The Cold Within by James Patrick Kinney

July 17, 2019 at 3:53 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment
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The Cold Within by James Patrick Kinney

Six humans trapped in happenstance

In dark and bitter cold,

Each one possessed a stick of wood,

Or so the story’s told.

Meaning .. By some coincidence, six humans find themselves trapped in an area that is dark, and cold. Each of them has a stick of wood.

Their dying fire in need of logs,

The first woman held hers back,

For of the faces around the fire,

She noticed one was black.

Meaning .. The fire they have lit is running out of firewood. It needs to be refueled with fresh logs. The first woman can put the stick she is holding on to the fire, but she feels otherwise. She discovers that there was a black man in the gang. Racial prejudice overtakes her common sense, and she feels her stick shouldn’t be ‘wasted’ to bring warmth and comfort to a ‘wretched’ black man. She holds on to her stick.

The next man looking across the way

Saw not one of his church,

And couldn’t bring himself to give

The fire his stick of birch.

Meaning .. The next looks around to the group, and discerns that no one from them belonged to his church. The difference in the religious dispensation makes him feel that they are not truly his friends, and so don’t deserve any altruistic consideration. He decides not to part with his piece of birch. Religious parochialism bedevils his wisdom

The third one sat in tattered clothes.

He gave his coat a hitch,

Why should his log be put to use,

To warm the idle rich?

Meaning .. There was another man, whose attire showed that he was not well-off. The other members of the group appeared to be relatively better off than him. A feeling of jealousy gripped his sense of fairness, he decided not to part with his own piece of log. He reasoned that being a poor man, he doesn’t need to sacrifice his wood for the comfort of the other members of the group, who were better off than him.

The rich man just sat back and thought

Of the wealth he had in store,

And how to keep what he had earned,

From the lazy, shiftless poor.

Meaning .. There was a member in the group who was quite affluent. The fire was slowly dying, but he was engrossed in his own selfish thoughts. Instead of worrying about the fire that was dying, he pondered ways to keep his wealth out of the reach of the poor, the crooks, and the predators. He didn’t bother to put his piece of wood on the fire.

The black man’s face bespoke revenge

As the fire passed from sight,

For all he saw in his stick of wood

Was a chance to spite the white.

Meaning .. The fire was all but extinguished. The cold began to bite. The black man sat there seething in anger against the white people who had decided not to part with their pieces of wood to keep the fire alight. Rage against the white occupied his mind, rather than any introspection.

The last man of this forlorn group

Did naught except for gain,

Giving only to those who gave,

Was how he played the game.

Meaning .. The last man of the group was a very selfish character. He never did any good to anyone , unless it was certain that the latter would reciprocate in kind. This principle of reciprocity had been his creed all his life. So, he could not part with his log, because there was no way others would repay him for this gift.

The logs held tight in death’s still hands,

Was proof of human sin,

They didn’t die from the cold without,

They died from the cold within.

– by James Patrick Kinney –

Meaning .. Finally, the fire went out and the ghoulish cold descended on the area. The people were all frozen to death. Even in their last moment, they held their pieces of log tightly in their hands. In hindsight, it can be clearly seen that the cold, selfish, and indifferent attitude of the members of the group caused their death. They could have easily staved off the painful end by being sensible, normal, and benign, but they allowed the dark side of their nature to blind their judgment and good sense. The cold from their within caused their death, not the cold of the weather.

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Theme of the poem .. The poem is a pointer to some of the evils that besmirch the human race. Greed, lack of sympathy, aloofness to other people’s suffering, intolerance towards other faiths, racial prejudice have brought so much misery to us, yet we do not seem to mend our ways. Each of the different characters in the story embodies one particular failing of human character, and together they bring doom and death to the whole group. The death due to extreme cold is excruciatingly painful, and each of them knew they can’t survive without the fire. Yet, blinded by their insane stupidity, they all chose not to part with their sticks. It is a sad commentary on human nature, its failings, and depravity. We, all, suffer from such blights, but do not muster courage to get over it. This is really tragic.

Question 1 ..Can you guess how the core message of the poem is so relevant to the world community?

Answer … Aloofness and a general disregard for other’s suffering clouds the conscience of the individuals, as much as it does to the nations that make the global community. Countries invariably keep the interest of their own first before considering the collective interest. In areas like environmental pollution, ground water depletion, trade, refugee crisis, Intellectual Property Rights etc., we see nations ignoring the looming danger to earth for the sake of narrow national gains. Sadly, the United States has emerged as the single most offender of the notion of global community living. Every other nation does the same vile thing, may be to a lesser degree. When the signs of Global Warming look so pervasive, we all drag our feet on the matter of limiting our own emissions.

