Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Rehanul Hoque

(1)

“Mom, look at that beautiful house with the stunning white dome over there!” Hicky cried out in excitement. “See how the arches and those tall, grand pillars hold up the huge roof with its sleek glass railings, capturing every beam of light. Just look at how the sun’s rays hit the glass, scattering in a dazzling display and turning the entire rooftop into a lukewarm zone. In this chilling winter, it might be that the warmth of the sun seeps into the smooth surface, making it glow with a gentle, golden hue. The pigeons living there must be drinking life to the lees, how happy are they! I guess standing by the railings, one could almost feel the energy of the sun, as if the light itself was alive, weaving a spell of brilliance over the entire space, isn’t it so, mom!

Mom, look, look again! Look at all those carts filled with potatoes, wheat, and corn going into that house,” he exclaimed, eyes wide with wonder. “If we were there, we wouldn’t have to starve anymore! It’s like a dreamland. I don’t understand why we’re stuck living in this slum when that place exists. But one day, I’ll be there. Just wait and see—I’m going to make it there.”

While Hicky spoke to his mother, she busied herself with peeling corn in the wheat field half a kilometre away from the house, her mind seemingly distant from his words. Yet, his final sentence struck her like a bolt of lightning, pulling her back to reality. She turned to him, her face pale with fear.

Don’t say that, my boy,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. “That house is cursed—no one who enters ever returns. Your father went there once, promising he’d be back by afternoon, but he never came back. You had an uncle, younger than me, who ventured there, and we lost him forever. I’ve already lost all your siblings. You’re my only hope now, my sheet anchor. I can’t bear to lose you too. If you go there and something unexpected happens, how will I ever bear?”

Hicky felt a surge of emotion but couldn’t quite understand his mother. She was such an enigma to him, her behavior often so rude that he sometimes wondered if she was truly his own mother or just a cruel stepmother. Rarely did a day pass without her mocking his ability to provide food and other necessities. But how could she expect so much from him? After all, he was just a child, born in the last, most merciless summer.

While his friends spent their days playing, going to school, and learning from their elders, Hicky stayed behind to help his mother. Yet, despite all he did, she still ridiculed him. Her words stung deeply, and whenever she lashed out, Hicky felt an overwhelming urge to leave the house and never return. But the next moment he would forget everything. After all, both the mother and son had none else than themselves.

Hicky and his mother lived in a small chamber within a vast but impoverished rat territory. Like most of the other rat families in the area, they struggled to make ends meet. Their meager earnings were further burdened by a heavy tax imposed by the rat leader, a dictator who cared little for the welfare of his subjects despite the high taxes he collected. However, Hicky’s mother was a beautiful young rat, and her charm did not go unnoticed by the tax collector. Smitten by her, he had exempted her from the tax a few times and often brought her gifts during his visits. As time passed, his visits became more frequent, not for the purpose of collecting taxes, but to seek her company.

At first, Hicky’s mother resisted his advances, her heart recoiling at his intentions. Yet, as time wore on, the burden of poverty and the persistent gaze of lustful eyes began to wear her down. Eventually, she seemed to acquiesce to his proposal, for how long could a young lady, faced with such relentless desire, continue to resist? Thus, she would often be found departing with the tax collector, leaving Hicky alone, either at home or at work. Hicky had no way except to gaze at the clouds of the western sky.

It was the end of the harvest season. The once-bountiful fields of wheat, potatoes, and other crops now lay barren, leaving only stalks behind. This was the most perilous time for the rat community. Each year, during this season, nomadic Santals would arrive to hunt the rats, destroying their homes in the process. The rats were killed mercilessly, sometimes by drowning their burrows with water, other times by suffocating them with smoke. The elder rats would cry out in desperation, while the young ones cowered in fear. The female rats screamed in terror, and the young males scattered, searching for refuge or preparing to defend their colony. However, the king and queen of the rat community, along with the royal members, lived in the most fortified burrows, protected by warrior rats. They rarely faced such dangers directly. Because by the time the invaders reached their stronghold, the royal rats had already fled to safety.

