A List

The room was at the end of a long corridor, but i could hear the screams and shouts quite clearly. They would not deter me though, and I set out towards the door, gripping my clipboard firmly, adjusting the pen in my pocket, smoothing back any stray strand that might have escaped my tightly coiled hair. I stopped in front of the door, re affiring the stiffness in my back, setting the stone in my heart before i stepped in. There were more of them there than i had thought, but i didnt let it show on my face, that they had surprised me. There were the old men, and the young ones, the light skinned and the dark, the small girls and the awkward adolescents, and they had to be sorted.

They didnt notice me though, their focus was far away, their eyes watching a distant field hungrily. Every drop of blood and essence of being was tied up in the happenings in another place that most of them had never seen, and probably never would.

"Attention" I called out, stratling those closest to me, but registering just barely to those farther away, "I have come to divide you into groups. When I call out your category please raise your hand."

My announcement was met with a soft wave of confused mummurs, but I had got their attention.

"Muslim" I called out, "will all the muslims please raise their hands?"

They exchanged confused glances and whispered amongst themselves, but no one raised a hand.

"Hindu" I caled out quickly, slightly flustered by the response, "will all the hindus please raise their hands?"

I glared expectantly at my audience, but they held my gaze with an openly bewildered one of their own. They clearly had no idea what I was talking about. My training had never covered such a situation, and I could feel the panic begining to rise in my throat.

"Sikh?" I called out hopefully, "Christian? Jain? Parsi?"

I surveyed my now silent, and mildly amused audience with growing desperation, i had to put something on my clipboard.

"How can there be no hindus or muslims? You," I pointed to an old man hunched over a stick, "What are you?"

He looked blankly at me for a moment, before shaking his head sadly.

"You," I pointed, "or you! You! Someone has to tell me what you are!"

A light tapping on my wrist halted my fervour. I looked down into the wizened face of the old man I had first targeted. He smiled at me kindly, like one would at a child who is asking obvious questions of busy adults.

"We dont know," he told me softly, stroking my hand gently, "we dont remember. We dont care. The match is on."