Today sea waters are silent, I pitched myself over a rock at a Beach Candy glaring the slowly movement of the waves as they dipped the shores.  It had been my ritual since the day my father had left us. He was Makcow Silva, a stout man of reputation whose personality would create an impression of a high profile gentleman but as he would sit to kindle his jaded body, he would display himself a softly crafted man of decree who knows many deceptive ploys to win conversation on his table.  A man of fair complexion whose blue eyes was an exoneration of the deeper layers of his self that seems to burst many hidden facets of his unknown personality. 

The gravity of silence sprouts the testimony of his sins. I had hardly heard a single word from his mouth, but his oceanic eyes had tidal motions that would narrate all his unspoken designs. When his self confidence would replicate through his personality he would endow himself with gravity of an expert preceptor. His vision sludge’s through varied oddities ultimately making him a business wizard who had now more friend’s yet equivalent foes. He was an owner of an international famed medicinal firm whose medicines were exported to far off lands.   

As the waves roared through these motionless rocks, dark clouds covered the sky as my mind kindred towards killer past. It was Sunday noon I was relaxing in my room with a book over my lap. Suddenly I heard a huffing sound coming straight from my dad’s room. I stumbled out of the bed to rush towards it, with my heart pounding as I touched the knob to the noise of the creek. Oh my god? I uttered as sweat drenched my forehead and legs quivered, my mom was standing still and her eyes were stuck on the immobile body of her husband on the chair. His blue eyes were wide opened as an alien creature hinged between the two worlds. I spurted, “Dad”!  He won’t listen, he was gone. 

I stealthily move towards him, when my mom gripped my arms tightly. I drooled myself on her shoulders.  Mr Paul entered, closed his eyes, like a curtain now down, covered his face and soon he was ready to take off on his last journey.  As I gave him glance for the last time, he passed through my coveted eyes of the days when he would reach home from office, make his space on his favorite chair, and with his genial smile sipped his wife specially prepared black coffee with sprouts. Then he would hug me, hold me on his broad well laid shoulders, and whisk me out into the garden, under the open sky. We would follow those running rabbits, race after fluttering butterflies, and to the rhythmic dancing of the swaying trees, flowers, coiling over the gentility of the sunshine and singing birds.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as wind swished passed me, jerked I woke up to retreat back with the Sun rays mirroring the blueness of the ocean with varied shades.  As I walked towards my home,  sound of a church bell rang through my ears, to the surrealistic call of divine. On my way I crossed a narrow gorge with bushes standing motionless towards the both sides, as dove make her swift flight piercing stems and leaves. I felt a strange docility towards my surroundings as behind the gorge was a small cottage bearing a sign of weariness.  I saw a middle aged, slim, tall, dark complexioned man with authoritative attitude, was watering his so profoundly grown plants. His spade was screeching through the silence while tall coconut trees standing still like guards of his tiny world.  

Suddenly I saw a strange looking woman, whose appearance was to the eyes rumination of celestial persona who is attempting to segregate from her infinity.  She was attired in a white gown and her golden lock of hair spread on both the sides of her face, flickering different rays through her blue retina. These rays enveloped the moon rays that crisscrossed through the leaves.  The bluish raze of her eyes pierced deeply into my mind, as I found myself dragging toward her. Her hands held a packet, but before I could say or give a glaring look, she spoke, to the bursting of the clouds overhead, “open the veils of  your hidden soul,”, perturbed, I asked, “Who are you?” and “what?….” There was depth in these words that pierced my soul.  “What… I again asked and who are you? But before my words appeared from my shivering face, she had gone. 

Her sudden disappearance turned my face in grovel of thunder, darkening the sensuousness of the surroundings. But under the hideous shades of the big Deodar, where she was standing, I got a glimpse of a small parcel, covered with a blue paper and neatly tied with the colored thread. I looked here and there, finding no one around, and with palpitating arms opened it to see a shining blue colored pearl, heart shaped, with my dad’s eyes looking at me with curiousness.

 Suddenly darkness had blanked the whole area.  I picked it but soon I felt sweat whetting my head and feet cold, I ran towards the street that curled few miles towards my home.  I hustled straight towards it to witness my perturbed face in a mirror. What I saw, was it a dream or realty?

