Beyond What Separates Us, page 3
Five
Budapest
That day in the square where I lost everything still haunts me. It was early fall and we were heading from our farm loaded with goods to trade supplies for the coming winter. From what we had heard, things were not good in the city. There were riots and curfews. The movement my parents, Anna and I belonged to had been holding regular rallies in the city centre, demanding more equitable treatment of workers.
As we entered the city, the streets were deserted, and it was eerily quiet. We eventually found an ailing old man lying in the gutter on a side street.
“Where is everyone?” my mother asked in Hungarian.
“At the square near parliament,” said the frail old man, slowly sitting up with his palms out for something to eat.
My mother handed him a loaf of bread from our wagon, and we headed toward parliament. I was nervous. Conditions in the city had been deteriorating for years, and disappearances and executions were common. Budapest’s once-beautiful centre had been severely neglected. The formerly grand buildings were crumbling and overcrowded. Residents had resorted to scavenging what wood they could find from abandoned buildings to burn in winter when the power was out, which happened frequently. All the smoke from fires left the streets and buildings with an ashen hue. The streets around Kossuth Lajos square and the old Hungarian Parliament Building were filled with tens of thousands of people. While Hungary didn’t exist as a country anymore, the stately and beautiful government buildings along the Danube still housed the only form of governance and bureaucratic structure that provided some semblance of order. Now that order was militarized. No one knew who was really in charge. We all just assumed it was one large bureaucracy driving the war effort across Europe.
Anna and my parents wanted to get as close as we could to the parliament building. This involved wading through a crowd consisting of downcast factory workers in dirty greys and browns, most sickly. The smell was awful. Most hadn’t had a proper bath in weeks. We managed to get close to the square. Near a tent on the northeast corner, my parents spotted a United Earth flag, an adaptation of the old United Nations flag — the same sky-blue backdrop, but instead of a cartographical map of the world, it was a picture of the Earth as seen from space with two hands holding the planet up. We managed to shove our way toward the tent. The inhabitants of the city were too frail to protest. We covered the wagon to prevent anyone from seeing the valuable goods within, which could have led to a riot.
Lukas, the coordinator for the Budapest section of the United Earth movement, was speaking in German to about a dozen other members. He was tall and muscular with short brown hair and a large scar across his right cheek. I could understand German pretty well, having spent a lot of time in Vienna. Apparently, the movement had gotten their hands on a sound system and were planning to set up a stage right at the security barricades near the parliament building to broadcast a series of demands to aid the people. Anna and my parents were nodding in approval. I glanced back to the grand and magnificent parliament building, with its intricate details, many spires and tall central dome. Yet, now it was a fortress. They’d tried to hide it, but along the building were soldiers and snipers in towers. And there were anti-aircraft guns on each rooftop of the buildings around the square, and tanks preventing access to the promenade along the Danube. I couldn’t remember a time since the war started that any enemy plane had made it this far west. I started to get nervous about some of the rumours we’d heard. Maybe the enemy was getting close to the Danube. Why else would there be anti-aircraft guns? Equally disturbing was the number of soldiers, snipers and tanks around this crowded square full of unarmed, tired, weak and sick people. The pessimist and realist in me wanted to leave.
“We should go back to the farm before this gets out of hand,” I said quietly to my parents and Anna.
“No. It’s only a few simple demands,” my mother said in her usual righteous tone. “We’re all unarmed. The soldiers need the workers.”
“Anna, please.” I knew there would be no convincing my parents, but I could maybe get my wife to safety.
“Elliott, it’ll be okay. I promise there won’t be any violence.” Anna held my hands, squeezing my palms before turning back to the other members of the movement still discussing who would speak and what their demands would be.
“Anna, please,” I pleaded, grabbing her shoulder to pull her toward me.
She spun around, glaring at me with her piercing, blue eyes. “Elliott, no,” she said emphatically before turning back around, tying her long, blonde hair back.
Anna and I had met in 2063, in a small village between Budapest and Vienna. She had rallied to my parents’ cause after fleeing the former Netherlands. She was way out of my league, but somehow had fallen for my boyish charm and sarcastic manner.
The United Earth movement members were finalizing the details of what they were going to say. An energetic young woman came running over to Lukas, telling him everything was ready to go. The remaining movement members each grabbed a United Earth flag and followed Lukas to the stage. I was reluctantly dragged along by Anna.
Standing on the stage, I looked out over the jumble of neutral colours and featureless faces. Lukas alternated between German and Hungarian as he spoke passionately about the past, the dream that was a United Europe, the peace and prosperity of before. The occasional murmur flowed from the crowd. These people don’t care about the past; they’re only preoccupied with the present. There’s no going back. Getting their hopes up won’t attract more people to the United Earth cause, I thought, but I kept this to myself. Beside me, Anna nodded and clapped. After about twenty minutes, Lukas finished to thunderous applause from those onstage and a lacklustre response from the crowd. Now it was my mother’s turn. I’d heard her give speeches in the past and she was an inspiring woman. This crowd, however, was lifeless. Their eyes were vacant, their faces sallow.
