by Cheng D.A
Chapter 7
Mahatma
As promised by Arnold, this day was not going to be an easy one for End. For he had to conquer the Dark Obstacles Course, a feat he knew that he had no chance of achieving. It also didn’t help that Beef and gang were even more furious of him now, having been ambushed the night before. As they rubbed the bruises on their arms, they eyed him like hyenas, and waited for the right time to strike once more.
The recruits were required to go turn by turn to try the Dark Obstacles Course. Arnold re-emphasized the reason for this.
“The Dark Obstacle Course is an individual trial that you must face alone. Your mastery of your emotions requires extreme discipline, and if you cannot find a way through the Dark Obstacles course, you cannot become a LightCatcher!”
Arnold looked through the recruits available, and called out to End.
“End! Follow me!”
End was up next. From the forested training shed, he ran down a muddy slope with Arnold. The path was slippery and he almost slipped but found his balance. As he arrived, he saw ? standing beside the obstacles course whistling. She was the attached safety medic for the training. End adjusted himself to look more macho. He could not slip up here. As he came closer, the familiar shroud of darkness engulfed the obstacle course. Whether this shroud of darkness was real or just his imagination, we will never know, for every person has his or her own shroud of darkness that they must overcome.
End took a step back and the shroud disappeared. He tried to look at the entire course to try and memorize it. The first portion was a low wall. To End, it looked simple enough. Arnold was impatient as ever, and gave him a little hint.
“There are three ways to cross the low wall.”
Arnold first clasped a hand on the top of the wall and pulled himself over. The second way was to do a pull up and hurl oneself over. The third way was a trademark Arnold move, which was to simply to take a step on the wall, grab the wall and jump over it as if it were a small Lego brick. Arnold ushered End to try.
End steadied himself and ran towards the wall. He was rather confident as he sprinted towards it. But as he came very close, the shroud of darkness came back, and blinded him completely. Before he knew it, his head had smashed on to the brick wall. I don’t have to tell you what happens to people who smash their head against a brick wall.
“There is no fourth way.” Said Arnold.
When End regained consciousness, he saw ? slapping him. The slapping was fast, continuous and endless. There was some blood from his nose. End looked at her.
“Why are you slapping me?”
“The medic manual says we have to perform three different complicated sets of moves to revive you. But I prefer the traditional way.”
? slapped his face again.
“Stop! Ok , I am awake!”
“Good.”
As End remembered what had just happened, he was very embarrassed. He looked at ?
“Did you see what happened?”
Being a blunt and straightforward person, ? replied without hesitation.
“Yes.”
End’s face began to turn red.
“Are you embarrassed?”
“No,” said End as he got up and began walking away.
“You do look cute when you are embarrassed.” Said ?.
End felt stupid. He could not allow himself to be this way in front of her. Not her. Anyone else laughing at him, was fine by him.
“End! Follow me. We will go to the chin up bar to work on your discipline.”
Arnold brought End to a chin up bar near the school. ? was there again. Whether she was assigned to this training as well we will never know, but End wished she wasn’t here.
“This is the emotional Chin up bar. The bar itself is not emotional, but you will always be unless you learn to pull your together and up. Train here to make yourself stronger for the Dark Obstacles course! Mount the bar!”
End mounted the bar. His long skinny arms held the bar like a dehydrated monkey. He tried to pull himself up but nothing happened.
“I will assist you. But you must give the final pull.”
Arnold held End from the back, and heaved him almost halfway. End’s face came near to the bar, and he felt the power of the bar in an instance. There was a strange overwhelming heaviness in his heart as he came close to the bar. It seemed that it was attacking his emotional senses. He felt sad.
“Come on! Put in a little effort!”
“I am trying!” End was tearing, and then he was crying. The bar had some strange effect on him. It made him feel bad about himself.
“Don’t give up! Try harder!”
“I can’t! I am useless.”
End fell to the ground. Arnold fell backwards. The scene was a clumsy one. Arnold could not believe that he could ever fall down while trying to hold someone up. But End who was weighed down by his own negative emotions presented a challenge even to Arnold. ? tried to walk forward.
“Stay away. Why did you come to watch?” said End. ? never liked anyone to talk to her this way. With a puff of anger, she left. End regretted saying those words immediately. From a distance, the ever-stalking Dr Lecter nodded in agreement with what End just did and left behind ?.
“Your negativity is simply too heavy even for me. What did I tell you? Negativity is the poison! Get back to your bunk and rest!” commanded Arnold.
End returned to his bunk sobbing. This was terrible. The chin up bar had affected him somehow and brought out all the doubts he had in himself. In his heart, he felt that the world was ending, and that everything made no sense. He felt hopeless and useless. Worst of all, he had shouted at ?. He did not want the pity of someone he fancied, but he should not have treated her that way.
