Judging Beauty

I heard people screaming. Tear gas was being fired along with water cannons from the army. The police were restraining the crowd from escaping through the barriers. Some people grimaced on the ground, some shouted for help, some were crying and some just appeared lost, not knowing what to do.

"Stoner. Where is he?" I yelled to Hillary.

I did not look at her but in front of me for there were so many obstructions in front of us. We could not run a straight line.

"I don't know." She yelled back.

I let go of our grip.

"I'm going back." I yelled.

"It's too dangerous!" She exclaimed.

"But Stoner is there." I shouted.

My voice was now hoarse. The white blouse which I was wearing was all drenched in sweat and dirt.

I ran back towards where I heard the first explosion. He was standing approximately in the area where the explosion was heard. I did not wait for Hillary. I just knew I had to go back. This was the man who loved me. This was the man whom I spent my whole night with for the first time last night and I was not about to let go.

I trampled over a few people, debris, sticks and poles. Some marchers had used the sticks and poles they could find to attack the police when they prevented the marchers from leaving the barrier. The police had retaliated with their batons and shots were fired indiscriminately. Meanwhile the army tanks rolled forward. I tried to avoid them as much as I could.

"Stoner, Stoner!" I yelled in the sea of men against the army and police.

Many people were grimacing on the ground yet my eyes were only for Stoner. Some of them begged me for help but I was cruel. I kicked them off me when they pulled my legs. I just had to find Stoner. I thought of nothing else.

Thinking back, I guess I would have done the same over and over again to save Stoner above everyone else. I could go back for the others after I knew that Stoner was safe.

Had I been more rational, I would have been thinking about my safety first. Yet here in times of real trouble, I acted only by command of instinct.

Lady luck must have been shining on me because there I spotted Stoner against a garbage bin. He was unconscious. His perfect face was ghastly, covered in debris and ash. He was not bloodied, thank God!

"Stoner!" I cried.

I shook his body hard. An army tank was approaching us. I tried to lift him up but he was quite heavy.

I saw another pair of hands over Stoner's body in the smog.

"Hurry, the tank is coming!" Hillary yelled.

We both managed to lift Stoner up. Since Hillary was slightly bigger in size than I was, she took the bulk of his weight over her back while I clutched his stomach to propel him forward.

"Did you intend to march today, Hillary?" I asked her suddenly.

"No. I only intended to see Stoner and get even with you." She yelled.

We were not quick enough for the tank grimly approaching us.

"Take good care of Stoner. I'll stall the tank." I shouted.

I did not know how I did it then, but I let go of the man whom I loved to my rival. Hillary stumbled forward with the impact of Stoner's weight. I pushed both of them forward even more. There was no time for civilities or manners. The tank was too close.

"No, we go together and fight it out over Stoner!" She yelled.

"Go! You can have him! After all, that was what you intended!" I shouted over all the noise.

Like an automaton, something animalistic commanded me to take to the ground. I flung myself to the ground, lay there did like an automaton and for what seemed like an eternity, I closed my eyes imagining what could have been. My whole life flashed across me. My failures, my successes, the things which made me happy and my simple-minded parents. They wanted me to be teachers. They said it was a very fulfilling life. That was why I stayed teaching for five years although I studied at law school.

Like in a dream, the men who had made an impact in my life, for better or for worse appeared to me amidst the rumble of the droning tank streaming nearer and nearer me. Stoner's face flashed into my head. Then the one judge I knew blinded my vision, replacing that of Stoner. I felt my hands stinging still with the hard slap I gave him.

I opened my eyes with sudden velocity.

I braced not for death nor did I brace for life. I braced only for the protection of Stoner. I hoped that Hillary managed to get him somewhere safe out of the pandemonium.

I heard the tank stream forward in dull roars and I felt the tarred road vibrate with the impact. Then I heard a clang; felt someone with rough hands drag me above the ground and pushed me into the direction of someone else who immediately gripped my palms together. Obscenities were hurled at me. I could hardly see now, could only see masked men with breathing apparatus.

