A lot of
goings-on have occurred in ‘The IMAGINATION’. Palaces and fairies and
schoolgirls and forests and grounds and snow and whatnot. I’ve been to it once.
Jahnavi and I, as a matter of fact.
Here’s an extract from the eves-dropping we did.
In the Palace of Ramat, two young men sat smoking and considering the immediate future. One young man was dark, with a smooth olive face and large melancholy eyes. He was Prince Ali Yusuf, Hereditary Sheikh of Ramat, which, though small, was one of the richest states in the Middle East. The other young man was sandy-haired and freckled and more or less penniless, except for the handsome salary he drew as private pilot to His Highness Prince Ali Yusuf. Elizabeth threw the coin across to Ruth. Her hand was trembling. Julian! Julian had her pound. But Julian was her friend. He couldn’t have her pound. But he had- he had! He had taken it out of his pocket. Elizabeth herself had seen him. The little girl stared miserably across at Julian, who was watching Ruth with his deep-set eyes, a lock of black hair over his forehead as usual. The Queen let another piece fall from her bottle onto the snow and instantly there appeared around box, tied with green silk ribbon, which, when opened, turned out to contain several pounds of the best Turkish Delight. Each piece was sweet and light to the very centre and Edmund had never tasted anything more delicious.
Katie and Nick made their way cautiously through the tangled bushes and trees to the place where they had climbed over the wall. They clambered up the tree whose branch almost touched the wall, swung to the top where the spiked bricks had fallen away, and then shinned down the half fallen tree the other side. It wasn’t long before the texture of the soil began to change beneath Chitra’s feet, turning sticky. Mangrove trees appeared. Soon the giants of the forest fell behind and she was confronted by a tangle of mangrove. Ahead, through the pencil-like fruits of the mangrove shone a ribbon of light. It was the creek alright, but in-between stretched acres of slush. John led the way along a wet path that turned progressively slushier. When the path deteriorated to a mud pool, they found themselves walking on logs, raised above the slush. They passed shadowy structures that looked like huts. The logs led them through to the camp to mangrove trees, and then out to where the moonlight gleamed on water. Two boats were floating side-by- side. The geese decided to leave the pool and fly away to a greener place. The told the turtle,” Our dear friend, we have to give you a sad news. We have decided to fly away to another land, where water is in plenty”.
Creatures were running after Aslan and dancing round him till he was almost hidden in the crowd. Instead of all that deadly white, the courtyard was now a blaze of colours; glossy chestnut sides of centaurs, indigo horns of unicorns, dazzling plumage of birds, reddy-brown of foxes, dogs and satyrs. Yellow stockings and crimson hoods of dwarfs and the birch girls in silver and the beech-girls in fresh, transparent green and the Barren girls in green so bright that it was almost yellow.
“Last week, I was on vacation”, God said. “I went to visit my cousin who lives in another universe. He rules over it like a complete autocrat but he’s a nice guy, really. Anyway, when I got back, there was this woman, Sreeja, who was waiting for me in heaven, looking really mad.” She rushed back to the curtains and then scolded herself. It was only that playful cat, of course! He had nearly screamed in fright when it had jumped out and patted her foot. She really must be more careful.
She stretched out a pointing finger. Inspector Kelsey was quick and so was Adam, but they were not quick enough. Ann Shapland had sprung to her feet. In her hand was small, wicked-looking automatic and it pointed straight at Mrs. Upjohn. Miss Bulstrode, quicker than the two men, moved sharply forward, but swifter still was Miss Chadwick. It was not Mrs. Upjohn she was trying to shield, it was the woman who was standing between Ann Shapland and Mrs. Upjohn.
“Mother, I love being at home-but I do miss Kathleen and Nora and Joan and Harry and Richard”, she said.”Joan had been over here to see me once or twice, but she’s got a cousin staying with her now, and I don’t expect I’ll see her these hols”. Belinda’s pencil flew over a big sheet of paper. She worked at it for five minutes, and then took up a pin. “I’ll pin it to the walls, girls”, she said. “Catherine will simply love it. It’s the living image of her as she imagines herself.” “Quite a Gilbert and Sullivian”, said Moira, rather sneeringly, speaking of the famous comic opera pair of the last century. She was feeling rather out of things. Until the pantomime was written, she could not produce it so she had nothing to do at the moment. And Moira disliked having nothing to do. She liked running things, organizing things and people, dominating everyone, laying down the law.
My gaze passed on to Jahnavi. What was she looking at? Was it, was it a book? It was. Nice and yellow. Musty-smelling. I wondered how many hands had held it.