Once in such a fateful winter noon, when the cold air cut sharply through the hilly expanse of the wheat field, the Santals arrived with a grim purpose. The field, usually quiet with only the stalks swaying listlessly, had become an arena of chaos. The setting sun cast long shadows across the field, illuminating the gateways to an ancient rat territory hidden beneath the surface. The once-hidden entrances were now starkly visible, thanks to the golden light that seemed to strip away the veil of secrecy.

The Santal, their eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and malice, approached the rat domain with a fervor that suggested a long-held greed of a starving population. They wielded their tools with ruthless efficiency—shovels, sticks, and even their bare hands—as they began their assault on the rat homes. The air filled with the sounds of destruction: the screeching of the rats, the clatter of falling debris, and the grunts of the Santal as they dismantled the intricate tunnel systems. With every violent thrust, they tore apart the rat houses, sending fragments of earth and broken wood flying into the air. The stores of food, painstakingly hoarded by the rats over countless seasons, were plundered with equal savagery. Shelves of dried seeds, grains, and scraps were scattered across the field, their contents strewn and trampled underfoot. The larger rats, their beady eyes wide with terror, darted frantically through the collapsing tunnels, while the smaller ones squeaked in panic, their tiny bodies scurrying in vain to escape the onslaught.

The Santal’s laughter mingled with the tumult, a cruel counterpoint to the disarray they wrought. Every rat—whether captured alive or found dead—was seized without mercy. The field, once a haven of quiet, now resembled a battlefield strewn with wreckage. They only left the place when it was completely dark and they could no longer continue their offensive operations. Meanwhile, Hicky and his mother were away, searching for dairy goods in the nearby milking community. They were unaware of the devastation that had unfolded in their absence. When they finally returned, their homecoming was marked by shock and disbelief. The once-familiar landscape was now a scene of utter ruin. The rat territory lay in tatters, the remnants of the raid scattered like fallen leaves. Their serene world had been transformed into a wasteland of destruction, a stark reminder of the harshness that had descended upon their lives. Hicky and his mother madly ran all around to find any of the last remnants of their sweet home, but all their efforts ended in smoke.

Seeing the ruins, his mom lamented her fate and cried hoarse- She had lost her husband and all her children while still young, and now, with an indifferent son who did nothing and the loss of her lifetime’s savings, she wondered, What’s the use of living? Where could she possibly go now? God seemed cruel and ruthless—how, in a world full of wealth, with grand houses and mansions all around, had He chosen to destroy her humble home? How could He take away the little that a widow had? Despair crept into her thoughts, and she even considered suicide. She remembered her childhood friend, Milky, who belonged to the Lemming tribe. Milky had ended his life by jumping from a cliff into the choppy sea. How peaceful he must have been in those final moments, free from the trials and tribulations of this miserable life! She envied his escape. Surely, there was no reason to continue living this way. These dark thoughts consumed her, leaving her paralyzed with hopelessness. But just as the darkest clouds hold a glimmer of light, a change was on the horizon. Good days awaited her. Out of nowhere, the robust tax collector appeared from behind.

“Where have you been, my love? I searched for you everywhere,” the tax collector exclaimed and hearing the familiar voice Hicky’s mother turned toward him. Her lover, the tax collector, stood there, tears welled in her eyes as she nestled into his chest. He wrapped her in a tight embrace. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’m always here for you,” he reassured her gently.

Without another word, the tax collector led her to his home, located deep within the well-fortified zone of the town, untouched by the chaos that surrounded them. Hicky, though not invited, quietly followed them. The winding, narrow paths leading to the house were like a maze, so intricate that even a rat might struggle to find its way through—let alone an outsider like a Santal. After what felt like an endless 35 minutes, they arrived at the tax collector’s mansion.

The house was grand, with many rooms, but all were already occupied. The tax collector had three other wives and many children, and now, as his fourth wife, Hicky’s mother was granted a room of her own. Since Hicky was not the tax collector’s biological child, there was naturally no place for him in the mansion.”. The tax collector never spoke it aloud, but the displeasure etched across his face made his feelings about Hicky’s presence all too clear. Nonetheless, he allowed both mother and son a brief moment of time together.

