And God Said “Let There Be Light”

“And so, children, that is the story of how our sun was extinguished forty-eight years ago. Any questions?” The old man peered at his classroom.

A diminutive boy raised his hand. “Why did it happen?”

“My boy, no one’s entirely sure about that. Maybe something got to the sun. Who knows? But luckily, we are home to some truly phenomenal scientists. We survived without the sun. Obviously. No one can say how long we can continue like this but by then, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

The old man watched as the pupils filed out of the class amidst the screeching of the bell. His was the last generation to see the sun. Now? Nobody frolicked in the fields anymore. Nobody played Tag in the sun. Nobody set out with their easel and painted under the sunlight. The first few months were arduous. The callousness of people was something no one had ever truly witnessed until the day the sun blew its fuse.

***

The old man sauntered along the streets. His flashlight wobbled in his arthritic hands. He looked around with his light. No one hurried anymore. Time was distorted when it was night all the time. He whistled merrily. Who needed light to have a bit of fun?

Walking ahead, he caught himself just before disaster struck. Here was an empty patch. A void of nothingness. A Gap in the world. Some theorised that the Almighty was a bit sloppy in his work. Others said the Almighty was slow. The Gaps would fill themselves with time, they said. No one knew what happened to those who fell into the Gaps. “The Almighty brought them home,” lectured the priests. The old man chuckled at the thought of it.

***

Alone sat a little art studio. It was a desolate place. It was a queer place. Some canvases were covered with cloths as black as a moonless night. Others were turned towards the wall. Shelves full of art supplies sat locked up. Dust enveloped them. Some canvases hung on the wall. They shared the same signature. Raina Mishra. Tucked away in drawers sat photographs of a young man. References. Raina couldn’t stop painting him. Wisps of memories floated around the despondent studio. “We’ll be happy together.” “Ma will love you.” Now the memories were tinged blue with despair.

***

In the little town the old man called home, there resided an elder of some sort. Not that he was elderly. He was the spokesperson for the population. He made decisions. He settled conflicts. He was loved. He was confusing, too. Some days he would have Gaps in him. No one dared to touch him then. Other days he was whole. And he never aged. There were only so many theories the revered ones could come up with. No one could explain this phenomenon. Maybe the Almighty was constantly editing the Elder. This, of course, signified that the Elder was of much value to the Almighty. That, in turn, meant people laid their hearts by his feet. With his help, they put their heads together and adapted to the darkness. And so the town got by. Perhaps the rest of the world did, too. Who knew, though? Communication between nations suffered as electricity rates grew, budget cuts occurred, and other such responses to the sun.

***

Raina trudged up the muddy streets to her art studio. Waves of memories and nostalgia hit her in the face. It had been, what, two years? Slowly, as if forcing herself to, she walked in. She looked at the pile of covered-up canvases. And she looked away. A scowl travelled up her face. Her eyes narrowed. She had treasured him once. She painted his face on every surface. She had imagined life with him. She had let her mind wander down paths she now shunned. She once painted him full of life. Rosy-cheeked. Brimming with vitality. Prancing around the canvas. Now her hand faltered at the thought of painting him. Her hand shook with the knowledge of what he’d done. To others. To her.

Sometimes she would catch herself looking at a photo of him and wondering when the change happened. Was it after she had to cancel their summer trip? Was it when his father left this world? Or was this part of him always tucked deep within? Raina sometimes wondered if she should have just taken a step back and assessed things more clearly. Maybe she was so deep in his web she lost herself within.

She was just a girl of twenty-six now. A minor when they met. “You’re more mature than girls your age,” he had told her, tucking a lock of her hair. She had believed him. She had destroyed a part of herself in the process.

***

The old man clasped his hands. “I think we’re done for the day.”

“Sir, what did the sun look like?” It was that girl the old man was fond of.

“Well… it was not a concrete shape of sorts. Think light. It was just light. Everywhere. From all angles. The sky was lit a brilliant blue. Pastures shone like emeralds. Butterflies danced in the sky.”

“What are butterflies?”

