Syeda Ramsha Wasti.
I partially covered my face with my lily white hands in order to hide a peculiar expression of shock, repugnance, and terror that had suddenly appeared on my face; my painfully straightened fingers could feel and sense my cheeks, which were continuously getting piping hot, despite the singular feeling of fear that had overtaken me. There was a permanent gap in my memory; a grey spot on the memory plate of my brain which annoyed me and portrayed me as a helpless creature in front of myself. Logic begged the question: How did I end up in this place? But my brain, clearly, failed to answer that. I looked around for some sign of life, for something that could give me a clue or at least, subside the Grim Phantom, fear, that was building up in my body.
My eyes wandered in vain for several nano seconds, but then I saw a man wearing richly ornamented clothes. His clothes were, probably, made from the best quality linen with decorated buttons; his fingers were all installed with beautiful yet huge manly colored rings. It appeared to me as if wearing heavy jewelry was his way of unveiling his manhood and exposing his wealth. His ear rings, bracelets, necklaces and pendants were so sparkly and shiny that I was obligated to take my eyes off them. I would like to mention here that his black kohl lined eyes, bluish green powdered eye lids and henna dyed lips amplified my fear. As he was getting close, my stomach was tying up in knots and it felt like lava was traveling up the esophagus. Then he straightened himself up, stared in my direction, and approached me. “Enta meen?” he said. His alien language drowned me in the pool of confusion when suddenly, my eyes landed upon my hand in which I was holding a cellular phone to which an automatic translator was attached; I immediately turned it on. The man gave me a confused glance and spoke again, “Who are you? And what kind of clothes are you wearing?” I pondered over his question for a while and looked at my cellular phone to detect the date, time, and place. To my utmost disbelief, my phone told me it was 11 am on 14th September 2630 BC in Egypt. “Hello. My name is Syeda and I came here to view the magnificent Pyramids along with my family and friends. While I was trying to visualize how exactly the pyramids were made, I ended up in your century, the century in which the first pyramid was built. I don’t know how this happened. I know this sound pretty absurd, but please, try to believe me”. The man again stared at me with a confused expression because the two way system of translator was not working; it was only one way due to which I could understand him but he couldn’t grasp a single word of my language. I cursed the translator and eyed the man whose confusion was transforming into anger and I could see that in his eyes since eyes are windows to the soul.
“You must be a spy from Arab. You should be taken to the King immediately,” he roared. He, then, grabbed my collar and literally dragged me to the castle in front of which we appeared like tiny ants. “Here, this way!” he said hurriedly. I wanted to defend myself, wanted to tell him the truth but knowing that he wouldn’t understand a word, staying quiet was the best option. We were inside the castle now. To me, it didn’t appear like a castle from the inside; it was heaven. Yes, it was heaven, indeed. It was a great dominion where there was neither the excessive heat, nor the excessive cold; a sense of delight pervaded my soul by looking at it. Pearls were scattered here and there and the entire place was decorated by the vessels of silver and cups of crystal. I could actually see my reflection in the mirrored floor and through that; I was also able to see the difference that existed between the man’s and my dressing. We were alien to each other, but destined to meet. Wearing the finest linen clothing and walking in this beautiful, heavenly castle, he belonged there while I didn’t. The features of Muslim paradise, that my father told me when I was a kid, were running through my head as I was getting dragged. I didn’t know where he was taking me, but he abruptly stopped in front of two enormous, dove like white doors. I don’t know how to describe the feeling that seeped into me, when he knocked on the door. It was, perhaps, a mixture of curiosity and fear. Am I going to die? Would they kill me? But what did I do? How did I get here? Would that woman ‘Fate’ just let me die in a snap without giving me a chance to see my family one last time? My brain was bombarded with questions to which I didn’t have answers, frustration was building up.
Before I could think any further, two men similarly dressed as the one holding my collar opened the doors and let us in. One of them, perhaps the one who brought me, threw me on the floor; however, they started talking to each other in low voices. All I could hear was that the King was terribly sick and was at a verge of death. They described the King’s condition in this manner: His body had turned completely yellow and his eyes were bulging out of the sockets. From what I heard, I concluded that he must be suffering from Jaundice. A little while later, another court man entered and stammered, “Kkk-ing…O-u-r God...is gg-one!” My mind was at a loss to make a connection between king and god. Who died, after all? Is it the king or the god? But how can God die? So actually, my history was right when he told me that Kings held a mysterious position in an ancient Egyptian society. They were ranked somewhere between king and divine. This was quite surprising to me. I put my thoughts aside and tried to concentrate on my surrounding. In a moment’s time, thousands and thousands of people gathered outside the castle and the atmosphere turned gloomy while tears ran down people’s eyes. “Had my president died, I would have never cried,” I murmured to myself. “Though Our Mighty has died, his ‘ka’, a part of his spirit, is still alive. Hence, he’s the King of the Dead now. And in order to protect and preserve this part of his spirit, we need to build a pyramid in which He can be entombed. If we didn’t, catastrophe can take over the entire Egypt. Yes, the entire Egypt!!” an old man from the crowd voiced these sentences out loud. By this point, my brain was actually spinning. This was all so shocking for me that my brain was about to get paralyzed. I wanted to scream, my heart craved to go back home and butterflies were building up in my stomach.