Back at the medical Centre, ?’s head was a mess too. As Dr Lecter came to her, she asked him a rather direct question.
“You told him to stay away from me didn’t you?” Dr Lecter froze. ? was very quick at picking up the truth from his expression. She was like a magnet to truth. And so, ? refused to speak to Dr Lecter for the rest of the day. This made Dr Lecter furious. The end result was an angry conversation he had with Hoofhearted Jr later in the afternoon, when Hoofhearted Jr came to the medical center to get some fake medical certificates for skiving.
“Your boy Endy spoke to my girl,” said Dr Lecter under his breath. But his words were clear. Hoofhearted Jr heard it loud and clear. Like a concerned friend, he placed a hand on Dr Lecter’s back.
“Then he shall not have my protection.” Replied Hoofhearted Jr in a calm voice.
Back in the bunk, a true and real fatigue seized End’s body, as he slumped down on his bed. He heard the recruits in the bunk talking about the Live firing activity for tomorrow, and how they were going to attain marksmanship. But he didn’t care one bit. The moody feeling that the chin up bar gave him lingered like a foul stench. Everything was pointless in his mind, and he felt a great depression. End could not even open his eyes from his sobbing just now. But he kept blinking to keep an eye out for Beef. But then again he reminded himself that he could rest easier because he was now under the protection of Hoofhearted Jr.
All of a sudden, Beef was beside his bed. End jumped as Beef and gang tried to grab his arm. End ran and Beef and his men gave chase. End came out to the long corridor and saw another group of men. Beef looked at the second group.
“Who are you guys?” asked Beef.
“We are here to beat up End as well.”
“Well, carry on then!” said Beef.
End ran all the way downstairs to the area where the washing machines were. One of them was broken, and he hid inside. Beef strutted around. Wayne came closest to discovering End inside the washing machine, but Beef called for him to leave just as he was about to open the door to where End was hiding. The gang left. End heaved a sigh of relief, until he realized that the washing machine door was stuck. He was locked inside a washing machine.
As it got later into the n
ight, more darkness crept in. Lights were being switched off. End was squashed up inside the washing machine, and his legs were beginning to cramp up. The irony was, he was so tired that he actually found that he could sleep. At least sleeping inside the washing machine was safer, and he contemplated if this would be his new bed for the rest of his training days.
Suddenly the door of the washing machine opened by itself. End fell out like a compressed cube of clothes. He stretched himself. He looked around. There seemed to be no one around him. End looked around and to his surprise, he saw a boy standing at the end of the corridor ushering him to come closer. End came up to the boy. The boy had really pale skin.
“My name is Eleven. I am escaping this Institute tonight. Would you like to join me?”
“Escape? But where will we go?”
“To the City of Lions of course. There we can make fake passports and get new identities, and no one will find us.”
“How will we escape?” thought End.
“Follow me! I know a way!”
The prospect of an escape was very tempting. End thought that perhaps he could escape first and come back to take ? away forever. They would leave this dreaded place for good. Eleven led End all the way out of the camp area. Along the way, they even had to escape guards who were on patrol. End was almost caught when he almost bumped into a guard, but a strong searchlight that swung over and shone too brightly into the face of the guard, hid him in the shadows saved him. Eleven ushered him to hurry. Finally, they exited the main area of the camp. They ran deep into the forest and came to Charlie Charlie company. End looked at it. The same eerie feeling was there, that he really didn’t like.
“The people here will have you think that there is something wrong with this place.” Said Eleven.
“What was this place?”
“It used to be the most wonderful place.” Said Eleven. He looked happy and sad at the same time. He brought End to a huge theater, just past a long hallway in Charlie Charlie company.
“It used to be a center for the performing arts.”
End looked at the place with more intent. It made sense now. There were many musical instruments like drums, broken guitars, pianos, and even a club DJ console. There were canvases, paintbrushes, and calligraphy writings. Before them was a huge stage.
“This used to be a theatre,” said Eleven.
“There used to be a center for the performing arts in the ILC?”
“Don’t you know? The ILC used to be a school for all kinds of artists.”
“It was?”
“Yes. And I used to be a mime!”
“But you talk.”
Eleven glared at End.
“I was a bad mime. But my teacher was the best, his name was Charlie Charlie.”
“What happened here?”
“They changed it. They changed everything. They changed the purpose of the ILC, and they changed the teachers into trainers. You will never understand how it feels like to loving what you do everyday, and suddenly be called a useless kid again.” Said Eleven with a tear. End actually knew exactly how he felt.
