Azzahra S: Journal Entry #04
There was once a kingdom where there is nothing considered as crime but arts. Believed that arts could bring the kingdom to its fall, the king prohibits his people to do all kind of arts—literature; poetry, prose and drama, performing arts; music, dance and theatre, and visual arts; drawing, painting, ceramics, and sculpting. Those who dare to violate the law would get their hands cut off as a punishment so they could not do arts anymore.
The kingdom itself was plain. The prohibition of arts makes the kingdom dull. There were no colours. All buildings, vehicles, and clothes were painted either black, white or gray. It remained for a very long time until the people forget what the colours look like, what it feels to dance all night, how your heart beating fast when you pour out your secret love into a poem, how satisfied you are when your painting is close enough with the real object. People forgot how it feels to live a life full of dreams.
One day, there was an invitation from a nearby kingdom, requiring the king to leave the kingdom for several months. During his absence, the kingdom stayed in peace until the clan from the eastern land come. People freeze as their gaze fixed on the clan entering the main gate. Each of them is wearing different color of thobe with a yellow sherwal completed with a red mazzar. Moreover, at the front of the pack, sitting on his mule, was a boy playing a flute. Suddenly all activities in the kingdom came to a halt. Realizing the moment of silence, the boy stopped playing the flute and examined the crowd.
“What is wrong?” asked him. Silence. “What is wrong?” the boy asked again, louder this time.
Then he came to realization that the crowd who is staring at him were all wearing the same color scheme. He looked at the market on his right, all stalls were painted grey. Then he looked at the park on his left. All benches, lamp posts, even garbage cans were all in either black, grey, or white.
“Welcome to Zafrakhus, my son. The Dead Kingdom.” The man behind him, the one who looks like the leader said.
Several days later on a cold night, while the whole world is fast asleep, the boy was wide awake. He decided to go out and brought his flute with him. After searching for a place to lay down, he finally settled under a palm tree. He looked at the sky for a while, admiring the stars then began to play his flute. Just before he reach the ending of the song, he heard something from behind. He turned his head, but nothing was there. “Come out. I don’t bite.” He said. There was a moment of silence before a little girl, not much younger than him came out from the bushes. The boy smiled at her, waved his hand asking her to come closer.
“What is that?” asked the little girl.
The boy looked at the direction where the little girl was pointing at. “This? This is a flute. You play it like this,” the boy raised his flute “and you blow it.” The sound came from the flute made the little girl step back.
“Of course it sounds. It is a music instrument.” The boy started to get confused.
“Music?,” there was a little shock on her face “but music is not allowed here.”
For a second the boy thought that the little girl was joking, but looking at her scared face, he knew that this is real. “But why?”
“I don’t know. Mommy said that music is bad because music is part of arts. And they said arts is bad. That’s why we are not allowed to do arts here.”
“Who are they?” now his attention is fully on the little girl.
“The king, the guards, people from the palace. They will punish anyone who dare to do arts.” Having no reply from the boy, the little girl asked, “Your king, does he allow you to do music?”
“I have no king. My clan, we are not from any kingdom. We are The Wanderer. We wander through the wilderness of the world.” The boy explained.
The little girl stare at him for a while, then she looked up at the skies. After a couple of minutes, the boy asked “is that why all of you wearing the same colors? Black, white and grey?”
“Yes. Mommy said it was the king himself who forbids-“ she threw a quick glance to her left, then suddenly ran away. The boy was left alone with his thought. ‘Why would the king forbid his people to do arts when arts is the one who makes people feel alive?,’ ‘wouldn’t life without arts becomes dull? Just like garden without flowers, skies without stars, or even desert without its plants.’ After a moment drowning in his own thoughts, he studied his surroundings. Everything about this place is rather plain. Nothing is too pretentious. Just plain as it is. It is becomes more obvious now he knows the story behind it.
After three weeks, the boy and his clan prepared to leave the kingdom. Just before they depart, the boy looked for the little girl and gave her the flute. “In case you forget how life has so much to offer by arts, play this flute and you will remember.”
“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.” – Picasso
