The Lost Fragrance Page 13

  Suddenly, snakes and scorpions and lizards and spiders seemed to be everywhere! Oozing from gaps in the walls, on the mantleshelf, through the portraits, from the mouths and ears and eyes of the mosaic in the ceiling, up and down the stairs. The floor was a carpet of slither!

  Little Girl froze. They had expected nothing less from the old man with one leg. All along, they knew he was part of The Serpent’s family. She knew she had to destroy him. But how, she wondered.

  The horrible things were near her feet. They were in hundreds, perhaps thousands, slithering about. Hairy spiders climbed over one another. Cobras, vipers, adders and pythons—each moved with sinister and purposeful ease. Scorpions held their hooked tails steady. Long forked tongues flicked in and out as gigantic lizards stood still, watching them with their expressionless eyes.

  Little Girl was so scared that she could have screamed. She wanted to turn around and run from the castle. But how would they move, she thought in sheer desperation, for she felt frozen to the ground. She was just about to ask the little boy what their strategy should be, when something fell from the ceiling on to her shoulder. She shrieked, as she saw that it was a one-foot long black scorpion that stared at her, swinging a vicious, hooked tail while its front claws were stretched out towards her face.

  ‘Remember,’ she heard the little boy whisper, ‘it’s all in the mind. Still it and you would have killed the nightmare!’

  She willed herself to close her eyes. She thought of good things and only of good things. She thought of things that made her happy, the sacred river and The Master, the scent of the jasmine flowers and the music of the flute, her mother and her father, the old balloon-maker and his wife.

  ‘Give me strength,’ she whispered, ‘for I truly believe that I am The Awaited One. What I came here for, can and will be done, for far too much is at stake!’

  No sooner had she spoken the words, as if by magic, the room cleared of the snakes and the scorpions, the spiders and the lizards. A strangled voice was heard from the walls as the shadow of The Serpent fell to the floor, squirming and thrashing, till it finally shrivelled. Before it disappeared with a whimper, it screamed, ‘The little boy! There is something about him. He must be destroyed, for I think he is the key!’

  Forty-two

  With the shadow of The Serpent dead, there was utter confusion among the consorts. They did not know what to do. How, they wondered, would they tempt the little girl. What, they asked themselves, was their next recourse.

  None of this seemed to bother The Serpent. They had heard his angry hiss when his shadow died but after that, there had been silence.

  In the meanwhile, Little Girl and the little boy gingerly felt their way about, when she heard a familiar voice, ‘Oh thank heavens that you are finally here! The snakes and the lizards so put me off !’

  Little Girl froze for she recognised the voice. It sounded like that of her father. What was he doing here, she wondered. How, she asked herself, could he be here when, in fact, he was to help her kill The Serpent.

  Then, she saw him coming down the stairs.

  He looked much the same, as when she had last seen him.

  Her heart seemed to miss a beat.

  How could it be? She knew he was dead and so, indeed, was her mother.

  To meet your parents again, she wondered, can be so wonderful, like magic. After so long, to be able to hold him close, to weep on his shoulder, to hear him talk to her again, to hear him tell her stories, to listen to his laughter, to sit with him. She felt the tears sting her eyes.

  He seemed to sense her thought, for he smiled at her and said, ‘We need to talk. There is so much to tell you since you last saw us. Your mother would be so proud of you!’ He was standing near her now.

  She wept as she said, ‘I miss you and Ma! Why did you have to leave me?’

  ‘Alas, such things happen!’ said the voice. ‘But it is good that you have not forgotten us.’

  Forgotten us?

  How could her father ever think she would forget him or her mother? She looked into his eyes. Something was not the same. They looked cold and indifferent. The twinkle was missing, the warmth, the gentleness. Yet, he seemed to be smiling, the same smile that she knew and loved.

  ‘You are different,’ she said with a gasp.

  ‘It is the long years of parting,’ he replied, ‘things change. Death changes how we look.’