Hicky’s mother noticed everything. Whether she felt sorrow for her son’s fate remained a mystery, as it always had. Still, in a soft voice, she spoke to him gently, “My dear boy, you see, I’m still young—poor and helpless. I have no shelter, no food, nothing of my own and you cannot provide for me. So, I believe it would be wise not to become a burden on you. Instead, focus on yourself. The whole world lies ahead of you. My blessings will be always there for you. You’ll succeed, I know it.”

Hicky looked at her, his heart heavy. “Mom, you’re only thinking of yourself. Have you ever considered how I’ll survive if you leave me like this? I’m alone too, in this vast world, and I can’t bear to lose you. Please, just give me some time—I promise I’ll meet all your expectations.”

But his mother refused. “You know I’m new in this house. If you’re to stay, you’ll have to share my room, and my husband won’t allow that.” Hicky thought of asking for just one night’s shelter, but when he realized that his presence would embarrass her, he resolved not to linger another moment. Saying her goodbye, he set off for the vast world, carrying little but the weight of his isolation. In those final moments, as he turned to look back at his mother one last time, he saw her gazing after him, quietly wiping away her tears.

As Hicky ventured beyond the confines of his familiar territory, torrential rain poured down. The only refuge in sight was a banyan tree in the distance. He sprinted towards it, but by the time he arrived, he was thoroughly soaked and shivering. Seeking shelter, he squeezed into a hollow of the massive tree, only to find misfortune awaiting him. Almost immediately, he sensed the presence of a cobra coiled inside, as if in a deep slumber.

In a surge of panic, Hicky leaped from the hole and began to run frantically, instinctively heading toward the large house that had once served as a refuge for his father and uncle. However, the journey proved treacherous. As he navigated the path, he stumbled into a pool of water, nearly drowning before he managed to scramble to safety.

As if the day’s challenges weren’t enough, Hicky soon encountered a large frog, who eyed him hungrily, envisioning a lavish meal. The frog stalked him with determination. Fortunately, Hicky’s speed saved him; he dashed into the barn of the dream house just in time, collapsing from exhaustion.

(2)

The next day, around 11 a.m., Hicky slowly regained consciousness. His entire body throbbed with excruciating pain, so he made the decision not to move. The barn was serene, a haven of quiet, with an abundance of grain piled high around him. After what felt like ages, Hicky ate to his heart’s content, filling his stomach for the first time in as long as he could remember.

He couldn’t help but marvel at his own foolishness. Here he is now, not far from the colony, in a barn overflowing with grain, and yet he had endured a miserable struggle for survival. There hadn’t been a single day in his memory when could eat with content. Hunger had always gnawed at him. But here, the barn felt like a sanctuary—no one bothered him, the air was still, and a deep calm enveloped the place. With a newfound sense of security, Hicky wandered back and forth through the barn, curiously peeking out to observe his surroundings.

What he saw from his vantage point left him mesmerized. A grand apartment stood in the distance, with towering pillars and intricate graffiti adorning the walls. In the large yard, vibrant flowers bloomed, their colors dancing in the sunlight. Domestic fowls wandered freely, sparrows chirped and flitted about, some even venturing into the barn. To one side of the yard lay a vast pond, bordered by tall cedar and palm trees, their reflections shimmering on the water’s surface.

The sheer beauty of it all captivated Hicky, and for a brief moment, the hardships he had endured—including the painful separation from his mother—faded into the background. He stood there, lost in the peaceful, dreamlike scene, as though the world outside his struggles had ceased to exist.

The day passed in much the same way. Though the sights around him were captivating, Hicky didn’t dare leave the safety of the barn. He decided it was wiser to stay hidden during the day and explore under the cover of night. As soon as the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness fell, he cautiously emerged. The surroundings were bathed in the soft glow of neon lights, illuminating the grand palace. Moving with the utmost stealth, he crept along, making not a sound.

Every corner of the house he passed filled him with wonder. It wasn’t just a beautiful mansion surrounded by trees; it felt like a miniature zoo, teeming with life. In one area, he spotted a collection of exotic animals and birds, each more majestic than the last. Peacocks strutted around proudly, their iridescent feathers sparkled in the artificial light. A group of elegant deer roamed freely within a large enclosure dotted with shrubs, their graceful movements calm and serene. Ducks floated lazily on a pond, their cozy wooden house perched just above the water’s surface. Even the cows and buffaloes enjoyed lavish accommodations, living in a brick-built shelter far more comfortable than anything Hicky had ever known.

