We got into the taxi, driven by a miscellaneous, Loloik Ven, who had a chartreus

colored chest, which looked like a plain T-shirt, and russet legs. The word 'taxi' was

embroidered on the side of his chest like a birthmark. He was quite astounded to hear

our destination was in fact, his own neighborhood.

'Yah allowed tuh go there?' he asked in a musical fashion, 'cuz it would matter tuh

yah parents who kill me a lot then! '

'Oh yes,' Nin replied very sweetly, 'you see, we have permission to go there because

it is part of our special project, uh Jeter? ' she quickly nudged him after seeing Ven's

face that was frozen with skepticism, 'show him your mother's approval.'

Jeter did not seem to understand at first and her a fixed stare of his own.

'On your PAD,' she reminded him while laughing, and secretly giving him the

widened eyes look. 'You are so forgetful!' she really knew how to sheathe herself in

saccharine.

This was an ingenious move on Nin's part because Jeter's PAD was linked to the

kitchen organizer, something that Mrs. Kit had approved due to her son's clever play

on words. Thus, it all kind of came into place.

'Right, right,' he said while clicking away and turning the screen to place Ven, 'here

it is. '

Her signature appeared on the PAD, but even so he appeared to be a little

unconvinced. After all, a travel to the miscellaneous side was quite unconventional

for the eliteratti children. If he got caught, it was the end of his career.

'You sure it is allowed?' he asked doubtingly.

Jeter quickly pressed the side button of the PAD, making it look like a casual

mistake, when the subsequent message, rendered the action quite erased due to its

own magnitude:

'Of course it is ALLOWED! Stop asking me that! ' shrieked the unexpected voice of

Mrs. Kit from the PAD.

Jeter quickly took his device from Ven's hand, and held it to his ear.

'What's that mom? I never even realized you were listening to our conversation.

Yes, yes, I know you always listen. Oh no, the nice taxi car man will not be bothering

you again. What's that? Give him a generous tip for his good job? Of course, mom. I

am not the son of Hiseff Kit for nothing, 'he went on with what was absolutely

brilliant rhetoric, 'right. Love you too. Bye. '

Jeter looked up at the taxi driver with both his eyebrows raised, and Ven without any

more questions, revved up his car, and made for where Left Arrow was.

'It will be a forty five minute drive with the Ferozin route on the east side here as

opposed to the one hour and twenty minute drive on Ravi road, 'he said as part of

traditional driver lingo. They were masters of the road after all.

As for Jeter's little trick, he tapped a message on his PAD for us to see, which

explained how he had asked his mother before leaving for school in the morning, if it

was allowed for the children to attend the carnival at night. At first, Mrs. Kit thought

her son was being playful with his 'light' question, but as he asked her one too many

times, she lost her cool, and provided Jeter with the perfect dialogue to record for

misquoting purposes later as demonstrated.

Of the drive itself, all of us agreed with one another that it was very short. Or

perhaps the phrase “time flies when you're having fun” applied too appropriately to

the situation.

After crossing a barren and empty desert like terrain that marked the distance

between the two areas, we finally made it into the land of the miscellaneous. The one

word that came to all our minds, unanimously describing the new area was: crowded.

Or perhaps we felt that way because there were a lot of compact spaces as opposed to

the enormity of Right Arrow, the lesser used name describing the land of the eliteratti.

'I can't believe we're actually here,' Jeter said.

There were lots of tiny houses, and very ground level type buildings, contrasting

once again with the eliteratti, in that there were no skyscrapers. However, the

miscellaneous side of Silverns needed no outer appearance to depict its grandeur,

because what it lacked in showmanship, it made up in the tremendousness of spirit

that the little structures housed.

As we got off, I told Ven to stand by; we were going to go back in his taxi. He

agreed after he got a load of half of the gracious amount he had earned for his service.

Taking out the petition from my bag, all of us agreed it best to just start going in to

random places and asking for signatures.

