The Blue Mountains

by MariaVaricka

A young girl stumbles across an ancient axe. And a series of life changing events trigger. Will Ila prevail?

The Blue Mountains – Book 1

Dedication

Dedicated to the estimated twelve million plus young girls at risk of losing their childhoods annually to coerced or groomed marriages. The world desperately needs your freedom and unchained dreams taking wing to become a better place. If you are one among them, I wish you the strength to rise and seek your liberty and place in the world order. If you know someone who is at risk or trapped, I wish you the courage and wisdom to support her emancipation.

The passage hawk thrashed its wings frantically in the confined cage, beak gaping open repeatedly in piercing cries, broken feathers covering its cage floor.

Contents

ii. The Waterfall and The Axe

iv. Jeddo – The Beauty of Now

vi. Raman's Past With Ila

viii. Kalarippayattu Lessons

ix. Fireflies in the Plantation

x. Visit to the Past – Creation of the Land

xi. Being Removed From the Land

xii. The Loss of Balance - Fable

xiii. The Priestess in The Forest

After word

About the Author

ii. The Waterfall and The Axe

The girl gazing into the waters did not look over eleven years old. Her feet were bare, caked in mud. She was clad in a simple blue cotton top the colour of the deep ocean, and a white skirt covered with sky blue flowers and light green leaves and tendrils spreading riotously across the skirt in all directions. Her hair gathered with a plaited coir ribbon hung like a thick rope down her back, black wisps escaping their bonds and fluttering in the brisk wind. Her face was sun kissed brown, blessed by the bounty of rich melanin, and eyes deep, soulful brownish black. A cotton bathing towel lay flung between the exposed roots of an ancient, gnarled jackfruit tree.

She lifted her face and took in the gathering monsoon clouds. They cleansed her world every year without fail and she welcomed them. The woods behind her back remained undisturbed. Nobody was going to wander in so far braving the elements. Firm granite beneath her feet, she looked at the water thirty feet below. She was on the cusp of a tight waterfall plunging into a deep circular pool. Boulders the size of mini giants crouched sentry around the water guiding them safely out to the Periyar, the mighty river miles downstream. The dense woods with branches leaning steeply into the open space and roots clinging tightly to the earth did not promise that they would be here forever. Change would come, they too could be swept out to the Arabian Sea one day, roots torn from home. Others would take their place. Till then they would do what they had always done for as long as their memories took them back in time.

Turning her back to the darkened ink black waters spread out beyond the frothing falls, the girl lifted her face to the skies. The wind had picked up and sheets of rain were racing onwards. The first drops hit her upturned face like sharp pebbles. They hurt. In seconds it was a torrent of water pouring from the skies. Stripping off her sodden skirt and top she returned to the edge unmindful of the stinging water. Eyes closed she dove in a brilliant arc sans hesitation. Lifted free from the earth for a moment, she plunged towards the icy mountain waters below. Time slowed around her. The wind and rain rushing in her ears, a glorious silence enveloped her, and her mind soared free for a spell of eternity. Rain bathed her falling figure furiously. She hit the water and spliced through it. The freewheeling mind was jarred back into its encasing. Opening her eyes, she took in the startled fish darting away. And she saw the outline of the rock she had deliberately avoided, a few feet away, its edges blurred by the water. The water pressing in on her ears muted the sound of the thundering waters and the storm now tearing up through the trees above. Twisting in the water, she felt the pounding of her heart.

Flashes of lightening preceded rolling thunder. Surfacing, she slicked her hand over her face gazing at the low, dark clouds, alarm writ over her face. Rain did not worry her. To stay in the water with lightening blazing around her was foolhardy. Cutting through the inky water, she made her way to the boulder closest to the shores. Nimbly gripping the rough crevices with fingers and toes, she hauled herself up, meaning to leap across the remaining boulders and make a dash for the cover of trees.

The space above the pool lit up brilliantly. Stunned by the unusual brilliance, the girl turned her torso towards the water. And the next few scenes flashed deep into her mind. Her eyes followed in fascination as a stream of light whipped near horizontally across and struck the crown of a dying coconut tree on the near shore. A warm glow lit up the lone tree, top down. A white glowing ball ricocheted off the lower section and straight towards the young girl. Instinctively she leaped sideways towards the water. She felt a light warm blow to her shoulder and falling towards the water she saw the fiery ball hitting and lighting up the water in a slow blinding flash.

She struck the water headfirst, waiting for the current to fork through her and end her life. And waited. The water seemed warmer, the fish seemed unafraid darting closer to her and Ila felt one with the water. Even as she waited, the skies started clearing. The rains fled further towards the western mountains leaving the late afternoon sun beating down fiercely. Reluctant to pull out from the water, she floated face down idly scanning the bottom of the pool. A soft glint of light pulsated from the far end. She stroked her way to the spot.

