Closely Watched Trains-1966

Czech director Jiri Menzel’s Closely Watched Trains (Ostre sledovane vlaky) was the recipient of the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 1967.  Based on Bohumil Hrabal’s novel of the same name, it tells the end of innocence for a railroad worker who is not very bright and has not much of a career plan either. In the days of Nazi occupation for a Czech of course all such notions are not worth a straw.
Milos, the young apprentice railroader (Vaclav Neckar) comes from a line of failures. His grandfather, a hypnotist, was crushed to death while trying to hypnotize the German army into retreating, and his father retired at the age of 46 and sleeps on the sofa all day. Milos happily takes the trainman’s job, since all he will have to do is stand on the platform and kill time. Just the same he is keenly conscious of his failure in scoring with girls. In such chaotic times of a city under occupation for the young Milos things aren’t as bad as not losing his virginity.
This is a movie about innocence in such dismal times. Young Milos sees various sort of characters as they go about: for example there is a train dispatcher, who delights in rubber stamping his female conquests; and a sweet young conductress (Jitka Bendova) with whom Milos unsuccessfully tries to make out. Fearing he isn’t adequate as a man, he tries to commit suicide. In that department also he turns out to be a failure. Then a friendly doctor (played by Jiri Menzel, the director) suggests that the unhappy youth distract himself while making love (say, think of a soccer game) or find a more experienced woman. When the stationmaster refuses to volunteer his wife, young trainee Milos bravely seeks other candidates and finally succeeds with a resistance fighter named Victoria.
He at last breaks the jinx of failure through love. Relieved and happy to discover that he is indeed a man, the youth sets out to blow up a Nazi ammunition train and
succeeds. In the end he is a hero.
‘Ordered by the Czech Communist government to return his Oscar, Menzel refused, opting instead to make a “repentance” film which sang the praises of collectivism. This second film has long since been forgotten, while Closely Watched Trains remains on record as one of the biggest financial successes of the Eastern European Cinema’. (Quoted from Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide.)
Cast

* Vaclav Neckar – Milos, a railroad worker
* Jitka Bendova – Conductor Masa
* Vladimir Valenta – Station Master Max
* Libuse Havelkova – Max’s wife
* Josef Somr – Hubicka, a dispatcher

Alois Vachek – Novak; Jitka Zelenohorska – Zdenka; Vlastimil Brodský – Counselor Zednicek; Jirí Menzel – Dr. Brabec; Marie Jezkova; Kveta Fialova – Countess; Ferdinand Kruta – Max’s uncle Noneman; Nada Urbankova – Victoria Freie
Credit
Oldrich Bosak – Art Director; Olga Dimitrov – Costume Designer; Jirí Menzel – Director; Jirí Menzel – Screenwriter; Jaromir Sofr – Cinematographer; Jiri Sust – Composer (Music Score); Ruzena Bulickova – Costume Designer; Jiri Cvrcek – Set Designer; M.A. Gebert – Editor; Bohumil Hrabal – Screenwriter; Bohumil Hrabal – Book Author; Jirina Lukesova – Editor; Zdenek Oves – Producer
Similar Movies
Europa, Europa; A Generation; Skrivánci na niti; Ivanovo Detstvo; Eroica; Black Peter; Tak Nachinalas Legenda; Dark Blue World; Do You Remember Dolly Bell?; Mon Oncle Antoine
* Run Time: 89 minutes

The film won several international awards:

* The 1967 Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film
* The 1969 BAFTA Awards for Best Film and Best Soundtrack
* The Grand Prize at the 1966 Mannheim-Heidelberg International Filmfestival
* A nomination for the 1969 DGA Award for Outstanding Directorial Achievement in Motion Pictures
* A nomination for the 1968 Golden Globe for Best Foreign-Language Foreign Film
( ack:wikipedia,answers.com,Allmovie Guide)
benny

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Forbidden Games-1952

Jeux interdits in French is a film by René Clément and based on François Boyer’s novel of the same name.
Let me sketch out the opening scene:

