Created: 2-21-09FEED OF KINGS
A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of a fish that hath fed of that worm.
Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar.
Hamlet, 4.3
“HELP~!!! Somebody! Anybody…help…”
Simba’s voice trailed away, knowing that there was no one around in the gorge was there to help him. Even if there were, he knew nothing could be done for the still form laying there immobile, no longer living, no longer breathing, only the shell of what was his great father and King Mufasa.
He never wanted this to happen. He never had expected something like this to befall his father. He was only there to wait on his Uncle Scar to show him his father’s surprise. His Uncle Scar told him there to wait, to work on his ‘little roar’ and be a good little cub while he went to fetch his father. He couldn’t have known that there was a herd of wildebeest up above the gorge. He didn’t think his little roar would scare them and cause a stampede. He had wanted his father to rescue him from the tramples of the wildebeest, but he didn’t think his father would be dragged down into it. He didn’t expect that he would be up there, watching his father slip to the ground below and to his death. He never wanted any of this to happen. None of it.
Seeing that there was no one around to help him, he walked tearfully towards his father and lay down beside him, his great big paw, now slowly going cold, around him. It was the least he could do after what he had caused. All the trouble and mess he had created since that fateful day he made Nala follow him to the elephant’s graveyard (the dark shadowy place his father forbid him to go) and almost getting themselves eaten by hungry hyenas who did not abide the rules of the Pride Lands till now came crashing down onto him as he closed his eyes, wishing in vain that his company would wake his father up.
“Simba…what have you done?”
Simba turned around to see Scar looking at him with shocked, accusing eyes. He quickly crawled out of Mufasa’s embrace.
“The wildebeest…He…He tried to save me…I-I-It was an accident…I-I-I didn’t mean for this to happen…”
“Of course, of course you didn’t,” Scar comforted him as he held him close to his chest, “No one ever means for these things to happen,” then his voice became solemn, “but the King is dead.”
Simba looked up at him in horror. No, Simba thought in denial, even though he knew his uncle spoke the truth. Anything but that…Tell me this is all a dream…
“And if it weren’t for you, he’d still be alive,” Scar continued, then gasped, “What would your mother think?”
Simba backed out of Scar’s hold. He was right. Of course he was right. He was his uncle and basically almost like the second-in-command next to his father, and would know the ways of the pride just as much as his father did. There was no doubt that the pride would put the death of their King Mufasa on Simba’s shoulders, blaming him for the crime against his own father. His mother would probably hate him as well, blaming him for killing her husband. They would demand blood, and as much as his Uncle Scar loved him as his only nephew, he knew he couldn’t go against the rules of the pride that his father upheld so faithfully. Even if his mother, for some miraculous reason, felt pity for him and did not blame him, she would still be helpless against the pride who would demand retribution over his wrongdoings. Either way, he was still worse off. He would probably end up getting a punishment worse than death. Simba trembled at the thought of it.
“W-W-What am I gonna do?” Simba asked desperately.
“Run away, Simba,” Scar said hurriedly. “Run. Run away and never return.”
Run away? Never return? Could he do it? Should he do it? What about his mother? What about Zazu? What about Nala? What about everyone in the pride? What would happen to them?
“What are you waiting for, boy?” Scar asked in surprise. “Run away before they find out about this.”
Simba stole a look at his father’s body, lying there cold and unmoving. What would become of him? What would they do with his body? He remembered something about his father saying that when they die, their bodies would become grass and the antelopes eat the grass, about all part of the Circle of Life and stuff. Would they leave him here until he becomes grass, or would the vultures come and get him first before that? He could see a few of them hovering around the air waiting to strike.
He would not let his father die alone in such vulgar circumstances. If his father, King Mufasa of all the animal kingdom, said he will turn into grass and be part of the Circle of Life, he will accompany him till the end.
Slowly, he turned to the king’s lifeless body and lay back where he just did, putting his paw around him. Scar was surprised. He quickly trotted towards the young cub.”
“What are you doing, Simba? Why aren’t you running?”
“I’m staying here with my father,” Simba replied despite his tears flowing down like rain.
“You have to run. There is no telling when everyone is going to find out about this. They will have your head. You must run while you still can.”
“You can either let them come for me or lead them somewhere else. I’m staying, and that’s final.”
Scar looked long and hard at Simba who leaned his head against Mufasa’s face. Seeing the determination strewn across the young cub’s face, he bowed.
“Yes, my Lord.”
--:--
Simba opened his eyes as he heard footsteps coming towards him. It was Scar again. Ever since he made the decision to stay by his father’s side, Scar religiously came every other day to check and see how he was doing. He refused food or drink offered by his uncle, and allowed him to do most of the talking while he lay there motionlessly beside Mufasa’s body. He was starting to reek and parts of him were starting to rot, the stench stinging the young cub’s nose, but Simba didn’t care. He chose to wait until his father became the grass he claimed he would, and he would wait till then.
