Fixed — A parable

I ate a meal. I drank a glass of water. As I started walking home, my belly growled.

“But I had a meal.”

I kept walking. The summer sun blazed. From the shade of one tree to another, I kept dancing like a drunken serpent. The acid in my belly revolted. My belches brayed as if a donkey were being whipped.

I had left empty-handed. I had no water to defuse my belly’s gluttony.

I stopped my dancing. And walked to a hand-pump at the centre of a concrete circle. The circle burnt like a ritual fire. A fire which only burns. A ritual of penance.

I pulled the handle of the hand-pump. The ritual fire delivered its blessings. The blisters on my palm began to surface. The pump belched; my belly responded—a melody of scorched bellies that burns ears.

I returned to my dancing. I tasted the acid bubbling up in my throat. I gulped it down and it reached my mouth. It sputtered out with the next belch. Like a hot pan on the stove being sprinkled with water. My shirt flapped in the wind. The acid was delivered to my heart.

Burning and dancing, I spotted a shop with a large earthen water pot. I picked the pot up. The blisters bust and deposited their water on the pot. The water vanished without leaving a spot. I continued; I could not hear anyone calling after me.

I reached home. I opened the door. I picked up a water jug. I drank till I could not breathe. My belly grew quiet. I washed the pot. It remained dry. I started filling it with water. It took too long. I could not stand any longer. I left the pot half-filled. I collapsed on the smooth concrete floor. It felt like a ritual bath after cremating a loved one. A coolness that burns more. I fell into a dreamless stupor.

I woke up in the dark. The pot was empty; it drank the water. Water echoed inside its belly as I filled it up again. Its body quivered with the weight of the water. I stopped; I left the pot. The dry blisters on my hand stung. My heart burnt. I doused my hands in the pot of water and fainted.

I heard myself breathing in a dream. I opened my eyes. I collected my parts and tried to sit up. My back refused to bear the weight. I crawled up on all fours. I had forgotten how to stand up, and I did not know how to crawl. A nail that bends while being hammered into a wall. A nail that spoils the wall without serving its purpose.

I peered into the pot; it was empty. I heard the sound of my breath as if back in the dream. I felt my warm breath condense on me as it regurgitated out of the pot. I recoiled. The pot, caught off-guard, collapsed. Its jagged pieces lay all over the smooth concrete as if smashed by a giant hammer. Its belly released all that it was holding. The floor was wet with all the water it had drank.

I cupped my hands. I tried to drink the cool water released by the pot. The floor swallowed it before I could. I felt its coolness when I collapsed again.