A truism widely accepted in most cultures infers that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Basically this means that any person with a working and cognitive brain can and will form their own opinion about practically anything they can either see, hear, feel or smell in the physical and metaphysical realms.
The truism remains pretty much valid across the range of human experience. We all view things that occur in nature, in music, in food , art , the news or indeed anything- differently. It's unlikely, in the event that more than one person happened to view the sculpture in today's picture, would reach total consensus on its merit or value. Some might see it as ugly, perhaps even an abomination. Others might think it is interesting. Possibly beautiful in its stark minimalism or a waste of human effort to even produce it.
There have of course been totalitarian regimes in the past and even today who have attempted to force people to view practically everything through the same lens, that is the lens of the person or people in charge. I prefer to believe that even people living under such deprivation would still secretly hold their own private views. Their own beholders view.
It is quite possibly that this ability to appreciate difference is what has enabled and encouraged humans to flourish and evolve? It would certainly be a vastly different and more boring world if there was an homogeneous view on everything.
Democracy may well have actually been invented to try and harness and control such diversity of views. At its heart democracy implies that a simple majority of say 51% of people who hold roughly similar views will hold sway over the 49% who see things differently. Not a perfect system, but it is what it is. Journalists of today have even further reduced this concept in recent times. They now often use bywords such as Brexit or the election of Donald Trump to underscore how divisiveness can manifest.
One particular area of human divisiveness I will never understand, however, relates to the Holocaust which occurred during the Second World War when a decision was bizarrely made to exterminate certain national groups. I've always been incredulous that: a) caring people allowed this to happen in the first place and b) there are still those who consistently deny such an event ever occurred in the first place.
To that end, I included a chapter relating to this event in my unpublished fictional story, "Far Flung Corners". The chapter involves two young boys in the city of Budapest who witnessed a Holocaust event first hand during the darkest days of that dismal war.
For those who are interested, I've included this chapter below.
At around the time Andras and Gyorgy were making their way down to the river in search of some exciting play adventure, the good citizens of Budapest were already very much aware that a brutal devouring of the minority Jewish and Romani populations was taking place in their city. Having already been herded from their houses and then forced into isolated and despairing ghettos, these unfortunates were continually being forced into further corners. Under Arrow Cross auspices, and following the master plan of high profile Nazi, Adolf Eichmann, these targeted minorities were already being silently transported away to extermination camps or sent to other frightening fates. Budapest, which for centuries had prided itself as a bastion of integration, and a safe and harmonious haven for European Jews and other minority groups, had entered a deep and dark phase. Accompanied by the libretto from a bizarre Teutonic operetta, the Hungarian operatic stage was already in full chorus, bellowing out the sinister lyrics of “the final solution”.
Andras and Gyorgy had in fact recently and closely experienced the madness of an “ethnic cleansing” process. An unfortunate incident had taken place in their apartment building a just a few weeks earlier. It had all started when armed troops arrived noisily in the middle of the night. The German soldiers had proceeded to violently remove several families from their apartments, in the process waking the whole building. Gossip around the apartment block the next day focussed on the fact some of those taken were not even Jewish. It seemed new genealogical lineages had been invented for some unfortunates who’d been earmarked by the powers that be for “other” reasons.
Nothing had been seen or heard from any of the missing families since the night of their disturbing disappearance. Equally, none of the remaining building residents felt sufficiently confident to make enquiries about the fate of their former neighbours. What had become of those poor people remained an absolute mystery. Adding insult to the situation, the remaining building occupants had all watched on uneasily as several days after the eventful night of their neighbour’s disappearance, Arrow Cross party members and their families had moved into the vacated apartments.
Despite such dramatic events becoming all too frequent, it was still possible for two boys to walk unobtrusively through the central part of Budapest without imminent danger - provided they kept their noses clean and their wits about them. Andras and his friend Gyorgy certainly showed no fear as they ambled down their street towards the river, hoping that there they might find something to add a bit of adventure to their day. The boys had of course been warned by their respective parents that they were never to wander too far from home, but for some reason both lads felt an unspoken desire to overstep their unwritten boundaries that day. Though late autumn was already putting large dents into the day’s length and the temperatures had also lowered considerably since the recent summer’s departure, both boys remained confident there were still sufficient hours of light remaining to complete the task of getting to the river and then back home before full darkness descended.