I am twenty two years, educated girl, how could I believe in this strange occurrence? I know my dad is no longer living but could this pearl be a sardonic of an evil mind and that strange looking lady?

Who was she?  Puzzled sleep took over me. I rouse with the ringing of kitchen bell for a breakfast. My favorite Double cheese sandwich was placed lucratively over craftily designed Chine plate, while my mother was pouring tea from her pear shaped tea pot, a unique hereditary artifice, adorning the tea table of the Maclow’s ancestors which my mother is also pursuing with dignity and pride.  A single hiss of the tea pot is a personification of my dad’ dignified life.  I gulped its last bite, looked at my Mom, to narrate my experience with the strange lady, but “Should I or Should I not tell her”, it took me another five minutes to decide I should tell her.  Tears rolled down her cheeks; with staunch face she removed her necklace, from under her deep necked blouse.  There was a same pearl on it. She pointed towards the picture of my dad, and one hand on her heart, I suddenly dashed towards the window to close it, as thunder storm had struck the silent night with its howling winds and lightening.

She merely winked in negative”, and hesitantly went into the kitchen. I picked my bag and walked towards my college which was a mile from home.  Town was bustling with vehicles zooming across the drive way and people were dodging each other to catch the brevity of the life.  Sun has risen spreading its tail of red hot fire balls, I should rush as I looked at the watch, the classic piece that my dad had given me.  The watch had an artistic embodiment of gold, with covering of designed petals.  It is on my wrist since last five years now. My lecture was going to start I picked my steps faster, suddenly my feet hit a big stone and I tumbled but I felt a support of hands, I stood straight but there was no one. Wind swished passed me blowing my hair as I felt my hand touched my head as blessings.  I closed my eyes, oh! I sighed in disbelief, this is my dad, but as I opened them again, I saw same woman walking briskly towards the woods like a leaf floating in a wind. She proceeded towards the other end of the road, beyond the narrow gauge that reaches the cottage. At the same time, flock of swans pierced through clouds to making their swirling moments over the woods.

I decided to follow the lady, but she vanished, and as my lecture was just round the corner, I rushed towards my college. It is a Willington College of Psychological studies, established under the aegis of Dr Salmon who was a renowned psychologist of Tinstone Town.  We heard he had once uncovered the truth of man’s Contradictions with own personality, a deeper psychological truth of what a man should believe but not believing.   It was a lecture on the same aspect of human mind, and he was giving it with profound dexterity. I listen carefully to my professor’s words, which was for us important to immerse deep into our mental faculties. His words, “You are sometimes not you but somebody else,” always would ring my ears. I wondered I am not what I am, who I am then”.

Startled with a pinch on my shoulder, I looked back to see Rihan grinning at me.  I looked around, class was over. Shuddered I picked my note book and went to cafeteria for a cup of coffee. Rihan followed me. He was a tall guy with broad shoulders, straight face, semi dark but intelligent.  Anyone can see notoriety on his face but he was sober that what make him attractive. He sat with me to give his magnanimous smile, protruding his muscular jaws that could make women wink, sipped a coffee and went straight towards his friends who were standing at the corner eyeing on him.

I got up after gulping my coffee, I went toward the same tree where I met the old lady, but I could see rows and rows of black ants scurrying over the tree, yellow bullfrogs cruising through the pond and squirrels running swiftly towards the top. I saw the same cottage flashing under the sinking sun rays.  When I found no one, I went straight towards the cottage, entered its gate and knocked at the door. A same man opened the door and invited me to come inside. His cottage was small yet neat. He offered me water I wholesomely drank.  When I narrated him the incident, I saw his face got sullied with blue reflecting the uneasiness of the squirted past, as he claimed with honors of dignity,

 I picked a picture from my purse, “Did you know him? No sooner he gave a look at it, he groaned tethered and ragged like a separated son.  His silence pinched me as I voiced, “Please tell me”, and he narrated with vignette. “He is Saunders, a mysterious scalawag, who had walked through many travail of icebergs and still came out unscathed, but I shouted at the pitch of my voice, “he is not Saunders, he is my father Makow Silva”. He shuddered as if I had asked a wrong question.” He replied, yes he is Saunders,” I tried to pull his collars but he hold my arms and pulled me further inside, what I saw shook my nerves, a  I saw a picture who was my father Makcaw but was not like him . He was wearing black trousers, white shirt and hat, a handsome slim man standing with noble poise with another woman whom I had never seen before. Behind it laid a red bricked house reflecting multicolored shades of the rays of sun. Was it a photographic talent or an architect’s creativity, I do not know. 

