The God of Small Things - Get a Free Blog

een flattened into a neat illustration. A machine drawing with an
instruction manual that told him what to do. His mind, desperately
craving some kind of mooring, clung to details. It labeled each
thing it encountered.
Gate . He thought as he walked our of the gate. Gate. Road
Stones. Sky. Rain.
Gate.
Road.
Stones.
Sky.
Rain.
The rain on his skin was warm. The laterite rock under his
feet jagged. He knew where he was going. He noticed everything.
Each leaf. Each tree. Each cloud in the starless sky. Each step he
took.
Xoo-koo kookum theevandi
Kookipaadym theevand
Rapakal odum theevandi
Thalannu nilkum theevandi
That was the first lesson he had learned in school. A poem
about a train.
He began to count. Something. Anything.One two three four
five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen
sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two
twenty-three twenty-four twenty-five twenty-six twenty-seven
twenty-eight twenty-nine.
The machine drawing began to blur. The clear lines to
smudge. The instructions no longer made sense. The road rose to
meet him and the darkness grew dense. Glutinous. Pushing through
it became an effort. Like swimming underwater.
It‟s happening , a voice informed him. It has begun.
His mind, suddenly impossibly old, floated out of his body
and hovered high above him in the air, from where it jabbered
useless warnings.
It looked down and watched a young man‟s body walk