Zara's Witness

by Shubhrangshu Roy

  ‘Your life’s already on track, Zaru. The day you get the signal, you will move ahead, as you did from the river’s bank. Go deep into the woods of your mind, Zaru, to figure out what you want.’

  ‘It’s going to be a long journey!’ Zara said, half a smile pasted on her lips, half a worry furrowed on her forehead.

  ‘Strengthen yourself so much that you can take care of yourself.’

  ‘How?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Get the rubbish outta your mind. Just empty yourself within.’

  ‘That’s easier said than done,’ Zara mocked. ‘My will to carry on is failing me.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ the west wind asked. ‘Just rise above your weakness. Give yourself a push. Push your desires hard, Zaru. Heave-ho!’

  ‘Easier said than done, Windy. I feel tired and lonesome.’

  ‘Easier said than done?’ the west wind laughed. ‘Do what you must to get to the city. Be of use to yourself. The rest is irrelevant. Just believe in yourself. Believe in your love for life. And finally, you will get there one day.’

  ‘You think so?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Know yourself, Zaru. Understand yourself. Be in the forest as you are now, for as long as it takes, but don’t get involved. Have patience.’

  ‘All you need, Zaru, is a firm belief in where you wish to be. You have to really do nothing else.’

  ‘The end is already good. The end really is the beginning.’

  And saying so, the west wind blew away.

  CHAPTER 7

  At noon, the elephant suggested a break. He had been walking days and nights on end when they reached a pond, its surface covered by round, green hyacinth leaves. The elephant halted, then bent down on the water’s edge for Zara to get off his back. Zara jumped down, then loitered around to the far end of the pond and sat in the shade of an old banyan tree.

  ‘Aha! Finally, some rest,’ the elephant said, raising his trunk, yawning.

  ‘Care for a swim, Zara? It’s been a long time,’ he asked.

  ‘That would be nice. Come, let’s make a splash,’ Zara said, jumping up for some action.

  ‘In a while,’ said the elephant. ‘First, let me catch my breath. Meanwhile, take a look around this place. It’s interesting.’ And saying so, he rolled over in the mud.

  Zara, too, stretched her tallish frame under the banyan and looked up at its hanging roots, intertwined with one another. The tree must have been standing wise and tall for many, many years, she thought.

  ‘You are off to the city, aren’t you, Zara?’ the banyan asked gently. ‘. . . to live out the city life?’

  ‘Oh yeah! I am headed that way. It’s gonna be one helluva fun. How long have you been around?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Must have been many, many moons ago,’ the banyan said. ‘I have lost count. It looks like eternity . . .’ he said, losing himself in deep thought.

  And then, he said with a shrug, ‘Now come to think of it, I remember there was a city here once upon a time, long, long ago. That was much before the forest crept over and the creatures moved in. If you look around this place, you might still find a few ruins, here and there, inhabited by the monkeys.’

  ‘Really?’ Zara jumped up excited. ‘How marvellous! The jungle stands where a city stood once? You mean it?’

  ‘Yes, Zara, it’s true. That’s the nature of life. Growth gives way to decay. And out of decay, new life is born,’ said the banyan.

  ‘How sad. What could have happened to all those people who lived in this city? I feel sorry for them,’ Zara said, anguish crawling to life on her face.

  ‘Do not waste your emotions, Zara,’ the banyan said.

  ‘Your sorrow comes from within. Solve your sorrows within. Remember, there is no joy in the material things of life. The treasure lies buried someplace else.’

  And saying so, the banyan broke into a song in his sonorous voice:

  Wheneva I chased joy,

  I drowned myself in tears . . .

  ‘Why’s that so?’ Zara asked.

  ‘It’s because of what we do. Do, but without arrogance, Zara. And there will be little reason to cry,’ said the banyan.

  Zara lay there, stretched out, one leg crossed over the other. Looking up at the branches and the aerial roots where the birds had woven their nests in corners and crevices. And the hours passed by . . .

  The elephant yawned and then, rose with a shrug at the opposite end of the pond from where Zara lay resting in the banyan’s shade.

  ‘Come on, Zara, let’s have some fun,’ he cried out, loudly blowing his trumpet. And saying so, he descended into the pond with a big splash before pushing through the hyacinth. Zara stood up, shrugged herself, and dived into the water at the far side.