Everywhere was smoke, debris and ash. The smell of carbon monoxide from cars now paled in comparison. How I did not like that in Rhine earlier this morning and was complaining to myself this morning while Stoner drove us to the court building. It was so trivial compared to this.

This smell of toxic ash reached my lungs. I choked and coughed, pressing on my chest tight.

Then I felt cold metal at my palms; heard a clacking sound. I was shepherded with a baton into a dark truck belonging to the army.

Handcuffed now and so very incapacitated in my senses of sight, smell and touch, I curled up into a cocoon and prayed for a good ending to the day. I recalled being huddled into people in the truck with me. I did not know how many there was or who they were.

All I knew was that I was numb. Yet it was enough for me. I was braver than I thought myself to be. I always thought that I would be afraid and be the one to cower waiting for someone to rescue me. I had proven myself wrong. All for Stoner. Not for freedom. Not for justice. Something made me turn back. It was him.

When I regained my faculties, I saw that there were about twenty of us arrested in the rally. Some were politicians whom had stood on the front lines while others were people I did not recognise. I first thought that we were headed to the police station where we would be detained for a maximum of twenty four hours; after which we would be released when there were no charges against us. If we were to be detained longer than that stipulated in the Criminal Procedure Code (Act 475), then we had to be produced before a judge who would grant the police further legitimacy to investigate.

My mind was working hard now. I did not want to lose myself in fear and resignation. I thought of the law. The hard law which I knew and would be my defence to save me.

I should not have been surprised though. It was the biggest rally in the history of our country. We were brought to the infamous detention facility which was situated between Rhine and Rubik in an empty wasteland. The drive took two hours. Just one building stood in the middle of nowhere; where once there was a lake which was reclaimed twenty years ago. The lake exists no more except for its namesake; the Lake Side. The detention facility took the same name only that it was no holiday resort there.

The detainees were all separated from each other. I was roughly barracked into a small, empty cell where only a bed and a sink stood. It was dark and damp inside without any ventilation. There were no windows. I thought of how I disliked the judge's chambers because his windows were never opened. Now I wished there was just a window so that I could see outside. It struck me how calm I was in this situation. Thinking back, it must be that in the absence of certainty, my strength and courage shone. I knew no one would help me now, at least immediately. There was no fairy godmother to save me.

I knew I was alone and I would have to tough it out until something happened. I had read of ordinary people being detained for months and years without charges pressed against them. It seemed that time had forgotten about these people except when there was some human rights issue. It was essentially the Guantanamo Bay in our country, albeit on a small scale.

I remembered how once I had this dream of my father driving our family car with me seated in the passenger seat. We were head on with an oncoming tow truck. I saw the flashes of light and heard the sounds of a blaring horn. Then there was bright light. Before everything turned dark to which I later awoke to the comforts of my room, I remembered thinking to myself in my dream, "How calm I am. How strangely so."

I felt like I was living my nightmare over again. Here I was biding my time to wake up from deep slumber. The horrid dream had taken over my life. The strange calmness I had made me feel uneasy. I should be crying buckets. That was the way I had perceived myself.

I asked the prison guard for information on what they were going to do with us here. He was the guard who locked me in the cell. He said that he did not know. He was only acting on orders from above. I believed that he was telling the truth and did not pester more. I was given some bread and water for dinner. I spent the night in the dark cell. I could not sleep. My stomach was growling. And then I thought of my parents again. I hoped that they did not worry about me.

They had known that I was going to march today. I told them that I would be back tomorrow. At this very time, they were not expecting me. I thought of Joseph, wondering if he knew I was arrested. I had taken a day off work. And of Stoner, I knew he would be fine. He would pull through. That was just so him. I was waiting for him to come and get me out.

What bothered me were thoughts about the judge. How right he had been in a twisted way. Perhaps before I did anything rash next time, I should consult his crystal ball. He would definitely delight in it, for all he ever did to me was instil emotions of heartache and torrid growling of the heart; if ever a heart did growl.

