Wednesday, July 29, 2009

The circle game in the large field of sand

The Atlas of Curiosities: Part 26

In the slums of Mumbai was a large plain of sand which was the playground for several hundred children.  Given the politics of the place, and its economic organization, they had divided themselves into specific roles, and had arrayed themselves out from the center plot of earth.  We stood on a pile of ruble and tried to make sense of the game they were playing.

At the center, our host told us, “is what these children all believe is the finest ground on which to play. So the nearest to the center are the children of privilege, whose lot it is to stand round this space in a circle.”

“Beyond them,” our host went on, “Is a class of children who have been asked by the first group to protect their territory.  These are the larger, stronger children, who are bold enough to fight their weaker friends.”

We looked, and indeed, two concentric circles of outward facing children seemed to be at the center of the game.

“Outside of these are industrious children who engage in projects in the sand, hoping to impress their way through these two circles to the Eden beyond.  And there, see the youngest and the ill-witted, helping them in their labors.”

We stopped our host’s explanation.

“What is so special about that center ground?” we asked.

“Come and see,” our host told us.

We walked out into the field among the children.  Hundreds of glassy dark eyes followed us in our progress. 

Soon there was shouting.

“They don’t want us to walk any further,” our host said. “They are wildly envious.”

A few bits of dirt flew past us.  Our host opened an umbrella and positioned it to block the onslaught.

“We are upsetting their order,” our host told us, “but don’t worry, we will leave quickly.”

We moved through the area designated for the lowest ranking children, who, until our intrusion, had been working busily on sand castles of this type or that type.  Now they were watching angrily as we marched towards the center of the plain.

“Stay here for a moment,” said our host as we approached the second ring of children.  These were slightly taller than those we had passed earlier, slightly menacing in appearance.  Some carried sticks. 

Our host waved us forward.

As we approached, a group of these little sergeants gathered to halt our progress, but our host, with a wave of his hand, made it clear we were not a part of their game.  Completely ignored, they stood aside, unsure of whether their role actually necessitated the infliction of violence.

Seeing an opportunity, one of the children from the fringes of the field followed us at a mad dash.  Her eyes were wide and frantic, and she bowled headlong into the territory controlled by the menacing children we had just passed.

“Don’t look back,” said our host. 

We did not, but we heard a series of dull thuds and the most pitiable wail.

“What is in the center of this circle?” we asked our host. “Jewels, sweets, delights? What sort of machination could make such young human beings act in this fashion.

“Come and see,” our host said.  We walked further, passing row upon row of children who silently watched us as we passed by.  They were seeming idlers, and were not involved in any obvious activity.

“And now,” our host said, “the most inner circle.”

Here were the most privileged of children, who by either by birth or by luck or wit had been stationed at the center of this sandy field as rulers of the game.

“Good day,” our host said to them. 

“Good day,” we added.

“Good day,” they said.  “What are you doing here?”

“We have come to see the center of your game,” we said.  “We understand that this patch of ground is the most prized in the entire field, and we have seen how the children on the outside toil to catch a glimpse of it.  We have also seen the ferocity of your guards.  We would like to see what they are protecting.”

“Mmm,” said one.  “I am not sure what to tell you.”

“Do you know?” he said to another.  The second child shrugged. 

“Notice how they stand,” our host said, taking us aside briefly.  “None of them face the center of the circle. They are so concerned with maintaining their prestige in this place that they do not play.”

“We must see this land,” we said.

We strode past the outward facing circle of small tyrants and entered the circle of the sandy field.  We stood for a moment, shaking our heads, looking at what surrounded us.

“What did you see?” our host asked us as we made our way back to the outskirts of the game.

“More sand,” we said.  “More sand.”