A steady dull light gleamed at the bottom of the rock, the one beside which she had dived into the water with blissful abandon. Taking a deep breath, Ila kicked out her feet and descended towards the bed. Reaching the rock, she then proceeded to put her limbs to work on the near vertical face of the rock, headfirst, fingers searching the smooth face for grooves and crevices, legs thrusting against the water to propel her downwards. Reaching the gravel bed, Ila reached for the object. It felt surprisingly warm to her fingers. Prying it off the bottom, she realized that the metal came with a handle, its end wedged at the base of the rock.

Having exhausted her supply of lung oxygen she surfaced, took her time, and repeated the exercise conserving her energy. This time around the contraption slipped free easily when she tugged at the metal end.

Ila swam back to the shore, towards the treeline. When her feet struck the bottom, she pulled herself upright and waded the last few feet. Having reached the shore, she dropped down cross legged on the wet grass, and turned to study her find.

It was a double headed axe, the arm bleached deep ivory with feint red veins running long its length imbuing it with a regal look. Running her fingertip lightly along an edge, Ila drew a faint line of blood. What she initially had thought to be metal was like non other that she had seen. Lighter than the iron axes that she had used, it had a warm pulsating reddish black hue to it. More stone than metal. Strange etchings covered its inner breadth. If this was an axe it was a strange design, unlike any that she was used to handling. And felt strange to her touch as well. Not cold as she expected metal to be, neither rusted nor new. When she ran her palm over its face, a faraway tremble ran through her, up her arms and into the earth. It seemed like the remnants of a fading thunder starting deep within the core of the metal or stone-metal cradled lightly in her palms.

She could not be sitting here indulging her fascination. Scrambling to her feet lightly, Ila looked around. A fallen banana plant had her attention. Running the tip of the smaller blade of the axe along the length of the fallen plant, she stripped off a slender length. Looping it around the axe head, she fashioned a band and slung it deftly around her waist. And made for the cliff.

As she passed the stricken coconut tree, Ila gently stroked it in passing, and paused. The trunk no longer felt desiccated and cold to her touch. A smile flitted across her face. Gently patting the tree she resumed her stride. She did not know what was happening. But anything which did not kill her and looked to be rejuvenating a dying tree could not be bad.

Scrambling expertly up the vine clad cliff, the axe slung safely at her waist, she made her way to the top. She retrieved her sodden clothes and rung out the water as best as she could. Donning them wet, the axe at her waist, she swiftly made her way home knowing that she needed to be back before the old couple broke their siesta.

iv. Jeddo – The Beauty of Now

Jeddo was seated on the ground before a wooden, rectangular tray the length of an arm, and an inch deep. Absorbed, he was running his index finger left to right on the tray and occasionally swiping a fine length of wood along the length of the tray. Having waited a good while for him to look up and acknowledge her, Ila moved into the room. She stood by him, not noticed and unacknowledged. The tray was filled with fine sand the colour of golden sugar. Jeddo's finger moved fluidly. In its wake, an exquisite script appeared, one flowing into the other creating a pattern. He then proceeded to complete them with dots and small strokes above and below. When it seemed that the piece was done and complete, Jeddo swiped the sand clean and started afresh. Time and again he continued the process, only to wipe the design from its existence into nothing.

The script made no sense to Ila, but the beauty of each piece drew on unseen strings from deep within her heart. As she watched, with the movement of his finger, she felt the breath draw deep within her into her lungs, holding to infinity gently and then dissolve into nothingness.

When he was done with wiping the sand clean for the last time, Jeddo exhaled gently and sat contemplating the sand for a while. Ila contemplated on his face and noticed the gentling of the lines on his face. He looked serene, fading into himself. Jeddo looked up, with an imperceptible smile adding a glow to his face.

"So" he smiled gently, "Who do we have here". It was more a statement than a question.

"It is beautiful," Ila breathed with reverence. "Why did you wipe it clean? That is something that you would frame and display forever."

"Child, why do you have to possess everything that is beautiful. Can you not enjoy the moment, drink in the time, be grateful for the glory and just be."

Jeddo's smile gentled the rebuke. "It is monkeys who snatch the beautiful flower in its natural settings, attracted by its beauty and then not knowing what to do with it having got it, then proceed to shred it to unrecognizable bits."

"You are a merchant Jeddo." Ilas gaze lifted to Jeddo. A hint of hurt reflected in her eyes. "Everything is money to you. And yet you speak."

"I trade," Jeddo acknowledged. " You call me a merchant. There is a difference"

"What is the difference?" Ila warming up to the verbal sparring.

