A band new world

The news bulletin on the television had just announced that there were serious skirmishes all over the capital owing to the incumbent administration's ignominous defeat in the recent polls. It warned the nation not to travel unless they have no choice because sporadic attacks of passengers on the public transport was becoming increasingly rampant.

She had every reason to stay the night. Her hosts and their children treated her with elaborate kindness, she had no one at home expecting her, it was very late and it would take her ages to travel all the way from Canning town.

Nevertheless, she decided to brave it. She had no inkling where the dutch courage came from. All she knew was that she was overwhelmed by it and and the peculiar compulsion to leave.

Even the sight of armed police parading the streets, evidencing the precarious outdoors, as she peered through the window, could not deter her. Sirens pierced the dismal night air, but she seemed totally oblivious to their existence.

She stepped on the bus from the front and noticed immediately that it was practically empty. There were quite a few passengers at the back. Damn, she thought. That was her favourite place.

Another careful glance revealed an empty seat, second from the back. She made her way towards it hurriedly, fearing someone would first her. She was lucky. Well, not quite.

The two people in the seat immediately before her appeared to be in deep sleep. The legs of one of the other two on the back seat were flunged across her intended seat.

One of the passengers in the third seat from the back raised his head and looked back anxiously on the others, then settled on the two at the back.

"Can you kindly ask you friend to pull back her feet a bit?" She asked him. He responded by pushing the other boy's feet of the seat.

The boy awoke and started to strum a guitar. She settled in her seat and mentally counted four of them at the back with her. One girl and three boys. She was tempted to turn around and tell him how beautifully he was playing, but she resisted. But not for long.

As if that was their cue, the others noticing that she was tapping her feet on the floor, pulled out an assortment of musical instruments which included a keyboard, trombone, portable drum set and clarinet. They had her full attention with their melodies which she closely interpreted as variations of electronica and ambient. She had not heard music like that before. Whatever it was or wherever it came from, it captured her instantly.

She applauded loudly and even for a bit too long as soon as they had played the final note. She started chatting with the boy who played the guitar. After introducing each of the others to her, he told her that they were a family band and he was the only non-family member. They were on their way to a performance.

An open conversation ensued. Soon the others drifted off to sleep after playing some soft and delightful melodies. The conversation continued between the two until the bus arrived at the station.

After they had alighted, both of them continued talking while the others wandered about. She asked him about what it was like playing in a band where he was the only non-family member.

"I really don't mind. In fact, I am enjoying every minute of creating some sweet music with them."

"Awesome."

"From time to time their granddad call me up and said I should not show up for rehearsal or performance for a particular week", he countered with a little sadness in his tone.

"I have to go now", he said to her after they had chatted for a good eal of time.

"I would like to come with you lot", she replied.

"They are all gay", he blurted out, "you really dont wanna spend any more time with them.

"Even the boy with the endless hair?", she enquired.

"All of them."

"Actually, I dont care whether they are gay or not", she lied. She fancied the boy with the tall hair big time, but she tried to disguise her dissapointment in her tone.

"Besides, I might not see you again, or the others, if I part with you now." He was her second choice. If she could not have the other one, she might as well grab the next in line.

"Oh ye of little faith", he smiled.

He noticed her face fell. "I'm sorry", he said, but he did not look at her while saying it.

"Thats ok."

"Not just for that saying that to you", he said, facing her now. "But also for quoting scriptures from the bible."

"Whats wrong with that?" she asked curiously.

"It's just not our style."

She wanted to ask him what he meant but discounted the answer as immaterial at that moment. "I really love your music and I would not like to miss this opportunity", she said instead.

"You would need a ticket, I'm afraid."

"You know I could'nt have had one".

"Well, there you go."

"I dont want to go", she pleaded, "I really wanna come with you lot."

"Okay", he gave in, I will just have to tell the others that I gave you a ticket that I found in my pocket."

"Thank you", she said gleefully, and ran after him.

They settled at the front of a large house which was secluded in the corner of a large piece of land. She wondered what sort of a performance they would be conducting in such a place.

The others did not mention her at all. They started to play their respective instrument. She was overjoyed to be in their midst, listening to such delightful sounds.

Footsteps, slow but hard and noisy approached the closed front door. It opened abruptly by a frailed hand belonging to an elderly man whose body followed moments later. That must be their grandad, she thought. His eyes descended on her almost immediately and with momentary scrutiny.

"You" he said to her, as a small smile which had etched his jaws slowly dissapeared

"She spunned around momentarily to see if he was addressing someone behind her. But she there was no one else.

"Me sir?"

"Yes, you." he nodded, while indicating a hose that was resting idly along the bluebells.

"Yes sir."

"Spray lightly over these lot first for the first few minutes of the performance", he said firmly, "then let it rest on this fellow here". He was pointing on her guitar boy.

While the others continued playing softly, she sprayed them as ordered. The old man started a chant. The others joined in. She watched, enthralled, as pair by pair, their eyes started to close in an unspoken harmony.

After the old man motioned that it was guitar boy,s turn, she edged closer to him and began the task. She closed her eyes tightly to demonstrate that she understood and shared their harmony. She held the hose firmly in place with both hands to prevent the water from wandering from its prime focus.

Half and hour later, she opened her eyes as the blend of music and chantings came to a gradual cessation. To her astonishment, her new friend had vanished. In his place was a block of ice.

Slowly, they gathered around it and observed it carefully. The old man motioned one of his grand sons to break it up. It was only then that it dawned on her that her friend was transformed into ice. But if that was him, why was the block of ice so much smaller than the boy himself, she pondered.

She was crestfallen. A big muscled man was summoned by the old man to have a go at demolishing the huge rock. The boys had failed miserably. After several painstaking attempts, he was only able to break off some small splinters. As small as they were, they pained her heart, because they were a part of his adorable flesh.

Finally, he got the grip of it. A big chunk of the end came off. It revealed a small crack which led to a deep hollow. From its interior, she heard a faint, distinctive but eerily recognizeable voice. Her friend's. She was so overwhelmed at what had unfolded before her very eyes that she did'nt even realize that the block of ice had grown enormously as the moments passed. When she did, she stumbled backwards momentarily, filled with trepidation. However, the cool countenaces of the other spectators and the thrill of hearing guitar boy;s voice again, reassured, embolden and composed her.

The old man laid what appeared to be the carcass of a pig on the large wooden table. It was wrapped in plastics. While unwrapping the plastics she heard the muffled but distinctive grunts of a pig. It could'nt be, considering that the animal was killed the previous day. Infact, it's hair was completely scraped and she saw the huge gaping wound in it's neck inflicted by the butcher. With a quizzical look on her face, she turned her eyes to the others for an explanation. However, none was given.

"Finish it off", ordered the old man instead.

"I can't", she whimpered, backing away frightfully