  Something about him troubled her. Was it the face, the smile, the words…? She could not tell. But there was something that was different and not quite right.

  ‘I doubt you,’ she said firmly, ‘you are not my father!’

  And she put her hand into the deep recesses of her pocket and pulled out her father’s flute. ‘Play it,’ she said, ‘and I will trust you, for I will know the magic in your music.’

  The words seemed to have a dramatic effect. The figure standing before her dissolved into a horrible scream and a cloud of putrid smoke, as if it were only an ugly apparition. All that was left was a disappointed hissing sound that vanished into the shadows.

  ‘You guessed right,’ said the little boy. ‘Remember what your father had once told you. The Serpent would take an even more monstrous form with you. He would look familiar.’

  Little Girl looked puzzled.

  ‘He looked like your father,’ said the little boy, ‘for he is your father’s twin brother!’

  Then, they saw The Serpent at the top of the stairs.

  A huge and monstrous double-headed snake sat coiled and ready to strike. He was clearly angry but he tried to sound calm. ‘Just a special something to welcome our honoured guests,’ he hissed, ‘but I see you cannot be scared easily. But well, the night is young and we have planned well. There’s more in store.’ Two long, forked tongues stretched out, as if to shake their hands.

  ‘The only thing to fear is fear itself,’ said Crow philosophically, as he transformed himself into an enormous black beast. He stretched a huge paw with the nastiest looking talons, pointed and sharp, and caught both the slithering tongues.

  ‘Hi,’ said Crow sweetly to The Serpent, ‘how are things?’

  Then, with feigned affection, he whispered, ‘Coochie coochie coo,’ while gently scratching the forked tongues with his sharp talons and drawing blood.

  The Serpent was aghast. Did they not know fear at all, he wondered. He slunk into the shadows and slithered up the stairs, pulling his tongues away from Crow hastily and making a mental note that the talons were painfully sharp.

  In the distance, they could hear voices. The villagers were coming! The skies were filled with an enormous raft lifted by dozens of balloons.

  ‘Company!’ cried Balloon excitedly. ‘My friends are coming!’

  The Serpent was sweating. This was not going according to the plan, he told himself. The villagers joining in to rescue the little girl! If the un-dead also joined, it would mean disaster. He must kill her, and kill her soon.

  ‘It is quite simple,’ said Little Girl, reading The Serpent’s mind, ‘I told them it was their fight as much as it was mine!’

  The Serpent started his slither up the stairs with greater speed. He was panicking. Upstairs he had a better chance, he told himself, as he struggled up the flight of stairs.

  Little Girl could hear voices from a room above. The Serpent was already talking to his consorts.

  ‘Let us flush them out of their den. Take the battle to their homes,’ said the little boy. ‘Come quickly.’

  Little Girl was shocked, for she could have sworn that the little boy seemed to be growing taller and taller and older and older and older, as he sprinted up the stairs, two steps at a time. And then, he seemed to struggle and pant, as he climbed the remaining steps.

  ‘I hope there aren’t too many stairs,’ she told herself, ‘or else he really will be a terribly old man by the time he reaches the top.’

  The door to the room on the top was open.

  They stepped inside.

  Forty-three


  By now the little boy had aged considerably in years. He looked like an old man.

  ‘Who are you?’ gasped The Serpent.

  ‘When the time comes, you will know,’ replied the little boy softly.

  ‘Get away from me,’ The Serpent hissed and shrank into the corner.

  Little Girl and Crow and Balloon also wondered because they had started at the bottom of the stairs with a little boy and here, in the room, he had turned into an old man. What, they wondered, was going on. But then, they remembered what they had been told, that the little boy was not as young as he looked and that he was, in fact, the oldest in the village.

  The Serpent knew what they were thinking of, so he shook himself. ‘I am immortal,’ he said, ‘for no one knows exactly how old I am. Ten, fifteen, twenty thousand years. Who knows? How then, can you kill me? I am destined to live on and on, for as long as I wear these sacred beads.’