The man told me, ‘Saunders was a Black Don of the underworld. A professional hay and straw who would wallop anything and anyone who dare pinch any word against him. He had “culprited” many officials of excise wing and trade department to market medicinal plants, Heidraulic , which can double the age. These plants are grown in the woods towards the other end of River Nile.  

We can listen the mystical tunes from its surface of the river as it flows through the deeper forests. As the man was narrating, I heard my heart beating faster and limbs hovering my brain cells.  I could not gallop, “My father who loved me is smuggler”.  The man who would come back home in the evening, drink tea only if it is prepared by my mom, would take me out for a walk; A man, my father, who was my idol, but whose life now is gone to the was a smuggler, a cruel man’”, was in-digestible to me.  

“Saunders had a woman who was his equal partner in his nefarious zealot.  They were married or not noone knows but they were living like a married couple, “Saunders would painstakingly crush the bushes and hid them beneath many baskets”. He had a black man named Sauper who was working as his right man, tall and heavy, unspeakable yet could narrate many languages.   They had many hidden factories where medicines where produced and sailed through the river in small boats across the border.

 Over the years, his business was flourishing very well, and this woman was his equal acquaintance in the business.  The medicines were fetching them million dollars leaving them as richest man in whole area.  They had a lavish life with many servants.   Mrs Russel Saunders had a beauty and an appeal but carved knavery of wickedness.  Her smile was lucrative to attract many a big man towards her beauty. 

Slowly over the years, they had built their vast empire and gained popularity the world over. Soon they had a baby girl, whom they nick named Swiz.  That very night Saunders gave a lavish party where all the dignitaries were present to bless the child. His whole mansion was decorated with flowers and lights, multiple cuisine dishes were served to the guests and Swiz was garlanded with gifts.  “The pearl that you had was a gift to his daughter by Saunders”, he said.  His lavishness was naturally known but hardly anybody grasped the other side of his personality. His heart was very soft, who would savior into the laps of mother Marry.  Early morning he would sit for half an hour for prayers, and later often serve the poor. No man would go empty handed from his doors.  His business partners would beckon Saunders as a man who could make more enemies but no friends.

I placed my hands over my ears, unwilling to hear this, but I should know with my strongest heart the tale which was going to come soon, An uncanny story which could squirt the dread past,  It was June 8^th 1990, Saunders was in all its gay, woke up in the morning at 5, got a black tea, Sauper had come to fetch him in his blue lagoon with armed men swarming from each corner. He entered in all his royal form in his bullet proof wagon, but suddenly got a jerk, as he heard a sudden explosion. He looked outside, to see his house engulfed in fire.  He rushed towards the house as the flames sprawled on each corner of his profligate embossed mansion. He picked his daughter, threw her out ran towards his wife’s room which was impossible to pierce through as fire had already gushed the room. She yelled but dangling cubicle of flames had fallen over her. 

Soon Sauper dragged him out of the house, pulled him into the car and send them both into their town house.  Next day, Saunders went to search the whole burned house with his men. The house was razed but a distance away, he saw a piece of paper which bore the mark of Fire with arrow. His eyes gulped in raze, maddened in outburst went splattering with his band to quash “Hallows” who were quenching their throat towards the right of the Africana.  Hallows were the enemy of Saunders, whose vagaries were more unpopular. None but Saunders could quash their extremities. Since many years they had been attempting to lay their seize on the rich greeneries of Saunders Heidraulic plants, but could never cut through his layers of stringent security cover.  Instead Saunders gang had slathered their designs to capture their most fertile outlet. His armed men quashed their hideouts, charred each one of them and hacked their leader, Periria Hallow. They gave deaf ears to the wailing of children and ladies who had draped themselves in hidden corners.  Drowned all Hallows in the blood, he came back raging into his house, washed his face, removed his clothes, peace with himself, lay crouched in his bed with his daughter. 