"Buying and selling for profit is what I do for a living. I could as well fish in the sea or grow crops like your old man. But that is not who I am." He paused for a moment. "Don't confuse the action with the person Ila. The moment you label someone, you take away infinity from that person. Identify you can, label you must not."

"Who knows," he mused, "If I had not been labelled a man, I might have been able to fly today."

"Tell me your story Jeddo," Ila smiled winningly at the elderly man.

"You've heard it so many times."

"Yes, but it's so wonderful to hear it again. You speak of a different land."

"Not so different from this land," Jeddo negated gently, shaking his head. "But yes, it is indeed beautiful.

The narrow strip of land rolls from the blue sea to the mountains in the east, much like this land. Just as much as the sea embraces and garlands the shores, the mountains and sweet cedar trees crown the land. Grapes grow plentiful in the valleys and the more arid southern lands have supported ancient olive trees since time immemorial. We then lived in peaceful times.

The people have always been enterprising, generous, and looking out for their neighbour. For centuries, the people explored westward following the setting sun, in search of yonder and meaning to life. Bitten by wanderlust and seeking the source of the rising sun, a group of fifteen families joined the long caravans travelling southward through the Baalbek to the Yam Suph. The Yam Suph by then had risen and swallowed vast tracts of land on both shores. The group set sail from the Ayla through the narrow waters, stopping at ports along the way. By the time the ships reached Adin, the group numbered seventy-two families. From here the ships sailed eastwards towards Qani and then in the south easterly direction for twenty-one days in the open waters and finally docked in Muziris.

And here I am with you, ages later. My ancestors never returned, choosing to make this land their home, though others did come and go."

"Do you miss your home?"

vi. Raman's Past With Ila

"My father was a great man." Raman said wryly with a suppressed snort.

"We lived in seclusion, far beyond the usual travel paths. It was rare to have visitors. He had spent years in isolated caves practicing the strictest austerities. He was far gone in years when my father was gifted my mother. She had been quite young and had been surrounded by her royal maids in the royal gurukul. For her it was straight from the cradle to blowing into the fire. My father was the first man that she had known, and we sons were born in quick succession. I was the youngest. My father was also our guru. I was in awe of him. So was my mother. In fact, I have never seen her coming out into the front courtyard to clear up the fallen leaves and boughs when my father was in the ashram.

One afternoon I returned to the ashram with firewood as part of my daily errands only to be met by a huge commotion in the backyard. I had never seen my father in the backyard. He was quivering with rage. My mother lay prostrate at his feet. My brothers stood in a circle around him aghast and ashen face. It was not my place to speak. "When the head is present the tail should not wag." Is that not what you say?" Ila nodded, with rapt attention.

"I set my burden down and approached my family. I could hear my mother weeping piteously. My brother's faces were ashen. "Raamaaa," father ordered, voice trembling with rage, "slit their throats." How could I question my father? At least that is what I thought then. He was my guru, my god. He could do no wrong. I unhooked my axe from my waist. I would have never been able to raise the weapon if I saw my mother's face. Like a coward I brought my axe down on her neck as she lay clutching my father's feet. Having committed the unspeakable, I went into a daze and do not know how I went through with my brothers. All that I remember is that when I came to my senses, there were bodies strewn around me, and my mother's head in my lap, eyes staring at me unblinkingly. My palms were stained with blood and there was blood caked on the axe blade. I, the son of a great sage; I who had never hurt an animal had committed an unspeakable crime. Ishwara, how was I to face my creator." With tears streaming down his face, Raman turned his eyes to Ila. Ila lifted her hand to her face and realized that it was tears that were flowing down her cheeks.

With no reason, no explanation, and no understanding of what I had done, I looked up mutely at my father. By now he had calmed down.

"You are my son. Your obedience pleases me. By the power of my penance, you can have anything you want."

I looked at the carnage strewn around me and shook my head in disbelief. What reward do I seek for this?

"Restore their lives," I said looking around us. "And let them have no memory ever of what transpired here."

"Now the natural law is that we cannot erase the memories of the universe. What is imprinted into the universe remains. The only semblance of control that we have is where to store it immediately and how to interpret it in the long run. If my father had tried to silence the memories the very stones would have cried out. If he had released it into the forest, the wild would run amok. He refused to carry the burden of the memories and I refused to let my mother and brothers carry the excruciating burden either. That left only me. This millstone was mine to bear.

viii. Kalarippayattu Lessons

Eagerly Arslan made for the door. Asan held out his arm blocking his way. "The space is sacred." Asan's arm never touched Arslan's body, but he felt himself come up against an invisible wall. Arslan hastily sprang back and kicked off his footwear. Ila had already slipped hers off.

