by Victor Mahn
Rickety adjusted his cross-legged position, and looked up at Limbuang and Ambiau, and gave them a nod in the affirmative.
“I know what it is that you found there. Someone mentioned that a hornbill was spotted? No, no, not a hornbill. And not something that you should have seen, either. It is a rare thing, that one who has seen it should continue to live,” Ambiau said, as he looked sideways at Limbuang, who had, in turn, his eyes locked onto Rickety.
“Okay… what is it then, if not a hornbill?” Rickety asked. Annand was tuned in on the conversation in its entirety.
“It was… her. She was there, and she hid behind the wall.”
“She?”
“Yes. The spirit of the woman, the one under the tamarind tree. And is also the Kuyang that we all saw. Same spirit.”
Yeah… why not? And a Leprechaun will be at the end of the rainbow just outside, with a pot of… what? Juicy fables? Rickety thought amusingly. Annand, however, had goose bumps on his arms.
“The spirit was there in the house? What’s she doing there?” Rickety asked.
“She was looking for someone. And found that person.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Fine, sure. And?”
Limbuang was not sure how he would construct the sentence, one which he knew would be unexpected. He looked at Ambiau, said something in their tribal language, to which Ambiau nodded. Limbuang looked back at Rickety, then at Annand. It must be said.
“She is here. Actually, she is standing just behind you, Richard. I allowed her to be here in this village this morning. She’s looking right at you, however,” Ambiau said, and he glanced to where Limbuang had said she was, though he could only see the wooden wall at the far end.
Of all the sensations of perturbations that he had ever experienced, during his childhood days, through the first few months at medical school, and even while being assigned to work amidst an enemy who’d love nothing more than to blow your brains out using any means necessary, this was the worst of them. There was a tight gripping at his nape, and the hairs there raised to their full length, jutting outward as though they were flagpoles. The words he had heard, although they had undergone the filter of being translated to English, caused him to be immobile, almost lifeless. She is here? Right behind me, watching me? The physical sensations were as bad as the emotional ones, and he began working out in his head of the irrationality of such the fear. Superstitious talk! It is a very good gimmick to play, a spirit that none can see but himself. A ploy… a tool of undue influence that a shaman uses… nothing more!
Annand turned to face the space behind Rickety, but it was empty. He gulped, as he turned back and asked, in a whisper, “What… what is she doing here?”
“She… she came to say something. She is done with her part. Her purpose is over. She wants to thank Richard here, and to ask him a question. One question, and then she will be ready to pass over—to move on to the other realms.”
“Well, whatever that means, Limbuang, I hope this is not a strategy of yours to get back onto the high ranks of shaman-hood…” Rickety was taunting him. Annand faced him, placed his hand on his shoulders.
“Sir, please!”
“No, Richard. She wants to talk to you. She is done… her task is done. She is free now, liberated. She has only till dawn to linger on this face of the earth. Then, as all souls must leave this physical domain to the next, she will too, for she is not of the semi-physical state any longer. As of this morning, she has transcended that,” Ambiau said, trying to sound encouraging.
“Nice… real nice…”
“Look, Richard. We are running out of time… She wants to talk. Dawn is—”
“Fine, fine. Let’s talk!”
“Well… it is not that simple,” Ambiau said, paused as he looked down at his legs, and added, “She would need to come into you.”
“She what?” Rickety looked astonished and faintly terrified.
“She would need to talk through you. She has chosen you. Sort of like a conduit.”
“Through me? Why me? Why not Annand here?” Rickety asked, as he observed Annand shake his head—No!
Ambiau looked at the space behind Rickety again, then at Limbuang. “Because, the way you handled the baby… It was her baby. She was pleased that you handled her with respect and kindness.”
“Handled her? And what do you mean, her baby?” Rickety now glared at Limbuang.
“Yes, her, Richard. The baby.”
“You still haven’t told me what you mean by ‘it is her baby’?”
“She is saying… yes, she is saying that you shed a tear for her. You felt sadness, and you held the parents of that child in commiseration. Though you did that in your heart, Richard, she – the mother, the one behind you now – felt it. She is saying that it was something that she hadn’t felt in a long time, that some stranger, one with blue eyes, could show love and compassion to another’s child, and during a time of war.”
Rickety did not know whether a response was sought for. But he was amazed at one part of the rendering that Ambiau was translating: ‘that you shed a tear for her’. The odds of someone saying that, and with such conviction, were near zero. How could anyone know that? What would they… No, it could not have been possible—I was carrying out the autopsy in the infirmary in private! Rickety felt a lapsing moment; he was tired. And now, mixed with his exhaustion, was the requirement for him to have his rational thinking-self heightened. He had a need to work it out in his mind, and as quickly as he could. Is it real? Is she really here?
“She is waiting, Richard,” Ambiau said.
“I don’t… I can’t think. How do you know I wept for the baby?” Rickety finally pulled himself together.
“She told me, just now. She is talking again now. She… she wants you to accept her temporary occupation within you. She says that she will show you all, reveal everything about what had happened, right up till the moment you saw her at the house where the other had collapsed.”
