my english assessment / slumdog millionaire fanfiction
Here's my English assessment, ohhwhore . Basically, it's a 'Slumdog Millionaire' fanfiction! My whole grade watched it last Friday and then we had to do a piece of creative writing based on a thematic concern / side story, reflecting the human condition.
through eyes wide shut
(Slumdog Millionaire | 800 words)
In the end, nobody remembers the fourth musketeer. Because even though d'Artagnan is the main character, it is the three inseparable friends, the three musketeers, who stay in people's memories.
And d'Artagnan is forgotten, because it isn't the four musketeers, it's the three.
(Un pour tous, tour pour un.)
-
Sometimes, Arvind dreams of the days before Everything. Day and night no longer mean anything because of Everything. Everything is only the intangible darkness consuming him. In the darkness, he sings, he eats, he sleeps, he sings. Then Maman is happy. Maman has to be happy, because Maman is the type of person who never forgets.
Arvind never forgets anything or Everything.
Everything is nothing, because when you're blind, you don't see anything. There is neither white nor black. It's a dark cave, and Arvind is constantly trying to find the way out, to find the briefest speck of light in the road ahead.
But there is nothing.
So Arvind sings a plethora of songs in his own darkness, hoping, waiting for the coins and notes to fall into his hands. Senses are heightened in the absence of sight. What he cannot see, he feels, and sometimes, when he forces himself to believe, he even fools himself. Skies of endless blue, filled with plump, picturesque clouds. The grass, green and lush and slightly prickly beneath his feet. These moments don't last long.
He wakes up, and then there is nothing. Nothing at all.
He is blind, and there is nothing he can do about it.
-
Arvind remembers, but perhaps that’s what makes it all the more unbearable. He remembers his mother's touch, before Everything, her fingers silken smooth, caressing his face, telling him he was perfect. Arvind wonders if it was like that for everybody else.
At night, when they all lie in the big room they share, there are only the softest whispers. The animated chatter of his first nights in Maman's house is not for this room. That’s for the other room, filled with the oblivious, baited by Maman and his coke like moths to light. Arvind used to be an oblivious, but Everything changed that. This room is for the crippled, the imperfect.
Arvind thinks it's better this way. Knowing is better. Knowing is better than dreaming about dreams that you feel are just beyond your fingertips, but in reality are worlds away.
Arvind now knows that there is no house on Harbour Road, no name written in the stars.
-
The greatest irony is that Maman is not unkind. But Arvind will never forgive him for leaving his world shrouded in darkness. His legs, his arms - anything but his eyes.
The beginning of Everything started with pain. Arvind does not quite recall what they did exactly. He traces the aftermaths every night before he sleeps. He tastes what should have been tears running down his cheeks. But there are no tears; sight is not the only thing Maman has taken away from him.
The physical pain is gone now.
But the scars never fade.
-
Arvind meets Jamal again when they are fourteen. Arvind remembers Jamal and Latika and Salim; he remembers laughter and practical jokes; he remembers happiness. They called themselves the three musketeers, and no matter what, they would stick together.
Years have passed since. Latika was left behind. Everything changed.
Arvind holds the hundred dollar bill tight in his hand - money Maman would blind ten kids to see. Slowly, Arvind raises the tips of his fingers to Jamal's face and runs them down his cheeks. He can feel the sadness and guilt.
You're a big guy now, he reassures Jamal. I'm happy for you.
But he knows Jamal will still say them, the inevitable words.
I'm sorry, Arvind.
Arvind has never liked superfluous words of sympathy, but it's different with Jamal. With Jamal, Arvind feels like it's alright to want to cry, to never want to wake up each morning, feeling, seeing nothing. Yet Jamal still asks about Latika, and Jamal should not go near her if he still wants to live. Maman has not forgotten.
But Arvind tells him in the end. As Jamal's footsteps fade away, Arvind does not put the hundred dollar bill with the others this time.
He hides it.
-
In the end, d'Artagnan is the only one out of the four that remains in the army. Athos, Porthos, Aramis - all gone. There is no such thing as the four musketeers. If not three, and only ever three, then there is only one.
There is only one musketeer left.
