"I sat alone in the corridor. This was a place which helped me to grow into the woods. The woods of this highly sophisticated society, where people like me just breathe the stale air of the whites. The corridor was almost empty, except for some corners filled with parents and children here and there. I came to meet my teacher. Mr. Wiley of St Ann’s. The place was silent as usual, but inside me I could hear the ringing bells, the shouting of the crowd, and the cheering of the bookies, men criticizing, punching, and the thuds on my jaws. I could only see my opponent’s ferocious face, his teeth crackling, the heavy breaths and the crowd around yelling at my blood.
"Mr. Williams"
The words brought me back to present. It was the office boy. I smiled at him and rose up to get into the office.
“'Hello.” I greeted.
"Mr. Williams, please follow me” he said and returned a friendly smile.
The office boy led me to the deep interiors of the capital American office building and finally into a dark room with it holds a door plated with lettering "Mr. Wiley, principle". This is the hundredth time I was moving into my favourite place, where the words I listened to has made to REALIZE the hidden fighter in me. The struggle became an elaborative one in the middle of this century, where everyone was waiting for my rise tonight, just to symbolize their enormous faith in levelling the pride of some sects of society. We wanted a freedom. Freedom from the chains of mankind, where the colour of the skin itself is the parameter, and thats making us stay underwater, away from the purest form of air.
Do we smell filthy? Or do our skins produce grease?
I entered the room. It was filled with smoke of some richest cigars. I closed the door behind after the boy left.
"Mr. Williams how are you?” the dark figure asked, standing in the pencil rays of morning sun. He was my teacher few years ago and now more than that. I always wished to call him my father. I returned an answering smile to him. The dark figure moved towards me and came into light. I saw his face. It was still young, full of ambitions waiting for something hard which I am going to prove tonight and that it’s going to start everything.
“I know you will smile. Your smile is an aspirin to me" he continued “my child, I know you from your childhood. Do you remember the day when your mother came to me with you still in her arms? That day was a terrible one. She wanted to show you a way. Then she asked me to take care of you. The society would kill you every day. And I can confidently say that I educated you in a proper way and injected you with this insulin of humanism. I always told you about the position of ours in this society. Unless we are as hard a diamond, no one is going to see through us. We need to perform in every scale to exhibit the energies of our blood. Your mother died long ago as a slave and she was happy to know that you are growing into a concentric element in the society. She never wanted to see you as a slave. One or other day we need to get out of this. We stopped waiting for some martyrs or someone else to help us. We made every drop of our blood to find the way to be masters in the society. Blame the god who created us like this? Stop questioning this, because its we, who will erase this discrimination, then why bother who started it? And tonight you are going to face a nice opportunity. Do not go astray of it. Listen to voice of your mother. She always wanted it to be free."
I stood listening his words. He puffed a large one and finally said "just make it happen."
On my way to Regional arenas in the south west of the Harlem, I stopped at the corner of county basin. I got down from my car and moved towards the green walled dwellings. I stopped at one of the door and turned up to see the blue sky. This is where I was born. I got everything back. I wished my mother would look down to me and bless me with her tender hands. The sky was calm like her eyes. Tears rolled. I couldn’t stop crying at the view of the walls covered with green algae which reminded me of my brotherhood with the society, which was waiting for my reply the greatest discrimination of this century.
That evening was calm and slow to me. My manager came into my room with a pastor. He said that he will be back after the prayers and left us alone. I never bent to the bible but tonight I myself called up the pastor. I had had to believe something to make my confidence a living one. But still deep in my heart the words of Mr. Wiley ran as prayers. God is not going to confess his own mistake. I will make him to do it tonight. The doors closed.
I could really remember even today, those hours when I walked into the regional arena with ten members of team around me, every one of us dressed in black robes. I climbed up the base and touched the red rope with my sweaty palms. My manager patted me and said " everything is going to be fine " I looked at him. He smiled. He did not speak me to for the last three days. Those breaking words were strong. And I could see them his weak eyes. And the last time he talked to me was about his resignation. He doesn’t want me to fight with the then champion Lee Warner. All because he was a white like him. My manager was a white. And he knew that today’s game would turn up into a ruthless battle, and he never wanted to support a black in this battle. But what changed his mind never clicked to my mind till today. He smiled and waved me towards the direction of crowd. The blacks in the corner. The cards in their hands showing "make it happen"
He smiled at me.