  But, there was an uncertainty in his voice.

  His consorts tittered. You could see that they too were clearly nervous, for they had never before seen The Serpent tremble as indeed he had when he saw the old man.

  ‘It hardly matters,’ said Little Girl, ‘for the skies are without stars, and before this evening is done, the nights here will no longer be starless. This is foretold and this will be done. On the jasmine flowers that I saw my parents lie, I swear this to you.’

  ‘Such brave words,’ sniggered The Serpent.

  ‘Yes indeed,’ said Little Girl, ‘for, as you can see, the villagers have all come to see you die!’

  The Serpent swished his tail, which stuck out from underneath the chair. His pale lips curled to show his yellow fangs. ‘Before this evening is done, you and your friends and the old fool you have brought with you, will be the wanderers in the dark, just like the other villagers. You will enjoy my hospitality in this never-never place because never will you return. You will never claim your place in the sky, for I swear to you on the blessed beads of this bracelet that you will succumb.’

  His consorts sat curled up in each other’s arms. You could see they were worried and yet, wanted to look brave.

  ‘Ooo!’ said one sarcastically, ‘This little girl is going to kill us! She’s so brave that I shudder in fear.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said another, ‘me too. Watch how my hand trembles!’ He dramatically let his hand shake vigorously and the consorts all laughed uproariously at the joke.

  Snigger, snigger they all went because they did not want to believe the legend.

  But then, as they remembered The Serpent’s expression when he saw the old man, they wondered in their heart of hearts, what if…what if, it were indeed true? What if this night ended with a celebration of the sky?

  The Serpent sensed the doubts and the lingering fear among his consorts. ‘Do you not know who or what I am?’ he snapped. ‘Well, I will tell you. I am desire and envy, greed and jealousy. I am temptation. I am the never-ending quest for more. I am deception, dishonour and betrayal. I am death and disease. I am everyone.’

  He was screaming by now. ‘Fear and respect me,’ he said, ‘for I am The Serpent and the lover of the night and the starless sky. All this and much more, I and my consorts are. We buy wouldbe stars for we are the corrupters of the mind.’

  He licked his scorpion tail. ‘Try me, if you don’t believe me,’ he said with a smile and offered his sting.

  Seeing no reaction, he snapped his fingers and played his last card. ‘Let the parents of this little wretch appear,’ he said. And lo and behold, Little Girl saw her mother and her father stand before her, as true as they would in flesh and blood.

  ‘Oh Ma,’ she gasped. And as she stood stunned at the sight, she stretched out her hand to her father.

  Her parents stood rooted. In their hearts, they wished dearly to hold their daughter in their arms. They remembered that sad morning when they had died without having said goodbye. They had lingered like shadows and watched their daughter suffer the indignities and the insults. They remembered the gratitude they felt for the old balloon-maker and his wife. Why could they not have died a little later, when she was older and could look after herself, they had wondered. Why now? Why now? As death came and took them, they struggled, never able to let go. And so they remained trapped, destined as it were to gaze at the sky, which stood denied to them. Never to become a star, unless…unless…

  ‘Hee! Hee!’ laughed The Serpent. ‘Embrace them. They are here, and here to stay. No more going away. No more lonely nights for you. Or indeed, for them.’

  Little Girl wept silently. ‘I need you so desperately,’ she said in an anguish cry to her parents. ‘I long to hold you close, to hear my father tell me stories, and to once again smell the jasmine flowers in Ma’s hair, to see you both together, to know you are with me and I with you.’

  Her parents did not speak but she could swear that she could clearly hear them, ‘Music that cannot be forgotten.’ It was like a voice deep inside her. ‘Stories of far-off lands, of bravery and of friendship. Of letting go and never, never once forgetting the beauty of the stars in the sky.’

