The Missive

ACT I

Prologue

One young lad, alive with misery,

Has a younger lass for sibling, parented by loving folks,

Does not know what is not and what is to be,

With a bosom friend he converses, of his blue devils and woes,

Of his solitary evenings and many lost souls.

Scene I

Mittigad Fields (a field by the backdrop of Mittigad fort)

RISHIVAN – What dost worry thee, my friend?

HARI – Naught that comes anew. Dejected I am as ever I was. Father battles in the planes of Ranwar, with no hope for company. Mother worries for him so dost my young lass. It pains me to do but wait. O! How cruel is the game of fate!

RISHIVAN – That shows thee a weak vassal; for the weak goes down in tussle. Be not afraid. Your father as the lot know is a soul of lion. Never shall he fall in a battle for his fist is iron.

HARI – That does nought to console my anxious heart. I shall not breathe in peace till I see him return.

RISHIVAN – Hold that aside, my friend and keep faith, for God does no unfair to His children. I hath seen thy features since we hath been young lads. I see lines of worries on thy face that does not encircle thy father. What else is it that troubles thee? Pray, do tell me.

HARI – Nary that could be resolved. How I wish I were in love with a woman of the moon, to whom I could pour my desolation to!

RISHIVAN – Beg your pardon I wilt for I am close to chuckle! Why so, do you need a lass when you hath dears so close? Thy sister and mother hath heavy hearts too which could none questionably handle ever more! And pray, you hath me. Have I not been a shoulder to thy anguish ever? Or is it that my companionship does no good anymore to you?

HARI – Nay, do not utter such sour woes! You are and will be as dear to my heart as no other lad can be! But do you not feel the need to break thy mopes down with a fair lady?

RISHIVAN – Nay, I do not, and neither that I hope should I see such a day whence it may befall upon me as duress to pour myself out to a good lady. I hath with me my parents and close kinfolk who let not me down ever if I weep with grief.

HARI – So fortunate are you, my lad! My little sister remains ever busy with her own lot and my mother weeps fitfully for the family. Never have I seen her smile, long it's been; it's been a while.

RISHIVAN – Why, go and find a dame for yourself, if you will!

HARI – I wish in my dreams if it were that facile! Wouldn't have I found her already? Wouldn't have wasted a while!

RISHIVAN – What is thy trouble be? Hesitate not, confide unto me.

HARI – How unfortunate I hath been that I do not know! Women as they go be naught above friends; it is I always who falls for the gal, but do not show!

RISHIVAN – Ah, that be a puzzle of personality, friend! You be friends with lasses, you do but that is where it comes to end!

HARI – Indeed!

RISHIVAN – Ah, pray tell me, what hath become of thy fondness of writing? Don't the kin of scriptures be bygone unto writing, under the canvas of ink and stars? Forget the nocturnal affairs and absorb unto writing; forget what you are!

HARI – Alas, that final resort of my heart, I solicit for but nothing comes ever in my mind that be put down in scriptures!

RISHIVAN – Good grievance, indeed! What do thee resort to do?