In the morning, he heard a bell ringing from the nearby Church, don’t know what transpired him, his steps took him towards the home of God. There he saw a young girl of mid twenties, bending on his knees in prayers. Her eyes were closed. He saw the girl silently folded her hands, orienting herself for pardon.” He was stunned by her looks and asked priest about her.  She is Suzzy, daughter of Periria Hallow, yesterday her father and family was wiped out by a cruel man, oh unfortunate girl, she is both deaf and dumb.  

Saunders was nerved, his face sunk, suddenly he closed his eyes and hands folded in prayer, a voice spoke to him “Give yourself to God and your angel will guide you”. So Saunders took Suzzy his wife.  From that day, he was a changed man; he shed his naked skin, buried his guns, and became a Mackow Silwa, a man of virtue, who would never hurt anyone. His factory was now producing healing medicines. He made Saupers his Senior Manager. In his spare time, he would serve the poor, and help his workers and others and soon he won many hearts. But his past life returned with an evil grin. Men in coats who were once part of his flounderings attacked him like savage crows, obstructing his flourishing business through legal blockades floundering him in whatever way they could which caused him heavy losses He then moved me in this cottage, into the safety and peace.   Here I am, Yes, I am Saupers, I am that old man now but your father had left enough for me to feed myself.  And you are that little angle, a daughter of an iron man Saunders of your mother Milky, a woman your father loved. I looked at my dad’s picture and the man who was my father, a man whom I knew, had double personality, who could never see me in tears, had now left us in this situation and now only a picture of him left hanging on the wall.  

With a hoarse voice Saupers reciprocated, “It would sound to you, financial loss had killed him, but no, he was murdered, he was not a weak man”.   He was murdered by these devious giants in black, and his papers had become a signature of his fall, these which he feared would have made your life in trouble and risky, so he left us.  “He left us to save the factory from the vulture’s bite and save your life”, his old enemies would have suck you out from dwellings to recover the losses because of your father.     

Tears were not stopping as I was listening to this unbelievable truth of my father, who had never deterred from his righteous path. “Take these papers which Saunders, had kept for you.” These are his pictures, property papers, financial statements, and some business legalities”. I took all the papers but wondering “How could he be murdered, there was no sign of scuffle or any injury mark on his body”.   

I asked Saupers, “What should I do now? Fulfill your father’s wish, remove his enemies, you know what to do”, he stringently replied. I took all the papers with me, thanked him, and rushed towards my. I looked at my Mom took her hands and showed her the papers.” She nodded with affirmative.  I summoned our family advocate for explanation, “It’s a will” he quipped.  My mother would get one half of the share while I would be a legal owner of dad’s business empire and Saupers would be a shareholder”.  I sighed! 

 Next morning I went to the woods. I could feel fresh air blown past me. As I went further, what I saw raised my eye brows. There was a small pond with ducks swimming in it, butterflies fluttering over the multi colored flowers and a big house, oh a same one which was gushed down. My eyes remain static when I saw my dad in white robes and mom hand in hand sitting as their legs dipped inside the pond.  I kept gazing at this site speechless. I did not know when I was shedding my tears and my dad wiping them. 

The morning alarm sounded, my eyes opened, I saw my step mom cuddling me. I hurriedly jumped up from the bed, freshen myself, kissed her arms and went straight towards the factory. As I entered his cabin, whole staff stood with amazement. I saw his table where he would work, and sat on his chair. His picture with my mom was hung on the side wall. After few minutes Saupers arrived. I requested him to take back his responsibilities, and the smile of satisfaction and contentment that I saw on his aged face, was remarkable. His face was though wrinkled and dark but a remarkable disposition of his experience and wisdom. After few minutes, I called the whole staff to join me over a cup of coffee.

I wanted to thank the staff for their support but only one sentence could come out of my mouth, “My father is alive, and will be his “Healing S. I could see that Iron Man who was my father in his original form blessing me as I kept the pearl before his photo.