The Lost Fragrance Read online

  The cloak that lay crumpled on the floor silently stood up. The long flickering tongues vanished into the darkness and the laugh of a hyena filled the room. An elderly man, almost kindly, stood by the magic window.

  In the eerie light of the glow-worms, the shadows danced.

  The long night had begun.

  ‘Turn day into night, and night into longer night,’ they heard the shrouded figure command.

  Thirty-two

  The Master settled down comfortably, leaning against a rock with Little Girl at his feet. He sniffed the breeze. ‘Ah,’ he said with a smile, ‘the stench! Such a giveaway! Now, we know they are coming.’

  ‘This could be a long night and we have a battle to win,’ said the little girl with worry. ‘I still do not know how to play the flute or to discover the strength that lies in its music. Please stay and guide me, for this is as much your fight as it is mine!’

  ‘Hmmm,’ The Master said, with a smile, ‘perhaps, this is as good a time as any to recall lessons.’

  Seeing the little girl frown, The Master tugged at his beard and said gently, ‘The consorts of The Serpent will come to test us. Then, if they fail, they will get vicious and will try to kill me. That will be their first objective. They believe that in my death lies their victory over you, because I have not taught you all that you would need to know to kill The Serpent. They will keep you for the grand finale. Please remember that you are their final target.’

  ‘Can they kill you?’ asked the little girl with great worry.

  ‘Alas yes, but I have my strengths too!’ replied The Master, picking up his flute.

  ‘But if you were to die, would I fail in my mission?’ asked the little girl.

  The Master smiled broadly and hugged her. ‘You would need to fight The Serpent without me by your side. If you succeed, I would have gone with happiness. But first, let us ward this one off, and if I survive, I will teach you more of what you need to know to defend yourself. But for now, I must believe in your inner strength, and you in yours!’

  By now, wind had started blowing and the sky was dark. In the distance, they could hear the silence broken by the rumble of thunder. Even the waters of the river were perturbed, and they frothed and foamed, as they crashed into the rocks. The blue meadows looked eerie as an ominous presence hung like a shroud over the entire place.

  The sound of thunder came closer, like ten thousand galloping hooves of an advancing army—swords drawn, flared nostrils of the horses, the scent of sweat and clammy hands. Someone or something was approaching. You could smell fear, as if you were now surrounded by it.

  The Master was calm. ‘Take courage!’ he said. ‘Pick up your flute and play.’

  ‘I am not afraid, Master,’ said Little Girl, ‘for I swear that I will end the nights of the starless sky. But tell me, what shall I play?’

  ‘We play the music of our soul.’

  She looked at him and nodded, as if she fully understood what he had said.

  ‘We play the music that controls minds,’ replied the little girl simply.

  ‘Quite right, my child,’ said The Master, ‘play for God and un-clutter your mind. All else is only noise and a distraction.’

  And so, they lifted their flutes and closed their eyes.

  Never indeed had such music been played before, for it evoked feelings that seemed to have long ceased to exist. Eyes closed in abandon, as a deep and overwhelming calm enveloped the village.

  The villagers started coming out of their homes. The fury of storm had frightened them, but the gentle force with which the music met storm was a new and strange experience.

  Thunder rumbled and growled and roared. The lightning struck at will and whole trees were charred. Yet, the notes of the flutes continued in their calm journey, as if moved by a deep and passionate search.

  A great battle had indeed begun.

  You could almost see storm that night, in all his savage glee, spewing the wind like a screaming mob hungry for blood. The sound of thunder was like a chanting that seemed to endlessly cry, ‘Crucify them. Crucify them. Destroy the innocence of the child!’ A horrifying and endless drone rent the air.

  This was fury and the music of fear.

  The two flutes knew that they now had an orchestra, and their music rose like the flutter of wings that opened the skies and embraced the dead. Thrust, parry, engage and withdraw. A deep and resonating chorus taunted the wind as it darted towards it, almost coquettishly, slipping away just before making contact.

