FilmIndia (Jan-Nov 1942)

The Priest of Amen-Ra By: Dewan Sharar The distant, infrequent boom of great weights dropping into place, and now and then the ghost of a shcut as the overseers lashed the toiling slaves.. came faintly to Patris, the Chiet Priest, as he stood in the doorway of Amen-Ra's temple. The temple stood on a little hill. Below it Pharaoh's city lay outspread like a carpet. The streets were thronged with people; merchants chaffered with customers; camels and mules bore laden panniers; coppersmiths and potters and bowmakers plied their crafts: and beyond the clustering roofs, beyond Pharaoh's tall white palace that towered dominatingly over all, the desert sand encircled it, a still silvery, illimitable sea. A peaceful scene; but Patris gazed cn it with bitter compassion in his heart. Psamthek, his fellow-priest, glanced at him curiously. "What troubles you. Patris'.''' he said. "You look as if you saw unhappy visions?" "I saw a dark future for Egypt," said Patris. "Listen!" The far off thudding sound quivered again upon their ears. "Look below, at those streets." said Patris. "How many yount; men can you count there?" The other priest was silent. "There are old men, and women, and children," said Patris, "but the young men of Egypt are dying daily and hourly in the making of Phara:h's canal; their lives trickle through his fingers like sand, as countless and as unheeded. How will the land fare without them? And what have they done that their lives should be thrown away?" Psamthek stared at him. "But he is Pharaoh!" he said. "How shall any man dare to question his decree?" "I do not question it," said Patris calmly. "I challenge it.'' Psamthek, thunderstruck. could find no words. "I thought long and prayed deeply," Patris said. Night after night while the rest of the world slept 1 have prostrated myself before Amen-Ra, beseeching him for guidance; and all the while I have known in my heart that there was but one answer. This waste of lives must step." "Yet who shall face Pharaoh and utter such words?'' said Psamthek. "I," said Patris. "No, No! It will mean your death!" Psamthek cried. "What is the death of one man ccmpared with that of thousands?" Patris said, calm-facsd. "I ask no more than that the gods shall accept my life as a sacrifice, and bid tht slaughter cease." * * * The great stone-lined channel lay like a gash across the shining silvei bosom of the sand. A causeway connected it with the granite quarries whence long teams of men, harnessed two abreast, dragged the huge blocks of stone that other teams, under the supervision of skilled masons, hoisted into place in the banking. It was merciless work beneath that brassy sky and fiercely-beating sun; again and again a man would drop where he stood, and his limp figure be hastily extricated from his harness, and another take his place. There was no resting on that task; above all on the day when Pharaoh himself had seen fit to come and observe its progress. He sat in state in his royal chariot. Two slaves crouched behind him, waving long-handled fans over his diademed head; there were courtiers and counsellors in attendance, and a train of soldiers on guard. He was frowning a little. This was his lifetime's dream in process of fulfilment — a canal across Suez, between the Bitter Lakes and the Red Sea — and all was not going well with it. Thus Patris beheld him — Patris coming forward with none of the panoply befitting a Chief Priest, but quietly, alone and on foot, across the sand. He made grave obeisance to Pharaoh. "O King, my Lord, may life, health and prosperity attend you,' he said. "And you also, Patris," Pharaoh 69