'This will either be done without any hindrance or this will be the most tiresome

endeavor ever, 'Harris said. Certainly what he said was true, as probabilities are

always an active part of existence. But gray areas were also gaining fashion, of which

I stood as a prime example.

We decided to enter the bakery first. All of the services of the miscellaneous were

taken up by the eliteratti but in giving them their due respect, is where the latter would

falter badly. Without the assistance of the miscellaneous they would crumble.

Because they would not cook for themselves, drive themselves, clean their

environment, or other basic natural things intrinsic to life since they did not look the

part. This stubbornness of purpose and belief that the miscellaneous only harboured

menial job births, were two age old myths that had to be confronted. And dissolved.

The bakery was a quaint little mushroom shaped cottage with the most ubiquitous

heavenly aroma I had ever smelt. The baker was a short, stout man with a belching

stomach, and a thick, bushy mustache that curled on both ends, complementing his

luxuriantly fluffy eyebrows. He had a white chest and similarly snowy arms, with a

red apron like skin flap skirting around below his abdomen. He had a silvery buttons

trail from his collarbone to his navel, and a blue ribbon that said “baker” tied around

his neck, with the bow right below his chin. The quintessential baker look was

completed with his toque blanche that was pleated and starched, just the way every

chef's hat always is.

'Asalam mualai kum,' greeted Harris, 'we want to speak to you about something

very important. '

The baker stopped kneading the dough before him and looked up at us in the most

befuddled way.

'Do you need to order something urgently?' he asked in a perfectly poised and

eloquent way. The miscellaneous spoke just as the eliteratti did, after all!

'No, no, nothing to order this time around, good friend,' Harris replied in a

reassuring manner.

'I have not had any of the eliterattis visit my shop in a while,' the baker added, 'my

delivery boy Arjit Yoongi takes my items to your part of life, and he is out on one of

his errands right now. '

'That is great,' Jeter interceded, 'and may I just add what a fantastic job you are

doing. And also how we really appreciate you. I mean, I know for a fact that our

dinner table is incomplete without BaBa Goushi's baked bread. '

BaBa Goushi, as I learned the baker's name, was in complete shock. He found it really

difficult to comprehend how a couple of eliterattis were being so kind to him. It was a

lot to take in. It became even more overwhelming, when I spoke next.

'We are here to ask for your signature on this petition,' while saying so I took out

the form and put it in front of him, 'with this form there will be no more demarcations

between the miscellaneous and the eliteratti. '

His disbelieving eyes grew more and more wide. This was a taboo topic. Nobody

dared to question the natural order of life. And here was a group of eliteratti children

before him and one unidentified individual. How could the miscellaneous mingle with

the elites?

Gauging the situation, I had to press him a little more.

'Do not be frightened. Remember your history. Someone now known as different,

inferior, was part of the golden quartet that founded this town. Nobody decided this

distinction except the eliteratti. They claimed to be more cultured and with a general

right to the better in life, 'I pressed the paper closer to him,' sign this and become part

of the revolution that will change something. '

I leave that what that something will be for him to choose and decide.

He was still so unsure and scared.

'But, the eliteratti are still naturally superior. They possess all that is better. '

At this point, I was reminded of the famous experiment carried out by Jane Elliot,

several years ago that Nin and I had been discussing. She had found this forbidden

miscellaneous book, detailing the experiment, from the restricted section of her school

library. It catalogued the miscellaneous way of life and was never of any interest to

the other elitist children, who were way too busy perfecting the ways of their birth at

their so called institute of higher learning. An aspect that made this even more tabooish was its affiliation with the African teacher who was one of the original founding

members.

The lady who conducted this experiment was also a teacher; in today's terms she

would be a miscellaneous, but back in those days being a miscellaneous was no

concept. People used to make a big deal out of skin colors. That is rather strange for

a resident of Silverns, since here, bodies have a much different genetic set up.

Silverns residents' skin color comes in all different styles and patterns. These styles

and patterns indicate the profession you are entitled to performing and that

subsequently indicates whether you are an elite or a miss.

