Daffodils of Death

By Raja Sharma

1st Flower Seller: Wreaths are not in demand nowadays.

2nd Flower Seller: Neither people nor security forces are being killed.

3rd Flower Seller: Last week I made 25 wreaths, thinking that the Independence Day of India was approaching. I was sure to sell all of them but, unfortunately, I could not sell even one. Nothing happened that day. They are rotting in my room. I don’t think our good days will return.

2nd Flower Seller: Yes, nothing happened that day. Things have calmed down a bit.

1st Flower Seller: Hindus are also not dying. Even natural deaths have decreased. Not many Hindu marriages are taking place. Garlands are also not being sold.

2nd Flower Seller: I sold two bouquets yesterday, and that is all. A boy came to buy a slip of rose but his girlfriend took him away.

3rd Flower Seller: Even honeymooners go to other places. They don’t come to Kashmir anymore. Big hotel is almost vacant. There is only one couple from Bangalore.

1st Flower Seller: Hoteliers are also not buying flowers. What shall we eat if business does not improve?

2nd Flower Seller: Those days were wonderful. We would hardly find any flowers in the valley of flowers. Now, it is different. You can pluck as many flowers as you want but what will you do with those flowers?

3rd Flower Seller: I am thinking of going to Delhi. I will find a job in a factory. At least there will be a regular income.

1st Flower Seller: Have faith. Good days will come back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raja Sharma
• Release date: Jul 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465802835

Raja Sharma

Raja Sharma is a retired college lecturer.He has taught English Literature to University students for more than two decades.His students are scattered all over the world, and it is noticeable that he is in contact with more than ninety thousand of his students.

Book preview

Daffodils of Death

By Raja Sharma

Copyright@2011Raja Sharma

Smashwords Edition

Chapter 1: Introduction

This play is dedicated to my elder brother, Arthur G. Finch. There is a definite reason behind dedicating this book to him. Arthur G. Finch, a former marine in US Army, a medico in the forces, has been serving the society in the capacity of a priest, spreading the divine light of the Almighty.

I see two distinct personalities in him: a soldier, and a preacher. To live somewhere between divided duties must have been a challenge to him, for the former duty demands of him to use force and weapons against the enemies, and the latter demands of him to shed every violent means and to spread the message of love and forgiveness. Likewise, I see the entire world lingering between two polarities, a kind of dilemma, where it is very hard to choose between right and wrong.

Characters

Teacher (A middle aged man)

Ramji (A student)

Hamid (A student)

Samuel (A student)

Boys and Girls (Students)

Police Officer

Anti Terrorist Squad –soldiers

Old Woman

Pundit –A Temple Priest

Love Birds-Sheela and Sajid

Flower Sellers

Chapter 2: Scene I

The curtain rises. The stage is empty. In the backdrop, there is a scene of the valley of flowers. The scene is just like that described by the English Poet William Wordsworth in his poem I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud. It may be anywhere in the world. Here the place lies between the legal borders of two neighbouring countries always trying to come up with new logics to spit out venom at each other. Let’s, for the convenience of dramatic presentation, call the place Kashmir that belongs to India.

The hall is dimly lit and the majority of the audiences consist of the teachers and students from Jammu University, Kashmir, India. Unfortunately, the person who had first discussed the idea of this play was shot dead by the militants who demand independent Kashmir. He was the professor of the university.

This first enactment of the play is a kind of homage to him.

Suddenly, a very pleasing voice fills the theatre. The voice recites William Wordsworth’s poem:

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;