"Now step across the threshold with your right foot". Two steps lead down to the training floor. Asan stepped on to the floor, right foot first. Bending low, he touched the floor with his right palm and brought it reverentially to his forehead and then his chest.

A group of children of mixed ages and genders trained rigorously on the earthen floor. Hands held high, arms straight and palms facing ahead, they covered the ground briskly. With each step they raised a leg straight up gracefully and with lightning speed, foot slapping a palm sharply, leg swinging back down backwards, torso straight and then step forward, to the lightly uttered instructions of "valathu nere, idathu nere" and sometimes only "valathu, idatthu."

Ila and Arslan stood transfixed, watching as the legwork changed for each complete to and from coverage of the practice floor. The legs were swung in an inward angle to strike the opposite palm with the inner sole; swung completely in a circle starting from the an inner swing and ending in the legs arching behind the torso; swung straight and up hitting the palm and then backwards with which the body turned only to strike the palm sharply again and then knee bent, leg lifted facing the original direction with the downward swing. As the bodies moved rapidly glistening with sweat in the oil wick lamplight, Ila felt the same forces awaken within her, with the sure knowledge that she too had done these exercises before. Glancing at Arslan she knew that he felt the emanating energy.

With barely a break from the legwork, the group started the various jumps. The senior ones jumping as high as over six feet, feet off the ground.

ix. Fireflies in the Plantation

She helped him on the cocoa plantation. When she was little, she had been climbing the shrubs like a little monkey unmindful of the tiny yellow-white star like flowers and pods clinging on to the trunk. Using the bright cocoa pods as stepping stems, she would climb right up to the upper branches to get a view of the river. Irked at the damage to the flowers, he put her to work in harvesting the pods. Now she helped him after school, to pick the cocoa off the shrubs, mindful of the tiny flowers and the future pods. Using a sickle knife tied to the long end of a light areca nut pole, she reached out to the bright pods in hues of yellow, red, and purple on the branches, slicing them free at the steam. Gathering up the harvest she left them piled up at her usual spots to be collected in multiple trips on her way back when she was done with her rounds. The old man considered her labour fair compensation for raising the girl.

On the weekly collection day, Ila would rise early to break open the pods and extract the pulpy beans before she left for school. The old man would duly sell the beans and collect the payment. The cocoa husks were chopped into little pieces and during sunny weather dried to make cattle feed or Amma would dump them into little shallow pits off the path along the length of the land to return unto the soil what could be compensated for its bounty.

The old man hated the rodents who gnawed through his prize crop and he delighted in setting traps for them. He taught Ila how to set traps with ripe, sweet smelling bananas. And took her down to the river to show her how to drown the critters in the trapped cages. Ila promptly took over the task of setting traps and took special pains to check the few traps scattered across the plantation. Whenever she came across a trapped squirrel, she immediately took it down to the river, waded to a spot closest to the shore, immersed the trap and slid the trapdoor open for the squirrel to swim safely to shore. And she always hoped that the critter would not make the same mistake twice. There was plenty of food for rodents on the grounds and in the shrubs and trees for them to go nosing around strange contraptions. The traps were very occasionally left in the backyard for a day or two, or mostly replenished with a wizened, blackened banana and returned to the spot.

Ila spent her leisure time roaming the forest land bordering the plantation or making time to drop in at Jeddo's, ensuring that she was back before the old man broke his siesta. The evenings were a different world, where she studied by the light of the earthen lamp late into the night while the mournful howls of the elusive wolves kept her company.

As summer was ending a month ago, bringing with it the intense heat prior to the south west monsoon, Ila had been uncharacteristically loitering in the backyard at sundown. A lone speck of light flicked in the plantation, at the root of a cocoa shrub among the fallen leaves. In the settling dusk, with the shadows gently seeping into the black of the night, the skeletal outline of a dry cocoa leaf flared up for a pulsebeat, as though to catch fire from the ember.

The cicadas fell silent for a moment and then began to raise their orchestra to a chorus. With each pulse, more flickers joined in, on the boughs, among the leaves, on the ground and in the deafening air. The evening rose to a crescendo and gradually settled down leaving in its wake one of the starriest galaxies on earth in a long while. Light pulsed throughout the hooded cocoa shrubs spreading away from the yard, among the scattered coffee plants and uphill among the woods. The air hung heavy with the evocative fragrance of the twilight bloomed ezhilam pala flowers. The tree bordered the land on the riverbank. If she stretched her arm out, she felt that she would be running her hand through a river of light flowing gently towards forever.