“Oh, believe me. I get that everyday. But Hold on. If you said you used to be a mime here. How old are you?”
“I erm, hung around. I did the dishes. Hurry, we must go. The exit to the City of Lions is just beyond this fence here.”
They came to the fence. End looked at the fence. It was large and wide. It would require some climbing.
“I wonder if I am strong enough to climb over it. It looks tall.”
“No climbing needed. You see that hole in the fence, come on, follow me. Once you pass that hole, you are free. You can go anywhere you want, and no one can call you a useless person anymore.”
End was happy to hear such a thing. This was all he wanted to hear. He had enough of this place, all its regimentation, all the moodiness it created. He wanted to be free. Perhaps this was his way back into the real world. Eleven went first and crawled underneath the hole in the fence without even touching the sides of the fence.
“Hurry!”
As End came near to the fence, he felt someone standing behind him. He turned around to see an Indian janitor. It was uncertain if End recognized him to be the same man who watched over him in his cell. End was terrified.
“Hurry! Before you get caught! Then there will be no way back! It’s now or never!” shouted Eleven. The Indian janitor raised his stick, and End began to run towards the fence in fear. Without a second moment of hesitation, the Indian janitor threw his stick in the direction of End. End ran even faster trying to dodge it, until he realized that the stick was not meant for him. The wooden walking stick hit the fence and somewhere around ten thousand volts of electricity sizzled it into dust. End was shocked as he turned his head to look at Eleven. The janitor seemed displeased with what Eleven tried to do and pointed a finger at him to call him a bad boy. Eleven looked rather guilty as he disappeared. The Indian janitor put a hand on End’s shoulders.
“He is a good boy. Don’t mind him. Just very naughty.”
“He tried to kill me! What is he?”
“Eleven was a student of the old school of the ILC. He is no longer of this world now. When the ILC made a conversion from arts school into a military school, all arts students were forced to convert. He too was looking for an easier way to end his misery by running away, but the fence took his life. Now he is stuck here forever, repeating this process night after night. He believed the rumors from others like him, that if he finds someone to take his place on that electric fence, he will be set free. But I told him, what I will tell you one day as well, that the only person who can set you free is yourself. Come, let me bring you back.”
The old janitor patted End on his shoulder. He seemed to have a problem walking, so End looked for a stronger tree branch as a substitute for him.
“Thank you, you are very kind,” said the Indian janitor.
“Why did you save me?” asked End.
“No one can save anyone. You saved yourself,” said the Indian janitor. This was the beginning of his many riddles. In End’s mind, it was late, too late for deep philosophy. Who is this man? And what does he know about the amount of hurt inside me, thought End.
“Precisely, how could I?” said the Indian Janitor.
“How could you what?”
“How could I know about the amount of hurt inside you?”
“How did you do that?” said End.
“End…”
“How did you know my name?”
“Nobody can hurt you without your permission.”
“Of course they can. I get beaten up almost every night without my permission.”
“They hit your skin, but only if you allow them can they hit your mind and soul.”
“That’s not true. They hit my head all the time, and then my soul feels the hurt.”
The Indian janitor laughed.
“Are you a lawyer by profession?”
“No.” replied End like a reflex. Finally they had walked to a place that was not that dark, and he could see the janitor more clearly. The Indian janitor had a genuine smile. It was a smile from a wise man. His smile was simple, clean and honest, a kind of smile that would take a hundred years of being a good soul to nurture. But his eyes told a different story, something closer to pain than happiness. His smile helps his eyes look nicer.
“When you are confronted with an opponent. Conquer him with love,” said the Indian janitor. These were hardly the words that End wanted to hear at this point of time, and they felt irrelevant and useless against his foe, Beef.
“How can that ever be possible?”
“What if I told you, I have a treatment for the pain and unhappiness that you keep inside your heart?”
“Are you doctor?”
“Oh, certainly not a certified one.”
“Then how can I trust you?”
“My medication is simply meditation.”
“I don’t have hours and days.”<
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“It only takes a minute.”
“I always thought meditation takes days or even years?”
“Try it.”
“Here? Now?”
“Yes. Only for a minute, and then I take you back to your bunk.”
“And if I don’t, you won’t take me back to my bunk?”
“Deal.”
End grunted.
“Alright, How is it done?”
The Indian janitor smiled even harder. If he smiled any harder, he might hurt himself. But his nature was always to outdo his first smile with the next one.
“In this world, there are many forms of light. But what all light does is essentially the same. It allows us to see the world.”
End was still very confused by his riddles.
“It’s very simple. You close your eyes and meditate. Close your eyes now!”