  ‘Oops!’ she yelled, rising to the surface. ‘I am getting entangled in these shoots and leaves. Elly, let’s see who reaches the centre first.’ And saying so, she pushed aside the hyacinth, stroking the water with her arms and legs, moving forward.

  ‘I’ll get there first,’ the elephant shouted, ploughing into the weeds, sucking in water through his trunk, and spraying a fountain in the sky.

  The sun watched from above and smiled. The banyan swayed with laughter. And watching them make merry, Zara splashed her arms more vigorously.

  ‘There’s bliss neither in knowledge nor in dedication. What’s there is there in you. Enjoy the moment.’ Saying so, the west wind gently swooped down to the water’s surface where Zara swam.

  ‘You here, too?’ Zara looked up. ‘I feel so good and refreshed.’

  ‘Yes, we are all here to celebrate your twenty-second birthday, Zaru,’ the west wind said. ‘Look around. Not a single soul in this forest is perfect. Some can run, others can fly, while others can jump or swim. But we all are here together to make the forest what it really is. Be part of the bouquet, Zara.’

  ‘Bouquet? What’s that?’ Zara asked, looking around for a clue.

  The forest was awash in colours. All its animals—the monkeys, the hog, the hyena, the rhino, and the deer—were gathered by the pond. And so were all the birds. The water lilies and lotuses in white and cream and yellow and pink danced in full bloom. Watching Zara and the elephant revelling in water, furrowing through the hyacinth, as they coursed towards each other. And all of creation revelled at the sight of the playmates making a splash.

  ‘A bouquet, Zaru,’ the west wind said, ‘is a clutch of flowers standing cheerfully together in one tight grip, sharing the colours of creation with one and all. It’s one in many and many in one.’

  ‘I understand. Like the forest,’ Zara smiled.

  And the west wind laughed, rushing up, flinging her arms over the forest cover, gathering an abundance of flowers of various hues and scents in her mighty embrace, and then, she littered them all over the pond, above the floating carpet of green formed by the hyacinth leaves.

  And she sang, ‘Happy birthday, Zaru . . .’

  And the entire forest came alive in a chorus, ‘A hap-happy birthday to you.’

  And, in that merry moment, the elephant blew his trumpet. Then, noticed by none, he suddenly started sliding into the pond; his huge frame beginning to sink out of sight. Startled, he shouted for help.

  ‘Oooh! Heeeeeeeeeelp! Help me, Zara,’ he cried in desperation, raising his trunk skywards, his head still above water, as he went slipping . . . slipping . . . slipping.

  ‘Heeelp!’ Zara shouted. ‘Somebody please help Elly!’ she cried in panic, realising the crisis at hand, but not knowing what had taken the elephant. And cutting through the hyacinth, she made a desperate dash for her friend.

  ‘I am sinking, Zara, in a quagmire. It’s time for me to go,’ the elephant cried, tears welling up in his eyes, sinking, his trunk still raised to the sky.

  ‘Hold on!’ Zara shouted. ‘What’s that? The quagmire? I am on my way to you.’

  In all these years, Zara had grown up by the river, things had always appeared the same. The creatures, the crawlies, and the elephant. Even
the animals of the forest appeared at ease in the days she had wandered around the jungle. So, where were things headed now? she wondered.

  Zara and Elly had been around since Zara’s bubble burst on the dry river bed on a hot summer day, when she crawled to the pool that had once been a river. And at first sight, the elephant appeared a pillar . . . then two . . . then three and four, till Zara came to know him better for who he was, the elephant.

  And the elephant had always blown his merry trumpet, standing on the promenade, and had now been walking her through the jungle to the city beyond.

  ‘Elly, just hold on!’ Zara cried, freeing herself from the weed that clung on to her. ‘I’m on my way.’

  ‘Better make it quick,’ the elephant squeaked, his once proud masculine voice going weak. ‘I’m beginning to go down.’

  And as he said so, he started gulping in water while desperately trying to keep his head afloat.

  Zara gave herself one mighty push. Stroking her way towards the elephant. With a few more heaves, she was almost there. The gentle beast, his trunk still protruding above the surface, blew his trumpet in a whimper. Ripples formed where he stood once with his head jutting out of water.