I must be crazy to say yes! God! What is this game? What does it mean? The spirit, the baby, Magnus having a collapsed airway! Does the world really have these sorts of dimensions, the spirit ones?
Limbuang seemed to be in deep contemplation, and that he did not expect Rickety to present him with a response. He was mulling over an essential revelation that he had learnt while being in the state of trance earlier—an image had been shown to him, though it had ended rapidly. Should I say it, or would I rather she tells him? No… it will be better if she shows him what she has shown me. He would need to accept it, the way it is, the circle through which everything comes and goes…
“You needn’t fear, Richard. She is not looking to harm you. Or anyone, for that matter.” Ambiau said. “It will be all over in a matter of some twenty minutes. Plus, we will all be here. You just need to sit down there as you are now, and Limbuang will place her in you for a moment.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rickety’s reasoning was that of some form of psychosomatic disorder had taken place. And that the condition had increased in its effectiveness due to the exhaustion of his body and his mind. And he was also emotionally drained. I am too tired to challenge this right now, he ventured. Let them do this… it will be over soon, anyhow. And then we can head back to base.
Annand felt that Limbuang was trying to carry out his duties as a witchdoctor, and what better way would there be than to induce another spirit into a living body? He tried to excuse himself from the oncoming engagement but had been told by Limbuang that none was permitted to leave the room now, as the spirit of the Kuyang had now recognised each of them. He felt grim and was silent.
“Alright, Limbuang. Let her come into me. Let her tell me what she wanted to, and ask me the question that she has,” Rickety said, although he was still unsure of the validity of the entire thing. And what of the ritual that is coming? Perhaps it’s just powerful suggestion? As they have showed in the lessons in college, where
people can move objects with their minds?
“Very well, Richard. You will not be harmed, and you do not need to be alarmed. If you feel uneasy at any time, just force your eyes open, and everything will be over,” Limbuang said through Ambiau. Rinong, who had been sitting still beside Limbuang’s left, leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones to him. The other was nodding for some moments, then issued a command with such sternness that he caused Rinong to sit silently again.
“Do you know that we have your arm, Annand?” Ambiau asked, after Limbuang spoke. Annand was struck dumb. “My arm? Where?! You found it?” he asked.
“Yes… yes. It was found here, in this village. Rinong here found it.”
“What… I… We have never been able to find it! We thought… I thought that it was lost forever!” Annand said, looking at a stolid Rickety, and back at the tribesmen.
“We will get you that arm later,” Ambiau said.
“No! No… I…” Annand seemed unsure.
“Later, Annand. We are running out of time.”
At that, Limbuang leaned forward, resting on his knees, facing Rickety. He held his shoulders and chanted some lines quickly. He leaned back; looked above Rickety’s head. He gave a nod, evidently to the spirit of the woman only he could see.
“Close your eyes,” Ambiau said. “And relax.”
Rickety shifted his position again, moving his left foot several inches outward. He pulled his shoulders back and straightened his spine. “Like this?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Am ready.”
Rickety shut his eyes, held the image of the last thing he saw before doing so—the window with metal railings, with signs of dawn drawing close. He gave a lengthy exhalation and tried to keep his mind focused on that image. After several seconds, he could hear Limbuang’s voice, in apparent chants in his native language. It had a song-like charm, and Rickety was sure that he had perfected it over the course of several decades.
He felt breaths at the back of his neck! It sent a chill down to his spine. The sensation was so unnatural, and it was bizarre that it could take place at this time, when sunlight was about to pierce through the skies. The breathing became faint, and for a few seconds, nothing seemed to be happening. Limbuang’s chants continued.
There came a loud scream in his head, which shook him. It was sudden, like a caterwauling between two bobcats. The scream rose in its intensity, then, in an instant, died down. And then, he saw her… the spirit. She stepped casually out of the darkness in his mind.
But it was unlike the Kuyang that Limbuang had depicted. This one looked like a woman, proper—with a torso, and arms and legs, and she had lustrous, long hair. And she was in a white dressing gown. And the greatest show of paradox to it all was that she looked calm. And serene.
“Greetings. I hope you are not frightened… I mean you no harm,” she said. Her mouth did not open, but her voice was heard clearly. Rickety was in a cloudlike wave. It seemed that the realms between physical and spiritual could only exist in such a cloudlike formation, and only for a brief period. Rickety took note of a fact about the voice that was perceived, that he had heard of such intonation and pronunciation before. Through Annand… she has an Indian accent… she’s Indian?
“Yes, I was an Indian… Once ago, when I was in human form,” the voice came forth, and the face in his mind began to smile.
“What do you want?” Rickety asked hesitatingly.
“To show you my pain. And my suffering.”
“Why?”
“I need at least one living being to know all that has happened in my life. I could only tell the shaman an extent of my tale. But to you, I will show you all.”
“Show me?”
“Yes. You can know of my life through a manifestation of images that you can see here, in your mind, as I am here.” She looked around the void, and straight back to face forward.