The next morning, investigation officers questioned me about my involvement in the rally. I told them that I was just supporting a friend and nothing more. Then that one officer who refused to tell me his name threw some pamphlets on the bare, rickety table of the interrogation room lightened only with a single light bulb.

"Liar! How do you explain these? You were more involved than you said you were."

I looked at the crumpled pamphlets.

"Look, some guy called Henry passed them to me to hand out to the public. That is all I know about the pamphlets." I said, as calmly as I could.

The officer looked at me with menacing eyes.

"Whose name is it on the pamphlets?" The interrogation officer shouted into my right ear, banging the table at the same time.

I grabbed one pamphlet immediately. The shout was frightening. I felt my heart beating erratically. I skimmed through the words. I did not get the chance to do so yesterday. I gasped. I recognised every word of it. It consists only of Stoner's one page addition to my original article. Yet here instead of his name, my name appeared.

I was baffled. I gasped, my hands on my lips. I felt that it was another mistake.

"You also e-mailed this radical propaganda to unsuspecting workers in the private sector as well as honest civil servants." The officer continued, stretching his neck forward towards me.

His eyes bulged like that of a goldfish. Yet his stare tore into my eyes like shrapnels. Then he tossed a list of e-mail attachments purportedly sent from my e-mail account.

I browsed through the papers.

I could not speak. It was as though a knife had plunged deep into my heart.

I had thought of being released today because I was just a marcher, nothing more. They had nothing against me. Yet now with all these pamphlets, I was in deep trouble.

I chided myself too. Why did I not take the time to browse through the pamphlets yesterday? Hillary had distracted me for sure! Still, I had many opportunities to read the damn thing.

"Someone must have hacked into my e-mail account." I said finally.

The officer laughed.

"You really like testing my patience, don't you? It looks like you, sounds like you but it is not you. That is what you are trying to say, isn't it?" He asked.

"But every word I say is true. Someone used my name for all this. I'm framed." I pleaded now, recovering from the initial shock.

My mind was in a muddle. Something sinister was going on. I could not bring myself to come to a rational conclusion. It could not have been what I had thought. I could not accept that. There had to be a better explanation. There had to be something which I had missed out on.

"Yeah, and you didn't write the article for the Bar journal either?" The officer asked.

"That was limited readership. It was not meant for the public." I said.

He looked at me with a sly look.

"You can run but you can't hide. We are smarter." He said.

"I wrote about reforming the Act only. The last page of that was not written by me." I said.

"Who wrote it then?" The burly officer asked.

"I...I don't know." I said.

"Liar! You can't tell because you wrote it yourself." He said.

I did not want to give Stoner away despite the stack of accusations levelled against me. I felt sick now. Why did he not discuss this with me? Why had he used my name for his pamphlets when he had written it himself? Did he also use my e-mail to send out that propaganda to everyone he knew? He knew my password as I had given it to him when he asked. It was silly of me to do so yet at that time I did not think he would scoop to something as low as this. He said he wanted my password so that he could save some ideas he had in my e-mail instead of e-mailing it to me because his e-mail account had been hacked due to some virus.

I was not allowed to ask any questions. I was taken back to my cell. I spent the whole day inside; mostly I sat staring at empty spaces in between the bed and sink. I thought of my friend Ana. She always complained that she had a boring administrative job keying in data. How I would want that now.

I spent another night in the detention centre. I was drained and I felt old. I remembered the judge when he said he must have been an old man without realizing it. I felt the same way. I felt all hope fading away. Would Stoner come and get me out? Would he after all he had done? Would he care? Deep inside, I felt that he was done using me as a pawn. A willing stepping stone to further his noble agenda. It made me cringe in despair. Was I that silly or was he simply that smart?

The second night, I thought of everyone I knew. Different people fleeted in and out and of my mind. I did not have many friends. In fact I had not told any of them that I was going to march. I just thought it would be unimportant to them whether I did march or not. I had not planned on getting arrested either.