My mother spoke in a similar manner to Lukas, but then took a different path in English. “Why should the soldiers get everything when we were told nothing about what was happening in the east? How can we be expected to toil in the factories and fields on scraps to supply a war we knew nothing about? This monstrosity behind us,” — she pointed at the fortressed old parliament — “is sustained by your sweat and blood for a faceless and cruel machine that reports to no one.”
The segments of the crowd that could understand English began raising their fists. Others were translating for those around them. Now the crowd was engaged and the soldiers were on alert. I moved closer to my mother. “Mom, please tone it down.” She waved me off and my father pulled me back, telling me to be quiet.
After another ten minutes about the injustices of the war effort, a series of covered wagons entered the square. People made way for them to make it to the centre. “These wagons carry gifts,” my mother said. “Please let them pass and wait for your share. The United Earth movement will take care of all of you. All we ask is that you join us.”
“Anna, what’s in the wagons?” I whispered.
“Just wait.” Anna clasped her hands in anticipation.
Technically, I was part of this movement, but apparently, I wasn’t dedicated enough to be notified of the plans. The people who had pulled the wagons in began yanking off the covers, and each was full of food. The crowd began to push forward.
“Please be patient, there’s enough for everyone,” my mother implored the crowd.
There might have been two hundred thousand people in and around the square and only fifteen small wagons.
I yelled at my father, who was standing beside me, “Dad, there is nowhere near enough food for everyone here. Mom is going to cause a riot. Get her down from there.” I moved closer to Anna, who was near my mother on the stage. People began to run forward, pushing and shoving. The soldiers became more alert. The people trying to dispense the food were overwhelmed.
It all happened so fast.
And then shots were fired; people began running away. My mother was trying to calm everyone down, but it was impossible to hear her voice. A louder voice rose over the tumult, speaking in Hungarian and then German: “This food is being dispensed illegally in violation of proper distribution. Anyone caught with this food will be punished.”
“They’re trying to take away your dignity by denying you access to basic food.” My mother was trying to get the crowd angrier, but no one could hear her except those of us on the stage.
More shots rang out. A group of soldiers was moving toward us.
I grabbed Anna. “We need to go, now!”
People were falling, being trampled as more soldiers came into the square. Snipers were picking off those leaping onto the carts.
“Dad, get Mom, now!” He was about to reach her, but a shot rang out and my mother collapsed. My father screamed and ran to her crumpled body. The rest of the United Earth members darted this way and that. I fell off the stage, losing hold of Anna, and Lukas grabbed me and pulled me through the crowd. I screamed for Anna and my family, but he kept dragging me away. I got free and looked back to the stage to see soldiers firing and others grabbing people and throwing them to the ground, binding their hands. I couldn’t see my parents. When I turned around again, I panicked and ran to follow Lukas.
We ran for many blocks. There were still hundreds of people running every which way. I followed, crying and ashamed.
Lukas led me and three others to a small basement flat, where there were three other people already. Lukas spoke to them and then left in a hurry.
Most people seemed to be injured, and I recognized them all from the stage at the protest. I scanned the room for Anna, my father or mother. None of them were there.
“Did you see Anna or my parents leave the square?” I asked each of them in English and German. They all shook their heads and stared at the floor.
I collapsed onto the floor, sobbing and shaking. I’d left them. I’d run away.
Sometime later, someone put a glass of water and a small plate with bread and butter at my feet. I stared at it. I didn’t deserve food or water, even though my body cried out for it. Lukas eventually returned with four others, none of whom were Anna or my parents.
Everyone was eager to talk to Lukas, so I waited. Eventually he came over to me.
“Elliott, how are you?” he asked in German.
“Where are Anna and my parents?”
“I don’t know,” Lukas said, shaking his head and staring at his hands.
The young, energetic woman from the stage, who was listening nearby, came over hesitantly. “I saw the man that was with your mother being beaten and bound by one of the soldiers.”
“And Anna or my mother?”
“Your mother … um … I’m so sorry. She’s dead.”
“No, no … you don’t know that.” I turned away from them and stared at the wall.
Lukas and the young woman whispered to each other, and then Lukas turned back to me. “Elliott, your mother didn’t suffer. The shot killed her instantly.”
I turned around, facing Lukas, shocked that he had the audacity to say this to me.
“I know that is small comfort,” he continued. “If there is anything—”
“This is your fault,” I said in English. “Get away from me.” I fell back against the wall, turning away from everyone in the room. Lukas grabbed me and I spun around, pushing him away. “You should be dead on that stage!” I yelled. “Get the fuck away from me!”
Lukas stared at me blankly, still reaching for me to offer comfort. The young woman whispered into his ear and he pulled away. She looked at me. “He doesn’t understand English.”
Speaking in German, Lukas said, “We were just trying to help those people. We never thought it would turn violent.”
I darted toward him and punched him square in the jaw with all my might, and he fell to the floor. Others moved to restrain me.