“All right…”
“But first… First, you must know what happened to my child. She was cursed. By an ancient evil… A long time ago. And this was her third and final birth… In fact, it was the third birth that I had to have as well, but I had been killed recently. That is how the curse is to play itself out. Yes… yes, it was a cycle that I had to go through, together with my child. The first of these cycles was when I was still alive. And even then, I couldn’t undertake the process of childbirth! That right was… taken from me…”
“Oh… all right. I mean… I am sorry—” Rickety said.
“No, don’t be sorry for me,” she said, smiling. “It is all right. It had to take shape in that manner; the malediction was placed on me, and so it had befallen my child too. Through births and deaths, the price would ultimately be needed to be paid. Such is the wheel of karma. Until the time when the curse is to be lifted.”
“The curse?”
“Yes, dear one. A curse that had been placed on me… and on my beloved. Anyway, you would need to know this first before I reveal the others. The child… my child… was cursed in such a way that it defied all manner of sanity and innocence in the world! I had to… well, there is no other way of saying it. I had to kill her… myself, the mother. That was my curse, and one that I had to do three times hence…”
“What…?” Rickety couldn’t properly respond to that, as he was still trying to process what he had heard.
“Yes... yes, I had to kill her. I stabbed her in several places, with a knife that I took from the severed arm of your friend there. He had a knife while out in the field. That is how he deactivates the mines: he flips out the detonating rings with the tip of the knife. And I used the same knife for my hideous purpose. But that is just one half of the picture, there is another evil that I have done, and that I did on my third and most recent killing of my child. I… I had caused her to be possessed by several souls of the dead. Souls of dead soldiers, around several graves about the jungle. And while the souls were within the body of my child, I… stabbed her. I killed my baby!”
“You did what? How could—” Rickety began asking but was cut short with a wave of her hand.
“You’d know soon enough… know why I did that,” she said, her smile slowly fading away. “I did it with a fiery rage. But not a rage directed at my child. No… The fury was at the souls of the dead soldiers. When tormented souls get possession of an innocent body, the soul of the actual owner of that body will be safeguarded in another realm. And so, I know that my child is safe… Though I had learnt of this during my second birth after my… Well, I shall tell you all. My exasperation of late was caused by the fact that I could not locate… him…”
“Him?”
“Yes. The one who brought horrors and evil to our lives.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“You will… Now.” She smiled once again. And the void surrounding them became chalky white.
Part Two
North India – November 1779
CHAPTER ONE
Siddhanath sat still on the cool evening floor of the mandir (a temple or place of worship), practising his newly-learnt breathing exercises. He had now grown on most people around the temple, and he was favoured above most teenage boys. For one, he always seemed to be refining his meditative methods. His countenance is bright and overpoweringly solemn. The folks around the neighbourhood – particularly the erudite living close to the mandir’s many libraries and grottos where the ancient runes were stored – know the etymology of his name, and how precise these archaic sciences seem to work.
Siddhanath, referring to the Lord Shiva, is a name a sage gives to a child born under the star Shatabhisha, corresponding to Gamma Aquarii, which is one of the binary stars in the constellation Aquarius. As this is one of the brightest stars that is visible here in Varanasi, it is foretold that Siddhanath would himself be bright and full of wisdom. The other teenage boys would often jeer at this.
The fragrance of jasmine is strong today, Siddhanath thought to himself. He began taking deeper inhalations now, duly act
ivating his ida and pingala—the two segments in which all prana, or life energies, traverse. He and the other boys of his class were instructed to pursue and maintain a state of balance between these two channels. However, they were not taught of what would happen when such a balance is ordained. Not yet, but in due time, he thought.
His thoughts took on another path now, paying tribute to his hormonal makeup—the girl Kausalya. She was the daughter of the Chief Priest of the mandir and was divinely beautiful. Perfect, in Siddhanath’s opinion. What was most stunning about her could be encapsulated in the splendid way her eyebrows, her big, glossy eyes, and her sharp nose coalesced in absolute unison on her fair face. She glides through the temple walls like a dream. Perhaps she gathered the jasmine? Her fingers would have touched them, surely!
His steady breathing was off now; he observed that it had become laborious. With much difficulty, he managed to focus on the left-and-right channels. Nadis, they are called, he was running through a mnemonic that helped him remember the Sanskrit terms.
The sun was directly overhead now. However, he was under the cover of some shade provided by the looming branches of the biggest leguminous tree in the hallowed grounds. In spring, the tamarind pods ripen and fall off to the rapacious hands of the commoners. Today, there were no pods. But he was glad for the shade the tree was providing. A hundred yards to his back, the river Ganga was mirroring the resplendent solar lights in the heavens. Surya, the sun. Another mnemonic.
Varanasi is one of the most ancient occupied cities in the world. The venerable name is Kāsi—the City of Light. The disciples of the Vedic schools in the city learn the legend of how Shiva dwells in Kāsi, visiting one shrine after another. There is also the site where Shiva performed the Tandav, the dance which will ultimately the universe. The site where the dance took place is now in a semi-ruined state, with fallen pillars and walls and rubbles of stone. Next to this is the famous Manikarnika Ghat, the crematorium ground of the holy city, with its flames that burn all day and night.