  There was a sudden feeling of deep restlessness in wind and storm and thunder and lightning, for they had never met such unabated and gentle resistance, despite their relentless and noisy fury.

  Why is it, they wondered, that this strange sound brought back memories of gentle pathos and of happier times? Why did it evoke illusions of grandeur in the depths of despair? What dark and mysterious journey was it an invitation to, speaking as it did of emotions that were at once richly tragic and deeply romantic?

  The consorts were worried. As they listened, the music of the flutes, mingled with the sound of storm, thunder, wind and lightning, resulting in an extraordinarily melodious symphony. Surprisingly, they all seemed to take their cue from the flutes!

  Thunder rumbled and grumbled and rumbled again. Deeply sonorous and with a great bass tone to it! Lightning struck and lit up the sky. Zappp! But, this time, she carefully avoided the trees. Thunder again, but now he was loud like the rhythmic beating of drums. Wind came along and took on the sound that she was most known for, as she moved through the trees. Whhooosh! And then, she did a whhizzzzz! Storm conducted with great finesse. He added a rumble to a blinding flash of lightning, accompanied with a howling wind instead of a swishing or buzzing one. Whhhoooo!

  The villagers were moved by this grand music. They joined and chanted like so many humming bees, different notes for different age groups. Hmmmm, it went. Some higher, some lower.

  The music of the flutes remained calm and serene, as if it were a divine celebration of life itself and of living.

  ‘I like it,’ Storm said. ‘This music’s great. It’s got that special wow and zing to it!’

  That strange and bizarre night, enemies became friends, and friends became family. Unhindered and joyful, this indeed was music that brought back memories. They all wept as they remembered who they once were, what indeed they were capable of, and all that they had sadly forsaken.

  Things were going awry and totally opposed to the plan.

  ‘Stop! Stop!’ the consorts screamed, ‘this is not how things were supposed to go.’ But they knew that this battle was already lost and that it was better to leave now and regroup. With a loud hissing sound, they vanished and wondered what explanation they would give to their master, who surely would have watched the battle through the magic window.

  A strange calm seemed to descend suddenly. The last strains of the flutes drifted upwards, like thousands and thousands of butterflies chasing the scent of jasmine flowers.

  Storm, wind, thunder and lightning went away.

  The first rays of the sun gently swathed the village with its golden hue. The flowers swayed and the blue meadows shone in the sunshine. A heady scent seemed to fill the universe.

  The villagers started applauding as they came out of their homes. Then they sank to their knees in gratitude, and kissed the earth.

  Thirty-three

  The Master put aside his flute and spoke softly to the little girl, ‘Well played, my child. You, whom he wants so dearly, have not only spurned his consorts but also defeated them in battle! This was surely a victory but before you feel the rest will be as easy, I urge you not to be carried away. I believe, The Serpent was only testing the waters, playing a game. Now, he knows you have talent, and the fangs will be salivating. He will show you what a nest of serpents you have stirred.’

  The Master turned to the villagers and with a sweep of his hand, he said to Little Girl, ‘Look around you at all the villagers in this land, t
he trapped un-dead, the neither-here-nor-there people, the helpless, the lost, the pitiful. Just as he has done with them, he will do with you. He will seek out your secret wants. He will crave to learn of your hidden desires and your innermost weaknesses. But in your case, he already knows that you long to have your parents back, and that you crave his death.’ The Master turned and paused and then said, ‘Of course, what he dearly wants is not your death, but to make you his consort.’

  ‘Why should he want me to be his consort?’ asked the little girl in utter shock, ‘and why would I ever agree?’

  ‘Revenge,’ replied The Master softly. ‘He has always craved for you, just as he craved for your mother!’

  ‘Well, I can never be his!’ exclaimed the little girl with indignation and disgust.

  ‘Can’t you?’ asked The Master softly. ‘And pray, why not?’

  ‘Because I detest him for killing my parents!’

