In a particularly small town, on a particularly small street, there lived two small youngsters- their houses leaning towards each other as would young couples eager to feel the novelty of intimacy. This town was so small that on a map of the state, it was the size of a beauty spot and on a map of the country, it was the size of Mr. Poe’s thumb- invisible. It is to be noted that Mr. Poe had lost his thumb in an accident no one speaks of, beyond the Moors of this small town.
This town was called Reand but it was also called Bluand, depending on who wins the Vicennial Rowing Competition. The Reginald family- short and stout with a particular liking for bread with butter or the Blunche Family- tall and thin with a particular liking for bread with jam. The particular street that the youngsters lived on was called Mr.Poe’s Street after the thumbless Mr. Poe. He was a sort of mythical figure amongst the 9986 residents of the town currently called Reand. If one were to look at the Blunche’s house and every house east of it and then the Reginald’s and every house west of it, one would suppose that they were two very different streets situated on very different parts of the globe. One would never have made the supposition that these houses were situated on the very same street, side by side, in a town as small as Mr.Poe’s non-existent thumb. Born into such a town were Regina Reginald and Blanca Blunche.
It was written in the stars and in the Town’s Chronicle as well that Regina and Blanca were to be different from one another, a difference so striking and absolute that it would be practically impossible for them to have any relationship other than an antagonistic one. The Town’s Chronicle was right. It should be since it was written by the old lady whom the town’s people claimed was part witch, she certainly had the looks for it- old and rugged yet oddly majestic. In all the years Regina and Blanca had lived, the two never had even the slightest liking for the same things let alone each other.
Regina liked geraniums so her mother lined their front yard with a dozen while Blanca liked heathers so her father cut them from the Moors every two to three weeks and kept them in a vase near her bed. Regina was an early bird and Blanca was a night owl. Regina liked her bread with butter and Blanca liked her’s with jam. Their understanding of life was so narrow, shaped by centuries of conventions and practices. To each the other was at best, an opponent and at worst, an enemy.
Regina had only known the world through the words of her grandfather, Reginaldo Reginald. She listened to the tales of Blanca’s wicked grandmother Blanche Blunche. She had no intentions or desires to know the world through anything but Reginaldo’s words. Same goes for Blanca, her grandmother would sing with rage of the days Reginaldo wronged their family and Blanca would go to bed at night, with tunes of trickery and vengeance and she could have sworn that she had listened to the only song there is or at least the only song that mattered.
When Regina was 13 going on 14 and Blanca 14 going on 15, the time came for the two families to compete in the Vicennial Rowing Competition but the two youngsters were not to compete as the competition had a condition that only family members above the age of 20 were qualified to compete. All the members of both families had been gearing up for the event for 15 long years, from the very day the last Competition was held and won by the Reginalds. Both families knew that the name of their town was at stake and knew well that names were of utmost importance in a world like theirs. If only one could have felt the air the day before, it reeked of competition without a hint of friendliness, or so it is said.
Unfortunately, the morning of the Competition saw lightning and storm clouds and the afternoon saw rainstorms. The only lake in Reand was flooded and therefore, the competition could not be held much to the dismay of both families. Blanche Blunche, unable to bear another 15 years of living in a town called Reand summoned the part witch chronicler of the town and asked her to host a competition which will decide the name of the Town. The old lady went on and on about how the town and it’s people have been caught up in the allure of the past and the safety of traditions, then she went on to say that it was the future they should concern themselves with. Upon finishing the statement she made which was quite befitting of a witch to make, she called upon the youngest members of both families and said that those two will determine, not just the fate of the name but the fate of the town itself.
Regina and Blanca, both with youthful eagerness stepped forward.
They were made to sit face to face with only a table to stand between them. The table was unclothed and truth to tell, it seemed conscious, almost shy of its own nakedness for it was a blushing mahogany. Having sight of the two youngsters red with eagerness and the table, mahogany with embarrassment, no one could help themselves from thinking that for all the embarrassment and eagerness to come out on top, everything was as it should be and everyone belonged.