During the Nazi invasion of France in 1940 the road out of Paris is clogged with those escaping the city. They are strafed by Nazi fighter planes. Among the panic stricken crowds we meet a 5-year-old girl named Paulette, with her parents. Paulette’s little dog runs onto a bridge. She chases it, and her parents desperately run after her. Bullets kill both parents and fatally wound the dog. Paulette, lying on the ground next to her mother, reaches out a hand to touch the dead cheek, and then touches her own cheek.
Is this a simple war movie? Of course not. In that very unconscious act of a child we note the slow contagion of man’s violence has visited on her, and she speaks for all who have been thus tainted; surely as night follows day every act, good or bad is carried on by our next generation. She may not rationalize death of her mother but connect that mother’s cold cheek to her own to give it a place as it were. This is a powerful movie and it is also  an indictment of the world of elders who lay down the rules and add their litte riders to justify their breaking them. They shall speak of ‘Peace with honour or peace that passeth all understanding’ and at the same time wage war to bring their own brand of democracy to some country that holds no borders with them or has nothing by way of culture or religion in common.
A child cannot reason so must invent other means to cope as a hungry child will bawl till it is fed. Forbidden Games is that twilight zone, a  territory the child must create for the sins of its parents whose ways are far beyond its ken. A child who takes his father’s pistol from home to school plays a game and it is a forbidden game. Is it forbidden? No, not if we look at the way NRA defends the right to bear arms. Coming back to the film, the traumatized orphan child is taken in by a peasant family and thus Paulette meets ten-year-old Michel Dollé (Georges Poujouly) She quickly becomes attached to Michel as her big brother and the two attempt to cope with the death and destruction that surrounds them by secretly building a small cemetery where they bury her dog and then start to bury other animals, stealing crosses from the local graveyard. “Paulette has never really dealt with the deaths of her parents. She acknowledges that they are gone, but they are gone in theory, not practice; that they are truly dead forever seems to elude her. Yet she becomes fascinated with death, and Michel joins her in burying a mole that was captured by an owl. Soon they are burying every dead thing they can find, even worms, even broken plates. At one point, while they are lying side by side on the floor doing his homework, he stabs a cockroach with his pen. “Don’t kill him! Don’t kill him!” she cries, and he says, “I didn’t. It was a bomb that killed him.”(quoted from Roger Ebert,- Dec18,2005)
Film critic Leonard Maltin has said: “Jeux interdits is almost unquestionably the most compelling and intensely poignant drama featuring young children ever filmed.”
‘Catch them young’ so says the old saw. Naturally the cemetery of Paulette and Michel grows larger as we in adult world enlarge the extent of war memorials all across the globe. Didn’t we learn that from the shadow of two world wars? The two also learn the importance of symbols in a curious way. A grave is no good  without a cross they know from their very limited experience. So they begin to steal crucifixes to put above the graves. This entails a subplot involving a feud between the Dolles and their neighbors, the Gouards, who accuse each other of stealing crucifixes. There is also a scuffle between two in the cemetery and falling into a grave. All the while the secret cemetery in the old mill grows more elaborate.
The film was initially turned down by Cannes, then accepted after a scandal. It was turned down by Venice because it had played at Cannes, but accepted after another uproar, and won the Golden Lion as best film, with a best actress award for Fossey.
The film has a scintillating musical score, composed and performed by legendary Spanish classical guitarist Narciso Yepes.
“Forbidden Games” was attacked and praised by adults showing  children inventing happiness where none should exist. Film critic Roger Ebert cites the Japanese animated film “Grave of the Fireflies” (1988) as another rare film that dared to tackle this theme.
Cast

* Georges Poujouly – Michel Dollé
* Brigitte Fossey – Paulette
* Amédée – Francis Gouard
* Laurence Badie – Berthe Dollé
* Suzanne Courtal – Madame Dollé
* Lucien Hubert – Dollé
* Jacques Marin – Georges Dollé
* Pierre Merovée – Raymond Dollé
* Louis Saintève – Le prêtre

