JASMINE
Chapter Three
Well, at that moment, Cal pulled Rose to the
side and talked to her. But I was quite disturbed by the way he talked to her.
I was cleaning the deck, and the door to the room in which he was conversing
with her was partially ajar, so I could hear everything he was telling her. I
smile to myself as I reflect on a thought that has flown in to my mind. If I
were to walk into that room, and start cleaning the floor, Cal would ignore me,
and continue his conversation with Rose. I know that the upper classes don’t
consider people like me to be significant or intelligent because of the
perceived social class that I occupy, and because of the color of my skin. I
wince because thinking about this has made my mind flash back all of the memories
of the encounters of inequalities that I have encountered over the centuries.
The pain hurts as bad now as it did then, sometimes, it hurts even more now,
because my soul is waking up, from many millennia of slumber, and is, finally,
understanding what these memories mean, and how they impacted my life. By
perusing through flashbacks that my neurotransmitters emit to the emotional
sensors in my brain for interpretation, in much the same way that servers will
submit information to client computers for interpretation, I have been able to
gain a much richer understanding of the problems that have plagued me for
lifetimes. It is at this point in time that I feel a rude jolt, and I can sense
a powerful force, perhaps in me, perhaps not, telling me, somehow , that Rose
faces many of the same problems that I do. All of the sudden, I have a strong
urge to reach out to Rose and touch her soul, and have long and deep
conversations with her so that I could help to "uncage" her. My mind
is accosted with millions of thoughts, some finished and coherent, and others
not, that tell me to butt into the room, and console Rose, but I feel the
psychological constraints that society has placed me by way of the color of my
skin, and the social class that I occupy, and I decide not to. I groan,
silently, to myself in frustration, because such barriers are artificial, and
it would not take much effort to undermine these barriers, but I am not able to
do it, because I am in a subordinate position myself. But all of a sudden, my soul
utters the word, "ROSE" to me, and in an instant, my face zips over
to her, and I focus all of my attention on her. I enter into an altered state
of mind, and instead of seeing a meek and shy Rose, I see a very empowered
woman, one who reminds me of the Greek Goddess Electra, who is holding a staff
and a sword, and whose eyes blaze with fiery fire. In my vision, Rose’s hair
burns with a fire of passion that is so bright that it almost blinds me. I can
see now, that far from being meek and docile, Rose is a very strong and
passionate woman who believes in certain things (that God does) and will pursue
matters of the heart. I smile to myself and think, silently, ‘I must meet her,
she is my type of woman.’
Anyway, I was quite appalled at the way Cal
was talking to Rose. He was shouting at her, and I was quite offended at some
of the things he was saying about me. I mean, I may be a washerwoman, but that
does NOT mean that I am NOT human! He began his conversation by saying,
"Rose, I DON’T LIKE IT WHEN YOU TALK TO THE HELP, YOU ARE A FINE WOMAN OF
POSTURE, AND SUCH PEOPLE ARE BELOW YOU, IT MAKES ME WANT TO VOMIT TO SEE YOU
ASSOCIATE WITH SUCH A LOW WOMAN!" "My God," I think to myself,
"he could wake the dead with that voice." Rose protested, "but
Cal, I mean, she was a very nice woman, and I think she could be very
friendly." Then, in a voice that made even my bones cringe, Cal responded,
"ROSE, YOU DON’T SEEM TO BE UNDERSTANDING ME, YOU STUPID WOMAN, WHEN I SAY
DON’T TALK TO HER, I MEAN DON’T TALK TO HER. YOU ARE MINE, AND YOU MUST DO AS I
SAY." I was quite shocked to see what happened next. Cal produced his left
hand, of all hands, and slapped Rose across her beautiful right cheek so hard
she fell. It was at this point in time that I felt for Rose, suddenly, I could
feel her pain and misery, and I so longed to comfort her, or, at least to offer
her some tea, but, alas I could do none of that. I thought back to the Electra
goddess I had seen, and I JUST KNEW, that I could liberate Rose, but I had no
idea as to how to do so. I KNEW I would NEED help from someone else to do this,
but from "WHOM" I wondered. As for the way Cal slapped Rose, I could
feel myself seething with rage at the sight, I mean, I have seen livestock get
treated better than the way he treated her. Well, there was one ‘innocent way’
to get back at Cal. My bucket was full of soapy water, so I spilled it on the
floor, after Rose had walked out of the room, but not after Cal had walked out.
He slipped, and clutched onto the railing for dear life. Then he turned to me,
and with a murderous look in his eye he said, " watch where you aim you
cleaning supplies you stupid worthless brown sahib. Your skin color reflects
your low IQ." I smiled to myself internally, because I knew that this was not
true. I looked at him quite innocently in the eye, and said with a thick Indian
accent, "My dear gora sahib, it was an accident." I watched as Cal
whisked a very unwilling Rose away on his arm, and muttered, under his breath,
something about how I needed a thrashing. I smile to myself, because I know
that there is nothing that he can do to ‘punish me’ however much he would like
to.
As they walk away, I lean my chin on my mop
handle, and I think about Cal for a minute. I meditate so that I can learn more
about my soul. All of a sudden, I am looking into a dimly lit room, and I see
Cal with his jacket off. He is hoarding over ALL of his money, saying,
"money is better than honey, for me it is everything. I base everything
off of money. Marriage, love, well what is love, who needs love when you have
the wonderful green backs. Oh I love Uncle Sam! By GOD I THINK COLONIALISM IS A
GOOD THING, I MEAN IT HELPS US BOSS OTHERS AROUND IN THE WORLD, AND IT HELPS US
SHOW THEM WHO IS BETTER! I mean we ARE superior, and WE CREATED THE
WORLD!" Then, he gets up and starts to dance around the room, singing,
"Money is everything to me, when I am happy I have money, when I am sad I
have money, but I want more, MORE, MORE. I mean it doesn’t matter if anyone
gets hurt.." And I cringe as I see him looking squarely at the eyes of my
soul with the evilest look that I have ever seen, and that evil look emanates
straight from his eyes, it is as though the Devil himself, is looking straight
at me. He continues his conversation as I am looking into his soul in my
meditations, he says, "I build myself up by stepping on others, I mean
life’s a game, and who ever has the most toys WINS! There is no such thing as
an afterlife, there is just this life, and I am going to gun everyone out. As
for love, what’s that, you do everything for personal gain, I mean others don’t
matter, and the only thing that they’re good for is to be used as a pedestal
for you to put your foot on to get what you want. Once you have gotten what you
want, you simply knock them down with your foot, I mean people don’t matter but
power does, and you can do amazing things with power and money. The best
dictators also had the most power, and they were the most influential in
history. All of that stuff that people tell you about that being nice is a nice
virtue is crap, the only thing that matters is power and money, and once you
have that, everything else comes to you. IF you have a big stick, you can use
it to brow beat everyone else with it and make them pay LIBATIONS TO YOU!"
But at the same time, as I meditate, I see Cal as a little boy, and he is
huddling in a corner, he is afraid of the world. He is very cold, and is
shivering, I look closer, and I see discernible globules of ice on his clothes.
He is on the verge of crying, and he says in a very soft, meek voice, "I’m
all alone, and no one will listen to me, I’m scared, please GOD help me."
I shake myself out of my meditative state, ‘wait a minute, ‘ I think to myself,
‘DID HE SAY GOD.’ Suddenly various chills of realization shake my body as I
realize, that in spite of his tough and callous exterior, there is a part of
him that believed in good, and there, probably, still is a part of him that
does. I shake my head in sheer disbelief.