And that's when Ila saw the lone figure. He was brilliantly lit up as he stood motionless in a small clearing gazing intently at Ila. His features were unusually clear to Ila even from the distance. Ila blinked. When her eyes opened, the clearing held no human. The space throbbed with light.

x. Visit to the Past – Creation of the Land

"I waded into the placid waters, intent on cleansing the rust-coloured dry gore off the blade and handle. You, as usual, whisked gently around me, never far off. I dropped the tainted weapon into the shallow sandy bed. Dropping to my haunches in the water, I started rubbing the weapon with the clean wet sand. Rust colour leeched from the axe blade. I must have spent some time rubbing my weapon clean of its gory history. When I looked up from my all-absorbing task, I saw a different world around me."

Ila watched his face intently.

"Do you want to see what happened?"

She nodded. Raman reached out and swiped a finger along the blade drawing a drop of blood.

For a moment it was pitch dark; and then total chaos erupted around Ila. The earth shook violently. Ila staggered to her knees, palms bracing the earth. Sand bit into her knees and swallowed her hands. From ahead she heard the muted sound of waves pounding on the shore. Then the wind dropped to silence around her. An eerie, red glow lit up dimly, far ahead at a point and then ran along the horizon towards both sides turning blue-black-red, pulsing preternaturally. A terrible, warm energy boomed and reverberated towards land, rocking Ila backwards on to her heels. The pounding ceased, followed by the sound of water being drained. A string of smoke and fireworks lit up in the distance spreading along the blood red chain. Streaks of green and blue shot up jumping higher that the molten flames. Roiling greying clouds billowed and formed a wall obscuring the fire on the horizon. Jagged lightening cut through the dense water bound clouds. A series of violent jarring waves of energy hit ground up and stayed put Ila to her knees each time she attempted to get to her feet. Disoriented and sick with fear she disgorged herself weakly onto the sand. And then she heard it. The faint rush of water growing stronger by the passing minute. She looked up to see a dark shadow topped by greyish white froth bearing down on her and she was hit by a warm torrent and swept into and up, tumbling like a blind rag in a maelstrom. She opened her mouth screaming in terror and swallowed water with a strong acidic bite to it.

When she came to, she was lying face down, limbs sprawled out, fingers clawing the earth, Raman gently shaking her shoulders. She took in a deep shuddering breath and coughed on the dry earth inhaled into her lungs. She sat up shakily and leaned weakly against the wall.

"It continued for forty ages." Ila looked blankly at him. "The sun did not shine through the smoke that had covered the sea. The wind dropped and refused to blow through the ash. It was a no man's sea for an age. The stench of biting acid was overwhelming.

When it was all over, the land had been pushed up. A stretch of mountains strung out from north to south where once, far out it had been open sea. The sandy crescent shaped coastline of the land was now replaced by an unseen stretch of land flanked by the craggy mountain range on one length and on the other length the ever-generous sea who had given up a part of itself. A dark cloud yet shrouded the mountain peaks. And the expected rains from the sea did not come in. None dared to venture out onto the mountains.

It was only the brave or the hopeless who remained in the shadow, scrounging on the yellowed creepers and occasional berries. Wave after wave of people migrated eastward, towards the eastern shores of the land.

Finally, when the rains came, it was a torrent that never reached the inland. The ridges blocked the rainclouds. The deluge soaked the hardened ash and carved the earth deep in places. With life giving water quenching the thirst of dormant fire, the land burst forth in foliage. People yet hesitated to set foot on the land, such was the fear associated with the mass that had been obscured from their view and now being revealed."

"So, we are now below what was once the sea, a long time ago?"

Raman nodded in agreement and continued.

"The serpents were the adi-vasis, the first set of inhabitants of the new territory. They courageously slithered forth. None were expected to be back. To go into the unknown destruction was to go forth without certainty of return.

Life continued in its usual misery, with the scavengers struggling on in the rain shadow. Till one day, when on raising a weary head by the sense of being watched, the sight that met the eyes, lit up the weary faces. A saraph lay coiled on the low ground, its coils glistening bluish green and shot with gold. It raised its hood, solemn, watchful, and benign. A plume of reddish gold shot with blue framed its crown gloriously, giving it a multi hooded effect.

A motley little crowd gathered and approached tentatively. None breached an invisible boundary. Listless eyes scanned the motionless being and its bright aura. The serpents that had entered the forbidden land were ordinary. Not the one that was watching them now. Beside it, meandered its discarded skin, spread out over the unbroken rock, tail end coiled. And in its centrefold glimmered an egg sized crystal in brilliant hues of blue and green and delicate veins of gold.