Awards

* Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, 1952
* Venice Film Festival Golden Lion award for best picture, 1952
* New York Film Critics Circle Awards for Best Foregin Language Film, 1952
* BAFTA Award for Best Film, 1953
Directed by     René Clément
Produced by     Robert Dorfmann
Written by     Jean Aurenche
Pierre Bost
François Boyer
Music by     Narciso Yepes
Cinematography     Robert Juillard
Running time     102 min.
Language     French
(ack: Wikipedia)
Similar Movies
The Spirit of the Beehive  (1973, Victor Erice)
Au Revoir Les Enfants  (1987, Louis Malle)
La Fracture du Myocarde  (1990, Jacques Fansten)
Europa, Europa  (1991, Agnieszka Holland)
Hope and Glory  (1987, John Boorman)
Strayed  (2003, André Téchiné)
Father of a Soldier  (1965, Revaz Chkheidze)
Ezra  (2007, Newton I. Aduaka)
Cria Cuervos  (1975, Carlos Saura)
Empire of the Sun  (1987, Steven Spielberg)
Movies with the Same Personnel
Is Paris Burning?  (1966, René Clément)
Les Maudits  (1947, René Clément)
Gervaise  (1956, René Clément)
The Day and the Hour  (1963, René Clément)
La Bataille Du Rail  (1945, René Clément)
Monsieur Ripois  (1954, René Clément)
Barrage Contre le Pacifique  (1957, René Clément)
Au-Dela Des Grilles  (1948, René Clément)
Other Related Movies
is related to:      Fanny & Alexander  (1982, Ingmar Bergman)
(allmovie)
Trivia:
#  In a television interview (“Vivement Dimanche Prochain”, France 2, 17 April 2005) Brigitte Fossey, who played the little Paulette, revealed that the film had originally been shot as a short, and then it was later decided to extend it into a feature film. Unfortunately she had lost her milk teeth and Georges Poujouly (who plays the boy Michel) had had his hair cut to play in Nous sommes tous des assassins (1952). So, in many scenes of the movie Paulette has false teeth and Michel is wearing a wig.

# Brigitte Fossey’s first film.
(ack:allmovie,wikipedia,imdb)

for films check out the author at cinebuff.wordpress.com
compiler:benny

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You Asked For It!

1.
Once at the Algonquin round table, Dorothy Parker reported sadly,”My old cat, that I’ve loved so dearly has grown so feeble and helpless that I’m going to have him put away.”She added she was wondering the most humane way to do it. It elicited  this comment from Playwright George S. Kaufman: “Have you thought of curiosity?”
2.
“I understand your grandfather was a Negro, monsieur” a nobleman once asked Alexandre Dumas,”May I enquire what your great grandfather was?”
“An ape, sir,”replied Dumas,”My pedigree commences where your terminates.”
3.
WH Russel of the Times once approached Bismarck and reminded him,”Your Excellency, you’ll have to admit that I am one newspaperman who has respected yor confidence. You have conversed with me on all sorts of subjects and never once I repeated a word you said.”
Bismarck cried angrily: “The more fool you are! Do you suppose I’d ever say a word to a man in your profession that I didn’t want to see in print?”

4.
Noel Coward was once approached by a reporter for the London Star, who asked,” Mr. Coward, would you like to say something to the Star?”
“Certainly,”replied the playwright,”Twinkle.”

5.
The first US Presidential Press Conference was granted by John Quincy Adams, but unwillingly. The President was swimming in the Potomac river when a newspaper woman Anne Royall surprised him. She sat on his clothes and vowed that she wouldn’t budge until he gave her an interview.
The Potomac was chilly and Adams finally granted her request.

6.
As a rookie reporter for the New York World, young Heywood Brown was told to interview Utah senator Reed Smart.
“I have nothing to say,”Smart told him.
“I know,”replied Brown,”Now let’s get down to the interview.”

•    Heywood Brown, one of the kindliest newspaperman ever, wasn’t much of an executive. While running a publication called The Connecticut Nutmeg, its managing board gave him discretionary powers to hire hands at $35 a week. He could go up to $50 maximum.
On the appointed day the job- seekers were called in and Brown queried,”Which would you prefer- $35 a week or $50?”
compiler:benny

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Prayer And Faith

Firstly have faith in yourself.
If we can be in His presence we can tap from His Wisdom and Power in full measure by the same token. So in my way of looking at it nothing by way of experience,- bad or of worst kind, has ever happened to me without leaving something good.
2.
Perhaps you need to search what blessings He has left for you from events that seem now very contrary in your life.
The theological term ‘grace’in every day clothes means making better use of your intelligence. Where things seem so dark letting your wisdom and power find their foothold is a demonstration of God’s grace.
The old saw ‘Heaven helps those who helps themselves’ is not without merits.
2.
Secondly have faith in the scheme of things or Cosmos as positive in which you are an active agent and you shall support its wellbeing as much it is within your power and wisdom.
benny