  ‘Ah yes,’ said The Master, ‘you hate someone and so, you feel we cannot get along with them. Well, do we not suffer many whom we despise?’ He paused before he continued, ‘Look around you, my child, at all these villagers. They all had choices. But each and every one of them chose to live and work with many whom they hated. And yet, they found that a working relationship gave them the rewards they did not wish to forego! Ask yourself, as to why you should be different from all these good people? Why would you, like them all, not find an easy way out?’

  Little Girl frowned in thought. ‘What reward can he possibly offer me?’ she asked.

  ‘Pause, my child, before you dismiss what might be on offer. Rewards and temptation go hand in hand,’ replied The Master. Softly he asked, ‘Do you know what temptation is?’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ replied the little girl, ‘I do understand what temptation is. I know how much I was tempted to play with the balloons and with the little children, as I watched them from behind the tree, but I did not do so because I knew the children would have spurned me. That would have hurt the old balloon-maker and his wife terribly and I could not allow myself to do that to them! What has temptation got to do with me or The Serpent?’

  ‘There are many forms it takes, my child,’ said The Master. ‘Temptation leads to greed, to rage and anger, especially when things are not how you would like or expect them to be. It is born out of envy and jealousy and pettiness. But it can lead to brothers becoming enemies, and enemies becoming killers. Every human debasement that you can possibly think of is born out of greed, selfishness and temptation. This is where the strength of The Serpent lies, everyone can be bought if the price is right.’

  ‘I do not understand!’ the little girl exclaimed. ‘What could The Serpent tempt me with? How could he possibly buy me?’

  ‘I did give you a hint but we can speak of that, in more detail, in our next lesson,’ responded The Master, twirling his beard and with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I must leave now. Listen to the little boy and trust me, when I tell you, that he is wise and that he is your ally in the final battle.’ He touched her hair and cheeks with his flute and said, ‘Come to the river in the morning and we will play music again, talk to the gods but this time, our vocabulary would be different. Remember always that you brought the scent back to the jasmine.’

  ‘Are you also,’ asked Little Girl, ‘one of the many un-dead?’

  ‘No,’ responded The Master. ‘I am a star returned to earth for the one single mission I have. It is to teach you what you need to know to defeat The Serpent and then, I will return to the sky.’

  The Master bowed deeply as he turned towards the river and said, ‘When I see you again, bring your friends along. It will be your final lesson.’ He walked into the river and seemed to vanish into thin air.

  Thirty-four

  The consorts had returned to the castle. They sat glumly in shame and in fright, for the forces of nature who were their allies had abandoned them. They had lost the fight after storm, thunder, lightning and wind had decided that they could no longer remain under the influence of The Serpent. What explanation would they give, they wondered.

  ‘The Master’s music has great power,’ Storm had told them, ‘for it has instructed a little girl not to fear, fear.’

  ‘We are,’ Thunder had said, ‘the forces of nature and not of evil. It is wrong that we ever came under the spell of The Serpent.’

  Wind had said that she had only wanted to move freely through the trees and the meadows, and that is what she had enjoyed that day. Lightning had said that the trees had looked much better alive than charred. ‘Can still do my dance,’ she had said, ‘but with a little side step.’

  ‘It was the music,’ they had all said, ‘that spoke to our soul and to our inner mind. We danced in our discovery!’

  The four of them had vanished into the air. ‘Tell The Serpent,’ they had said, ‘that we are no longer available.’

  They had come back a little later and Storm had added, ‘Thought I might as well let you know. Had a little chat with my boys and girls. All seem to be of the view that if you touch the girl or her friends, you mess with us too!’ Then they had all disappeared.

  Once they left, there had been confusion among the consorts. Not just confusion, but also a deep and dark fear.

  ‘Could it be that she is after all The Awaited One?’ asked one of the twins.

  ‘We need to break her spirit. But how do we do that?’ asked another nervously.

  ‘And what if we cannot?’ whimpered a third.

  ‘We can, and we must,’ said yet another. ‘She will break. They all do. It is a matter of time.’

  ‘But she hung on!’ said the other twin.

  ‘The flute player’s magic is strong.’