One of the king’s men stepped forward and separated some people from the crowd. From their appearances, I could guess that they were builders since their clothes were mud-spattered. They were assigned the task of building a pyramid to preserve the Holy King’s body. And unfortunately, I was also sent with the builders as a punishment of spying on Egypt. We all were provided with certain specifications according to which a pyramid had to be built. As I skimmed through the specifications, my heart skipped a beat. The pyramid had to be modeled on a sacred stone of ‘Benben’ at right angles to the true directions and its shape was considered according to the datum line. The north south direction was decided by taking into account the rising and the setting of the sun. However, the east west direction was by observing the shadows of the sun light. Everything that the king would need in his afterlife had to be provided to him in the pyramid which included the vessels made of clay, stone, gold, furniture, food, doll like servants know as Ushabti. I always thought that the people before were far behind us in technology, but after seeing the designing, structure, and planning of the pyramid with my own mortal eyes, I had to change my mind set. I closed my eyes to take a shut eye for a little while and I felt like I was being lifted up the ground. I kept my eyes closed and then, it happened; I was back with my family and friends in the modern day Egypt and the time was exactly 11 am on 14th September 2012.
I was surprised that family and friends didn't even bother to ask me where I was for the past so many hours. When we passed by another pyramid, I told my friend that I actually took part in the construction of it on which he cracked up, and started laughing insanely. I know it is all insane and unbelievable, but believe me, I am not lying. This actually happened!
I partially covered my face with my lily white hands in order to hide a peculiar expression of shock, repugnance, and terror that had suddenly appeared on my face; my painfully straightened fingers could feel and sense my cheeks, which were continuously getting piping hot, despite the singular feeling of fear that had overtaken me. There was a permanent gap in my memory; a grey spot on the memory plate of my brain which annoyed me and portrayed me as a helpless creature in front of myself. Logic begged the question: How did I end up in this place? But my brain, clearly, failed to answer that. I looked around for some sign of life, for something that could give me a clue or at least, subside the Grim Phantom, fear, that was building up in my body.
My eyes wandered in vain for several nano seconds, but then I saw a man wearing richly ornamented clothes. His clothes were, probably, made from the best quality linen with decorated buttons; his fingers were all installed with beautiful yet huge manly colored rings. It appeared to me as if wearing heavy jewelry was his way of unveiling his manhood and exposing his wealth. His ear rings, bracelets, necklaces and pendants were so sparkly and shiny that I was obligated to take my eyes off them. I would like to mention here that his black kohl lined eyes, bluish green powdered eye lids and henna dyed lips amplified my fear. As he was getting close, my stomach was tying up in knots and it felt like lava was traveling up the esophagus. Then he straightened himself up, stared in my direction, and approached me. “Enta meen?” he said. His alien language drowned me in the pool of confusion when suddenly, my eyes landed upon my hand in which I was holding a cellular phone to which an automatic translator was attached; I immediately turned it on. The man gave me a confused glance and spoke again, “Who are you? And what kind of clothes are you wearing?” I pondered over his question for a while and looked at my cellular phone to detect the date, time, and place. To my utmost disbelief, my phone told me it was 11 am on 14th September 2630 BC in Egypt. “Hello. My name is Syeda and I came here to view the magnificent Pyramids along with my family and friends. While I was trying to visualize how exactly the pyramids were made, I ended up in your century, the century in which the first pyramid was built. I don’t know how this happened. I know this sound pretty absurd, but please, try to believe me”. The man again stared at me with a confused expression because the two way system of translator was not working; it was only one way due to which I could understand him but he couldn’t grasp a single word of my language. I cursed the translator and eyed the man whose confusion was transforming into anger and I could see that in his eyes since eyes are windows to the soul.