I had a fitful sleep, tossing and turning like an omelette in the pan. It was too stuffy, too hot and too lonely. I was afraid I would go crazy already, for I did not know my level of resistance. Sooner or later, I was bound to break.

I must have slept finally at the wake of dawn. I was jolted awake by the same prison guard who told me that I was now free. He whisked me to the grilled entrance of the facility while handling me a plastic bag of my stuff. Basically it was only my purse which was snugly fitted in my pants pocket. My mobile had been lost sometime during the rally.

"Consider yourself lucky to have friends in high places." He said, in a gruff voice.

I did not ask any questions. I was a zombie acting on prompt. I stepped outside into the open air. Bare waste land stretched all over the horizon, as far as my eyes could see. It was very windy here. The passage of wind was unhindered by anything of solid structure. Fine grails of grass swayed with the wind; following its every command.

There was a narrow tarred road in front of the facility. I had no idea how I was to reach home. Yet I started walking. It seemed the most natural course to take. Between waste land and a clear road, the road has to be one to follow.

The wind blew grains of sand, causing a small whirlwind of sand a few feet above the ground. I blinked and blinked again; covering my eyes with my hands.

Then I saw him through grains of sand upon the wilderness. My heartbeat quickened, my feet lifted itself without violation and I ran and ran towards him. He seemed so far yet so near. Tears started streaming down my face but I did not care. I just had to catch him before he left.

He was now running too towards me. It had to be real, I was in no dream. I stumbled over some dried twigs but I picked myself up carelessly, never letting him out of my sight should I lose him again.

Now we were standing face to face. We looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly unsure what to do, I gazed at him through a film of tears and sand. His pale blue eyes with hints of the olive green reflected by the landscape portrayed strong emotion which I had not seen before. When he was done looking at me, he took the last step towards me and eclipsed me in his arms.

He hugged me tight. I hugged him back; felt the warm tenderness of his body moulded against mine. I went limp against him. His hands stroked my back repeatedly in soothing, regular motions. He kept on whispering into my ears, telling me that everything will be fine. He would take care of me.

It was then I realized I was crying my heart out against his chest. I was sobbing. My resistance and endurance during detention had crumbled into shreds. My emotions were a complex web of undeciphered clots lumped into my throat that I could not speak. I could only cry to release the pent up feelings in me.

I should have been grateful to have been released. I was. Yet I was also sad at the same time. Floods of emotion poured into my entire being and I cried them out just as quickly as they came in. Two days of solitary confinement had taken its toll on me.

I looked not at him. I was too broken; buried into his chest, staining his fine shirt with my tears. My arms clung as tightly as I could around him. I would not let go should he suddenly break free from me.

All this while, he kept on reassuring me countless times that everything would be fine. He would take care of me. He now stroked my head and neck, and gently smoothened my hair; tucking my hair behind my ears.

I lost sense of time. It felt like we were standing there with arms curled around each other for an eternity. My sobs gradually decreased, my breathing lowered at a steady pace and I tried to control my remaining sobs now that I was aware of them.

My eyes puffy; I gazed up at him for the first time since I started crying. Gazing down into my drained face, he wiped away my tears with his fingers, ever so gently that I swallowed a lump of wasteland air. I tasted the salt in my tears and the razor-sharp sand in my throat.

My breathing was regular now but deeper than it usually was. Some madness ensured. It was my delirium taking over me now.

I got caught up in this warmth and I raised my lips to his. It was a light touch, and then I felt him respond to me. First he was gentle towards me, and then he was probing and going deeper, asking more of me each time; which I readily gave to him. I moulded my body around his. I collapsed like a tower of cards blown by the wind. He caught me and supported me, grasping my waist while he pressed my head closer to his. And behind my ears, he gently grazed them again on the pretext of looking at me clearly.

I felt my whole body streak with sensations of magnificence. I felt enraptured. I knew he must have felt the same way.

Then with reality flooding back, I pulled away from him.

"Beauty..." He said, his voice unsteady.

He let go of me. I took a few steps backwards.

I looked at him, bit my lips till I tasted blood in them.