For a couple of minutes I stared into empty space. Then sighing, I looked down. That text put you to sleep, man. Today the black print didn't. Why so was another question...
Here’s an extract from the eves-dropping we did.
In the Palace of Ramat, two young men sat smoking and considering the immediate future. One young man was dark, with a smooth olive face and large melancholy eyes. He was Prince Ali Yusuf, Hereditary Sheikh of Ramat, which, though small, was one of the richest states in the Middle East. The other young man was sandy-haired and freckled and more or less penniless, except for the handsome salary he drew as private pilot to His Highness Prince Ali Yusuf. Elizabeth threw the coin across to Ruth. Her hand was trembling. Julian! Julian had her pound. But Julian was her friend. He couldn’t have her pound. But he had- he had! He had taken it out of his pocket. Elizabeth herself had seen him. The little girl stared miserably across at Julian, who was watching Ruth with his deep-set eyes, a lock of black hair over his forehead as usual. The Queen let another piece fall from her bottle onto the snow and instantly there appeared around box, tied with green silk ribbon, which, when opened, turned out to contain several pounds of the best Turkish Delight. Each piece was sweet and light to the very centre and Edmund had never tasted anything more delicious.
Katie and Nick made their way cautiously through the tangled bushes and trees to the place where they had climbed over the wall. They clambered up the tree whose branch almost touched the wall, swung to the top where the spiked bricks had fallen away, and then shinned down the half fallen tree the other side. It wasn’t long before the texture of the soil began to change beneath Chitra’s feet, turning sticky. Mangrove trees appeared. Soon the giants of the forest fell behind and she was confronted by a tangle of mangrove. Ahead, through the pencil-like fruits of the mangrove shone a ribbon of light. It was the creek alright, but in-between stretched acres of slush. John led the way along a wet path that turned progressively slushier. When the path deteriorated to a mud pool, they found themselves walking on logs, raised above the slush. They passed shadowy structures that looked like huts. The logs led them through to the camp to mangrove trees, and then out to where the moonlight gleamed on water. Two boats were floating side-by- side. The geese decided to leave the pool and fly away to a greener place. The told the turtle,” Our dear friend, we have to give you a sad news. We have decided to fly away to another land, where water is in plenty”.
Creatures were running after Aslan and dancing round him till he was almost hidden in the crowd. Instead of all that deadly white, the courtyard was now a blaze of colours; glossy chestnut sides of centaurs, indigo horns of unicorns, dazzling plumage of birds, reddy-brown of foxes, dogs and satyrs. Yellow stockings and crimson hoods of dwarfs and the birch girls in silver and the beech-girls in fresh, transparent green and the Barren girls in green so bright that it was almost yellow.
“Last week, I was on vacation”, God said. “I went to visit my cousin who lives in another universe. He rules over it like a complete autocrat but he’s a nice guy, really. Anyway, when I got back, there was this woman, Sreeja, who was waiting for me in heaven, looking really mad.” She rushed back to the curtains and then scolded herself. It was only that playful cat, of course! He had nearly screamed in fright when it had jumped out and patted her foot. She really must be more careful.
She stretched out a pointing finger. Inspector Kelsey was quick and so was Adam, but they were not quick enough. Ann Shapland had sprung to her feet. In her hand was small, wicked-looking automatic and it pointed straight at Mrs. Upjohn. Miss Bulstrode, quicker than the two men, moved sharply forward, but swifter still was Miss Chadwick. It was not Mrs. Upjohn she was trying to shield, it was the woman who was standing between Ann Shapland and Mrs. Upjohn.
“Mother, I love being at home-but I do miss Kathleen and Nora and Joan and Harry and Richard”, she said.”Joan had been over here to see me once or twice, but she’s got a cousin staying with her now, and I don’t expect I’ll see her these hols”. Belinda’s pencil flew over a big sheet of paper. She worked at it for five minutes, and then took up a pin. “I’ll pin it to the walls, girls”, she said. “Catherine will simply love it. It’s the living image of her as she imagines herself.” “Quite a Gilbert and Sullivian”, said Moira, rather sneeringly, speaking of the famous comic opera pair of the last century. She was feeling rather out of things. Until the pantomime was written, she could not produce it so she had nothing to do at the moment. And Moira disliked having nothing to do. She liked running things, organizing things and people, dominating everyone, laying down the law.
My gaze passed on to Jahnavi. What was she looking at? Was it, was it a book? It was. Nice and yellow. Musty-smelling. I wondered how many hands had held it.
For a couple of minutes I stared into empty space. Then sighing, I looked down. That text put you to sleep, man. Today the black print didn't. Why so was another question...
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