-
There is commotion. Maman is dead. But this does not signify the end of Everything. Some things never end. In the end, you can only continue.
And with the bill in his fingers -
- Arvind continues to wait.
through eyes wide shut
(Slumdog Millionaire | 800 words)
In the end, nobody remembers the fourth musketeer. Because even though d'Artagnan is the main character, it is the three inseparable friends, the three musketeers, who stay in people's memories.
And d'Artagnan is forgotten, because it isn't the four musketeers, it's the three.
(Un pour tous, tour pour un.)
-
Sometimes, Arvind dreams of the days before Everything. Day and night no longer mean anything because of Everything. Everything is only the intangible darkness consuming him. In the darkness, he sings, he eats, he sleeps, he sings. Then Maman is happy. Maman has to be happy, because Maman is the type of person who never forgets.
Arvind never forgets anything or Everything.
Everything is nothing, because when you're blind, you don't see anything. There is neither white nor black. It's a dark cave, and Arvind is constantly trying to find the way out, to find the briefest speck of light in the road ahead.
But there is nothing.
So Arvind sings a plethora of songs in his own darkness, hoping, waiting for the coins and notes to fall into his hands. Senses are heightened in the absence of sight. What he cannot see, he feels, and sometimes, when he forces himself to believe, he even fools himself. Skies of endless blue, filled with plump, picturesque clouds. The grass, green and lush and slightly prickly beneath his feet. These moments don't last long.
He wakes up, and then there is nothing. Nothing at all.
He is blind, and there is nothing he can do about it.
-
Arvind remembers, but perhaps that’s what makes it all the more unbearable. He remembers his mother's touch, before Everything, her fingers silken smooth, caressing his face, telling him he was perfect. Arvind wonders if it was like that for everybody else.
At night, when they all lie in the big room they share, there are only the softest whispers. The animated chatter of his first nights in Maman's house is not for this room. That’s for the other room, filled with the oblivious, baited by Maman and his coke like moths to light. Arvind used to be an oblivious, but Everything changed that. This room is for the crippled, the imperfect.
Arvind thinks it's better this way. Knowing is better. Knowing is better than dreaming about dreams that you feel are just beyond your fingertips, but in reality are worlds away.
Arvind now knows that there is no house on Harbour Road, no name written in the stars.
-
The greatest irony is that Maman is not unkind. But Arvind will never forgive him for leaving his world shrouded in darkness. His legs, his arms - anything but his eyes.
The beginning of Everything started with pain. Arvind does not quite recall what they did exactly. He traces the aftermaths every night before he sleeps. He tastes what should have been tears running down his cheeks. But there are no tears; sight is not the only thing Maman has taken away from him.
The physical pain is gone now.
But the scars never fade.
-
Arvind meets Jamal again when they are fourteen. Arvind remembers Jamal and Latika and Salim; he remembers laughter and practical jokes; he remembers happiness. They called themselves the three musketeers, and no matter what, they would stick together.
Years have passed since. Latika was left behind. Everything changed.
Arvind holds the hundred dollar bill tight in his hand - money Maman would blind ten kids to see. Slowly, Arvind raises the tips of his fingers to Jamal's face and runs them down his cheeks. He can feel the sadness and guilt.
You're a big guy now, he reassures Jamal. I'm happy for you.
But he knows Jamal will still say them, the inevitable words.
I'm sorry, Arvind.
Arvind has never liked superfluous words of sympathy, but it's different with Jamal. With Jamal, Arvind feels like it's alright to want to cry, to never want to wake up each morning, feeling, seeing nothing. Yet Jamal still asks about Latika, and Jamal should not go near her if he still wants to live. Maman has not forgotten.
But Arvind tells him in the end. As Jamal's footsteps fade away, Arvind does not put the hundred dollar bill with the others this time.
He hides it.
-
In the end, d'Artagnan is the only one out of the four that remains in the army. Athos, Porthos, Aramis - all gone. There is no such thing as the four musketeers. If not three, and only ever three, then there is only one.
There is only one musketeer left.
-
There is commotion. Maman is dead. But this does not signify the end of Everything. Some things never end. In the end, you can only continue.
And with the bill in his fingers -
- Arvind continues to wait.