Steamy puffs of breathe rose from the boys mouths and nostrils as they lost themselves in lively conversation, wandering aimlessly for some time before they eventually came to be walking along the river’s edge, not far from the central market. The area was deserted, not that the boys really noticed. They were so engrossed in their chatter they were all but oblivious to their surroundings. Even the loudest sounds emanating from the city failed to pierce their bubble of their close friendship. Had they been concentrating, the more musically aware Andras would definitely have been aware that heavy vehicles were rumbling around the city, in the process creating a pulsing bass line beat. The more rhythmic sound of shoe leather slap-slapping against pavement, occasional gunshot rings and the more distant sound of screams shrieking out into the cool afternoon air added the top notes to the city’s musical score.
The boys were pretending to be tightrope walkers as they made their way along the top of a thin segment of concrete blocks which topped the Danube River’s upper retaining bank. Gyorgy suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing them both to fall off the blocks and tipple back down onto the pavement. When they recovered their balance Gyorgy pointed excitedly downstream, causing Andras’s eyes to automatically follow in that same direction. About fifty meters from where they were standing, Andras could clearly see the square inlet built into the side of the river bank. It was right next to the markets, and Andras was aware it was used as a transport and loading area when the markets were operating. Today, however, bobbing up and down in the stilled and chilly waters, there were no boats carrying meat and vegetables. Instead there floated dozens of dead bodies. As they drew closer the boys were able to take in the full horror of the scene before them. Time slowed to a snail’s pace as the gory details flooded without mercy into their overwrought young brains. The unfamiliar yet unmistakable smell of death hung heavily over the area.
In all they counted twenty eight bodies floating face-down in the murky waters. One very peculiar thing they also noticed was that all the bodies appeared to have been tied together in pairs. Fourteen sets of dual deaths, with the pairings looking to be a mixture of men, women and terrifyingly, some children. The deathly partners were connected at both their wrist and upper arm by thick coils of white rope, now cleaving deeply into the swollen and bloated flesh. Magnetically drawn to move ever closer, the boys soon found themselves standing on the top of the bank directly over the inlet, their eyes tightly focussed on the carnage below them. From there they could see clearly that one corpse in every pair had a large hole in the back of their head.
Those with the gaping bullet wounds all appeared to be male, while the torsos of their attached but unblemished partners were all horribly contorted. Both of them immediately realised that this effect was most likely caused by the pain and horror of drowning. The boy’s breathing was slow and shallow as they watched the rigor mortis afflicted bodies bob and swivel to the water’s rhythm. Their tender years had in no way prepared either of them to remotely fathom who could have possibly done such a terrible thing, or why on earth it could even happen?
Deeply troubled by the horrific scene, the boy’s sought temporary relief by averting their eyes back out to the river. There was, unfortunately, no respite to be had there. Immediately they saw more of the misshaped humps of death floating in a ghostly procession down the middle of the river. Rudderless rafts moving swiftly and silently downstream, caught in the clutch of the Danube’s fast flowing and freezing waters.
The boys watched in morbid fascination as the eddying action of the current disrupted the flow of one of the pairs, causing it to break away from the current’s grasp. Some other quirk in the river’s undulations then caused the departing pair of corpses to leave the flotilla altogether and begin floating towards the inlet. The lads tracked the eerie progress from their vantage point high on the upper river bank, noting the breakaway pair of bodies must have been following the same path as the others had also done. It took only a few minutes before this new pair had floated all the way into the calmer waters of the inlet. They came to a floating rest just below where the boys stood, mingling silently with the earlier arrivals. The mesmerising reverie into which Andras and Gyorgy had temporary drifted was suddenly broken by a shocking flurry of splashing, exploding in the inlet’s filthy water. The air around them filled with the sound of great expulsions and sucking of air. Had someone managed to survive this macabre ordeal.... is it possible they were still alive?
One of the newly arrived pair, a girl who looked to be only slightly elder than themselves, was struggling to lift her head above the water level. She’d somehow managed to endure the headlong rush down the bitterly cold river, and was now thrashing franticly, desperately trying to draw in deep gasps of life giving air as her feet found purchase on the bottom of the inlet’s shallower water. When she finally managed to stand in hip deep water near the embankments edge, the boys could see the girl was naked except for a pair of white panties that clung desperately to her saturated and frozen body. Her body was tinged dark blue from the intense cold of the water. Somehow this tenacious young lady had managed to not only support the body attached to her, but must have also been able to intermittently break her mouth through the water’s freezing surface to fill her straining lungs. The poor soul, now near total exhaustion, was still trying desperately to stand, slipping dangerously in the water just below from where Andras and Gyorgy watched.