Back in Jane Elliot's days, the individual who was in between or without any proper

label was the wheat complexioned one or in cruder terms, the “yellow” one as

opposed to being black or white. Similar to how I am viewed in this town.

But, coming back to Elliot's experiment, she was a preschool teacher who wanted to

teach her students a little bit about racial discrimination through the color of their

eyes as they were all white. She first declared all her students with blue eyes to be

superior in every way: more good looking, more intelligent, and more special. They

received privileges and treated all the other students with brown eyes as inferior and

had a negative reaction towards them. However, the next time in class, she reversed

the exercise and made the brown eyed children superior. A repetition of all the acts

took place, except that there was on discrepancy. The brown eyed students treated

their blue eyed peers with a lot less vehemence than when the tables were turned.

This seems like a variation of life at Silverns. But like the mind game Elliot played

on those students, so the mind game is played now. A mind game. A mind set.

'Baba Goushi, that is what you are made to believe,' I tried reasoning once more, but

in a more softer and flocculent way, and gave him the pen, 'this will not change until

you believe in yourself. '

Sure enough, he signed. And that was our first signature.

And our target was a thousand.

He told us he would ask his friends to sign as well. So we left one sheet of the

petition with him. On our next trip we would see the progress, which we hoped would

be at equilibrium with our expectations.

After saying goodbye, and Jeter purchasing a freshly baked loaf of bread, that he

would nibble on as we walked, with the sonority of the crunchy texture breaking apart

producing a concert of sensory wonderfulness, we made our way towards the beauty

parlor, “Haseena, Haseena”.

'Beautiful, beautiful! Bellissima, bellissima! ' Harris declared theatrically. And

speaking of theater ...

When we were just a few inches away from entering the parlor, this girl who was

voicing her own thoughts ferociously bumped into Harris, disrupting our rhythm and

disorienting us.

'Pardon me?' Harris exclaimed. He was trying to be the gentleman but clearly it was

the girl's fault.

'There IS no such thing as pardon! I could NEVER pardon them for what they did to

me! ' she manically spoke, spewing anger everywhere.

When she had stopped shuffling about, we got to have a closer look at this

miscellaneous. She was haseen, indeed. She had peach skin that extended into frills

towards her ankles, with white flowers peppered all around. It looked like a long

summer dress. Her hair was golden in muffled thick curls that were tied in a loose

ponytail with a ribbon that read “actress”. It looked as if she was born to play an

Austen character.

'What do you mean?' Nin asked. I could see her view the girl with a curious

admiration.

'And what is your name?' she added.

'My name is Badriya Sonih,' the actress replied with great drama, hot flashes of pink

sprayed all over her face; whatever happened to her really left her blood boiling.

'And… and… oooooff!' she started getting stormy again.

We thought the best course of action would be to just let her cool off first, before we

pressed her with any more questions. Since she really piqued our interest, we were

willing to wait a little.

Finally, she looked at us, a little longer at me, and then spoke in a slightly less

melodramatic style.

'I had been working so hard on a play! It was already such a HUGE bit of luck that

Gregory Wilde - THE Oscar Wilde's great, great grandson's - play came into our

side of the town! And I had been practicing for my role for a week since they had

promised me the lead and now, the director's niece wants it, so there I go! Kicked

out! ' she kicked her leg in the air and clenched her fist, 'he just wants to keep adding

all the Fowie children! '

'Gregory's play?' Nin repeated in an elated manner, 'what is it called?'

'Poppy,' Badriya replied, 'and in keeping with his ancestral roots it details his

grandfather's time period, all that Victorian fin de siècle glamor. '

'Right, right,' Nin said, her smile widening, 'he's my cousin.'

'YOUR cousin?' Badriya was astonished, 'wait you lot aren't from around here?

You are not actors? You are an eliteratti? ' Now it was her eyes that widened instead.

'Even if we are not from around here, it should not make any really big difference to

you, 'Jeter answered, trying to appease the rift that would potentially be created at the

realization that ensued, 'because we come with an agenda of our own, you see.'

