to his side and stayed there. Its feathers were deep brown and its beak was as hard as iron.

Another time, Jacob could feel the sway of the boat as he came out of the bathroom.

Then after some weeks, he could see the jungle, around his bed, in the darkness, as he slept.

One day, on a fine morning, Jacob went to the cathedral and prayed. He could hear the whistling of arrows as he closed his eyes. He eased himself down and rested.

Another volley of arrows landed. The boat was full of thin arrows with iron heads. And they were a stationary target. ‘Captain! The grenades are inside’ said someone. His eyes were full. But Jacob moved himself forward and lifted his hands up. His gun rested on its sling around his neck.

‘Maaf Kijiye!’ uttered Jacob at the top of his voice.

Then the boat started to move again. Sunlight filled the skies, the boat and the eyes of the soldiers. Later, as they extracted the arrows from the deck, they could hear drums trumpeting from inside the jungle. There were only three of them soldiers holding on to machine guns with limited ammunition. As they looked, men attired in tiger skin started to appear from behind the treeline. They were carrying daggers, just like the sandalwood dagger on Jacob. They showed no emotions. And then the boat slowed down again. A huge, black monkey jumped down from the branch of a tree, on to the shore and slowly walked into the jungle. Another flock of hammerhead crows came out of the jungle and started to circle the boat. Then the boat stalled, once again. Jacob and his men was unafraid of arrows now and they came out of their cover. Jacob raised his hands up in the air and dropped his gun, again. Then they stood like that till noon. Nobody talked.

As the Sun started its descend, a tall man walked out of the jungle and came forward till he touched water. He was all smeared in some white powder.

‘Go now!’ said he. Apparently, he was not moving his lips . The words were hard on their ears though.

‘Curse will follow through your blood! It will follow through your Blood!’ he said.

It rained soon. Water splashed on to the deck like nature had taken up the vengeance of those people. Mission was not over yet. They had to go further down the river and install a radio tower on a rock. The tall man had gone. Jacob was still struggling to establish whether it was a dream. The boat started to move again. They could not see anything at all.

‘Jacob!…’ Somebody slapped him hard. ‘…Jacob!’ come on! His mother had lifted him up and was carrying him to their lawn. There he met the old man who was in his middle age now. He was attired in impeccable military uniform. He looked tired though. He was holding on to his pipe which looked very new. There was another lean man standing beside who was also in his military uniform. They both smiled at Jacob.

‘Your father was a great man’ said the old man nodding to Jacob

‘How did you escape from the river?’ asked Jacob, abruptly. The old man kept nodding, as if he was keenly listening to Jacob. The lean man then bowed down and went away and his mother started to cry softly.

The boat went down and picked speed. ‘Go easy corporal!’ Jacob called out to his man behind the wheel. However, the boat kept gaining more and more speed. The lean man opened a door with his shoulder and went in. Rain had become harder. Jacob felt that he was standing under a waterfall. Still the boat was going down the river as if they were being hurled away. If they were still touching the waters, such speed was not possible. He felt that he was slowly becoming unconscious.

‘Corporal!’ he called out one last time.

***********

‘I feel that we are still on that boat...' Jacob to himself as he noticed his reflection on the yellowish glass pane. '...Perhaps, we are!. copies of us are but walking the Earth. To bear the curse, to pass it down.’

The hammerhead crow was watching Jacob, as if it was saying something wih its small, yet deep eyes. Then it tilted its head towards the skies and then took off into the Sun.