  ‘Haa! I’m here, Elly,’ Zara heaved, just as his trunk started sinking, creating a hundred bubbles on the water’s surface. ‘I’m here, come, hold my hand.’

  ‘No waaaayyyyy! Zaruuuuu,’ the west wind forced herself, wrapping Zara in her invisible fold. ‘No way.’

  Zara, her right arm outstretched towards the elephant, looked back.

  ‘Zaru, it’s really time to bid goodbye to Elly. Give up, give up, give up!’ said the west wind firmly.

  ‘Why do you say so?’ Zara shouted irritated, ‘Gosh, Elly, here I am.’

  ‘Zaru, stay out or you, too, will be gone down the quagmire of time,’ the west wind warned harshly. ‘There comes a moment when you simply have to say no, enough is enough.’

  ‘Why’d you say that? Elly was my best frien’ foreva,’ Zara frowned.

  ‘I understand that and respect your sentiments, Zaru. But I must also tell you that it’s essential for you to experience everything in life, even a sense of loss. You must learn when not to jump the threshold. And this moment is your test of time,’ the west wind said.

  ‘But Elly, my BFF? We spent so many wonderful years together,’ Zara lamented, splashing her arms about the water, trying to free herself from the west wind’s hold.

  ‘We suffer our memories, Zaru, don’t we? Don’t be weak. Weakness is death. She, and she alone, is a brave soul who can say no,’ the west wind said, admonishing Zara for throwing a tantrum.

  ‘A healthy person, Zaru,’ the wind went on, ‘has all the emotions, all the qualities, but doesn’t allow herself to be blackmailed by them. Be alert, Zaru.’

  ‘I don’t buy that,’ Zara protested. ‘I don’t buy your argument. Elly was truly a great friend. He never blackmailed me eva . . .’

  ‘Zaru, remember, you came here on way to the city,’ the west wind said, now calm. ‘The city, not the forest, is your final destination. Go, fulfil your desires first. Be patient to satiate your hunger.’

  ‘But the elephant made me happy,’ Zara seemed to argue, now considerably calmed down by the west wind’s soothing words.

  ‘That was then, till he went down under the weight of time. This time is yours and yours alone, Zaru.’

  Zara stared at the spot where the elephant went down struggling for breath. The water was calm and silent, topped by the hyacinth. For a long, long time, Zara fixed her gaze at that spot thinking and thinking and thinking.

  ‘Be a turtle, Zaru. Use your limbs and emotions at will, and on time. Improve your habits and you will be strong,’ the west wind said, caressing Zara’s face.

  Zara was lost in the memory of time.

  ‘Willing renunciation is the essence of bliss, Zara,’ came a soft and soothing voice, as a wizened face, cracked by age, peeped out of the water. For a moment Zara thought the elephant had resurfaced.

  ‘Bliss that comes and never goes away is bliss.’

  It was the turtle.

  ***

  That night, as Zara lay under the banyan, resting her head on the turtle lying belly side up, the west wind crept over to Zara. Then kissing her goodnight, she said, ‘Don’t remain a kid all your life, Zaru, it’s time to grow up.’

  ‘What do I do then?’ Zara asked, still overcome by grief.

  ‘Just surrender yourself as a log to the will of time and the artisan will sculpt you into shape,’ the west wind said before blowing away.

  CHAPTER 8

  Zara woke up at dawn to the koel’s song:

  Your due shall come your way,

  Have faith in who you are.

  Share whateva you own

  Live and let live.

  Zara looked up at the branches of the banyan tree. The koel was hiding amidst the leaves. Soon, the other birds joined in:

  Your due shall come your way,

  Have faith in who you are.

  Share whateva you own

  Live and let live.

  And the banyan’s leaves rustled in the wind.

  ‘Good morning, Zara. Slept well?’ the turtle asked.

  ‘Yeah, sorta,’ Zara replied. ‘It’s time to get going. I have to reach the city.’

  ‘How do you distinguish between what’s true and what’s not?’ the west wind swept down the branches where she had been humming with the birds.

  ‘How?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Ask your voice within,’ said the west wind. ‘It’s your lonesome voice that tells you what’s yours and what’s not.’