  Someone had spoken to her. Of that she was certain. Who? Who? she asked herself. She knew the voice. It reminded her of the nights under the jasmine-covered trees in the forest. Was it her father? Her mother? How could they? They were dead. They were gone. She was left alone after that awful morning. If they were back…if they were here…they could once again be together. The good times would return. Stories, music, the jasmine, the safety of her father’s arms and the comfort of her mother’s smile. Ma would come back, as also, her dear, dear father.

  She cried in anguish, ‘Who cares about the stars in the sky? The three of us would be together again and that is all that matters.’

  ‘I agree,’ said The Serpent, his voice greasily soft, ‘go and hold them close. Enjoy the moment. And, I promise you unimaginable power.’

  ‘Be careful,’ muttered Crow to Little Girl.

  The old man standing next to her whispered, ‘Remember what The Master said. Letting go is the key. Death is part of life. As we must all live, so must we all die. Some, sadly, must die sooner than others. Let your parents go on their journey and join the sky. You have the sound of the flute and the fragrance of the jasmine. Never forget that no one can take that away from you. Remember your mission!’

  Little Girl turned to look at the old man and then she silently nodded as she held the flute tightly. She wept and knelt on the floor, as she said to her parents in an anguished cry, ‘Much as I would love to hold you, your journey must begin. May the sky be better with your light! Go on your way for you will always be mine, as I will always be yours, wherever that might be!’

  Her parents had tears in their eyes but these were tears of joy. Their child had the courage to let go what her heart so dearly desired. They were indeed, in the presence of The Awaited One.

  They closed their eyes and folded their hands in silent prayer as they began their ascent. Amazing fireworks lit the room, and then, in a flash, two bright stars appeared in the sky!

  Little Girl smiled through her tears for she had finally learnt to let go.

  Her parents were the first two stars in the dark sky. Where they had once stood, now remained a handful of glittering stardust.

  Then, the village exploded in a burst of colours and of joy. Bright shafts of light flew like meteors from the village to the sky and became brilliant stars. Hundreds, thousands of them. The sky was a magic of sparkling light. Little Girl wondered if The Master too had become a star.

  The Serpent screamed, for this he knew was the beginning of the end. He could clearly see the villagers from the world of the living about to reach the castle. The un-dead had already started storming The Serpent Hill and now went off in a blaze of light as stars. In desperation, The Serpent turned to the bracelet of beads around his wrist.

  ‘This bracelet,’ he said, taking it off his wrist and showing it to them, ‘is life and death for me. With these sacred beads
, I hold the power of the dead. It is, you may well remember, from the hands of a dead man.’ He laughed and kissed the beads. ‘You and your stupid bird are damned! For I...I enjoy eternal life!’

  The Serpent waved his hand.

  But as he did so, the bracelet slipped and fell on the floor. The Serpent hurriedly bent to pick it up but Crow was quicker.

  In a flash, his paw stretched the length of the room and with a giant roar, the bracelet was in his clasp. The Serpent shrank, for he remembered how painful the talons were.

  The old man walked up to Crow and took the bracelet. He looked at it closely, as if he were inspecting the beads. Then, he put it around his wrist and said, ‘At last!’

  The Serpent was aghast. That voice, where had he heard it before? Who was this ghastly apparition standing before him? It scared him. His consorts slunk into the shadows, which were now fast disappearing. Even the glow-worms seemed to be giving more light. Or, was it from the stars in the sky?

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked the old man, half knowing the answer.

  ‘I am your father,’ replied the old man, ‘returned from the dead to claim what is his own. These sacred beads were never yours. Never ever.’

  ‘It cannot be,’ screamed The Serpent. ‘You lived a good and decent life. You had no regrets when you died. You were damned to become a star!’

  The old man smiled sadly. ‘I had only one regret, my son, and it was you. You never understood me, not even after I died. And, I could never let go of that, or that you stole the bracelet!’

  The Serpent trembled. He could see his consorts collapse, in soundless screams into heaps of serpent dust. What strange and powerful magic this was, he could not understand. He decided that if this were the end, he would pass on his poison through his sting. He swished his tail.