The old lady who was no stranger to the ways of the Reginalds and the ways of the Blunches placed two plates of bread on the table- one with jam and one with butter. This came as no surprise given the fact that both the families had a cultish liking for one of the two but what did come as a surprise was that in front of Regina was the one with jam and Blanca, the one with butter.
For a second, in perfect unison, the town’s people gasped, for it was no secret that to do so much as ask a Reginald to eat bread with jam or a Bluche to eat bread with butter was an unspeakable, heinous crime.
After all, the original sin had everything to do with jam and butter.
The Reginalds and the Blunches were great friends once upon a distant past- almost family. The families would go rowing every now and then and all was well until one day, the late Mr. Reginald the first and the late original Mrs.Blunche made food for their day of rowing and did what had never been done before- they decided on bread.
Little did they know this would start a war between the families that would go on for centuries. Unable to come to a decision on whether they should spread jam or butter on their bread, the war started and this is what was considered the original sin.
With the weight of centuries of warfare and the integrity of a family’s name on their shoulders, there was simply no room for one’s own feelings and no room to be disheartened. Although jam made every Reginald’s stomach upset and butter triggered the Blunches’ lactose intolerance, Regina and Blanca were in no position to bring this into the equation. There was so much at stake- the name of this town and the honour of their families. Pressures of their families, their town, the world was caving in on them.
When the youngsters were just about to shove the cursed slice of bread into their mouths, teary eyes but strong willed, Mr.Poe came out of the tapestry of indistinct faces, and switched the plates. Simple and brisk.
Once again, the gasp in unison, only this time there was one pitched slightly higher than the others. The Reginalds and the Blunches wanted to be angry, they wanted to be mad at the fact that Mr.Poe had essentially invalidated the competition. But they couldn’t. As much as they wanted their respective youngsters to win the right way, Mr.Poe did save both of them from an unpleasant uneasiness. They knew the pain they would go through if they did eat the bread they were given and yet they also knew that whoever finished first would win them the chance to put their family name in the town’s name for 15 years straight.
However, they began to question their values. Was naming a town really that significant? If it came at the cost of their children’s well being was it worth the suffering?
The name of the small town they lived in could not feel more insignificant in the light of their children’s suffering.
While this mental calculation was being done in the backdrop, at the mahogany table was Regina and Blanca who had finished their bread with smiles on their faces thanks to Mr.Poe’s random act of changing the plates. If they had the courage to admit it to themselves, Regina was relieved that Blanca liked what she despised and Blanca felt the same. If they had the courage and the honesty, they were not just relieved but thankful. Yes, thankful.
Who was it that finished the bread first did not matter to anyone anymore.
Then, the part witch chronicler resurfaced from the tapestry of a crowd and spoke of how the course of the Town’s Chronicle just changed with the act of Regina eating Blanca’s bread and Blanca eating Regina’s. The act of helping each other- of one covering the other in an area of weakness if not it changed the course of the town’s history, it changed the course of its future. The old lady said something about her work there being done and slowly waltzed towards the Moors en route to the place beyond it. The town’s people had an even stronger conviction of her being part witch because there was no other way of explaining what she had just done.
This one act ended centuries of conflict between the Reginalds and the Blunches. It erased all the previous chapters and along with them, the wrongs they had both done to one another. It turned a new page between the rival families just as it turned a new page in the Town’s Chronicle.
As for the name of the town, no one cared to have it named after their family any longer, nothing seemed more insignificant. The families agreed on calling it And as it had been called before the original sin and with this name came the death of all that was particular and narrow and the rise of the other.
Mr.Poe suddenly had both thumbs again and no one knew how nor did anyone speak of it. The Reginalds’ and the Blunche’s houses no longer looked like young lovers lustful for touch but rather they looked like old friends walking closely beside one another on a journey that will never end. And through all this, Regina and Blanca learned that differences did not separate them; it merely made them complementary. They knew how good it felt to be different from one another if they helped each other; the feeling of your strength being the weakness of another and your weakness being their strength and the privilege of having the chance to lend a helping hand.
New tales and new songs were told and sung in the town of And and they all went something like, “On the days we have bread with butter and bread with jam on our table, I am thankful for our differences.”