  ‘But how do I recognise my voice within? It could well be yours instead,’ Zara said, still lying down, her head resting on the turtle’s stomach.

  ‘Wait till you reach the city and you will get to learn,’ the west wind said. ‘Those neon lights you have seen from the heights of the Peacock Ridge . . .’

  ‘The city! Ah! The city lights,’ said Zara. ‘The glow of the neon entices me from afar.’

  ‘Do you know what makes them glow?’ asked the west wind.

  ‘No,’ replied Zara.

  ‘That glow comes from the power within. You don’t need to touch the power to feel its glow. It’s there. Period. And you realise that out of realisation.’

  ‘Sounds complicated,’ Zara said. ‘I’ve realised nothing of that kind.’

  ‘I can see your fantasies make you happy . . .’ the west wind said.

  Zara interrupted, ‘Yes, they do.’

  ‘. . . but they will never satisfy you, Zaru,’ the west wind continued.

  ‘What will, then?’ Zara got up to catch the wind in the face.

  ‘Your satisfaction comes from giving your heart out, Zaru,’ the west wind said.

  ‘Like Elly’s?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Yes, and more. When you walk with your voice till the end, without seeking anything, you will only give. Give, but do not take, Zaru.’

  ‘I have nothing to give,’ Zara smiled. ‘I came here with nothing . . . on the elephant’s back . . .’

  ‘. . . but your imagination and your voice,’ the turtle joined in.

  ‘Yeah. So, make the best use of what you have. Face every situation, Zara. But use the power of your voice within and your judgment to get what you desire,’ said the wise ol’ turtle.

  ‘Learn to distinguish between what’s true and what’s not, Zaru,’ the west wind said.

  Zara sat pensive. Thinking. Thinking deep. ‘What’s true? What’s untrue . . . ?’ she wondered.

  ‘True?’ she asked herself again, raising a brow. ‘Untrue.’ And she looked into the pond where the elephant had gone down.

  ‘There’s hyacinth there . . . that’s true?’ she asked herself. Then, she replied, ‘No . . . there’s water there? That’s true?’

  ‘Where’s the water?’ asked the turtle, testing Zara.

  ‘There’s only the hyacinth where you look. That’s the truth.’
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br />   Zara paused, and thought and thought and thought. And then, slowly raising her voice, she said, ‘There’s only truth.’

  ‘Only truth?’ asked the turtle, now raising his brow.

  ‘Only truth?’ asked the west wind, smirk scribbled on her face.

  ‘Only truth!’ said Zara. ‘There’s no untruth. What is, is true. Also, what is under the hyacinth is the other truth. So, what we often get to see is the half-truth, and then, there is also a second choice. There is only truth. There is no other.’

  ‘You are right, Zaru,’ the west wind clapped. ‘There is the moon. You only get to see its one side. But there are two faces of the moon. Still, it is the moon.’

  The turtle rolled over to stand up on its feet. ‘It’s like me, Zara. What you get to see is the truth. From the top, you get to see my hard side, hard like the rock. Turn me around, and you get to see my soft underbelly that hurts when you hit me hard.’

  ‘Really! Really! Reaaaaally!’ Zara exclaimed, her eyes gleaming.

  And the west wind smiled. ‘You got it, Zaru.’

  ‘I got it!’ Zara exclaimed.

  ‘Now, you won’t quite get to explore the dark side of the moon, Zaru, but if you do get to see the dark side, don’t feel scared.’

  CHAPTER 9

  Zara had sheltered herself under the banyan tree for several nights, her hair growing longer, not knowing which way to head. She never expected to figure her way out of the jungle as long as the elephant was around. But now, she was on her own, lost and lonely, overcome by grief ever since Elly went down under, sinking in the pond.

  Yes, the west wind always came around whenever Zara needed her the most, but she could certainly not ride the wind to the city, that lay far away to the west, as she had surfed the water, from the glacier’s tongue to the riverbank 276 full moons ago.

  True, the giant turtle was always around at hand, but Zara never imagined that she could ride him to the city. So, she stayed under the banyan, taking in the marvels of the forest, chatting up its inhabitants, figuring out whom to count on to show her the way out.