THE RAT KING

A short play
by
Madhuri Shekar

The Rat King by Madhuri Shekar is licensed under a Creative

Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Contact:
madhuri.shekar1@gmail.com
THE RAT KING

By Madhuri Shekar

The drip-drip-drip of water drops

splashing into a puddle. Lights slowly
fade up.

We are in the sewers of Mumbai. We hear

the pitter-patter of hundreds of
thousands of rats, rising and falling
in an otherworldly rhythm. Shadows race
past the walls of the sewer. A strong
smell emanates out, almost
overpowering. We hear the splish splash
of water in the sewage tunnels, and
distant sound of rain, above ground.

In a corner squats a MAN, hunched over,

dressed in a greasy shirt and lungi,
holding a big stick. Barefoot. He rocks
back and forth, and then lifts his head
to look at the audience.

MAN
We have our own Gods down here.

Rats scurry past. He follows them with

his eyes.

MAN
It is Naraloka. The world beneath the earth. Some people
think there would be fire, searing torture, madness- devils
leaping out of the darkness to infest your minds- while the
great Lord of Death oversees it all with his mighty pompous
laugh.
(he grins)
They have it right except for the fire. No, no- in hell, it
is the steady drip, drip of water. The endless drip, drip,
drip. The puddles of cold, coloured water. The dregs of the
washed masses, the excrement, their impurities- as they drip
drip drip into Naraloka- the world beneath the earth.

He springs into a heroic standing

posture.

MAN
AND I AM THE GREAT LORD OF DEATH.

He laughs, mighty and pompous.

He starts circling the stage. Watching

the rats.
 2.

MAN
Devils leap out of the darkness to infest your minds.

Pitter-patter. Splish splash. A car

honk is heard, very far away.

MAN
We don't have your Gods down here. Not your Rama, your
Krishna. Those Gods of men. No. They wouldn't last down here.
I would eat them up.

The shadows of rats begin to congeal

together, creating something bigger,
growing.

MAN
The devils have their own Gods.

The shadow grows, MAN stops circling

and faces it, his stick at the ready.

MAN
They have their demon king.

The shadow grows into the shape of a

giant rat.

MAN
A false god, crowned in fear, in depravity.

Hissing noises.

MAN
We battle every night- the lord of justice verses the lord of
vermin.
He lets out a yell and rushes at the
shadow. The shadow screeches and breaks
apart, dissolving into a thousand rats
once more. The man gasps wildly and
starts smashing the floor with his
stick, lashing out at the rats. The
rats run away. He yells once more.

He picks up a dead rat from the floor.

He'd got one.

MAN
WHO IS YOUR GOD NOW?

He throws it up in the air and bats it

away with his stick. The rat flies into
a pile on the corner.
 3.

Light slowly comes up on that corner.

We see a large pile of dead rats.

MAN
They cower underneath their demon king. I hear them say his
name, praying, quivering in fear.

The hissing noises return. We can't

make anything of them, but the man can.
He listens.

MAN
"Bakasura... Bakasura... the demon king of the rats."

The shadow of the rat king rises behind

the Man. He doesn't see it.

MAN
They beseech him, cowering under his protection, to cover the
earth with filth as they continue to spread their evil.

He spots a rat, yells, and bashes it

with his stick. An inhuman scream fills
the sewers. He slides it over to the
pile with his stick.

MAN
But no one can escape the Lord of Death.

He walks over to the pile, and starts

climbing on top of it.

MAN
The Lord of Justice.

The shadow begins to sway behind him.

He stands triumphantly on top of the
pile.

MAN
Naraloka is mine.

The pitter-patter of feet start to

resemble the sound of drums. A low beat
starts up. The man hears it and turns
around slowly. The shadow faces him,
moving, hissing, darting.

The man leaps off the pile, and he and

the shadow circle each other. The drums
speed up.

The man rushes at the shadow, which

bobs and weaves.
 4.

Rats spill out from the shadow's mouth

on to the floor. The man kills them,
swiftly, mercilessly.

The shadow catches the man's stick in

its mouth, and wrenches it away. The
hissing grows high, loud. More rats
flood the stage. In tune to the drums,
the man pounces on the rats, and snaps
their necks and smashes their brains
out with his bare hands. He throws them-
flip flip flip- into the mass grave in
the corner.

He rushes at the shadow with an

almighty yell, and the shadow dissolves
once more, this time into nothingness.
The rats scurry away as fast as they
can, terrified. He crouches and
observes. A deep red glow fills the
sewers.

The rain starts pouring above ground in

earnest.

The man slowly stands up and walks

downstage, lit from underneath. He
squats down. Lights dim slowly.

MAN
You are in the dark now, with me. Feel the darkness. The
smell. The sounds.

Pitter patter splish splash hiss honk.

MAN
How did you come to be in the world beneath the earth?

Silence.

MAN
We have our own Gods down here.

Blackout.

Rats race through the audience.

---