The fight started. I was a welterweight boxer from Harlem. Lee was a heavy man, heavier than me. The round started with his punch. I barely could judge his slews at those early minutes. My skeleton rattled every time I got his hand on it. The first round was the longest one that evening. I took back a foot and raised my arms to stop his killing punch and gave back a hard one on his chin. The minute was silent. The arena became dull. And for the first time Lee took some moments to digest a punch. That was the first time, a black punching the white. I did not wait anymore, and gave another rude one. And this time after another long pause the heavy man with a steel hand grew wilder at this strike. The round ended. The crowd became duller round by round. As I stood in the middle of them with a man in front of me struggling with the gloves, all I could sense was freedom.
But before the last round, an argument broke in the crowd. Someone criticized and the black rose with anger. The quarrel turned into a blood spilling one. Some were asking to stop the match. Few white men came up to the board with chairs. The management expected such a situation would rise in this match, which was the first one between a white and black boxer. The umpire tried to control it but failed. The police entered, and who were also white tried to stop the match with an excuse that the crowd has become uncontrollable and if continued would lead to an avalanche of race clashes not only inside the Regional arenas but also in the streets. The whites did not expect such a counter performance. And I, Mr. Wiley and many others alike were sitting in dark corners all these days building up the nomenclature to prove our equality with the whites. The umpire and the judges stood in silent seeing all this. I was in panic. Lee stood before me with bruises. We were surrounded with the Regional arenas security staff and were ordered to move together to the dressing room, the security circled me and Lee, as we walked out of the ring. I could hear gun shots. Lee walked close to me as we entered the aisle. One of the security men who was near enough to me smiled and whispered "I never dreamt of seeing such a fight." Lee was too close to hear this. He turned towards me and put up a blank appreciation. The penultimate round was the bloodiest one in his life. I took out the guard from my mouth and smiled. In a moment, we were out of lights.
I got into my car where my manager waiting for me.
“You started a vibration Sir, well done" he said.
And the next morning he brought me the NewYork daily. On the front page the broad lines said
”He made it happen" the news had the words of Lee Warner, which stated that he would have faced the deadly moments of failure if at all everything happened as scheduled.
The phone rang, it was Mr. Wiley. "
This is not a true story. All the characters are fictitious.
-Aroon Che
"Mr. Williams"
The words brought me back to present. It was the office boy. I smiled at him and rose up to get into the office.
“'Hello.” I greeted.
"Mr. Williams, please follow me” he said and returned a friendly smile.
The office boy led me to the deep interiors of the capital American office building and finally into a dark room with it holds a door plated with lettering "Mr. Wiley, principle". This is the hundredth time I was moving into my favourite place, where the words I listened to has made to REALIZE the hidden fighter in me. The struggle became an elaborative one in the middle of this century, where everyone was waiting for my rise tonight, just to symbolize their enormous faith in levelling the pride of some sects of society. We wanted a freedom. Freedom from the chains of mankind, where the colour of the skin itself is the parameter, and thats making us stay underwater, away from the purest form of air.
Do we smell filthy? Or do our skins produce grease?
I entered the room. It was filled with smoke of some richest cigars. I closed the door behind after the boy left.
"Mr. Williams how are you?” the dark figure asked, standing in the pencil rays of morning sun. He was my teacher few years ago and now more than that. I always wished to call him my father. I returned an answering smile to him. The dark figure moved towards me and came into light. I saw his face. It was still young, full of ambitions waiting for something hard which I am going to prove tonight and that it’s going to start everything.
“I know you will smile. Your smile is an aspirin to me" he continued “my child, I know you from your childhood. Do you remember the day when your mother came to me with you still in her arms? That day was a terrible one. She wanted to show you a way. Then she asked me to take care of you. The society would kill you every day. And I can confidently say that I educated you in a proper way and injected you with this insulin of humanism. I always told you about the position of ours in this society. Unless we are as hard a diamond, no one is going to see through us. We need to perform in every scale to exhibit the energies of our blood. Your mother died long ago as a slave and she was happy to know that you are growing into a concentric element in the society. She never wanted to see you as a slave. One or other day we need to get out of this. We stopped waiting for some martyrs or someone else to help us. We made every drop of our blood to find the way to be masters in the society. Blame the god who created us like this? Stop questioning this, because its we, who will erase this discrimination, then why bother who started it? And tonight you are going to face a nice opportunity. Do not go astray of it. Listen to voice of your mother. She always wanted it to be free."
