A Stone in the Bosom

                16 And moreover I saw under the sun,
                in the place of justice,
                that wickedness was there;
                and in the place of righteousness,
                that wickedness was there.

                (Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3)


     The last thing Anil Sambare remembered was angry shouts of his co-villagers and a whooshing sound from the left, behind him. Then was bright flash of light, and lightness, and peace.

     Soon, he found himself in a line. It was a very, very strange one. There was no ceiling or floor, although he was standing and feeling something above. Even the notion "above" seemed a little bit inappropriate, but he defined it as a direction from where tranquility and enlightenment was dawning on him.

     The walls were ineffable, neither straight, nor curved. There were plicated and pulsing. The more he looked and concentrated on them, the more he saw and heard some strange life in them.

    He moved forward a few more steps in the line, again. He felt something familiar and started to hearken. The walls moved even closer and suddenly unfolded. He started to discern someone.

    "It’s not fair." He recognized sobbing, and then the woman broke into tears.

    She looked horrible, with a cracked skull and fractured bones. Her torn flesh was heavily bruised.  These terrible injuries reminded him of something very familiar.
Stones? The thought swiftly crossed his mind.

    "What happened to you, Ma'am," he forced himself to ask.

    "Bad luck, nothing more. I was stoned after our Annual Life and Death Lottery," she replied with swollen lips.

    "I’ve never stopped to be astonished at how senselessly cruel you people can be," he said with bitterness.

    At this moment she took out a stone from her pocket, about an inch and a half in size, and with all her might struck herself. She got one more bruise and burst into tears. He noticed that there were thousands of stones around her. All looked absolutely the same.

    "What are these stones?"

    "These are the copies of my family's 'lucky stone.'" Streams of tears rolled off her cheeks and on to her body. "I got it from my mother, and she got it from my grandmother, and so on. It was our family talisman. I have to keep it tight in my hand, inside my pocket, while the head of our family is drawing lots. But I did something wrong this time."

    "Many things are being done wrong," he remarked homiletically, "and why aren't you in line to the Heaven Reception?"

    "I’m in this wall for ages. I feel that I must realize what I did wrong but I can’t. If only you can find someone to show mercy and put me in the line."

    With these words she took the next stone from her pocket and hit herself hard in the ribs. Suddenly, with the next wave of her sobbing, he vividly saw the square full of villagers. A line has formed to draw lottery tickets. Her husband is just about to pick up a piece of paper out of the shabby black box. She is holding the stone tightly in her pocket. A bestial and gloating look is in the eyes of Mrs. Delacroix, and she is threatening her with a stone. And she is frightening Mrs. Delacroix back with the stone in her hand…

    He recoiled from bitter disappointment and hurried back into the line to Eternity.



Inspired by:
        *  Shirley Jackson “The Lottery”
        *  Mark Fineman “Stone-Throwing in India: An Annual Bash”