'And what exactly is that?' Badriya demanded, a little agitatedly.

'We wanna break down the walls that divide our two sides,' he responded

composedly, 'there should be a left and right for all of us together, as equals.'

'I see,' she went on, a little restrained from before, 'well, since we all have problems

of our own, I guess we ought to be off on our way then! '

She made a little courtesy and started to trot off on the other side.

'Wait,' I spoke at last, 'maybe we could help each other out.'

Badriya stopped and gave her head a little toss, exaggeratedly turned and gave a long

prolonged sigh, with eyes that glistened hope. She was good.

'You want to act in this play, and we need signatures for our petition,' I began and

noticed her step a little closer to me, 'I am sure with the contacts that we have, it

would be easy to get a word from Gregory Wilde himself to have nobody but you

play the part of his leading character. '

Her eyebrows elevated a bit.

'And with that, the director will have to let you do it,' it was probably impulsive,

because in the presence of an actress, my hand movement increased rather

significantly and I gesticulated most of my proposal, 'but for that to happen, you need

to do something for us. Together, we can make changes. '

'I am listening. What would you like me to do? ' she inquired, cautiously.

I took out a piece of parchment from my bag and handed it to her.

'We want you to get as many signatures as you possibly can on this petition. From

your fellow actors, prop dealers, sound technicians, producers, director, basically the

entire dramaturgical family until we meet again, which will be tomorrow. '

‘I see,’ she acknowledged while turning the piece of paper around, ‘but tell me in

precise terms, WHY. Everyone will want to know the reason behind their signatures.’

‘This is a petition,’ I spoke with an instructive mien, ‘that will be presented in the

eliteratti court that will specify that the residents of Silverns town do not want to be

restricted to doing what they were born to do only, and that there be no more tags of

eliteratti and miscellaneous.’

Badriya gave me a reflective look, and then spoke, ‘do you honestly not think that

the eliteratti, no matter how many signatures you manage to get from Left Arrow,

could even be a thousand, will hush each and every one of them? They have the

power.’

I was dumbstruck by this observation.

‘Look, the residents of Left Arrow do not even have a legal system, because here a

miscellaneous has never been born into law, how can they? When law is strictly an

elitist point? So we have nobody to properly represent us. What you have is a dream,

and dream it will remain, so go back to sleep, at least you will be happier there, 'she

soberly acquiesced.

'No! Those are not dreams! Those are nightmares! And we are in the middle of a

crisis, where those nightmares have become daymares, 'I spoke with a surge of

passion running through my veins, 'if we do not stand up now, have any voice that

breathes discord, the eliteratti will never be shaken from this complicit self appointed

reign. '

'Think it over,' she told me, 'you are just going to be wasting your time.'

Badriya then started to walk away, and I followed her.

'Without the miscellaneous, the entire life of opulence and fancy that the eliteratti

have been leading will crumble, because none of that is possible without the domestic

help they receive from here! ' I spoke breathlessly. Not only did I have to talk louder,

but also at a quickened pace since she was a fast walker, and the risk of losing her was

looming above my head. She seemed valuable, as she had a way of command through

her speech.

But there was no use. I lost her. In between the crowd of clothes washers,

construction workers, and sweepers, the girl with the enchanting hair had disappeared.

After struggling to find the way back to my solicitous friends, we all realized it was

getting dangerously late and close to the time of departure. We had to leave Left

Arrow immediately before any of them really did receive a phone call from their

parents!

We went back to Ven and were on the road once more. There was a lot that was

discussed, particularly how compact the isle of the miscellaneous was and how we

met two polar oppositional views in one day alone. BaBa Goushi was so

sentimentally charged and adamant on helping bring some form of revolutionary

change, whereas Badriya just did not see things the way we did. And to top it all of,

we lost her without engaging further.

One aspect was certain, I was going to find and talk to Badriya one more time on our

return. Since she was integrated firmly within the miscellaneous sphere, we had to

make sure we were on the same page. And if we could not convince one of the

miscellaneous then how could we persuade the eliteratti?