The campers in the poem ‘The Cold Within’ perished because even in the face of imminent death due to extreme cold, they let the fire die without fuel. Everyone among the folks demurred to part with their logs, and the fire died, so did they. This is what happening in the world today. All nations barring a few in western Europe lag in curbing CO2 emission. We all spend humongous amounts on fighter jets, where as our fight against poverty remains resource-starved.

There is a lesson to be learnt from this poem — self interest must not take precedence over collective interest.

Question 2 .. Do you think the name ‘The Cold Within’ is appropriate for the poem? Justify.

The title is really apt for the story. Each member of the stranded crowd were human beings bereft of their conscience and soul. They were too selfish and too jealous. There was no warmth in them. This made them blind to the need for keeping the fire going, although they knew a great catastrophe was knocking at the door. This lack of warmth led to none of them giving their pieces of fuel. The fire died, so did they. The death was caused by the ‘cold’ within their hearts — not so much by the cold outside. What a pity!

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The Address by Manga Minco

July 9, 2019 at 4:27 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

The Address by Manga Minco

The author knocks at the front door, and the woman inside opened it partially. On being asked about her identity, the author said she was the daughter of Mrs. S. Even after this, the lady simply gawked at the author giving her the impression that she was not welcome.

The woman’s cold attitude took the author by surprise. She doubted if she had knocked the wrong door. The author had seen the woman only once before. This added to her doubt.

The author persisted with her inquiry. The woman certainly knew the author’s family and her mother, but had assumed that possibly the whole family had been forcibly deported from the Netherlands by the occupying German forces, never to return to their homes. The author disclosed that all of her family had departed, and only she had escaped the eviction.

The woman was as cold as before. She said she couldn’t do anything for the author. But, again the author persisted saying that she had come by train only to have a word with her.

The woman shut the door quietly on the author’s face. Possibly, she didn’t want anyone in the house to know about the visitor.

The author read the address again. It was No.46, Dorling – the same her mother had given her ears ago. So, she had come to the right place, but had been turned away. She headed back for the station.

The author remembered her earlier days, when during her short visits to her home, her mother spoke about Ms. Dorling. She was a distant relation, who had befriended the author’s mother. Mrs. Dorling was a greedy woman, and would ask for items each time she came to meet her mother. No wonder, the house was looking increasingly empty. Even the author noticed that items were vanishing from the house.

Mrs. Dorling too all the table silvers, antique plates, and the large vases. Even, Mrs. Dorling eyed the crockery. In the name of keeping them safe in her custody, she took all. It was known the author’s family members could be asked to leave their homes any day.

———————-To be cond—————

 

The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse by William Saroyan -Snapshot

July 9, 2019 at 7:46 am | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment
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The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse by William Saroyan

The story is set in Armenia which was a part of the Soviet Union. The mountains of Southern Caucasus roll over to this tiny land-locked country. Armenians have long been in the crosshairs of the Turks. They endured extreme brutality and genocidal attacks by Turkish army. Turkey, lying to the west of Armenia is reluctant to admit that it perpetrated the shameful invasion of Armenian villages that left one and half million Armenians dead and scores maimed.

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Who are the characters ….

Aram…  A young boy from a poor family with a fascination for horse riding

Mourad .. He is Aram’s elder cousin. He is a jovial boy, and fancies horses. Sadly, his family is too poor to afford one.

Khosrove .. He is the uncle of the two. He is irascible, and brushes off things without applying any thought. He has a large frame.

Zorab .. He is Mourad’s father. He was a normal man by temperament with no eccentricities like that of Khosrove.

John Byro.. A local farmer who is a family friend of Aram. He owns a white horse, but temporarily loses it to the cunning duo of Mourad and Aram.

All these characters belong to the Garoghlanian tribe famed for its unsullied record of trust and honesty.

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The story..

It was 4am. Mourad, mounted on a beautiful white horse, appeared near the window of the room of Aram, woke him up, and asked him to come out if he wanted to ride a horse – a long held, but unfulfilled desire of both.

Aram, still sleepy, was incredulous, and took a while to realize that he, in fact, was looking at Mourad sitting on a real fine white horse. However, he feared that Mourad had stolen the horse, breaking the noble time-honoured tradition of the Garoghlanian tribe. But, the thrill of riding a horse was irresistible. He reasoned that it was not stealing if one took someone’s possession, but did not sell it for commercial gains.

For Aram, it had been a bewildering few moments. He was aware of the reputation of honesty and trust his forefathers had nurtured despite their grinding poverty. When just staying alive had appeared such an uphill task his ancestors never wavered from their path of righteousness, nor did they do anything deceitful. The tribe had clung to its values at great cost. Even now, both Aram and Mourad’s families were battling poverty, but they had remained steadfast in their resolve to  stick to their reputation.

