Fiction - Acceptance

Acceptance

By Azfarul Islam

Rokon awoke bright and early, as was his habit. He immediately squinted and began to rub his eyes furiously; they had caught a ray of sunlight directly. His eyes still half-closed, Rokon grunted as he brought himself up to a sitting position. He rubbed his rumbling belly and started licking his lips as his first thoughts turned to food. After all, he had had nothing to eat the night before. Infact, as far as he could remember, dinner was a few sips of stale water from their pitcher. If you lived in the slums, that was ritual. However, that didn't stop Rokon from remembering the mouth-watering chotpoti he had once had countless days back; such food being an exorbitant luxury, Rokon could only afford to savour the memory of the taste. He looked around and sighed. His mother was still sleeping on the muddy floor of the place they called 'home'.

It was a small cul-de-sac they lived in. Even small would be an understatement. The floor was just cold dirt, some part covered by an old, musty tarp that was so patched that it looked more like those fancy quilts you saw on TV the sardarji had. A round chunk of a tree trunk served as a table; during Qurbani Eid, his mother would lend this to the local butcher for cutting the meat on. In return they often got a tiny portion of whatever the butcher managed to sneak into his bag. Sometimes it was money. Although it was pitiable amount - it was something and Rokon couldn't really complain. The walls weren't actually theirs. He and his mother had moved in to the space between two slightly larger slum huts. The 'roof' was merely a few crooked bamboo poles laid across their neighbours' roofs. A broken, rusty sheet of corrugated iron just barely helped in keeping a small area dry when it rained. The front 'door' was nothing more than the rest of the old tarp that was on the floor. It was the most meagre of existences, but it was one Rokon could still call 'home'. There was nothing more important than that.

He nudged his mother on the small of her back and called out to her. It was getting late; they would have to start their daily routine of begging to bring in whatever money they could. Her eyes were still closed. Rokon kept poking her and raised his voice ever so slightly. It had no effect. Now annoyed, Rokon impatiently clicked his tongue and began to nudge her shoulders. She didn't even flicker her eyelids. Rokon brought his mouth close to her left ear and yelled into it. She didn't flinch. This continued for quite some time without effect. Now Rokon's annoyance was replaced with another emotion: fear. He put the back of hand against her cheek and was rather shocked to feel how cold and hard it was. Maybe she was just ill, he thought. He suddenly noticed that the tattered urna his mother normally used as a blanket was tangled around his legs; she had probably covered him with it at night, but why? He looked around and seeing the muddiness of the floor realised that it must have rained at night. Something else caught his attention as well. He usually slept on the floor where his mother was lying. She must have moved him during the night because right above that place, the iron sheet had a large hole, letting in quite a bit of rainwater. He finally surmised that while he was dead asleep, his mother had dragged him to the part of the floor which received the best shelter and she had even draped him with her own blanket. She had probably shivered throughout the whole night as the rain poured in - his guilty conscience made him visualise the scene rather vividly. Now, because of him, she was cold and ill and wouldn’t move at all. He gulped and his breathing starting to become heavy. Rokon immediately plucked off the blanket and laid it across his mother. It was too late to make amends, but maybe if she was warmed up all would be better eventually. Rokon hugged his knees and waited.

********************************************************

Two hours have passed and the late October sky grows dark, although it is almost noon.

Rokon’s mother shows no sign of motion and then suddenly, Rokon gasps. Horrible thoughts cloud his mind and he shakes his head violently as if trying to force them out. Then it comes. Intoxicating every cell of his body, an overwhelming emotion paralyses him. A sharp pain in his chest tells Rokon that he has been holding his breath for quite some time. But why? There is no reason for him to feel all this, he shouts inside his head. The rain starts again – the incessant drumming sound punctuating the deathly silence. He watches dumbstruck, as long, silver streaks of water come through the hole in the ceiling and begin to pelt down on his mother’s face. On a sudden impulse, Rokon throws himself over his mother’s body and drags it away from the spot. His arms are wrapped around her shoulders as if he was trying to protect her from the cold, merciless raindrops that dare touch his mother. Rokon’s eyes stare aimlessly ahead - perpetually wide open - and his breathing feels more constricted than ever. He feels his mind lose sense of everything around him, yet he is somehow starkly aware of all. He feels each of his fingers slowly curling around to grip his mother’s shoulders more tightly. Each breath he takes is labourious. The heaving of his chest makes him fear that it might suddenly explode. He coughs out; his mouth had become utterly dry. Rokon closes his eyes and brings his mother closer to his chest. It can’t be, can it? He shakes his head as if trying to knock out a thought, a single thought that refuses to leave him. His senses suddenly feel dulled as he does all that is possible to feign ignorance. He can almost hear her scold him harshly for being so stupid. He can almost see her smile again. His eyes begin burning and he immediately opens them. He turns his mother’s face towards him and his head drops towards his own chest. He shuts his eyes so tightly that they hurt. But it’s useless – that image refuses to disappear. He sniffs in loudly and stops. Something else is wrong. Something is missing. He knows what. Her very own scent, the very smell that always brought his mother’s smiling face into his thoughts was not there anymore. Suddenly, the very thought he was trying to quell hits him with tremendous force. He grips her even more tightly, but falters. She slowly slides out of his arms. Her rigid, cold face… the fact that she refuses to even open her eyes… and that he can’t even recall what she smelt like… all of that hits him with utmost brutality.