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Late Spring-1949

This Japanese film (Banshun in Japanese) is the second of post-war productions from Yasujirō Ozu. Unlike the other famous and more well known to international audience Akira Kurosawa, he prefers to work on much a simpler scale. Yasujiro Ozu is the most Japanese of Japan’s filmmakers, who dispenses with an elaborate plot or action to keep the viewer’s attention. Kurosawa may keep several cameras rolling simultaneously to give his actions fluidity or let them leap past picture frame as in Seven Samurai while Ozu’s camera remains three feet above the floor: he, with his subjective camera technique prompts the viewer to see his films from a Japanese perspective. According to film critic Iwasaki Akira,’ The Japanese people spend their lives seated on ‘tatami’ mattings spread over the floor;…therefore the eye of the camera also must be at this level.’ (“Yasujirō Ozu”, Film No 36, Summer 1963,p.9) Before I pass over to the plot and other matters I think his films uphold typically a Japanese virtue of ‘less is more.’ Like Sho, Japanese calligraphy there is a natural balance in both the characters and the composition as a whole’.
The plot is simple: There is a deep bond between a widowed father and his daughter who is ‘in her late spring.’ Does he let her serve his needs longer or give her away in marriage while there is time? It is based on Father and Daughter by Kazuo Hirotsu.
The story concerns Noriko, who lives happily with her widowed father and seems in no hurry to get married. Her father, a professor, however, wants to see her settled and conspires with his sister to trick Noriko into pursuing an arranged marriage. Not wishing to see the girl resign herself to spinsterhood, Shukuchi   ( Chisu Ryu) pretends that he himself is about to be married. Obvious in a middle-class home with such small living space as In Japan there will be no room for her, thus forcing her to seek comfort and joy elsewhere. It is cruel to be pushed out of the family nest but love sometimes must be made of sterner stuff. Chisu Ryu was faultless as the father whose emotions always struck the right note as one who could warm up to the affection of his selfless daughter and equally show his concern at the way she was turning herself in the process into a aged spinster. The film stars Setsuko Hara, in her first of many collaborations with Ozu.
Directed by     Yasujirō Ozu
Produced by     Shochiku Films Ltd.
Written by     Kazuo Hirotsu
Kôgo Noda
Yasujiro Ozu
Music by     Senji Itô
Cinematography     Yuuharu Atsuta
Running time     108 min.

Cast

Chishu Ryu … Shukichi Somiya
Setsuko Hara … Noriko Somiya
Yumeji Tsukioka … Aya Kitagawa
Haruko Sugimura … Masa Taguchi
Hohi Aoki … Katsuyoshi
Jun Usami … Shuichi Hattori

Similar Movies
Tokyo Story  (1953, Yasujiro Ozu)
Early Summer  (1951, Yasujiro Ozu)
Movies with the Same Personnel
Early Summer  (1951, Yasujiro Ozu)
Tokyo Story  (1953, Yasujiro Ozu)
Late Autumn  (1960, Yasujiro Ozu)
An Autumn Afternoon  (1962, Yasujiro Ozu)
Floating Weeds  (1959, Yasujiro Ozu)
Equinox Flower  (1958, Yasujiro Ozu)
Early Autumn  (1961, Yasujiro Ozu)
Good Morning  (1959, Yasujiro Ozu)
(Allmovie.com)
compiler:benny

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Does God Answers Prayers?

What is a prayer if it isn’t answered? Simple souls pray for obtaining various things. They also pray for healing and forgiveness. Well and good. If we can open our hearts to our own parents, wives and children the idea of God is the right place where we speak our needs out.
Only that one should expect God to answer him or her in His time.
In other words He makes you take the initiative which is more graceful and in keeping with His majesty. Beggars do get their cries heard but they shall ever be begging their way through this world and beyond.
God has a much worthier way to teach us.
benny

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When We Pray

Our thoughts have their otherworldly root. From about an absolute position I put forth ideas and as I said in an earlier post, they are finite paraphrasing of Infinite Idea.
Man an idea and God as Infinite.
Prayer makes man in direct line with Him.
In short we are children of God and experience this fact when we pray.
2.
Our ideas have their origin elsewhere. These are like filaments and we give substance or weight and shape to thoughts because we live somewhere else and we have a body to speak of. Thought must be made a reality by action.
We struggle day to day for a place in the sun. If we do not have any idea what we want from life can we achieve anything worthwhile?
Tailspin: I am writing this post for those who pray to God or any other. By praying we are merely giving flesh and bones to our innermost longing to be one with the otherworldly aspects of our being. If we hold before us the idea of being His children we have become truly His and when we do pray we realize this mystery: as ideas are to Idea we have transcended beyond our physical forms.
Is this possible? In theory, yes. As I mentioned in the post After The Fall we carry the mixed baggage of collective memory of our species and our own memory. We are fallen because our  Innocence is merely a cover-up. Body Makes It so.
benny

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After The Fall

The distance between the Absolute Position and relative position I hold today is marked by time and experience. What are we but a bundle of contradictions: we hold a reference to something otherworldly and yet our experience as terrestrial beings marks us to something else. Theologically this is our ‘fallen state’ with Absolute Position as the idyllic state of innocence.

