The Mekhla

                                                        THE MEKHLA



1.0 The land of fear

‘Twas a short time ago, in a land quite near by
In the hour before dawning
When the promise of morning was lightening the sky.

Every mother and her daughter was queuing up for water
In a line whose spine was made up of pots.
A satellite picture of the area around
Would just have shown squiggles and dots
Made of lots and lots of women and pots.

As the witching hour of eight-o clock rang out,
The waterspout coughed and the women all sang out
In memorized phrases they parroted praises
Of the all-powerful deity who ruled over their city
Who lived on the Hill and controlled the river
Who they feared as Destroyer and worshipped as Giver

He ruled them with an iron fist inside an iron glove
If they did exactly what he said he promised them his love.
He promised them protection, he promised full bellies
He harangued them from radios, in the press and on their tellies.
Only I can keep the freedom of this land, said he
Only I can stop the hideous hidden hand, praise Me.

And so he ruled, but always in the guise
Of hating to wield power, which he claimed to despise.
Helped in all his actions by the Council of Ten,
A Parliament made up of apologies for men.

He put this Council in front of all who humbly came
Offering pitiful bribes for their work to be done;
After all, as he said, he was hardly to blame
If the People’s Council fleeced the People everyone.

Once upon a long long time ago
He had led them in battle and conquered a foe
Once upon a long long time ago
He was simply a person, they all fought to know

How he became this god-king, no one could really say
How power quite corrupted him, his passion went astray.
Now as candles replaced electricity and criminals all held sway,
The people, buffeted and broken, accepted all his ways.

As the years went by, he built a wall around these lands
In schools, through propaganda, people came to believe
Beyond the walls were Death Mountains, Monsters, Scalding Sands
Outsiders were ruffians. They would kill and thieve.




2.0. The coming of The Mekhla

One morning suddenly a cannon roared
From the battlements above the swarming city
Down from the hill the armored soldiers poured
To the Gates hurried the alarmed community

And there outside the Gates, a slight figure stood
Swathed in robes of rainbow hue
His face was shrouded in a purple hood
And sequins spangled sweeping sleeves like dew

Behind him lolled a creature huge and stout
Bearing on its back bulging bags and sacks
Delicately sniffing the air with reddened snout
Looking set to sprawl out and relax.

The man stood very still before the Gates
His arms held wide to show he came in peace
Then slid back his hood so the people could see
His silver hair: a halo; a cotton candy fleece

His face was lined for Time had mined
Many a furrow on cheek and brow
Nut brown from the sun, with a long white beard
Old yet gentle was how he appeared.

And as the wind swirled his robes around,
Flashes coruscated so that he
Seemed the still center of a storm of light
Stunning; bedazzling; it almost hurt to see.

His voice rang out, though he did not shout
A deep baritone which reached every ear:
“Earth’s fruits I bear, precious and rare,
Gems and silks, spices and woods;
Crafted with art, to win every heart,
I come to you with a guarantee,
You will crave to buy what I have with me.’

A wall of eyes gazed out, the crowd was so thick
Staring and whispering, curious but scared
Wanting him inside, fearing a trick
Each waiting to see if some other man dared.

The police chief sent one of his men
Running for orders to the palace, and then
He called in a tone superior and clear
“I wish to see you closer, to the Gates draw near “.

A hush so profound, you could hear the sound
Of soft slippered feet as he came up close
They gasped in awe as on his gown they saw
The flash of jewels, the sheen of silk.

There were amethysts purple as deepest lore,
Rubies the color of darkest gore;
Sapphires flashing like rivers of light,
Pearls sable as a moonless night.
Scarves sequined with star twinkles,
Glass miniature balls with silver sprinkles

The people stared; excitement flared
As they gazed at the man and his amiable beast,
Whose sacks and bags seemed a moving feast
The contents of which they longed to see.
It was as if this man though all alone
Was offering new worlds for them to own.

The King sent his orders, the gates opened wide,
The king’s private army rushed out like the tide
They surrounded the man and his beast, in a ring
With guns at the ready for any strange thing

“ Who are you Sir? For which land do you spy?
It is fruitless for you to try to lie
Answer. Else your death be on your head “
‘They call me the Mekhla’, the man gently said.
‘Open your gates, take me to your king;
For Him I carry a unique thing.
One of its kind, from the ends of the earth
A black sparkling diamond of priceless worth.’