He sprang out of his bed, dressed up and sat behind Mourad on that white beautiful horse. Seated on the horse back, the duo raced past the sprawling vine yards, orchards, irrigation ditches and country roads. From their house in Walnut Avenue to Olive Avenue, it took just three minutes. In glee, Mourad erupted into full-throated singing. Clearly, the two cousins were greatly elated.

Mourad was a bit crazy by nature. This trait ran in the family. His uncle Khosrove was crazy, too. He was dismissive of anything and everything that happened or said around him. With reckless disdain, he used to brush aside everything as matters of little consequence. Khsrove was a massively built figure, and his hotheadedness was well known to everyone in the San Joaquin Valley. Criously, Mourad’s father Zorab had no such eccentricities.

After some time, Mourad asked Aram to get down, so that he could get his chance to ride solo. Aram agreed, but wanted to know if Mourad would let him to have the same thrill. Mourad agreed.

Soon, Mourad was off to a flying start. After a brief solo ride, he returned. Now, it was Aram’s turn. After a little prodding, the horse raced ahead with Aram on its back, but it went in a different direction. Unable to control the horse, Aram fell to the ground, and the horse appeared to be lost.

The two boys fanned out to the nearby areas to locate the horse. Happily for them, it didn’t take more than half an hour to locate the horse.

It was already late in the morning. There was no way they could take back the horse to its stable without being detected. The two decided to keep the horse in hiding for the day. Mourad appeared to be superbly confident about the right place to hide the animal.

It became clear to Aram that Mourad had been taking out the horse for an early morning ride for quite some time, and had evaded the owner’s eyes thus far. That day was one rare days in which Mourad had felt tempted to call Aram.

The possibility of being discovered haunted both of their minds. Mourad asked Aram to say that it was their first ride, and nothing more, so that the crime was considered not very grave. It would be passed off as one-time offence, rather than a habitual crime.

The horse was left in a deserted vine yard belonging to a farmer named Fetvajian.

With the horse left behind, the two cousins began to walk back home leisurely. Mourad began to boast about his horse riding skills, and his uncanny ability to tame horses.

Aram reached home and ate his breakfast. Uncle Khosrove dropped in for a chat. Then came the farmer John Byro. He began to grumble about losing his horse. He was sad. As usual, Khosrove scoffed at John Byro for being so agitated by the loss of his horse. Khosrove’s irritation hurt John Byro.  Aram’s mother stepped in to mollify Byro who appeared miffed by Khosrove’s dismissive comments.

For Aram, John Byro’s visit was quite unsettling. With fear gripping his heart, he ran to Mourad’s huse. Sitting under a peach tree, Mourad was bus tending to the ruptured wing of a bird.

Aram knew the horse will either be found out and seized, or will be voluntarily surrendered by Mourad. Either way, the way, the horse would be gone and the morning rides will come to a stop. Aram told Mourad about John Byro’s visit. But, he pleads with Mourad to delay the return of the horse till such time he learns riding properly. ‘If needed, the horse could be retained for a year, if needed,’ suggested Aram.

Mourad was the least inclined to listen to Aram’s suggestion. He told Aram he couldn’t be a party to an act of stealing, that was against the grain of the Garoghlanian community. He said, the horse must go back.

Finally, Mourad agreed to hold back the horse for six months. The injured bird was successfully tended. It flew off.

The horse stayed in the barn in hiding. The boys came for their early morning sessions. But, mastering the horse proved to be an elusive skill for Aram. The horse refused to heed Aram.

One morning, on their way to the Fetvajian’s deserted vineyard, the duo ran into John Byro. It was a tense moment for all three. John Byro looked at the horse very intently, and asked Mourad about the horse’s name, assuming that Mourad was its real owner.

‘Its name is My Heart,’ said Mourad confidently. John Byro was almost sure that the horse was his, but he wanted to double check. He opened the horse’s mouth and examined its teeth. Again, he arrived at the same conclusion. He was about to accuse the two cousins of stealing, but the impeccable reputation of their families fr honesty stopped Bro from charging the two cousins of theft. He said, rather grumblingly that the horse must be a twin of his stolen horse.

The two cousins knew it was time to return the horse. Early next morning, they went into Byro’s vineyard and left the horse behind. While leaving, Mourad pured his affection on the horse. Surprisingly, the dogs in the yard behaved nicely with the two trespassers.

Next day, John Byro came in a cart to Aram’s house. The cart was drawn by the horse that he had lost and miraculously found. Byro had no bitterness or anger in his mind. His horse was in better shape, and had become more well-mannered.  When Byro was explaining these things excitedly, Khosrove, in his characteristic way, asked everyone not to make fuss over the lost-and-found incident.

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[An edited version of this post along with questions and answers will be posted soon.]

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