The boys were incapable of reacting to the situation initially. Both stood rooted to the spot, at once totally absorbed and deeply appalled by the powerful imagery neither of them had ever expected to possibly witness, let alone have to deal with. Their state of suspended animation was only broken when an inner sense of humanity, prompted by the plight of this poor wretch of a girl, jolted the boys into action. With automatic efficiency they jumped in unison down to the base of the inlet, reached out and helped the struggling girl make it to the safety of the bank. Once they had a good grip on her arm and could support and steady her body in the water, Gyorgy set about untying the ropes which connected the girl to an old man. As they worked quickly to liberate her, the boys both noticed something which had been consistently the case with half the other bodies in the inlet. The old man floating in the water right next to them had a bloodied and messy bullet wound which had shattered the back of his head.
With the last knot finally undone Gyorgy and Andras were able to pull the shivering girl into an uncomfortable sitting position on the edge of the concrete bank. The girl looked to be lapsing in and out of unconsciousness, but Andras was encouraged when he heard an almost inaudible sigh of relief slip through her blue lips as she collapsed against Gyorgy. Andras had earlier noticed a blue coat had also been washed into the inlet by the undulating current. He could still see it, swollen arms outstretched, floating amongst a churning mass of flotsam about ten meters to his right. He stood and ran over to fish the heavy item of clothing from the water’s sucking grasp. Wringing the coat out as best he could, he raced back to where Gyorgy was still sitting with his arm around the sobbing girl, doing to comfort her in the innocent way of a child. Both lads had only scant experience with the naked female form, but Andras instinctively felt the placement of his water logged coat over the girl’s shivering body might at least restore a part of her lost dignity. He also hoped it might provide her with some much needed warmth, for she was obviously close to freezing.
After draping the still dripping garment over the girl, the boys continued to rub her back with their warm hands, manoeuvring her into a position where she could lay on her side. Her haunted, dark brown eyes were shut tight as her chest continued to heave and swell like the bellows of a busy blacksmith. As soon as she was on her side the girl at once began vomiting large amounts of water, spasms of fluid inelegantly streaming out of her ruby red lips and out onto the cement upon which she lay. When at last her stomach was emptied of Danube water, the girl began to cry in eerie despair. It started off as almost a silent wail, but as the sound strained to release itself from her shivering body it continued building in fortissimo until a soul shattering squeal shrieked from the girl’s mouth, echoing around the small amphitheatre until it filled every cell in the boy’s bodies. No matter how much or how fast they rubbed her back, powerful gut wrenching shivers continued to convulse the weeping girl as she trembled heavily beneath the wet coat.
Not really knowing what else they should or could do to help, the boys kneeled in awkward silence as they watched over the severely distressed girl. Several minutes passed until there came a moment when the girl’s wits miraculously appeared to return. She stopped her eerie wailing and looked up at the boys with a set of clear and sparkling eyes, powerful eyes that gave a clear insight into the girl’s fierce determination. Once she had the boys, her saviours, in focus she began speaking to them in soft, slow tones, still sobbing through chattering teeth.
“That man in the water is my grandfather.... Karl Heller.........” her big brown eyes drew theirs towards the old man she’d recently been tied to during her horrifying ordeal. “You’re probably wondering what awful thing we must have done to deserve such a terrible fate? To that, I can tell you honestly we committed no crime other than the fact we were born Jewish.” The girl’s fingers grasped at the coat, pulling it tighter around her body, perhaps for warmth, but more likely for the sake of her dignity.
“For absolutely no reason at all some Arrow Cross militia people picked my grandfather and I up this morning while we were out looking for mushrooms in the Buda hills. They told us nothing, just treated us like dogs and forced us into the back of a truck before driving us to a place on the river, near the Parliament. It was there that these people who now act as our judge, jury and executioners forced us to get out and watch while others of my people who’d been captured earlier were tied together and shot. They just made us watch and wait in silence while they brutally murdered and executed ........”
Before reaching the conclusion of her short but emotionally charged speech, the girl took another long and pitiful look at her grandfather’s floating body. Then without further ado or warning she was up on her feet and running hard, darting away from the boys like a startled gazelle. The heavy, wet coat still draped and dripping round her shoulders as she disappeared into the maze of side streets behind the markets. It all happened so quickly the boys didn’t have time to react or give chase. They remained motionless by the river bank, left speechless by the incomprehensible experience of the girl’s bizarre arrival and even more so by her unexpected and hasty departure.
