The strange palace

Rachna Chhabria writes about a magical pencil

As Ravi alighted from the school bus, a young girl and a young boy carrying pencils in their hands rushed towards him. They were dressed in old clothes. Ravi had never seen them before in his neighbourhood.

“My name is Raja,” the boy said, smiling.

“I’m Rani,” the girl said. “Will you buy a pencil from us?”

Ravi bought a red and brown pencil. After reaching home, he gobbled his snacks and started drawing in his sketchbook.

He wondered if he was sketching or if the pencil was moving on its own. The sketch of a palace started taking shape. Then he drew a sun, a garden, wild animals and birds. As he started shading his sketch, strange sensations rippled through his body, as though invisible hands were tugging at him.

Suddenly Ravi was pulled inside the painting. He was standing in the garden of a palace. Ravi started walking towards the palace, as though his legs had a mind of their own. The door of the palace opened as he neared it. The interior of the palace was beautiful but empty.

He stopped before a large wooden door with carvings of wild creatures. He trembled. They were the creatures he had drawn with the strange pencil. This scared him.

Before he could step away, the door slowly slid open. Through the enlarging gap, Ravi caught the first glimpse of the king and the queen sitting on thrones, in red robes. They smiled at him.

“Welcome son, welcome to your kingdom of Sapnapur. You are in your land,” the king said.

“I hope you had a smooth journey here Ravi?” the queen asked.

Ravi started sweating. The king and the queen were calling him their son. He had never met them before.

“I’m not your son,” Ravi said. “I was transported here by accident. I’m leaving right now.”

“You belong here,” the king said. “You can’t leave.”

“You can’t stop me,” Ravi replied.

“Guards, lock him in the dungeon,” the king commanded.
Ravi’s eyes widened as all kinds of birds, animals and giant insects entered the room through the thick wooden door. As the creatures neared him, they became bigger and bigger.
Trying to avoid the wild animals, Ravi ran around the room. But the animals grabbed his arms and legs and dragged him to the dungeon. Depositing him in a corner they started patrolling outside, keeping an eye on him.

Ravi sat in the corner, sobbing and cursing himself. He looked around the dungeon trying to find a way out. It was a windowless prison, guaranteed to drive him mad.

With nothing to do Ravi drifted off to sleep. A few hours later rough hands woke him up. Strange creatures surrounded him. They dragged him back to the royal chambers.

“Have you changed your mind, Ravi?” the king asked.

“We really missed you son,” the queen said softly.

As he stared at them, he realised that they were the young boy and girl who had sold him the red and brown pencil. After he held the pencil in his hands, he had sketched the palace and the creatures. They were not some poor children selling pencils to make two ends meet, but a couple of tricksters who had lured him into this strange land through a sketch. There was some weird magic going on here, he figured.

“I’m not your son,” he said angrily.

“Take him back to the dungeon,” the queen ordered.

“Don’t give him any food or water until he agrees to rule this land,” the king commanded.

Ravi was dragged back to the dungeon. Why had he drawn this palace and all the creatures. How would he get out? He stared at the strange beasts guarding his dungeon. Lying down on the ground Ravi drifted into a restless sleep. As he turned to his side, something poked him in the ribs.

“I can’t even sleep peacefully in this strange palace,” he muttered.
He searched for the object that had poked him in the ribs. It was the red and brown pencil. He had completely forgotten that he had tucked it into his pocket when he sensed something strange was afoot.

Suddenly a plan started forming in his mind. “All is not lost. I still have that magic pencil with me,” he consoled himself.

As he started drawing his house on the wall, he felt the tickling sensations again. He quickly drew a few windows and the main door of his house. He felt the familiar jerk pulling him closer to the wall.

Soon he was transported back to his house. He sat on his chair staring at the notebook.

“What a relief,” he sighed. “I prefer being Ravi, the son of this house, instead of the prince of Sapnapur.” Tearing the sketch, he threw the pieces into the dustbin. Breaking the pencil into two, he tossed it into the bin.