Having gained attention, the ophidian retracted its hood gently, and without haste, gracefully slithered back to where from it had emerged. As its tail disappeared into the undergrowth, the moulted skin smouldered and burst into thin flames vaporizing rapidly, leaving behind naught but a fine film of ashes. Along with the saraph and its skin, the crystal too vanished from sight. The first drops of rain fell on the parched earth. The self -imposed spell binding the people broke and gradually begun to lift. Treasure grew multi fold on this side of the mountain range, in nature, in the pouches of its now inhabitants and in the deep vaults of the temples built in honour of the seraph who broke the draught and heralded the dawn of the new age.

xi. Being Removed From the Land

"This is what I do and what I know", He said gesturing around him, "I produce from the land, as did my father, his father, and his father before him. This land is my everything. I understand this land. And I have taught you what I know." Bending, he gathered a palm of earth and rubbed it between his fingers watching as the earth fell from hand.

Ila watched the love shine forth from him, and unbidden the thought arose, "If only, for once I could see that love, directed towards me. I would do anything for him."

"We are the keepers of this land. For generations, our women have ensured that there are men in the family, be it by birth or marriage; and our fathers have taught us how to till this land. You owe it to the land to marry." The old man spoke slowly, heavily. "There should be somebody to take care of this land. And if there is nobody after you, this land will be lost to us forever."

Slipping into thought, he spoke more to himself than to Ila. "I can stop you. You live under my roof. If you decide not to listen to obey me, then I have nothing to give you. You are on your own."

Amma, standing a pace away behind him put a hand over her mouth and turned her head to prevent an expression from escaping her.

Ila turned and fled the room, eyes blinded by tears.

"She thinks too high of herself."

"Let her be," Amma admonished, "She thinks what she thinks of herself."

Ila made her way to blindly across the path, more by habit than by design. Seeking out Jeddo's customary seat, she sputtered out the story amidst her sobs. Having run out of words, head laid to the armrest, she wept.

"Child, " he said, patting her head, "Let me tell you a story from my lands." Seeing no response, he continued. "You know of me as a trader of spices in your land. My ancestors have been trading along the coast of my land for centuries with different lands, both inland and across the seas.

We also used to trade in purple murex dye and have always traded in olive oil. We have dined with kings.

He paused, and mused more to himself, absently for a moment, "Now that's a story for another time."

"Now this is a story from the southern land. Our olives grew the best in the south. The olives grown on this arid land had a flavour to it, which could not be reproduced elsewhere. For years, knowing of the famed flavour of the oil, people came in from afar asking for cuttings. And the families on those lands gave generously, cautioning them that the flavour was derived from the sanctity of the land and not the trees. The progeny of those trees are now growing in the lands surrounding us, and far away towards the north across the seas.

The olive trees on these southern lands had been on them for generations, carefully nurtured. Now this is not the story of the olive trees but of the families that tended to them. It is the olive trees that was the main source of income for these families and the olives grew on the land. You could lease the trees out for a year or so, but you would never lease the land out. Now why I say this is to tell you how important the land was to the families.

The people took care to ensure that the land stayed in the family and they were fertile families. Because to tend to the lands they needed to have many hands. And so long as there were hands to tend to the land the olives could be plucked and turned to oil. Now this is not about the olives but about these families. By now, it must be clear how important the land was and how the families are connected to the land.

One of prominent landowners had a daughter. She was the born to him after many prayers at the temple and she was the only child born to him by then. She was a beautiful child and had the gift of the spirit. When she was not yet three years, she laid her tiny hands on her Ammi's tummy, looked up at her and said, "My brother is in there. But he is tired and going back home to rest."

Little Hannah was of a distinct lone and devout nature. She would be found playing alone and gesticulating animatedly. Her Ammi always got the answer that she was playing with her friend. As she grew older Hannah ceased speaking of her friend and many a time her Ammi would find her beneath the olive trees, a cloth folded beneath her knees, eyes closed, and palms raised in prayer. Over her muted protests, she was married to the elder son of her neighbour to join the lands and keep them intact as had been done through ages. He was quite older than her. His overarching attitude and behaviour towards her continued to be one based on affection, in time reciprocated by Hannah. Having watched her grow up before his eyes, and having known her quirks, he encouraged her study of the scriptures and enjoyed debating theological knots with her. And she spent much of her time in the temple.

As fate would have it, exactly seven years to her date of marriage, her husband died leaving her without child. The elders in the family convened to arrange her marriage with her brother-in-law as the next of kin.

This time she vociferously refused to accept the decision of her elders. "My zaman is mine." she argued, "What could you do to change my fate or that of this land by a hair's breadth.

Are you blind to what is so visible? Do you not see what is ahead of you? We are today's guardians of this land, not the owners. Who has lived forever? Has anyone told you that this land is to be in your hands forever? To keep the man's name alive, I am to be a chattel. Will his name be remembered in four generations span?

Know this today. It is my zaman to see the woman before her heart is to be pierced. Woman to woman only can the hearts speak plainly. If she did not know beforehand, she will not have the strength to bear with the crown of thorns thrust on to her breast."