“Stop!” Lukas shouted, slowly getting to his feet, holding his jaw. “I’m sorry for your loss. We’ll do whatever it takes to find Anna and your father.”
I seethed at Lukas as he walked away.
The small, energetic woman pulled me aside. “I’m Tonya,” she said. “Seven of the members that were on the stage are unaccounted for, including your wife and father.”
“Would Anna know where to go in Budapest that’s friendly to United Earth?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“There are friends of my parents that we stay with sometimes. They live on the other side of the city. I’m going to check there.”
“I’ll come with you. But the whole city is on lockdown. Everyone has been forced back to work and soldiers are patrolling the streets,” Tonya told me.
I didn’t care and left the small flat. Tonya followed me. We had to dart through alleys to get to my parents’ friends. It was slow meandering through the deserted streets, but we didn’t encounter anyone.
“Most of the soldiers must be at the factories keeping workers there,” Tonya said.
We reached the flat, but my parents’ friends weren’t home. I slid a note under the door for Anna, telling her where I was.
“It’s too dangerous to wait here. We can come back tomorrow if you want,” Tonya said. Reluctantly, I followed her back to the small basement flat. There was no Anna and no word from my parents’ friends over the next few days. By the fourth day after the protest, I was a mess. I hadn’t slept, had barely eaten and hadn’t showered or shaved. There were now twelve people staying in the one-room flat, and there was no running water anywhere in the city. We got used to the smell pretty quickly.
Tonya went with me every day across the city to the other flat, which was always empty and locked. On the fourth day, I decided to break in. My note was still on the ground under the door. The fridge was empty. I fell to my knees, crying and shaking.
“Stay here. This place has two bedrooms. I’m going to bring some of the others here,” Tonya said, leaving me on the floor.
A couple of hours later, she returned with six others, not including Lukas. “Soldiers are going street to street looking for us. They have pictures of everyone who was on the stage.” Even Tonya seemed to be frazzled, her usual sunny demeanour dimmed. “We can’t stay in the city for much longer,” she said to everyone in the room. Most of them had their heads down.
“We’ll be safe at our farm,” I said. “The soldiers won’t check there as long as we give them the monthly quota. I think Anna and my father will go there if they can.”
Tonya translated to the others in German and Hungarian. Since it was almost winter, the soldiers wouldn’t be coming at all for the next few months. The problem would be how to survive the winter, especially if I brought back so many new people.
Six
Bangalore
A few hours later, as the sun was setting, Jahi called from the bottom of the stairs, waking Randhir and me from our afternoon nap. We both ran down to hug him. He looked more tired than usual and had a gash across his forehead.
“Are you okay? What happened?” I asked.
“Some men mugged me. I managed to get away, but they took the bags of goods I’d gathered. I had to go back and get more. I left some other bags in a good hiding spot. I’ll get them in the morning.”
“I’m glad you’re safe,” I said.
“I told you I’d be back. What did you two manage to find?”
“We got a rain barrel, some sleeping mats and a few weeks’ worth of canned goods buried around the area. There are also a couple mango trees across the street,” Randhir said.
“Good work. Help me carry these bags upstairs. I harvested a couple of our gardens and brought our seed packs. Did you find places for new gardens?”
“Yes,” I said.
We had a rare feast that night of fresh fruit and vegetables from the goods Randhir and I found and the bags Jahi brought. Jahi fell asleep quickly on one of our new mats shortly after eating. Randhir and I cleaned up, and then he fell into a deep sleep as well, now that we were all together again. I lay awake thinking about my life.
I was six when I saw my first dead body. It was bloated and featureless, floating in a murky and stagnant river. There may have been other bodies all around it. I’d seen so many that distinguishing between any one event was impossible. I guess I was one of the lucky ones. Disease-free and alive.
That’s what counted for luck in South Asia. I was the youngest of six. Before I was born, my family fled from North India during the war. I didn’t know who we were fighting, but it seemed like everyone was the enemy. Millions fled the coasts, which were being inundated with rising seas. Everyone was fighting for a piece of land. Food and water were scarce, since pollution made entire areas unlivable. Then the bombs started falling. I was twelve when my mother died. She’d been sick most of my life.
I taught myself to read and write. I would spend my days reading books at the abandoned university. Books weren’t exactly valuable anymore. I loved learning about the way the world used to be. The beauty of the forests and clean flowing rivers. The blueness of the sky. Art, music, literature, it all sounded perfect. I couldn’t understand how we could destroy all of that. I wished I’d been born to a different time.
My family were once prominent merchants from Jaipur, and I was raised speaking English and Hindi, but my father was killed shortly after I was born. He’d been trying to organize some sort of government or system for those who had survived the diseases and war. He was trying to give out food to starving children, when a mob decided to take what he had for themselves. One of my older brothers told me this. My mother could never speak about my father.
Jahi lost his wife and children during the war. Randhir also lost his mother, father and siblings over the years. And my oldest brother died two years after my mother. After that, it was just the three of us. And for four years, we survived in an increasingly unfriendly place. We learned to fight for what was ours.