He noticed the fish swimming below the duckhouse, happily feasting on leftover food drifting down from above. It was a place where every creature seemed to thrive in luxury. Yet what fascinated Hicky most was a section he came upon, nestled under a long corrugated iron sheet, where mountain rats lived. For the first time in his life, Hicky glimpsed these creatures. They were larger than any rats he had ever seen, their fur sleek and vibrant as if nature had painted them with meticulous care. He marveled at their beauty, scarcely believing that they, too, were rats like him.

Hicky watched from a distance, too afraid to approach. He feared the other animals might not accept him and that his presence would be met with disdain. But as he observed them living so comfortably, a question arose in his mind. How could such a paradise—so full of life and beauty—be the place where his father and uncle had vanished?

His answer came sooner than expected. A sudden mewing reached his ears. Nearby, he caught sight of several cats prowling in the shadows. His heart raced, and fear gripped him tightly. He knew that to stay any longer would mean certain danger. Without a second thought, he turned and dashed back to the barn, his mind swirling with the day’s strange and overwhelming discoveries. The rest of the night, Hicky found himself overtaken by an unfamiliar obsession—one that burned deeper than anything he had ever known. The estate, with its alluring beauty and hidden mysteries, had ensnared his soul, igniting a desire to uncover its secrets. No longer could the threat of hunters curb his curiosity. Like deer who refuse to abandon the forest despite the presence of lions, like birds who continue to sing through the storm, undeterred by the raging winds or like flowers that bloom in the desert, resilient despite the harshness of the barren land, Hicky made up his mind not to forsake the enchanting house. Better, he reasoned, to meet his fate among the refined, cultured rats of this grand house than to starve in the company of the coarse and uncouth creatures beyond its gates. He resolved to visit the aristocratic creatures each night, drawn irresistibly to their beautiful world.

So the next night he again went for the mountain rats. On his way, he encountered a few German shepherds. Though their large, watchful eyes followed his movements, they made no attempt to approach him. Feeling at ease, Hicky continued on his way, soon arriving at the bustling community of rats. He stood in quiet awe in a distance unnoticed by everyone, observing the scene before him. The younger rats played joyfully while the adults gathered in small groups, gossiping. A few couples, lost in a romantic mood, spent time together in quiet corners.

His attention was drawn to an older rat, larger than the rest, with sleek, lustrous fur, large, perceptive eyes, and a high-bridged nose. Around his neck hung a necklace adorned with a pentagon-shaped pendant. Wherever he moved, the other rats bowed their heads in reverence. It was clear to Hicky that this was their king. The regal rat stood atop a small hill, overseeing the lively scene below, with the queen by his side.

Yet, despite the grandeur of the king, it wasn’t him who captivated Hicky. His gaze fell upon a young female rat, a creature of unparalleled beauty, speaking with her companions. From the moment he saw her, Hicky felt an unshakable connection, as though she were his soul mate. His heart stirred, and it felt as if time slowed in her presence. At some point, the queen’s voice rang out, breaking the spell. “Micky, come along, my child, it’s time for dinner.” So that was her name—Micky. From that moment, she was etched permanently in Hicky’s mind, her image becoming an indelible mark upon his soul. Hours later, Hicky returned home, but the memory of Micky lingered. It was the beginning of what would become a story of many sleepless days and nights.

Though Hicky often trailed behind Micky in secret, he never mustered the courage to speak to her. His appearance was far from appealing—he was of low birth, a vagabond, and miserably poor. These facts weighed heavily on his mind, and he felt trapped by his shyness, unable to approach her. Yet, the burden of silence became unbearable, and Hicky resolved to speak to Micky at last. But before he could act on his intentions, fate took an unfortunate turn. One day, while following her from a distance, he was discovered by the royal guards assigned to protect the princess. Angered by his audacity, they swiftly apprehended him and, without mercy, beat him before dragging him to the king.

Hicky’s fortune, however, shifted in an instant. The king, known for his kindness and generosity, ordered the guards to cease their assault on the pitiful boy. Calmly, the king inquired as to why Hicky had trespassed into their land. Trembling, Hicky confessed everything—his father’s mysterious disappearance, his mother’s remarriage, and the loss of his home. Fearing that he would be banished, forced back into a life of hunger and wandering, he made a desperate offer: he would work for the royal household without pay, doing whatever was needed.