End closed his eyes. He heard the sound of the jungle, especially the crickets.
“Do you hear the crickets?” asked the guard.
“Yes.”
“Then you are still not meditating.”
“I don’t know how!”
“Would you believe it if I told you that if you learned to meditate properly, there is no problem in this world that you cannot solve?”
“No.”
“Here is a simple task. I have not told you my name. But if you meditate hard enough, if you learn to feel what I am feeling, then you will see the answer.”
“Feel what you are feeling? What are you talking about?”
“Everything is connected.”
End still had his eyes closed, but the curvature of his mouth and the way his closed eyes moved hinted cynicism at what the Indian janitor was suggesting.
“Listen to me End. It matters not if you can or cannot do something, but if you will or will not try. I know that in your heart you want to forget all your unhappiness.”
End heard his words, and knew that they were true.
“But in life there will always be fear, and fear is inherently always bad to begin with. But we can use our fears, and turn the energy into something I call good fear.”
“Good fear? How can fear be good?
“Fear cannot be good. But we can make good of our fears.”
Once again, End felt the sharp twirling feeling in his brain from Mahatma’s words.
“How?”
“When we fear for our lives, we are inspired to work harder to try and survive. When we fear for our loved ones, we work harder to try and protect them. All you need is concentration to separate yourself from the bad fear that would make you insane and lose control, and find the good fear that was your source of inspiration, and keep it. Close your eyes. Give it a shot. And I will be here to guide you.”
End closed his eyes with a little more seriousness this time. For the longest time there was nothing but the sound of crickets. End had a bone to pick with even the crickets as the thought of them laughing at him trickled into his almost empty mind. Yes, fear and uncertainty did contribute to some kind of inferiority complex.
“Empty your mind.” Said the Indian janitor.
End really tried. After some time, he saw the Indian janitor. End saw him standing there in his mind in an empty room, smiling at him. But try as he might, he could not find a way into the Indian janitor’s heart, mind or soul. The doors were locked, perhaps by the janitor himself. He just stood there, teasing End to no end.
“If you learn to meditate properly, there is no problem in this world that you can’t solve?” were the words that were echoing in End’s head.
End realized that the Indian janitor was a person that had mastered such a high level of spirituality that there was no way to peer inside his soul to find his feelings. However, End was clever enough to try something else. Instead of trying to pry open the Indian janitor’s emotions, End began with himself. He looked within his own emotional memories, and saw himself weeping in his cell at the Institute of Salvation. He felt sorry for that kid in the cell. From that visual, he was reminded of the fact that he needed to break out of the prison bars around him. End found a new motivation to try harder. Maybe he was tired of all the disappointment he had, and wanted a fresh start, a new change. Maybe there was a way he could do it by meditation after all. Maybe if he just believed he could.
Strange enough, will did find a way, as End reached the next level of his meditation. He found a different and strange method to try and crack the stubborn riddle of the Indian janitor. He began to see something weird. In his mind, he saw someone reading a book, or watching a film. The title of the book or film was End the LightCatcher. This was getting stranger by the minute, he thought. Then in his dream, he saw the face of the person reading the book, or watching this film. He felt the consumer of the material feeling surprised that he or she was mentioned in the book. End cycled through the emotions of the reader and found that one of them said “Why was the title of this chapter as such?” It was then that End saw through the emotional memory of the reader of what the name of the janitor was. It was right there, written under the words “Chapter 7”.
“Mahatma.” whispered End.
End woke up from his trance. He was shocked to find that it was already morning. The birds were chirping away, probably singing a song about how late he was going to be, and how much punishment would be dished out to him once more. Mahatma was snoring beside him, having fallen asleep standing up.
“It’s morning!”
Mahatma rubbed his eyes.
“Oh. Good morning. Did you figure out my name?”
“Your name is Mahatma.”
“Brilliant. You learn so fast!”
“You said it would only take a minute!”
“Give and take.”
“I have to get back!”
End looked around. In true fashion of a guru, Mahatma was gone. Great! A mysterious guru had made him late, and disappeared. As End turned to run back to camp, he was a little perplexed at seeing the Silver man statue standing by a tree once more. But he didn’t care. The day just got more difficult for him, as he had not slept all night, and he was scheduled to go to the live firing range today.
When he returned to his bunk, the rest of his bunk mates had already packed their necessary items. He packed his stuff and ran downstairs just as everyone was in push up position waiting for him. “End. Hurry up! End hurry up!” They chanted, as the bus scheduled to ferry them had already arrived. Arnold was not pleased with the discipline.
“Once again, Raven company is not united. Good. In that case, today we shall jog behind the bus until we reach our destination. Now move!”
