The Fable
BY RITU LALIT, author
It was war time; the
earth was in turmoil. The air smelt of sulphur fumes. Strange vile-
coloured smoke billowed up to the sky. It was a long time ago, the earth
was young, and there were as yet no gods or demons – no devataas or daanavas.
The two warring armies were equally matched.
Some called them forces of light and dark, to others they were creative
and destructive forces. No side had won
conclusively, and powers and names had not been acquired or assimilated.
An uneasy armistice prevailed. It was whispered that the warriors were
churning the ocean, using a huge turtle as base and a mountain as pivot.
No one wanted to go
near the beach, but the fourteen-year-old girl had no option. She was a
slave, and had been ordered to get turtle eggs and scorpion claw for her
mistress, a renowned medicine woman. She approached the beach, terrified
for her safety and the life of her baby. The sound of the giant churners
was deafening, and no one noticed as she got closer.
The girl hid behind
some upright stones, and watched the scene wide-eyed. It was true; these
strange people were using what looked like a serpent to churn Tethys
Ocean! She crept closer, inching bit by bit to hide near a small boat
tied nearby, and watched. She shook her head decisively and murmured to
the baby strapped on her back, “No, it can’t be a serpent. They would
have torn it apart if it were a serpent. It’s just some thick rope made
of something stronger than hemp. Now don’t make a sound.”
She sat down in the
sand to watch, slipping a piece of cotton dipped in honey into the mouth of her
son to keep him quiet and gazed at the frantic activity. The dull sound
of stone grinding and the panting gasps of the warriors churning the waters
drowned out any other sound. The sound of grinding intensified in a few
minutes to a deafening roar. There was a flash of unnatural lightning as
the waters churned harder. A man arose in the choppy waves and he looked
as though he was riding on a monstrously huge turtle. The girl’s eyes
widened. She vaguely registered that the man on the waves was carrying
something in his hands, but she could not get her eyes off the turtle.
Her baby stirred and she hushed it.
There was a grinding
crash as the mountain broke into bits, the trees rooted on it falling on each
other and bursting into flames. The waters turned murky; there was debris
and the carcasses of animals floating on it. The smoke darkened the sky,
the mood of the warriors turned angry. The uneasy truce broke. She
looked around for a safe way to retreat from what seemed to be turning into a
war zone but could not. There were skirmishes all around the shore.
She panicked, and
wanted to flee, even endure another whipping from her mistress for not doing
her bidding. Just then, she saw a richly-dressed dark man run, chased by
two taller and fairer men. One of the pursuers threw a shiny disc-shaped
weapon that decapitated the dark man. She cowered, unable to tear her
eyes off the head rolling in the sand and the blood. All around her she
could hear the ominous sound of metal against metal. Trembling, she
climbed into the boat, covering her baby and herself with her robes. She
lay there, still as a corpse, hoping that she would escape notice and live
through the fight.
All around there
were cries of pain, yells of blood lust, the groans and shrieks of the mortally
wounded. Her senses were assaulted by the sounds of metal clashing, the
sickening crunch of bones being broken, the smell of burnt flesh, blood and dead
things. She desperately put her baby to her breast and willed it to keep
quiet. The fight was coming closer to her hiding place.
Creeping closer to
the rope that was holding the boat in place, she took out a small knife from
her pocket and cut the boat free with trembling hands. The Tethys Ocean
had just endured a lot of churning. The currents were strong. The
boat got whipped by the peripheral current and bore the girl and her infant son
far away from the place of her birth and her slave mistress.
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