Shikasta

The moon came up from a bank of low cloud. I swear this was stage management! It was a half-moon, but brilliant, and Venus was near it. The setting was quite perfect for a Torch Pageant, or Ba

Nothing happened for a few minutes. It is evident that everyone was silenced by the beauty of the scene, the drama of the arena. Then it was observed that the group on the prosecution side was conferring. Informally. That everything was to be kept informal had been indicated from the start, and then confirmed, and confirmed again. People from both groups had already left them and gone to sit in the tiers, and others had replaced them - a continual coming and going. The first "witness" had made her way back to the Chinese Delegation. Which, incidentally, had been put prominently and distinctively in a bloc in the very best position, low down and halfway between the two groups. This was the only national group which was allotted a special position and marked with a ba

After a few more minutes of starlight, the rising moon, the ambiguous arena, and, of course, the charming children who were bravely and earnestly attending to the flaring torches - one of the group, but not George Sherban, strolled forward to confer with the accused, and then this person, a girl, shouted up that it was felt by the contenders that the proceedings had been opened, everyone knew how things stood, and people must be tired and hungry, and perhaps it would be a good thing if the Trial should be ended early, just for this one night. Did everybody agree? No one disagreed.

And in that case, she shouted, the meal would be served at nine, for this one evening, and not at twelve, as it would on future nights. She then outlined the plan for the sessions, asked for tolerance, since food had not been obtained easily and would be limited, asked for everyone to be vigilant against looters, and to treat the local people with respect, and emphasised that they would have to "call on reserves of good will and comradely understanding during the coming month which would tax their endurance and patience to the limit."

That this girl was an ordinary delegate, not one of the "stars," and that most people did not know who she was, made a good impression.

The tiers emptied fast, as the delegates found their way in a half-dark. The camp was minimally lit, with hurricane lamps in the mess tents and at their entrances, and outside the latrines, which were tents over pits.

Somehow these people got themselves fed in the crammed mess tents.

That was the first day of the "Trial." I consider it a marvel of crowd handling.

After that first evening meal, most people slept, exhausted. Many slept where they were in the mess tents, while the servers stepped over them with their trays. Some slept anyhow outside their tents - inside was too hot. It was a scene of apparent disorder. But even so, the whites removed themselves to their self-created ghetto, and posted guards.

Next morning, at four, when the two contending groups stood in the arena under the newly lit torches with their yawning attendant children, the tiers were half-filled, and during that session remained half-full, for many of the delegates were too tired to rouse themselves.

So that dramatic early morning session was at half pressure, and when at eight o'clock the laggards staggered up to meet those who had been for four hours on the stone seats, with the dawn coming up red, dusty, and very warm, again to repair to the mess tents for their bread and fruit, it was to hear at secondhand a report of the proceedings. There had been two "witnesses," both much looked forward to, and of prime emotional importance. First, the representative of the Indian tribes of North America, and then the witness from India.

A young man from the Hopi tribe of the Southwest of the United States stood alone in the centre of the arena calling up into the half-empty tiers, turning around slowly so that all could hear and see, holding out his palms in front of him as if "he was offering himself and his case to us in his outstretched hands, poor fellow." (Benjamin Sherban.) When he started it was full night with thick stars. They dimmed as he went on.

Europe had been crammed with miserable starving people because of the greed of its ruling classes. When these downtrodden ones protested, they were persecuted, hanged for stealing even an egg or a piece of bread, flogged, thrown into prison... they were encouraged to leave and go to North America, where they systematically stole everything from the Indian tribes who lived there in harmony with the earth and with nature. There was no trick, or cruelty or brutality these white thieves did not practise. When they had filled the land from coast to coast, and killed off the animals and destroyed trees and the soil, they confined the Indians in prison areas and mistreated them. These people, whose very existence in this great land of the Indians was because of the greed and cruelty of their own kind, now forgot their recent history and became the same themselves. Very soon, the white thieves had divided themselves into rich and poor, and the rich were as cruel and oppressive and uncaring of their fellow humans as any in history. Due to the exploitation of the labour of the poor, the new rulers became very powerful, and exploited not only North America but other parts of the world. They imported slaves from Africa, again in the most cruel and brutal way, to do their work and be their servants. This great country, which once was inhabited by peoples who did not know the words for rich, poor, owning, possessing, who lived their lives through in communion with, and obedience to, the Great Spirit who rules the world(I am of course quoting from the agents' reports), this rich and beautiful country was despoiled, poisoned, made an arsenal of weapons. And from coast to coast, from North to South, every person in it was made to worship not the Great Spirit who was the soul of every person of mankind', but the accumulation of wealth. Money. Goods. Objects. Eating. Power. The poorest of the whites was rich compared with the subject Indians. The most deprived and exploited of the poor were privileged - in law compared with the people whose real home this was. This United States - a term which he used with contempt, spitting it out - was a place of shame, wickedness, corruption, evil. And all these crimes had been committed in the name of "progress" - spitting it out. All, in a spirit of self-congratulation and self-approval.

And then, the summing-up, the indictment:

"At the root of this criminal behaviour was contempt, the despising of others not like yourself, an arrogance that prevented you from I ever even enquiring into the real nature of the peoples you dispossessed and treated as inferiors, a lack of humility and the curiosity that is based on humility. The indictment against you is arrogance, ignorance, stupidity. And God will punish you. The Great Spirit is punishing you, and soon you will be no more than a memory, and a shameful ugly memory."

These words were called up, or half shouted, phrase by phrase, very slowly, and the young man had his face to the sky, and his hands always held open and out - by the time he had ended, the sky was paling. The old white man sat there unmoving, and silent.

Complete silence. No one moved.

The torches were smoking and the children, aided by George Sherban, put them out. The cicadas had begun.

Throughout this contribution, a few laggards were making their way down to seat themselves. The great amphitheatre remained half-empty as a young woman from North India, the leader of the Youth Armies, Sharma Patel, George Sherban's reputed mistress, walked forward to the centre.

She is beautiful, and made an impression at once. Agent Tsi Kwang described her as "striking, and with many personal advantages."