Angered at her lack of obedience, her father blindly took a step forward and raised his hand to strike her; and staggered backwards to fall on his knees as a strong force pushed against his shoulders. He looked up, only to cower inwardly in abject terror. Unseen by anybody else in the gathering, a surpassingly beautiful twin of his daughter hovered behind her, arms raised protectively around Hanna, blue light enveloping them. Her palms facing forward, pulsed with the light, the force of which, he realized, had pushed him to his knees and at Hannah's feet. A voice reverberated around him. "The temple commandment says protect thy children if they are to honour their father and mother. Why have you forgotten the precedent?" It seared into him, splintering through his innards, tearing through his gut.

Hannah raged on unstoppable, "For all that you claim about the sanctity of family, hear this. We will be the people who have carved up the ancestral land, built walls against each other, throw flaming stones across the walls and are still not happy after the division and land grab and the land burn; not remembering that the same blood runs in our veins and call out unheard for reconciliation as we murder each other in cold blood."

xii. The Loss of Balance - Fable

"There is a legend, child," the old priestess began, looking unseeingly into the distance. "There was once a great lone spirit who roamed the land and rode the water. The land and the water were formed of and from the spirit. The great spirit was complete unto itself. Majestic, all-encompassing and pervasive, it was everything and all that was. It amused itself by whipping around, spraying the water, heating the land, blowing, and leaving spectacular forms. For every stroke, this great spirit left in its wake the changing form of what existed.

Now, what is to be noted is that the great spirit always took and gave in equitable measure and so did everything it played with. I use the word "play" for lack of the correct word, because for the great spirit it was not work. We yet do not have the right word to describe what the great spirit was doing. If the water withdrew and gave to land, elsewhere the land gave of itself into the great spirit. Many a time they merged and took on different forms and then dividing, sometimes to revert to their previous forms or because of the measure of division giving rise to yet another form. Everything carried within itself a portion of the great spirit. Always giving and taking in equitable measure, the great spirit and the land and the water and their forms continued the play till one time the great spirit looked around and saw that everything was only splendour and beauty.

The great spirit in its completeness could never see itself.

When it looked at the water, it could see the reflection of the clouds and the flying beasts, and the green branches, and never itself. When it looked at all the forms on land and in the water, it saw the majesty and beauty in each form, and it wondered that if every portion radiated beauty and purity and grace why it could not see itself. The desire to see itself for once, grew in the great spirit and it thought about combining a whole from all that had been made till then.

The water and the land heard the thought and cautioned the great spirit, because they too were of the spirit. They could never see it, but they knew that the great spirit was everything. They cautioned the spirit not to want to see itself. Till then everything that had been formed had been without desire or intent and carried a portion of the spirit. Containing the portion of the spirit, once formed it could not be destroyed.

"Just once" thought the great spirit.

"You are in everything" responded the water "Everything is a portion of you."

"Remember" added the land, "There is no going back. Once formed, whatever you make cannot be destroyed, because everything that is formed is a portion of you."

"And again, remember", cautioned the waters, looking around, "You cannot control what you create. It will become its own master and chart its own path impacting what it encounters on its way."

"If everything that has been formed has been only beauty," thought the great spirit, " then the whole would have to be the image of me. And how can that be anything but good?".

The water and the land having cautioned the great spirit held their counsel. None commanded the other because it was not in its nature.

The great spirit in its desire to see its beauty and grace in completeness set about combining a whole from all that had been made till then while the forms continued their play of merging and splitting. When the whole was made from the multitude of forms, the great spirit looked at the form and declared it to be 'aman', a reliable image. What the great spirit had not considered in its desire to see itself for once, is that everything was a portion of it. But all put together could never be the great spirit because the great spirit was greater than the whole of everything put together. So how could anything that was formed be an image of the great spirit.

The land and the water looked on silently, along with a few other forms. This was the first time that anyone had observed another. It took its first tentative steps on to land. Soon everyone went back to their play because it was not in their nature to be still. The natural play gave rise to wonderful beings who in their inherent freedom spun away and travelled on hidden pathways, some short, others meandering, all created in this endless kaleidoscope.

In the meanwhile, aman having come into form, carrying a portion of the spirit and not being the great spirit, instead of joining into the intentless selfless play, having come from desire, participated in the play by its own means. It rebuffed the natural interactions of other forms all equal to aman, tried to create permanence in impermanence and began to declare all forms as its own including the land and the water. Having never seen the great spirit, it could never own it. But in its arrogance tried to name the great spirit and claim the great spirit as belonging to aman.