“Hm? Oh. Uh… they were these insects with wings that came in all the colours of the rainbow. You know, the band of light that comes out when the sunlight hits water droplets just right. We discussed it, right? Anyway, real shame all the treasures of this world died out. And that is why history is important. Anyway, off you go. Don’t want your maths teacher yelling at me, do we?”

***

Raina walked into her studio. She walked towards a canvas that sat on a magnificent easel and uncovered it. She took out the matchbox from her pocket and lit a match. But then she faltered. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Years of effort. She couldn’t just burn the love she once had for him. Nor her anger. They weren’t flammable. No, she needed to channel them. She sighed and blew out the match. She covered the canvas again and walked out. But in her head, she made a decision. She wasn’t going to wait any longer. She knew what to do.

***

“Children, children. Settle down. Okay, I want to discuss what happened yesterday. Can any of you recap?”

“Light!” piped up an eager voice.

“Exactly! As we all saw, the world lit up for a brief five minutes! And interestingly, there was a sudden flare of more light. No one has ever seen that before. Anyway, I’m sure some of you discovered some new things about the world in that time, short as it was. Want to share?”

“I didn’t know tulips were pink.”

“And I didn’t know Mama had a wart.”

The old man stifled a chuckle. “That’s… fascinating but I was referring to discoveries about the world.”

“Why did that happen?”

“Well, it only happened yesterday, so no one really knows yet. But as usual the priests take the name of the Almighty. ‘He’s taken pity on us,’ they say.”

“Does this mean there’s a chance of… you know?”

“Maybe.” The old man smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing.

***

One year and two months later, news filled the town. Headlines excitedly jumped across town. “Scientists Find Possible Cure to Darkness”, “Is the Gloom Over?” and so on. Excited pupils clambered into the classroom. Questions arose into the air, clouding it with inquiry and curiosity and eagerness.

The old man waved his hands. “Settle down, settle down. All in due course. Great. Now let’s discuss. So, do not be fooled by the news on TV. For those of you who have a TV. Scientists have not found a cure. No, instead they have built a rocket that will fly close to the dome of our planet and inspect it. We are simply investigating this darkness. I’m afraid to quell your hopes, but we are far from a cure. However, we are one step closer.”

***

Five days after Raina nearly burnt her canvases, she strode into the studio. She had a plan. Well, it wasn’t really a plan, per se, for it was not some grand, magical journey that would cure everything. But she would do something. She would show her tale to the world.

She uncovered every single canvas depicting him. She opened the tinted windows, letting light hit every corner, every painting. She let her eyes wander past every last one, taking in the details she meticulously painted. Some canvases still had gaps in them. Unpainted, unfinished areas. This one showed him addressing a group of people. Clad in white. A sign of chastity and purity. Wisdom. Like some sort of village elder. Worry painted some people’s faces, hope for others. That one showed him strolling in a forest. This one? The one she would paint today? It would change everything.

Squeezing out paint, calmly filling up the canvas with neat brushstrokes, Raina told her story. She splashed his wrongdoings on canvas for everyone to see.

***

The old man strolled home. Another typical day. He was tired. His thoughts sank into the folds of his mind slowly like it was quicksand. Perhaps it was time he retired.

Light. Suddenly, there was light. Everywhere. The old man felt his jaw drop. And the light stayed. And it stayed some more. The world was illuminated again. A curious sound escaped the old man’s throat. He looked around, people mirroring his expression of utter bewilderment. If he could, he would have pranced and skipped around town just then.

For the first time in a long while, hope thickened in the air. It was an odd sort of hope. The old man felt like the light was just at the tip of his fingers, at risk of slipping away easily. But nonetheless, his lips stretched in a smile.

***

The old man switched on his TV. It was hard to afford one in this economy, but teachers were paid well. Relatively. After all, in these times, their job was more important than ever. He turned on the news. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“What?” he whispered to himself. He watched as the anchor described the Elder’s lewd activities. This couldn’t possibly be true. But as they say, there’s no smoke without a fire. How could women ever trust the Elder ever again? For that matter, how could anyone? The old man had only met the Elder once, but everyone knew of his magnanimity and gloriousness. He addressed the people in trying times. He led protests against deforestation. He did so much. The old man recollected how the Elder would always be clad in white. A sign of chastity and purity. Wisdom. Perhaps power went to his head. Perhaps he was always a bad apple backstage. You could never trust these high-profile people.