“Are you sure you don’t want to run?” Scar asked him for the umpteenth time.
The cub couldn’t be bothered to answer that.
“I can only hold them off for so long, boy. If you run now, I’ll make sure they will never find you.”
Simba turned weakly to face him.
“There is still time. I can help you. Come with me.”
Simba stubbornly shook his head and looked away again, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep. He could hear Scar sighing and getting up.
“I’ll see you soon. It’s best if you make up your mind about running.”
Simba didn’t reply. He already made up his mind.
He was not going to run.
He was going to stay and see his father off to the Circle of Life.
--:--
“Simba? Simba, are you with me?”
Scar patted Simba’s face. The cub struggled to flutter his eyes open. The scorching heat and blinding sunlight was killing him.
“Un…Uncle S…Scar…?”
“Oh, thank goodness. I thought I lost you there to the vultures.”
Simba could barely make out a few bird figures perched on a tree nearby, eyeing at them in vengeance, as if their meal was disturbed. Simba let out a long sigh and lay his head back against Mufasa’s face, barely realizing that it was slowly decaying from the exposure. How long had he been here? A week? A month? A year? When was the last time Scar came to visit him, urging to do the same old thing over and over again?
“You are skin and bones, boy,” Scar said worriedly. “You really must run. I know a place where there’ll be food and water everywhere. If you let me…”
Simba growled as he swatted off Scar’s paw with all the strength he could muster. He was not going to move from his spot, not even for all the hippo meat in the world.
“You must let me help you, Simba. It breaks my heart seeing you like this.”
“T…Th…Then…go…away…I…I d-d-don’t…need y…your p…p…pity…”
“Are you sure you don’t want to at least have a drink of water?”
“G…Go…away…!!” Simba growled as loud as his parched throat could. He just wanted to stay here and accompany his father. He just wanted to witness the grass his father promised him. Was that so much to ask?
“As you wish, my Lord.”
Simba sighed in relief and went back to his long awaited slumber. Screw food. Screw water. He didn’t need those. All he needed was his father. Him and also the grass of the Circle of Life. Everything else could just go away, rot and die.
He barely even registered Scar’s voice whispering to a trio of excited hyenas approaching him.
“Give him another day or two. He’ll be ready.”
--:--
Simba could no longer have the strength to open his eyes. He barely even had the strength to breathe. Amidst the heat of the gorge, everywhere was dark. The stench of Mufasa’s decaying body was getting worse, but Simba no longer had the sense of smell. His dry nose made it painful for him to breathe in. His ears were straining to hear for the vultures. He had to protect his father’s body from them. His father promised him grass. His father promised him the Great Circle of Life. Has it not come yet?
“Simba?”
Simba jerked his head weakly towards the voice, not sure whether he was hearing properly or not. He thought he heard his father, but from the purr near his ear as a wet nose nudged his face, he soon recognized it belonging to his Uncle Scar. He didn’t bother to open his eyes any longer.
“Un…cle…Scar…”
“I can still help you,” Scar gave the age old advice again. “It’s not too late.”
“H…as…Dad…be…come…gr…ass…?” Simba asked.
“What?” Scar sounded surprised.
“I…s…the…Cir…cle…of…L…ife…he…re…yet…?”
“Oh, Simba, did he really tell you that fairy tale?” Scar sounded sad. He had always been the rational, sensible lion who take pride in realistic views. The cub didn’t blame him.
“It’s…no…fa…iry…ta…le…Dad…said it’s…tr…ue…”
“So that’s why you were so determined to stay here,” Scar had a voice of acknowledgement. “You should’ve told me earlier. You made me so worried. Simba, it’s something your grandfather told us in his senile, grandeur-intoxicated mind. There is no such thing as the Circle of Life. We don’t really turn to grass. You gotta get your head off the clouds and let me help you…”
“Dad…ne…ver…lies…”
“Of course he didn’t. He would never lie. He was just telling you things our father told him as we grew up. I learnt to see past that. Your father didn’t.”
“G…o…a…way…”
“Simba, please. Let me help you get out of here. They’re almost on my tail now. I can only protect you if you let me.”
“Go…a…way…!”
How could he accuse his father that way? If he didn’t believe in those things, that was his problem, but he had no right to say about his father otherwise. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and he believed his father was right about everything. Everything his father said rang true, and that was all he need. If his father said he was going to become the beautiful green grass and be part of the Circle of Life, so be it. He will be there till the end.
Hearing Scar walking away, Simba almost heaved a sigh of relief, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before he would return again to persuade him in vain.