“Our orders are to take you to Him bound”.
Tied tightly with ropes he never made a sound
But when they turned to his beast
Who was sprawled on the ground
He said: “Have a care. He is gentle and mild
With love, he will follow even a child;
But harshness has always driven him wild.”

They fell back, but kept the two fully surrounded
The Mekhla said “ Come my dear fellow “ and Lo !
As the guards all watched totally astounded,
The Beast wobbled up like moving jello
With many blandishments he rubbed his snout
On the Mekhla’s shoulders, there could be no doubt
That when and where the Mekhla led
He would follow behind with heavy tread





3.0. In the Palace

And so they came in, this man, this beast
Guards front and behind, people lining the street
The voices were cautious, yet all did agree
That the goods he had brought all were longing to see

Through the city they went up the Hill to the Palace
Murmured he: “Some have plenty, but here less is much less “
They passed wastelands and parks, hovels, princely abodes
Beggars sifting through garbage near pot-holed roads.

In the marble flagged courtyard full of flowering trees
The song of birds and the hum of bees
In a quiet shaded walkway in the scented breeze
They left the beast to take his ease.

They hurried up the grand marble sweep of stairs
Where fierce stone lions stood on guard in pairs
Into the somber splendour of the Great Audience Room
Velvet drapes. Heavy carpets. An opulent gloom.

Oil portraits in dark hues glared from the wall
They approached a studded door, set in stone
The entrance to the Inner Council hall
His guards froze to attention.He went in alone.

Imagine if you will a long many- pillared place,
With a throne-like chair occupying the space
At the end of the room, up a flight of stairs,
With below it a semi circle of lesser chairs.
Dotted round the room armed soldiers stand
The silence grows, all is grim and grand.

All alone to the foot of the throne
The Mekhla walked with measured tread
His hands still bound he bowed to the ground
“ This place has majesty “ he loudly said.
Through a side door hidden in the wall
The councilors entered the Council Hall
Ignoring the bowing man as if he wasn’t there
Each of them silently occupied his chair

The moments ticked by, tension grew in the air
Suddenly there came a trumpet’s blare
The beat of drums, the cymbal’s crash
In the midst of the noise, a blinding flash
Of brilliant light. Half dead with fright
All cowered in their places and covered their faces
Their light dazzled eyes, only slowly realised
That their king on his throne had materialised.
The golden mask he wore hid every feature
To his people he seemed a frightening creature.

In a voice surprisingly high and thin
He commanded the Mekhla to come to him
Prostrating, he put the King’s foot on his head,
“I fear to come before you” he said
“I’m only an elderly merchant, come here to sell my wares
I am no one to come into this Hall of High Affairs.
I only offer this small gift, with my humble submission
Please allow me to stay a while and with your permission
Sell my goods in your city. Great King, take pity
On me. In a month and a day
I will sell my stock and be on my way “.


From behind his golden mask, the King’s voice grated:
“This fool’s potential for harm is vastly overrated.
This stranger is no danger,
But a fowl meant for our plucking
For if he earns his fill
Not to hand over half of what he earns,
Would be proof of great ill will.
What say you my Councilors, do you agree?
“ O yes ” they spluttered sycophantically
4.0. The Mekhla’s Sale

Unbound and ordered to go his way, he went
And that same day found a modest house to rent
To display his wares, he set up a huge tent
The beast around town, with pamphlets he sent

As an advertising medium the beast was hard to beat
Exotically draped and bellowing loud, he strolled down every street
With banners festooned around him, declaring big and bold
Just where all manner of wonderful things were shortly to be sold.

Two full days the Mekhla was seen polishing the wares,
Oblivious of the murmurs, the curiosity, the stares.
Into every object, precious metal, cloth or wood
He rubbed in green and twinkly polish,
Until as treasures should,
They shone and glimmered, gleamed and shimmered
Through the closed tent’s chinks they beckoned,
The people reckoned every second
Till, opening the tent flaps wide
The Mekhla invited all inside.