Benny

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Our Viewpoints

Man as a rational being uses his intellect to make sense of his world. It is made in terms of ideas. Given an absolute position totally different from everyone else how each borrows ideas from Cosmic Mind is different.
From whence came his impulse to seek beyond his term of life on the earth? One wants to build up a mighty business empire and leave it for his descendants; another creates beautiful works so his name may live after him. Or one devotes his life in works of charity so his name will be recorded in heaven and so on.
Ideas are what give man or woman a special significance: power to transcend his or her lifespan. For example Alexander Fleming’s discovery and pioneering work in antibiotics makes him still relevant.
Without a viewpoint none of us shall know what to get out of life. Thus we create new pathways and in that process we are hailed as pioneers. Most of us tend to hide our power and wisdom behind the bushel of opinions of others. To those conformists I shall suggest Emerson’s Self Reliance to read.
benny

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A Bedtime Story

WORTH OF A PERSIAN CARPET ©

The City is noted for its minarets and gardens. On a
sunny day the four minarets of the Blue Mosque rise to
the skies like prayers of many believers; more
picturesque is the central dome covered with some
millions of blue tiles. Such blue is no more seen
since the sultan decreed ‘Blue is passé’. See how it
stands, a shimmering dome like the tear of an angel,
frozen in midair. The Blue Mosque. Poets loved
watching the dome under changing lights through the
day! It made their poetry sound sweeter. Hamals (or
porters) carrying heavy loads through winding and
crooked streets looked at that dome rising from the
city skyline and instantly their loads became lighter
and they thought life was worth living. No one could
resist its power. Except one.
See that crooked street cutting through the market?
Do you see that shop on the right? A To Z the board
says. Anything money can buy is sold there. Ziddiq,
the shopkeeper is dressed in drab clothes and his
beard is browned as his fingers are calloused. Henna
colored his beard which he allowed because his wife
thought brown was becoming in one so old; his fingers
were calloused from counting money: large sums of it
every night passed through his fingers when the folks
slept. While the dome of the Blue Mosque gleamed under
a waning moon! Poor Ziddiq! He had never even heard of
the blueness of the dome under whose shadow he lived
all his life!
One morning his neighbor told him in strictest
confidence the price of grains would go sky-high. How
high? Ziddiq asked. He quoted a figure. Ziddiq said,
”impossible.” As soon as his neighbor was gone he
called his eldest son to find what were the prices for
items written in his list. His son came back with his
findings. After reading it he was astounded! A sack of
barley cost only three copper pieces!”
Having ordered for as much as could be bought he had
a problem: ”Where to stock them?”
He knew just the place. He had a large warehouse
where his father put away every thing he had no
immediate use for. Just as his forefathers had done in
the past. It was bursting in its seams as the
expression is. He called a few servants and asked them
to clear up that place. Nothing was to be spared.
Hour’s later servants came to report. They said his
orders were carried out except for a carpet, which was
of size 64”by 37 inches.
“I am in no mood for checking the size of a carpet.”
“But master,” said Samir, ”It was made somewhere in
Samarqand probably late 17th century. It is silk. If
you ask me it is one of the finest.” “Shut up!”Ziddiq
yelled, ”Who asked you for your opinion?”
The silk carpet was decorated with a mihrab design
(a cusped arch with geometric motifs) in the field
counterpoised with arabesque in the spandrels. A
stylized floral pattern running around the edges
completed the piece.
He ordered the laborers to set light to it. “I
shall not have this nonsense here!” The menials balked
at the idea. They pleaded. “A thing of beauty,
master!”Samir cried. He became enraged at the word
beauty and he shoved them aside.
“A thing of beauty such as this has a life of its
own.” Kalam added his. They all pleaded with tears in
their eyes. With uncontrollable rage he pushed them
aside. He himself torched it and said, ”There, you try
to teach me beauty!” He was in a rage. He said, “You
all live a life of ease because I pay you wages in
time. Be gone!” He was so worked up.
That day Ziddiq went home very late. He was tired
but he had found a place for thousands and thousands
of sacks of grains, which came in a convoy one after
the other. Only seeing them secured for the night
eased his fury somewhat. Then he saw how his son had
put his men to guard it. He had done well, and the
father’s heart swelled with pride. The young man gave
him the keys and the accounts and left for home.