That’s what uncles do. That’s what family does.
--:--
“You were right, Simba.”
Simba stirred a little. Being off food and drink for what felt like forever, he no longer had the motor skills to even move his head. His eyes felt like it weighed a ton. He barely even registered the nudge and purr Scar gave him.
“You were right, Simba. What beautiful grass!”
Simba’s heart skipped a beat. Grass? Has he…? Simba struggled to open his eyes but could not.
“Don’t strain yourself, boy. Feel it. Feel it around you.”
He felt something under his paw. Something wet and thin. There was no doubt about it; it was grass! Nice, wet grass from the morning dew! It felt exactly the same as the ones he walked on whenever he woke up earlier than everyone else to see the dawning sun! The exact same ones! How could he sleep through this and missed it?
“It’s alright, Simba. You never missed anything. It just started. Just go back to sleep and let go of everything. They’re all happening as we speak. You’ll see your father soon.”
If he weren’t that weak, Simba would’ve smiled and cried at the same time. Thank goodness he was in time for it to happen. He was going to meet his father soon. He imagined his father, all sheathed with the glorious light of the fabled Circle of Life, smiling down at him as he came to take him along with him. He imagined his body slowly covered with the beautiful blanket of morning dew grass and beautiful tiny flowers blooming around it as his spirit left to join the Circle of Life. He imagined his father’s strong jaws as he picked him up by the scruff of the neck as they walked slowly to the light, to the horizon and into eternity. It was so beautiful. So much more beautiful than he thought it would be. He went back to sleep as Scar told him to and waited. Waited for the grand arrival of the Circle of Life and his father…
“He’s all yours, boys.”
He no longer cared what went on around him as he surrendered himself to his dream, no longer feeling the sharp fangs and piercing beaks as the hyenas and vultures tore him apart.
--:--
“Mufasa’s death is a terrible tragedy. But to lose Simba who had barely begun to live…”
Everyone sobbed that night at the Pride Rock as Scar delivered his eulogy. Ever since Mufasa and Simba mysteriously disappeared, Scar had headed the search to look for them. Scar had cleverly led the pride on a wild goose chase, deliberately avoiding the gorge and had the hyenas stand guard to scare any curious parties away from the area. He had wanted to just let the hyenas put Simba out of his misery earlier, but judging by the hyenas’ sloppiness, there was bound to be a lot of evidence left behind if they were to kill him too soon, so he allowed Simba to stay there, slowly dying a torturous death while pretending to egg him on about saving his life and helping him run away. Of course, he had to deal with the major domo first, since he saw the stampede happening. While Zazu was still unconscious, he let Ed have his way with it, and soon the poor bird ended up digested inside the loony hyena’s belly.
Every other day, he would come to see if Simba had any breath left, and after a month of starvation and dehydration, his patience finally paid off. He could tell that the cub could not hold out any longer and, as a final favour from an uncle and to let him pass on without hesitation, he brought along some grass he got from the great fields the antelopes grazed on and put it under the cub’s paw, making him think that his father’s words were true. Simba, after being convinced just by that mere clump of grass, soon lay lifeless beside the already rotted Mufasa, with the hyenas and vultures reducing them to bones. Scar, seeing that the time was right, made a show of being heroic as he ‘scared off’ the hyenas from the gorge and allowed the pride to find what remained of Simba and Mufasa under the broken tree. He could see from the crack on the bones that not only the stampede broke every bone in his body and killed him, but the tree also broke his back, making him unable to move and escape from the tramples of death. He broke down with the others, but in his heart, he was laughing maniacally with joy over his victory.
Oh, silly brother, Scar thought as he carried on with his eulogy. Your foolish dream about the Circle of Life our father told us is the cause of your son’s death. Blame yourself for killing your son, Mufasa. I wash my hands off it. Although I must thank you, brother, for making my job to kill both you and your son a lot easier.
“For me, it is a deep, personal loss. So it is with a heavy heart that I suite the throne, yet out of the ashes of this tragedy, we shall rise,” the hyenas came at that cue, shocking the pride, “to greet the dawning of a new era in which lion and hyenas come together in a great and glorious future.”
Scar smiled inwardly as he went up to the edge of Pride Rock to let out his roar, a customary ritual to all lions before him to announce his place in the throne. Reluctantly, the pride roared along with him. They knew that in the way of the Pride, if any king died before their time and there was no heir to take over, the next of kin would take his place, and once he did the customary ritual, his word is law. So if Scar decided to have hyenas, the outlaw of the animal kingdom who should be shunned beyond the borders of the Pride Land, to become part of the pride, they will have no say in it.
Yes, it was a dawning, alright.
A dawning of the end.
No comments:
Post a Comment