-Harry Sangtam
Gasp, gasp, running, out of breath.
I went to the theatre. I opened my wallet, paid the money, got my ticket, and went inside to watch Gladiator.
The movie opened with a dramatic battle scene. Those words echoed within me, “Strength and honour,” and I clutched my seat. I was shaken, and it pulled me completely into their world.
I felt like a gladiator. I stood behind him. I forced myself into the colosseum where people were cheering at the bloodshed.
Emperor Commodus demanded to know the gladiator’s name. I held my breath as he slowly removed his helmet and revealed his identity.
Then he spoke those famous words:
“My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.”
Something sparked within me.
The theatre disappeared.
Smoke filled my lungs again, but this time it was not imagination.
Sirens wailed.
Gunfire cracked through the air.
I was no longer in the theatre. I was in the present, where I heard the general shouting, “Attack! Launch a counterattack with your squad!”
I held my breath and responded, “Major Maverick! Enemies ahead!”
“Yes, sir!”
I walked through the bloody field covered in fire. Shots rang out around us. I gripped my gun and moved forward with my men. I grabbed one of them, struggling to understand what was happening around us.
I looked into his eyes, pulled him close, and said,
“Strength and honour.”
Then my men and I walked forward toward the colosseum of death.
And in that moment, through the fire and thunder, I remembered him.
CONTRIBUTOR SPOTLIGHT
Harry Sangtam is a devoted cinephile who believes that some films are more than entertainment; they are masterclasses in storytelling, performance, and emotion. He is drawn to stories that linger long after the credits roll and to characters that feel more real than reality itself.
A sophomore English Honours student, he approaches writing as something instinctive rather than routine. For him, most pieces begin with a feeling, a fleeting spark that quietly pushes the first line onto the page. What follows is a process of listening rather than forcing, allowing words to arrive in their own time.
While he is still learning the discipline of consistency, he sees growth as an essential part of the creative journey. Writing, to him, is not simply a passion but a space where thoughts find breath and untold stories slowly take shape.
Harry believes there are still many stories waiting within him, and he is only beginning to discover the language they deserve.
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