At first a slight hesitation
An unbelieving silence fell;
Then a rising susurration
And quicker now than one can tell
They rushed in, gushed in, pushing, jostling
Reaching, touching, feeling, hustling
The Mekhla smiled, his arms held wide
“ Come see, come buy; come feel, come hold.
Come lovers of beauty, come young and old;
Buy Magic: Art. Gems. A crystal bowl…
You feed your body, come feed your soul “

So the sale was on, and as a gimmick,
A jar of marble stood without
Filled with green twinkly perfume that the beast
Sprayed on visitors with his snout.

And with each sale, as a special promotion,
The Mekhla gave free, a green twinkly lotion
“I call it Truth Potion” he said with a grin,
It smells good and will give you great skin”.

So the days ticked by; when the moneybags grew heavy
The king’s Soldiers came to take away the levy.
The beast welcomed them with perfume sprays,
Ignoring their glares.
The Mekhla bowed and smiled and begged
Them to see his wares.



5.0 Consequences

It started slowly at first
Telling it like it was to those near at hand
Then, as if a dam had suddenly burst
An epidemic of truth telling broke over the land

People littering, spitting on the streets used
To get away with it. Now they faced abuse.
Angry citizens made them put their refuse
In a garbage bin, with no excuse.

A policeman taking a petty bribe ran
When faced with the wrath of the common man.
A queue jumping high official’s wife was shocked
When her “ Do you know who I am “ was mocked.
And people everywhere began to say
“There must be one law for all, one price to pay.”

People looked around them, each looked at his life
Slowly but surely the murmurs grew rife
For the first time in years, they started to question
The sanctity of many a corrupt institution.

The Councilors were horrified to find the rabble
Was beginning to say all they did was babble
That pretending to be busy with selfless deeds
What they actually did was fulfil their own needs.

And when they blamed the economic situation
On failed monsoons, hidden hands, foreigners, inflation
For the first time they faced universal irritation
For the first time they felt the steel of a nation.

But there seemed no source for this murmuring nothingness
No incident to crush, no rebels they could squeeze
No ring leaders to arrest and make them confess
Only whispers of discontent on the night breeze

The King and his Councilors had no choice
They could not stifle an anonymous voice
So though furious, they pretended everything was fine,
Since the people continued to toe the King’s line.






6.0 The Rousing

As the Month of the Mekhla’s sale finished
The time of the Great Parade drew nigh
When the army marched, with armor burnished
In the wake of the king, as he swept by.
Fierce-shining on his coal black charger
In his golden mask and his black steel armor,
Expecting the crowds to cheer with fervor
The militant might, the weapons clangor.

The great day came. Troops at attention.
Every inch of the route held a barricade.
As every year, under the pitiless sun,
The people stood jam-packed to watch the parade.
There were the usual gasps of wonder
As the parade came in sight,
It was quite clear, that there still was fear
Nobody wanted a fight

Yes, all was the same, and yet all was not,
For the first time a murmurous crowd-whisper ran,
Saying we are not happy with our common lot,
This is not a God-king, this is only a man.

In the rush and the crush, a barrier fell,
Crowd-pushed on the road, some impeded
The path of the King. Though they rushed pell-mell
Away, some parade horses stampeded.
Mad with fury the King cried out,
“Clear the rabble away!”
Almost before his shout died out,
Troops fell on the crowd like predators on prey.
With the butts of their guns and the boots on their feet
They beat up the panicked scattering crowd
The children, the old, were crushed on the street,
Through echoing screams, the blows fell loud. 
                                                     
And panic began to crest like the tide.
The people began to run; to hide.
Some collapsed, some even died,
Trampled and beaten, prostrate before might.

Suddenly a voice Thundered: “stand up and fight.”
“How long can you let your consciences hide ?
How long will this tyrant trample your pride ?
To Help yourselves, you must  now unite
Realizing equality is your birthright.”

And there with his meekness laid aside like a mask,
The Mekhla stood on his beast, intent on his task.
In that hour, he emanated power.
His spirit leapt out like electricity
And he welded the people into unanimity.
They reached in themselves and found their humanity,

They turned; their anger burned
Viewing their king with truth- brightened eyes
They attacked with the fury of people enslaved
Freed from a rule they realized was depraved.

And behold! The King and his cohorts to a man
Fought no battle; helter -skelter they ran
Each man for himself, no dignity, no pride,
They rushed for the palace to hide inside.