Neither boy would ever again meet or hear anything further from Karl Heller’s granddaughter, but there is an interesting twist in her story. Not only did the plucky girl manage to survive her unspeakable ordeal, but through a series of further coincidences and a large amount of good luck, the heroic young lady eventually found her way to a new and safe life in Australia shortly after the war concluded.
As we already know, Andras Molnar would also make a similar south bound exodus in a few years’ time. Quite a coincidence in the overall scheme of things really. The unknown Heller girl would eventually make her new home in the city of Sydney, on the other side of the continent to where Andras would eventually settle. Their paths unfortunately would never again cross and both remained forever oblivious of their shared Australian fate. None of the three, however, would ever forget those few intense and mind numbing moments they shared together on that cold autumn day in war time Budapest.
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As far as Gyorgy Kun, Andras Molnar’s neighbour and best friend, is concerned - there’s a further interesting post script relating to this aspect of the story.
This development relates to an event which occurred on a sunny Budapest day in May 2005, over sixty years on from when he and Andras were the innocent witnesses to that barely credible incident near Budapest’s central markets. On this modern day in question Gyorgy, was suddenly swept powerfully back into the same vortex of high emotion he’d forever associated with the day he and his friend Andras had helped the Heller girl from the Danube River.
The day had started out innocently enough; with Gyorgy travelling by public transport to a dental appointment. The battered old number two tram was rattling its way past the ornate Hungarian Parliament buildings, and had then turned south to travel along the Pest side of the River Danube. Gyorgy’s mind had been in neutral, not dwelling on anything in particular apart from taking in the splendid river views as the tram screeched loudly down the tracks. From the corner of his eye Gyorgy noticed a new monument had been installed alongside the river bank. A sudden prick of curiosity roused him from his daydreaming, and he rang the bell to get off at the next stop, an uncanny intuition telling him he needed to go back and inspect this new public adornment for some reason.
What he discovered on his return to the site was a simple but powerful piece of sculpted symbolism. It was a modernistic type of monument featuring sixty pairs of variously shaped and sized shoes, all cast in iron. The realistic looking metal shoes, true to the style of yesteryear, had been strategically spread out along a segment of the river bank. Though they’d been crafted in a metal of understated dull lustre, all of the shoes shone proudly this sunny day.
Gyorgy had always believed in himself that this was the probable spot from where the Heller girl had been thrown so mercilessly into the river all those years ago. After inspecting the monument and reflecting on its location by the river, he moved back to read the accompanying plaque in detail. It confirmed the memorial had indeed been designed and put in place to portray a small sample of many similar shoes which had been unceremoniously left behind by the legions of Jewish folk who’d perished from this exact point during World War Two’s days of madness.
When he’d finished reading through the simple but poignantly worded plaque, Gyorgy found himself not only vindicated in his assumption about the location, but he was also plunged into an intense “total recall” experience. Every pulse thumping emotion he and Andras experienced as young boys came flooding back as him, looping vivid replays of the horrific scene in his mind. He recalled every detail and each emotion his senses had absorbed the fateful day he and his best friend had helped pull the young Heller girl from her watery grave. So precise were his memories of the day, he could even hear the eerie scream released by the girls as she lay on the river bank.
Standing by the monument all these years later, Gyorgy was suddenly overwhelmed by the reactions he was experiencing. He wasn’t one who was normally prone to open displays of emotion, but this day he had no strength to constrain himself. Large tears of long pent up sorrow and pity rolled down his face and his chest heaved brutally as the sobbing took over his body. The sadness he was evoking came not just from the powerful recollections rekindled by the monument, but also from many accumulated incidents of grave injustice and unfairness he’d experienced during his seventy two years of life. He sat on the ground as his chest continued heaving in much the same way the Heller girls had done when they’d pulled her from the water. A lifetime of pent up and forgotten feelings and frustrations welled up and began to consume him. There were so many things he’d bottled away since the day he and Andras had witnessed Karl Heller’s grand-daughter rise from the dead.
The coronary thrombosis he suffered may or may not have been the result of re-living his recollections of that most disturbing experience, but it was certainly massive and terrifyingly terminal. The doctors and ambulance people who attended the emergency call concurred Gyorgy must have died instantly. They were all, however, puzzled by his unusually peaceful, almost serene death mask. It was, they’d all agreed, highly unusual for someone who’d suffered from such a deathly seizure.