Though following the princess was a serious offense, the king, very sensible and wise, saw a different potential in Hicky. Recognizing the boy’s resilience, forged through hardship in the wilderness, he decided that Hicky’s experience could be put to good use. Yet, before making his final decision, the king summoned a council of the royal court. Many members strongly opposed sparing Hicky, but the king reminded them of a past ordeal, when the notorious black cat had attacked, killing two young rats.

It was true that, in the aftermath, the house’s owner had installed iron nets to protect them from further harm. However, the king’s vision extended beyond mere defensive measures. He sought to fortify their kingdom’s self-reliance, proposing the idea of constructing a network of burrows to serve as safe havens in the event of future attacks. The problem, though, lay in their own inability to carry out such a task. Most of the rats in the court had been born within the sheltered walls of the house, unfamiliar with the ancient craft of tunneling underground. Only the king and queen could faintly recall their childhood, when their parents had built intricate tunnels and underground chambers. But even those memories had faded over time, weakened by years of confinement and the need to adapt to a new life. The art of burrowing had long been forgotten.

It was then that the king’s decision became clear. Rather than cast Hicky out as a criminal, the king decreed that the boy would serve as a slave, charged with laborious tasks such as digging burrows and hauling sacks of grain. In doing so, the kingdom would benefit from his wilderness-honed skills. And thus, under the wise and measured judgment of the king, Hicky’s fate was sealed—not as a free boy, but as one bound in servitude, though perhaps to a future more useful than he could have imagined.

(3)

Thus, a new chapter unfolded in the life of Hicky, the humble rat. From the next morning, his days fell into a new rhythm. Rising at the break of dawn, he toiled until the sun dipped beneath the horizon, leaving him little time for leisure. Yet, food was no longer a worry, as he was treated to lavish meals—a privilege far beyond the reach of the rats of his colony. Living within the royal precincts meant that Hicky was served an even finer fare. And there was another delight that brightened his days: glimpses of Micky.

Each time their eyes met, the weight of his labors faded. Occasionally, they even exchanged a few quiet words. Micky, similar to her father, was made of different mettle. Unlike many of the other rats, she harbored a deep love for art, architecture, and sculpture. Over time, she learned of the hardships Hicky had endured, and what began as sympathy blossomed into genuine affection. Before long, they were head over heels in love, utterly devoted to one another.

Those days were filled with sweet memories. As part of his duties, Hicky ventured into the farthest and most secret corners of the underground—a place so eerie it could terrify any rat unfamiliar with its labyrinthine passages. Yet Micky would often seek him out, bringing all sorts of food and sweets she had prepared herself. They would sit together, sharing meals and pouring out their hearts. From Micky’s stories, Hicky learned that she was far from content with the artificial grandeur of court life. Despite her royal status, Micky longed for the simplicity of nature, the honest life of ordinary folk. She found more joy in hard work that brought happiness to others than in enjoying the spoils of someone’s labor. Rather than simply appreciating art, she desired to master the craft of creating it herself. In Hicky, she saw not only a companion but someone whose ingenuity, integrity, and intelligence had earned her unwavering admiration. In him, she found everything she had ever desired.

Their growing closeness did not go unnoticed. But Micky was clever, convincing her parents that Hicky was merely an artist and architect, and that she, being a passionate learner, was receiving lessons from him. She assured them that theirs was a relationship of mentor and student—nothing more. Thus, Micky was granted permission to visit Hicky freely. Though her guards accompanied her, they were forbidden to interfere with the princess’s affairs. In this way, Hicky and Micky found themselves in a world of their own, where their love flourished, and their dreams grew. Together, they imagined a future in which they would found an art school, a place where art and architecture could be taught and shared.

Hicky’s encounters with other rats added to the couple’s wonder. Once, he met a rat from Madagascar, a traveler who had arrived by ship and shared stories of distant lands brimming with exotic flora and fauna. Another time, at a dockyard, Hicky crossed paths with a large rat from Russia, a creature of remarkable endurance, hardened by the bitter cold of concentration camps. This Russian rat, however, was a mercenary, and though Hicky found his tales intriguing, he preferred to keep his distance.