And that, the old priestess concluded, turning her gaze on Ila, said "was how balance was lost."

xiii. The Priestess in The Forest

Ila made her way up along the winding path. To her right rose the brooding mountainous terrain, and to her left the slopes fell steeper with dense foliage covering the land, a dark blanket rising high and blotting out the close neighbouring peaks. As the narrow path curved along the mountainside, ahead of her the waters swollen from the monsoon rains fell with a deafening roar, splitting into two, a sheet of water arching over the trail and the other a wall of water pounding the rocks. Water sprayed over the narrow bridge structure connecting the neighbouring slopes. Ila stopped. Face turned upward towards the falls, she let the spray bathe her face. Turning her head, she then gazed at the tumbling rapids below, watching the water frothing white as it gushed its way forward and downward, tearing at roots and earth twined in mutual embrace.

Lost in the trance of the majestic scene playing around her in its awesome harmony of sound and water amid the haunting shadows of the dense foliage, it was a while when she realized that the shadows had fallen longer and darker. Shuddering in the chill, she wrapped her arms around herself and rubbing her upper arms briskly she made to cross the structure, to realize swiftly that she was not the only one in a hurry.

The goatherd, eager to reach home for the night with his charges was urging his flock ahead. It was always a challenge to get the flock across the falls. The thundering water often spooked the younger ones. The timid ones sometimes held back, reluctant to move forward. The more adventurous ones would throw caution to the wind and gambol dangerously close to the edges, springing and jostling the sedate elders. Coming through a tight hairpin bend and focusing intently on his charges, he failed to see the on comer.

If she hurried, Ila might cross the stretch before the entire herd caught up with the stray leaders of the flock milling around restlessly, reluctant to move forward. The goatherd urged his flock forward. Once the first nanny took an emboldened step and made her tentative way across the path, it was a breeze to have the younger ones follow her jostling to get ahead and occasionally executing perilous leaps extremely close to the edge. Ila nearly made it to the other side when the onslaught of jostling bodies and sharp hooves started pushing her back. The river of bodies was not going to part easily around her. Eager to be out of the way, Ila started edging her way out towards the side and losing out on a third of the progress that she had made.

The young goatherd passed Ila, both briefly acknowledging the other ruefully. Dusk called for the herd to be back safely in their pens without further delay. And the young goatherd needed to be back home for a warm dinner after his cold trek. Ila by now had made her way to the edge of the path, hoping that her being out of the way would speed up the traffic, leaving the path clear for her to make progress. Ila glanced backwards. The goatherd's presence had melted away, hidden by the falling curtain of water. Bodies shoved against each other to move ahead; the bleats drowned in the thundering rush. Ila could not hear the occasional bleats of the goats passing by at waist and knee levels. As the herd thinned with a large buck making up the rear, she made to step into the path away from the edge, instantly realizing that she had made an error when the startled buck took a few steps back, lifted a foreleg, locked eyes with her and sprung forward to butt her.

Grass and earth and water rushed past her as she grasped out to grab at anything that would break her fall. Palms clutched at grass which broke away, fingers stretched out to dig into the earth and tangled in the web of veinlike roots of grass. Her fall arrested, legs dangling freely, Ila looked down at the torrent below. From above a shower of mud and stones rained on her, dislodged by the spikey cloven hooves. She could feel the roots giving away from the soil. Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs apart and let go of her grip and swung her arms out. Hitting the frothing water below, she let herself go limp. The water pounding down on her from above pushed her far below for what seemed like forever and then she was suddenly free from the terrible pressure from above and tossed around and forward like a rag while the current pulled at her. Shoulders and limbs and ribs hit rocks as she tried to pull her head in to protect her skull from being bashed.

It stopped thrashing it wings. It calmed down. It watched keenly. The gloved hands that extended food inside always lifted the twig before pulling open the cage open. The young hawk extended its talons and pushed the lower end of the lever, took a gently hold of the upper end with its beak and pulled. The door stopper pulled free of its restraint. The cage door swung open on its hinges. The once on the cusp of majesty bird hesitated at the open entrance.

It is okay to be afraid!

After word

This is an excerpt from a prose in progress.

The story took form with a visual medium in mind. There is a dream that this story will come to life in CGI or VFX.

About the Author

Maria realised that her first love was words and the pictures they evoked, a discovery she made in her late teens when living in one of the most splendorous spots in the foothills of the Western Ghats. And then life happened. Along the way were several years spent strenuously training in Kalarippayattu, intermittent lessons in the violin and limb quaking time spent on climbing walls, along with an ocean of other life experiences. Providence gave her an opportunity to revisit her life and she realized that a life fully lived was one where we live our dreams. Today she lives her life with two ridiculously conflicting desires; a longing want to live out her life drawing inspiration from the changing seasons in the little patch under the sky where she spent some of her most bittersweet years, and a deep desire to be able to travel the world sans passport or visa and to be able to call any spot under the endless sky 'home'.