Monday 2 March 2015

The Golden Gong- First Chapter...

The Golden Gong

This is a story of a long, long time ago. A story of Once upon a time. A lone hulk was sailing majestically in the serene waters of the Mediterranean Sea. The endless blue waters wove a sparkling mesh of fluid shimmers stretched till the horizon.
The golden sunset bathed everything in gold. It was surreal. It was gorgeous. But all its beauty was lost on the young man strolling on the deck, deep in thought. Restlessly pacing to and fro, Francis’ gaze took in the millions of diamond studded tiny waves of the open sea and the orange hued sky above and all he could think about was –was the myth of the Golden Gong a mere reflection of idle minds of sailors on holiday in taverns or was there any truth to it? Was there any reality in the root of the story that there was a bell made of pure gold hidden somewhere in the Mediterranean Region?
The myth surrounding the origin of the Gong was very intriguing as well. The story went that in a small town called Dimelo in the coast of Spain, there was a chapel which was inhabited by a couple of dozens of monks. They wore white robes by day and put on black masks by night. But hey were no ordinary dacoits. You see, they only robbed gold, no other artifact, however much valuable. They targeted only gold coins and gold jewelries.
The dacoit-monks started out by raiding the neighborhood towns but soon expanded their area of operation. Soon, the far off towns came under the shadow of their thirst for gold. Right behind the chapel there was a deep forest. There they built a massive clay mold for a massive bell. All the gold collected from the robberies used to go into the mold. For years they kept on feeding it until half of it was filled.
By then, all the rich and prosperous that fell within their territory got alerted of these daring and violent robberies and started hiding their gold. And soon the dacoit monks could find only silver coins and jewelries for their pains. No sign of any gold.
They pondered for long, thinking of different ways they could continue the construction of the bell. When they started at last to despair, one of the monks walked in with a piece of good news. It seemed that, all the gold that they were unable to get their hands on was being shipped abroad. And there were many a shipments waiting in the harbor to set sail soon.
So, they came up with a plan to obtain all the gold they’d ever need to complete the construction of the Gong once and for all. They elected from among themselves thirty of the best seafaring sailors and warriors. The rest stayed back in the chapel. A story was put out that the thirty monks were being sent abroad as missionaries.
Those chosen men then rented a ship and spent the next three four months pirating in the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Not one ship with a cargo consisting of gold escaped them. When they finally returned to Dimelo, there were twenty huge wooden caskets overflowing with gold jewelries and coins. After that it was merely a matter of melting the entire loot and filling up the clay mold.
Because they couldn’t risk anyone from the spotting the brilliance of the huge Gong they refrained from breaking the clay mold and it resided in the forest for several days.
The rest of the story was unclear. It was said the soon after the monks painted the bell in black and set sail for an unknown destination. A huge wooden platform was used to hoist the bulky construction on to the ship. It was installed in an uninhabited island to be hidden the Gong from the eyes of the world. On the return journey though, the monks faced a terrible sea storm and every single being perished. And with them, was lost the location of the island and the passage of time gave birth to the myth of the Lost Golden Gong.
“Hey there.”
Francis was jolted out of his reverie. He looked around to see the smiling face of pot-bellied Jacob.
“Why the frown, mate?”
Francis silently pointed towards the horizon.
“What’s there?” Jacob quizzed.
“There, the sky, it’s filled with gold, but you can never touch it.”
A moment of incomprehension and then Jacob gave a bark of laughter.
“Mate, you must be hungry. Come downstairs, we’ll fix you up with some dinner, eh? “
They soon had a friendly chatter going over dinner. Francis kept to himself most of the time but he had become friendly with Jacob. He had found that he could talk to him.
Francis was a Viking. His country was situated in the west coast of Europe. Though the Vikings were infamous as vicious pirates, they were also known for their advanced ships, as the best sailors in Europe and fierce warriors, which had earned them a reputation of being formidable all over the world.
But he wasn’t just any Scandinavian sailor. He was actually a highborn Viking. His father was the Prime Minister of their country. And Jacob was the only one who knew this secret.
Trying to tackle a rather huge piece of chicken leg, Jacob said, “Francis?”
“Hmm?”
“You better go back home.”
“Why do you say so?”
“You are not cut out for this. The chores round the clock, cleaning the deck, rowing, all these are not for people like you.”
Francis was silent for a moment.
“You know, you are right. I have never worked so hard in my entire life. But you know one thing? We are Vikings, and it is in our genes to be able to cope with any type of situation, do whatever needs to be done. Besides…” he paused.
“Besides what?”
“There is this story I have heard since my childhood. About a lost Golden Gong…”
“Oh the story of the dacoit monks and the Golden Gong? Everybody knows that. It’s all rubbish.” Jacob yawned.
“I don’t think so.” Francis said with conviction.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I firmly believe that it existed. And still does, in one of the islands around here.”
“Yeah right.” Jacob leaned back.
Francis checked to see no one was within hearing and leaned forward towards Jacob and whispered.
“Before I left home, I met this very old sailor. You know what he said to me? That he had actually heard the gong of the bell.”
“What?” Jacob was surprised into sitting upright.
“Yes. People, though, used to call him crazy, but not I. I paid attention to his story.”
“What was it?”
“A long time ago, sailing the Mediterranean, they had faced a terrible storm and lost way. The ship struck some hidden rocks and it was an ‘all abort’ situation. Just before he jumped off the sinking vessel, the sailor heard it. The deep resonance of a bell which could be heard even above the noise of the storm. Till the last moment he lost consciousness, he had heard the sound of the ringing, reverberated all-round the hills and the sea, and went on…dong… dong… dong.”
Jacob was open mouthed. He had stopped eating. He whispered,” The Golden Gong?”
“Yes.”
“He heard the Golden Gong ringing?”
“I think so.” Francis nodded, his full voice full with conviction.
Jacob was speechless.
..........to be continued.............

Sunday 1 March 2015

Planning to translate a largely forgotten piece of Viking Literature...

When I was a wee lassie of about 9-10 years old, I had stumbled across a part of a story in Shuktara (those who remember this historic kids' magazine which has seen stories from many a famous people in its time). The story was a part of a novel, sort of a weekly series I think it was, about a Viking prince Francis who goes off on various adventures. I was instantly attracted.
As my inquisitiveness led me to explore more about this hunky hero (based completely on the brief descriptions in the story and my rather vivid imaginations), I found out that it was penned by Anil Bhowmick, a history teacher who had first started these stories for his students. I dug deeper and soon lost myself in the medieval world which consisted of sword plays, quick and sudden deaths, passionate romance, sacrifice for friendship. Man! If only the author was in US, the books would have already been made into a movie franchise. And would have been as popular as, if not more, the Pirates of the Caribbean.
The stories concentrate on Francis and his group of very good friends whose one passion in life in to seek the thrill of venturing into the unknown (remember it was the Middle Ages, so they didn't yet know that the earth was round) and above all Treasure Hunting. And that's what makes these stores so compelling. The combination of teen drama and treasure hunt never goes amiss! And I was completely smitten by it.
So, it pained me when I learnt that not many kids are aware of this gorgeous piece of literature.  And so I thought, what can I do from my side to make it a little more popular? And the answer came to me. I can finally maybe use my long dormant blog and start translating the novels in small portions. And this way I can also get an idea of how good am I in writing.
So friends, from next week starts my maiden effort of translating a bangla book with Scandinavian flavour to English. Please read through and encourage or ask me to shut up in the comments section below.