  You could sense fear, for if the little girl were indeed The Awaited One, it would mean their end as well.

  Just at that time, the windows flew open and, in the eerie gloom, the flickering light of the glow-worms caught the bracelet of sacred beads, and then the glittering slit eyes. The Serpent slithered up the wall, his fangs ominously salivating.

  ‘Could it be,’ he hissed, ‘that you are of little faith, and that you do not remember your song of allegiance?’

  His consorts shuddered in the dark.

  ‘We do, Excellency,’ whimpered one of them.

  ‘Have patience, my dears, for you will see my power as I crush the girl child and her friends. No one has yet learnt to let go of the ones they loved! You might well see her as my consort!’ The Serpent smiled.

  ‘A battle is only a test. It demonstrates strength, but it also demonstrates weakness. I now know them both. Watch her become mine!’ In an eerie second, The Serpent slithered to each of his consorts, his tongues flickering, his double head looking this way and that. ‘Any doubts?’ he asked, looking around at all of them.

  The consorts tittered and clapped. They had no idea what their master was saying.

  The Serpent’s shadow yawned.

  Oh, he wondered in disgust, to be stuck with such naivety! When would these foolish consorts learn? He yawned as he slithered up a wall to rest, content till his master beckoned him. Smacking his slimy lips, the shadow whispered silently, ‘Little Girl, we will destroy you by winning you over! Soon, you will be one of us!’

  Thirty-five

  The he little girl trudged towards the village. A thousand thoughts were swirling in her mind. She was not able to make sense of anything. It all seemed like a huge and confusing haze.

  She could see her friends, for the little boy stood with Balloon and Crow.

  She hugged Crow and Balloon. It had been a tough battle. So much had been packed in, so much that she did not know. What had sounded like a story was, indeed, quite the opposite.

  Balloon tried to hug her but there wasn’t enough air in her to do anything special. So, she gave the little girl a balloon smooch, and Crow, in his diffident style, lifted his beak and gave her nose a gentle tweak. The little boy smiled and simply said, ‘Well done!’

  ‘Medium rare,’ respo
nded Crow, ‘and since we are on the subject of food, it is time to decide on the menu for entirely health reasons. We don’t want to get acidity, do we?’

  Magic, who was hovering close at hand, tapped the large tome he was carrying. ‘Many recipes it has and all sound disgustingly delicious!’ With a beatific smile, he scrolled down the recipe list, ‘Deep fried snake with shallots, poached snake with sweet peas and carrots, hurry scurry snake, snake with butter chicken sauce…’

  ‘Too early for this snake thing,’ Crow replied with a yawn. ‘The little girl is hungry, as you can see, and so do get her some muesli with soya milk and a buttered sour dough toast with marmalade.’ He paused and said, ‘The same for me, but you could also throw in some bacon rashes and grilled tomatoes and French fries on the side.’

  Magic nodded and was about to float off when Crow added, ‘No harm if you brought in some liver tossed in garlic butter and infused with rosemary, and some tomatoes sautéed with lots of parsley. Goes without saying that we need good bread, brewed coffee and jams. Oh dear, I do love jam!’

  ‘There’s work to be done,’ the little boy said. ‘You can have a good breakfast but we need to talk. Magic will bring us a good spread, you can rely on him.’ The little boy nodded at Magic who bowed deeply and disappeared.

  Meanwhile, the little girl sat with her face in her hands, assimilating all that she had learnt. There was so much that she simply could not understand.

  ‘The villagers will be here soon,’ said the little boy. ‘Listen to their stories. But first, you need to know the sadness of the pitiful neither-here-nor-there people.’

  The little boy paused before he said, ‘You are wondering if I am truly here or if I am just a flicker in your troubled mind. Touch me and you will find out.’ He stretched out his hand.

  Little Girl’s hand moved through the little boy’s body. It was as if he simply wasn’t there! Crow remembered how he sank like a stone when he tried to sit on Lost’s shoulder. ‘So, dear boy,’ he asked, ‘how do you do it?’