Undoubtedly, Micky could never have experienced such a life until she met Hicky. These stories fascinated her, fueling her desire to explore the world alongside Hicky. They dreamed of journeying together, far beyond the walls of the palace, to discover new lands and to create a life filled with adventure, art, and each other.

But things were far more complicated than they appeared. There was another rat, David—handsome, yet a notorious thug—who was madly in love with Micky and did everything in his power to win her over. He nearly succeeded, too, until Hicky arrived on the scene, shattering the fragile romance that had begun to bloom. David was not one to give up easily. A master of flattery, he had already won over Micky’s parents, weaving his charm around them with honeyed words. He understood well how important Micky were to them, and he exploited that bond, promising that he would care for their daughter, remain eternally loyal, and follow her every command.

Frequently, David would shower Micky with lavish gifts, paying no mind to whether they were stolen or forcefully taken. This brutish rat was infamous among his kind, known for his ruthless ways and for having murdered several innocent rats. Yet he was shrewd enough to justify every crime in a way that made others believe it had been necessary. He once killed a young rat and tried to justify it by claiming the rat had dared to dishonor his mother, using the event to bolster his own reputation. He also claimed to be a Marxist, robbing the rich supposedly to give to the poor. But in truth, David kept everything for himself, masking his greed with lies. Despite all of this, he had convinced others that he was a brilliant war strategist, indispensable in the event of an enemy attack.

Micky, however, saw through his facade. But her parents remained under his spell, refusing to believe the truth. She was powerless to sway their minds.

David, now enraged by his loss in love, sought vengeance. He began spying on Hicky and Micky, collecting evidence of their growing intimacy. Armed with this, he approached Micky’s parents, igniting their fury. They demanded that Hicky be brought before them, and on the way to meet the queen, David took matters into his own hands, unleashing his wrath. He beat Hicky so savagely that the poor rat was barely conscious. Yet, when asked to confess, Hicky could only muster the strength to utter a single, quiet “yes.”

Faced with the judgment of Micky’s parents, Hicky was given a grim choice: exile, with the condition of never returning, or execution. He paused, contemplating his fate. He knew he had to survive, for Micky’s sake, and live to rescue her from the hell David had woven around her. With a heavy heart, Hicky chose exile. However, he didn’t go far away but took refuge in the barn where he came first.

When Hicky was forced to leave, Micky had no knowledge of his departure. She was confined to an unknown place, held against her will, unaware of what had transpired. Though eventually allowed some freedom to roam within the royal grounds, the weight of their separation was unbearable. Micky fell into despair, refusing food, sleep, or comfort, and spent most of her days lost in sorrow. A team of attendants was assigned to care for her, yet nothing could ease her suffering. Her pain only deepened when she gave birth to four of Hicky’s children—two of whom bore a striking resemblance to their father.

The birth of these children left Micky’s parents both embarrassed and distressed. However, they could not bring themselves to harm the innocent babies, despite the shame the situation brought upon them. The real danger arose when the owner of the grand house, during one of his rare visits, discovered the offspring of a common rat among his carefully bred, pureblooded lineage. Not only that, but he found the land now riddled with burrows and complex tunnels, a testament to how much had changed in his absence. Furious at the sight, he immediately ordered the floor to be covered in marble, erasing all traces of the unwanted infestation. As regret filled him, he muttered repeatedly, “I should have been more vigilant. I neglected my duties.” His remorse quickly gave way to uncontrollable rage, and in a fit of anger, he killed the babies with the so-called “impure” blood.

For Micky, this was the final blow. Everything she had cherished was gone. Her world had crumbled, leaving her in the ruins of her grief. Despite their previous actions, both her parents and the owner of the house now spared no effort in trying to restore her happiness. In a cruel twist of fate, David was given the special responsibility of cheering her up. Slowly, insidiously, he succeeded.

Though much time has passed since then, it hasn’t been long since Hicky was last seen in that dream house, desperately trying to rescue Micky from her gilded prison. But alas, not only did David succeed in winning Micky in the end, the unfaithful Micky also fully surrendered herself to him.

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