“You must be a spy from Arab. You should be taken to the King immediately,” he roared. He, then, grabbed my collar and literally dragged me to the castle in front of which we appeared like tiny ants. “Here, this way!” he said hurriedly. I wanted to defend myself, wanted to tell him the truth but knowing that he wouldn’t understand a word, staying quiet was the best option. We were inside the castle now. To me, it didn’t appear like a castle from the inside; it was heaven. Yes, it was heaven, indeed. It was a great dominion where there was neither the excessive heat, nor the excessive cold; a sense of delight pervaded my soul by looking at it. Pearls were scattered here and there and the entire place was decorated by the vessels of silver and cups of crystal. I could actually see my reflection in the mirrored floor and through that; I was also able to see the difference that existed between the man’s and my dressing. We were alien to each other, but destined to meet. Wearing the finest linen clothing and walking in this beautiful, heavenly castle, he belonged there while I didn’t. The features of Muslim paradise, that my father told me when I was a kid, were running through my head as I was getting dragged. I didn’t know where he was taking me, but he abruptly stopped in front of two enormous, dove like white doors. I don’t know how to describe the feeling that seeped into me, when he knocked on the door. It was, perhaps, a mixture of curiosity and fear. Am I going to die? Would they kill me? But what did I do? How did I get here? Would that woman ‘Fate’ just let me die in a snap without giving me a chance to see my family one last time? My brain was bombarded with questions to which I didn’t have answers, frustration was building up.
Before I could think any further, two men similarly dressed as the one holding my collar opened the doors and let us in. One of them, perhaps the one who brought me, threw me on the floor; however, they started talking to each other in low voices. All I could hear was that the King was terribly sick and was at a verge of death. They described the King’s condition in this manner: His body had turned completely yellow and his eyes were bulging out of the sockets. From what I heard, I concluded that he must be suffering from Jaundice. A little while later, another court man entered and stammered, “Kkk-ing…O-u-r God...is gg-one!” My mind was at a loss to make a connection between king and god. Who died, after all? Is it the king or the god? But how can God die? So actually, my history was right when he told me that Kings held a mysterious position in an ancient Egyptian society. They were ranked somewhere between king and divine. This was quite surprising to me. I put my thoughts aside and tried to concentrate on my surrounding. In a moment’s time, thousands and thousands of people gathered outside the castle and the atmosphere turned gloomy while tears ran down people’s eyes. “Had my president died, I would have never cried,” I murmured to myself. “Though Our Mighty has died, his ‘ka’, a part of his spirit, is still alive. Hence, he’s the King of the Dead now. And in order to protect and preserve this part of his spirit, we need to build a pyramid in which He can be entombed. If we didn’t, catastrophe can take over the entire Egypt. Yes, the entire Egypt!!” an old man from the crowd voiced these sentences out loud. By this point, my brain was actually spinning. This was all so shocking for me that my brain was about to get paralyzed. I wanted to scream, my heart craved to go back home and butterflies were building up in my stomach.
One of the king’s men stepped forward and separated some people from the crowd. From their appearances, I could guess that they were builders since their clothes were mud-spattered. They were assigned the task of building a pyramid to preserve the Holy King’s body. And unfortunately, I was also sent with the builders as a punishment of spying on Egypt. We all were provided with certain specifications according to which a pyramid had to be built. As I skimmed through the specifications, my heart skipped a beat. The pyramid had to be modeled on a sacred stone of ‘Benben’ at right angles to the true directions and its shape was considered according to the datum line. The north south direction was decided by taking into account the rising and the setting of the sun. However, the east west direction was by observing the shadows of the sun light. Everything that the king would need in his afterlife had to be provided to him in the pyramid which included the vessels made of clay, stone, gold, furniture, food, doll like servants know as Ushabti. I always thought that the people before were far behind us in technology, but after seeing the designing, structure, and planning of the pyramid with my own mortal eyes, I had to change my mind set. I closed my eyes to take a shut eye for a little while and I felt like I was being lifted up the ground. I kept my eyes closed and then, it happened; I was back with my family and friends in the modern day Egypt and the time was exactly 11 am on 14th September 2012.
I was surprised that family and friends didn't even bother to ask me where I was for the past so many hours. When we passed by another pyramid, I told my friend that I actually took part in the construction of it on which he cracked up, and started laughing insanely. I know it is all insane and unbelievable, but believe me, I am not lying. This actually happened!
3 comments:
I love the ending Wasti! :D
If only one could travel through time like this everyday.
Haha, thank you so much, Lubaina.
And trust me, you can. Astral travel, yesss! :D
SIMPLY AMAZING........
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