Rokon’s eyes burst with salty tears and they sting like never before. His stomach soars as if flying and it twists ever so painfully. His head begins spinning and his throat becomes choked up. His sees bright spots before him and only one other thing: her face. A pain beyond sorrow, beyond loneliness, beyond anything engulfs him – the pain of acceptance.

Anime Review - Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex

GHOST ^{IN THE} SHELL

Stand Alone Complex

Anime Review
By Le Chupacabra

Production IG
26 episodes
Age rating: 16+

Stand Alone Complex is set some time before the events of the critically acclaimed film. In a future where man and machine have become seamlessly intertwined, its upto Public Peace Section 9 to resolve complex cases involving homicide, hostage situations and of course, cyber hacking. However, the re-emergence of a 6-year old case involving the enigmatic master hacker and industrial terrorist simply known as ‘The Laughing Man’ brings to light the disturbing depth of the corruption that runs rampant through the very bureaucracy that has employed them.

With the series being based on such a celebrated cult phenomenon, GITS SAC had a lot to live up to. The original movie was one of the few that pushed the whole anime extravaganza further into the limelight - does its episodic counterpart do the same?

Well, for me, not entirely. However, it’s still one of the best cyberpunk thrillers I’ve watched since the film itself.

For starters, there’s the plot. It can be occasionally confusing but that’s the point. I liken the whole thing to a puppet-master controlling a complex marionette; in order for the whole show to proceed almost all the strings must be used, but it has to be done a few or one at a time with each movement setting up subsequent ones, for now or for later. That’s exactly how the plot ‘strings’ here work and that’s exactly what makes the show gripping. Allusions are made, theories are surmised and seeds are planted and then left untended to for quite some time. Just when your curiosity reaches a peak, the next tier of revelations commence. The dialogue here is rather interesting since much like the animated iteration there are intriguing discussions particularly regarding the human ‘soul’ and its place in the mysterious opera of ‘life’. The show won’t express anything as a definite or certainty, instead it allows the viewer to ponder the points by himself/herself and then come to his/her own conclusions. Suffice to say if you’re a fan of intricately orchestrated plotlines peppered with a healthy dose of philosophical musings, you’ll find a lot to love here.

‘Character development’ is a phrase that’s thrown around in reviews all the time. In terms of anime, many believe that without it, the characters lack personality or appeal and especially so if we haven’t thoroughly explored each and every nanometre of their past. Those reviewers must hate GITS SAC for that! However, I see that as a strength. Since we see only the briefest of snippets of their previous accomplishments we are left to concentrate on what they’re doing now: their current thoughts, their current actions, et al. It gives them a sense of spontaneity and leaves us piecing together their personalities from our own perspectives.

The animated movie was also popular for its incredible artwork and while Stand Alone Complex doesn’t quite reach those lofty standards, it’s still simply breathtaking in its own right. The animation is fluid, everything is lushly detailed and there’s a pretty atmospheric use of lighting that gives it a brilliant sense of mood. While a lot of the more gratuitous scenes from the film have been removed, SAC still stands a visual masterpiece. The music is masterfully composed by none other than the great Kanno Yoko. The beauty of it was that I didn’t notice the music until it was no longer present in some scenes. It goes to show how seamlessly and perfectly it segues with the action and drama. I particularly enjoyed the haunting intro song which was vocalised in Russian I believe.

The second season of Stand Alone Complex (called “The 2nd GIG”) has already begun, so hurry up and watch the brilliant first season before you start on that one!