7.0 The New Order

The howling mob stormed the palace
Mad with the lust to kill.
The Mekhla rushed up and he barred their way
With stark disbelief they heard him say:
“To turn your mob fury, without judge or jury
On the people in there is hardly fair.
If you burn loot and kill, there will truly seem,
No difference between you and the last regime”

His voice calm but firm, though his eyes flashed fire,
He stood there, an old man in a white flowing gown;
His face devoid of fear, hatred, greed or desire
As the mob looked at him, their anger cooled down.

“Though revenge is sweet this day must not be tarnished
My advise to you is let your persecutors be banished.
Take away ill-gotten gains, return them to the treasury
Let them face their life anew in well-deserved penury”.

Turn this palace of misery into a museum to nurture
What you can be proud of : a well-established culture.
Open your doors to the world while keeping your roots strong
Avoid dogma and idolatry and you’ll never go wrong.”

They agreed and invited the soldiers inside
To join them, equal citizens of a free state
With a few exceptions, all accepted with pride
Willingly opening the palace’s gates.

They found the King crouched, behind his throne,
The Mekhla drew him out with a hearty laugh
“Pity him ,people, he’s all alone
Weaponless : deserted by his staff”



Courage the ex-king had, which one could not say
About the councilors he had bent to his will
These groveled and pleaded when told they must pay.
He only said, “Go ahead have your fill
Of revenge, if you must, if you think it just”

The people offered the Mekhla the mask and the crown
With no hesitation he turned both down.
He laughed: “ What a notion!
A regressive motion !
Is this why I poured, my truth potion in you?

I’m sure, to start with I would try my best
For the general good I would work without rest.
But very soon the lure of power
Would turn my best intentions sour.
And then, you would see, My profit, My gain,
Is all I would work for with might and main.
So it has been since the world began,
So it will be till the end of man.


Choose your own council to Govern,
Put everything to the vote
Let there be a people’s debate
On everything of note.
If this council tries to shirk,
Why, put this council out of work!

Choose the best person for any job,
Regardless of caste or creed.
Merit must be all, in thought, word and deed
Avoid politicians like the plague, a truly venal breed….”




The beast waddled up and right in mid-speech,
The Mekhla found himself swung up like a sack
“He really never likes me to preach”
Grumbled He as he landed on the beast’s back.

There was loud applause for both Man and beast
And a holiday spirit spread through the city
As the people prepared for a Freedom Feast
Where Councilors were chosen from the community
Elected to assume responsibility
Of government for a period of time.

The food was eaten, the wine was quaffed
Then the Mekhla stood up and his cap he doffed:
“Those banished must now pay for their crime
With your permission Sirs, I think it is time
To set them outside, on their Exile Path,
But before they go, may I give them a bath?”

“A Bath?” gasped his audience; ”A Bath did you say??”
The Mekhla smiled: ”I’ll explain if I may.
The reason for the end to your King’s misrule
Is this moment filling his swimming pool.

Our gift to this city, is the Famous truth potion
Which actually set this rebellion in motion
Its green twinkly magic has played its part
In making Justice a need in every heart
Making it impossible to veil your eyes
From corruption and misery and greed and lies.

Therefore it is that I now propose
To give a Truth bath to our erstwhile foes.
And hence if anyone tries despotic rule
Take him and duck him well in this pool!”



So this was done to the King and his men
With good humor, jollity, mirth…and then
They were exiled from the city ,
To go where they would
And it was clearly understood
That never could they return to this place
The city of their plunder; of their great disgrace.






8.0 The Mekhla moves on

So the night passed and when morning broke,
The Mekhla’s leaving was on every tongue
The main thoroughfare was lined with folk
At ten-o clock the great town bell was rung.

As its peal died down, the Mekhla was seen
Not dressed in white now, but in festive green
With his silver white hair bundled into a turban,
Green umbrella in hand, he looked quite suburban.

On his feet were stout shoes for as he said
“I must walk quite a while ere I rest my head”
The beast placidly ambled along in his wake
Accepting here a doughnut and there a cake.

At the wide open gates of the now free city
The Mekhla made his farewells
“I must go looking for lands where tyranny dwells
And with my wares I must weave my spells
So that freedom returns and the oppressor learns
That in the long run, might cannot be right”.

As the Mekhla and beast began to walk away
The head of the Council cried: “I need to know
What form of government is this?” The Mekhla smiled
“I’d call it True democracy.  And Now we must go.”