Mentally Ziddiq calculated the profit he stood to
make and that made him laugh. In a happy frame of mind
he followed his son.
He went home to eat his frugal supper. Even when he
went through the motions of the nighttime prayer he
had only one thought. He would make all his rivals
bite the dust. So much profit he stood to make. He
wandered through the house and secured the doors for
the night.
At the time he was about to lie down he thought he
heard a knocking sound. As if some were shifting
things around somewhere. So distinct it sounded. His
wife lay asleep. He checked into his sons’ room. They
were also asleep.
“Clickety-Click,” he heard. “It must be from across
the river,” said he. He put out the candle and lay in
bed. The same sound again. “Clikety-Clack!”
”Clikety-Klak!” The sounds came louder this time. He
thought it came from his drawing room. It was distinct
and very ominous. With each minute the clicking sound
went louder and louder. He could not sleep with such
an infernal noise. Again he got out. He lit a candle,
which he could barely hold for fright.
He peeped into the parlor.
There was an intruder!
And he had settled himself in the middle of the
parlor as if he owned the place. He felt a murderous
rage struggling with his fear at the scene presented
before him.
Across the parlor stood a weaving frame; and a very
old man with sad look in his deep-set eyes, went on
working. “What on earth!” It was all he could say. His
fear swallowed the rest of the sentence. Instead a
squeal. Even that did not distract the wizened
intruder. The ghastly apparition of a weaver did not
look up nor acknowledge his presence. Instead he was
bent over the frame intently checking his work. Having
satisfied himself he went on knotting the fibres and
cutting the knots to make naps. Ziddiq had no idea
whether his eyes were deceiving him or some rival of
his was hell-bent for mischief. Before his very eyes
filmed with fear and pricked with hate the old weaver
went on and on. His hands flew over the carpet while
adjusting the warp and the woof without missing a
beat. So free and fluid his movements were. As if he
had been doing it all his life and could have done
even while asleep.
He was masterly in his work.
Ziddiq stood there transfixed. Clickety-click,
clinkety-clank!
Clinkety-clank, So went on the loom while the room
was lit by a spot of light that hovered around the
design, which was becoming clearer with each motion of
his hands. Ziddiq would have screamed but his voice
died silently. The weaver looked at him with sad eyes
that in its hurt, without any rancor whatsoever, no
stab-wound would have come anywhere near. It twisted
his heartstrings beyond endurance.
Ziddiq could only twitch in response.
He trembled uncontrollably when the spectre of a
weaver looked once towards him. Those eyes now seemed
to challenge him. The infernal intruder said, “ My
life was in that carpet. Now I must weave another
because you so callously destroyed it.”
Having said his piece he continued with his task as
if he were alone in his own workshop. He was sad as
before and yet, very resolute. As if he knew he could
do it. Without tiring himself. Ziddiq could do nothing
but watch in horror. He went hot and cold as an
exquisite design began to take shape before his eyes.
Clikety-clack! Clickety-click! The weaver went on
without stopping and he was inhuman that he could draw
for his carpet filaments out of thin air! He wanted to
scream but nothing. He stood there petrified!
Poor Ziddiq! While the swirls of design now settled
down to a pattern he felt short of breath! As if the
ground under his feet gave way to something
insubstantial, and the walls melted and flowed about
him. Clickety-click! clikety- Clak! went on the loom
unrelenting. ‘Clickety-click! Clikety-clak!’ It went
on enveloping everything else.

Next morning the City awoke to some astounding news.
Where the ancestral home of Ziddiq stood nothing ever
remained but a prayer mat. No one could well explain
what occurred in the small hours of the night.
Samir and Kalam came as usual to take orders from
their master. Instead they were witnesses to
something, which no one could explain. There stood not
a trace of the master’s house! Some one had cleaned up
the old wooden beamed house with terrace and balcony
and not even a door hinge lay there; the wrought-iron
washstand where their master always went for wash
before prayers was missing; the folding stool and the
holy book also had vanished! Except a prayer mat.
Passers-by came over by curiosity and all that they
saw was the curiously wrought prayer mat. Nothing
else!
Samir could not take his eyes off it. It didn’t
explain the mystery! Still bewildered he stood there.
Finally he commented, ”A crazy-quilt pattern. I see
Master’s profile his beard and all- so distinct. What
do you think, Kalam?”
“I do not think anything,” Kalam replied, “But the
mat will make some money for a second-hand dealer.”
The End

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