I stood listening his words. He puffed a large one and finally said "just make it happen."
On my way to Regional arenas in the south west of the Harlem, I stopped at the corner of county basin. I got down from my car and moved towards the green walled dwellings. I stopped at one of the door and turned up to see the blue sky. This is where I was born. I got everything back. I wished my mother would look down to me and bless me with her tender hands. The sky was calm like her eyes. Tears rolled. I couldn’t stop crying at the view of the walls covered with green algae which reminded me of my brotherhood with the society, which was waiting for my reply the greatest discrimination of this century.
That evening was calm and slow to me. My manager came into my room with a pastor. He said that he will be back after the prayers and left us alone. I never bent to the bible but tonight I myself called up the pastor. I had had to believe something to make my confidence a living one. But still deep in my heart the words of Mr. Wiley ran as prayers. God is not going to confess his own mistake. I will make him to do it tonight. The doors closed.
I could really remember even today, those hours when I walked into the regional arena with ten members of team around me, every one of us dressed in black robes. I climbed up the base and touched the red rope with my sweaty palms. My manager patted me and said " everything is going to be fine " I looked at him. He smiled. He did not speak me to for the last three days. Those breaking words were strong. And I could see them his weak eyes. And the last time he talked to me was about his resignation. He doesn’t want me to fight with the then champion Lee Warner. All because he was a white like him. My manager was a white. And he knew that today’s game would turn up into a ruthless battle, and he never wanted to support a black in this battle. But what changed his mind never clicked to my mind till today. He smiled and waved me towards the direction of crowd. The blacks in the corner. The cards in their hands showing "make it happen"
He smiled at me.
The fight started. I was a welterweight boxer from Harlem. Lee was a heavy man, heavier than me. The round started with his punch. I barely could judge his slews at those early minutes. My skeleton rattled every time I got his hand on it. The first round was the longest one that evening. I took back a foot and raised my arms to stop his killing punch and gave back a hard one on his chin. The minute was silent. The arena became dull. And for the first time Lee took some moments to digest a punch. That was the first time, a black punching the white. I did not wait anymore, and gave another rude one. And this time after another long pause the heavy man with a steel hand grew wilder at this strike. The round ended. The crowd became duller round by round. As I stood in the middle of them with a man in front of me struggling with the gloves, all I could sense was freedom.
But before the last round, an argument broke in the crowd. Someone criticized and the black rose with anger. The quarrel turned into a blood spilling one. Some were asking to stop the match. Few white men came up to the board with chairs. The management expected such a situation would rise in this match, which was the first one between a white and black boxer. The umpire tried to control it but failed. The police entered, and who were also white tried to stop the match with an excuse that the crowd has become uncontrollable and if continued would lead to an avalanche of race clashes not only inside the Regional arenas but also in the streets. The whites did not expect such a counter performance. And I, Mr. Wiley and many others alike were sitting in dark corners all these days building up the nomenclature to prove our equality with the whites. The umpire and the judges stood in silent seeing all this. I was in panic. Lee stood before me with bruises. We were surrounded with the Regional arenas security staff and were ordered to move together to the dressing room, the security circled me and Lee, as we walked out of the ring. I could hear gun shots. Lee walked close to me as we entered the aisle. One of the security men who was near enough to me smiled and whispered "I never dreamt of seeing such a fight." Lee was too close to hear this. He turned towards me and put up a blank appreciation. The penultimate round was the bloodiest one in his life. I took out the guard from my mouth and smiled. In a moment, we were out of lights.
I got into my car where my manager waiting for me.
“You started a vibration Sir, well done" he said.
And the next morning he brought me the NewYork daily. On the front page the broad lines said
”He made it happen" the news had the words of Lee Warner, which stated that he would have faced the deadly moments of failure if at all everything happened as scheduled.
The phone rang, it was Mr. Wiley. "
This is not a true story. All the characters are fictitious.
-Aroon Che
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