***

Raina sat in the studio, staring. A painting sat in front of her, half-complete. There. Distressed women. Here. Shackles. There. Him. Gleeful. Her eyes swept past all the details.

Wait. Something caught the corner of her eye. Movement, maybe? She could have sworn she saw something in her painting. Ludicrous as it sounded. She shook her head at herself and continued painting.

Raina was brought up with strict morals. Knowing what he did behind her back pierced her heart. Knowing what he did to her, what she refused to see. So she let it all out. She painted and painted until she was tired. She covered up her canvases with the black cloth and left.

***

“So, children, there have been some interesting findings from the recent rocket mission. Shall we find out?”

Inquisitive murmurs arose in the air like a dust cloud.

“First of all, we have—sort of—found a reason for the darkness. Turns out, our planet has been enveloped by some sort of dark material. Scientists are not sure what it is. What’s even more fascinating? Scientists prodded it a bit and managed to poke a hole in it.”

“Poke a hole? So it must be firm then.”

“Well, it’s hard to explain. And I’m only telling you whatever I’ve found out. They said it’s a very curious material. Kind of viscous. Kind of firm. Kind of sludgy. Do any of you live near or in Town 5? No? Hm. Well, a ray of light hit the town from that hole. Scientists have taken a sample of the odd substance for further investigation.”

***

Raina headed into the studio. She gasped. There was a gaping hole in the black cloth covering one of the canvases. She didn’t think there was a mouse problem. But she couldn’t be sure. Shrugging to no one at all, she took her paint, uncovered all the canvases, and painted a fresh canvas. As always, it was of the same world she dreamt about. In her head, she imagined lush forests, dazzling skies, never-before-seen animals… Her escape from reality. She rested her elbow against the canvas and filled in the majestic sky. Orange, pink, yellow, blue. Some purple.

***

Light again. As random as ever. The old man barely blinked at the sight of it anymore. He looked up at the sky and let his mind wander away.

Wait. The old man stared, confused. His mind raced. He rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses. He was hallucinating. He was sure of it.

There was a hand. A giant hand floating in the sky. Nothing more than a faint outline. The silhouette-hand zoomed across the sky, back and forth. Colours bloomed across the sky in the hand’s wake. Orange, pink, yellow, blue. Some purple. The Gaps in the sky were filled. The old man fell to his knees.

***

Raina walked into the gallery, all decked up in her chic black dress. She drifted through the throng and headed to the spot. The spot. No one recognised her. That was okay. They saw her story. They saw her canvases hung on the wall. They saw her tale of love and grief and betrayal. They saw the bright paint swirling around on the canvas, telling a story. Raina let her eyes traverse the canvases, taking in the progression of her tale. There he was. On the last canvas. Old and miserable. Raina smiled.

Raina never stopped painting her fantasy world. She would add a new forest. A new town. A new Elder to replace him.

Just like how her canvases were free from the black shrouds, Raina was free from the ache in her heart. It was still there. But now it had conviction. Direction.

***

It had been two years since the sun came back to life. The old man had feared he would die without ever seeing the sun again. But now? Life went back to normal. People frolicked in the fields. Children played Tag in the sun. Artists set out with their easels and painted under the sunlight. As for the old man? He took his students out and taught in nature. He took them on field trips.

Even now, the world was still expanding. Occasionally a Gap would be filled with a tree, a mountain, a person. Occasionally new towns would arise. And the Elder? Well, he was imprisoned. And he had aged horribly. Perhaps his sins washed over him. Hopefully the new Elder would fare better.

Ever since the ominous hand-in-the-sky incident, donations to temples grew tenfold. People didn’t know who the Almighty was. They didn’t know why the Almighty was expanding their universe. Or even how. But the Almighty had restored their sun. And for that they were thankful.