Quest and Crusade Of Manu, II

Chapter two: The dreamland

Click here for the Chapter one of Quest and Crusade of Manu

Manu walked towards the north as it was on the top.
Soon he might end up with a pair of steps,
that led him so top, to the skies and gods.
Never did he rest, except to quench his thirst,
meat he did not eat and survived on the fruit.
Never did he know that the land was so big,
so big enough than his tribe actually needs.
He was shocked to see a being out of his tribe,
he never knew there existed similar other herds.
He walked into them and greeted them with a smile.
They spoke the language he did not understand.
But his charm spilt out of his smile,
and with no much effort, they treated him nice.
The cattle and the crowd seemed so very good,
so much that he stopped missing his troop.
There was no pyre, no self-killing,
but there was still storms, rain and thunder.
They had no gods and no brute monarch,
not even someone who called himself a priest.
Days had passed through gestures and smile,
soon he understood their ways of communication.
He spoke so lovelily as they were his own,
they treated him great as he was their son.
But soon, the day came when they had to lose their smiles,
the day when Manu woke up with a terrifying squeal.
It was not human, and it was so scary.
It gave him chills, and he felt he was still dreaming.
He closed his eyes, forcefully to go back to slumber.
But he soon was awake again, but this sound was different.
It was sure of human and definitely a cry.
A cry that he had heard when his people died with a disease.
Rushing out of his hut, he saw people gathering.
It made him feel Deja Vu, the horrors of pyre sacrificing.
The gathering was similar, but there was no pyre.
One was lying on the ground tied to a massive stone.
He looked so sad, and the cry was his.
Manu went and inquired in only to lose his minds.
The squeal in the night was of a demon,
the demon that lived high in the mountains
and demands human flesh to maintain their harmony.
Once in a month, they tie-up a person to the cart,
leaving him out of the cave they run back to the herd.
The demon devours the alive man, roars in the filled stomach,
It does not squeal once again till its gut was empty.
Ran from his tribe, passed many miles, changed were the ways,
and different was the language.
But the beliefs and sorrow has never left sight,
it followed Manu and landed in this tribe right.

Published by

Manoj Sri Harsha

A filmmaker who's also a philosopher and I have always been a writer. My urge to tell stories have provoked and boosted me to write my thoughts out as words, sentences and essays! I treat storytelling objectively and would always try new things to tell any story in a different way. Big fan of the Avant-garde!

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