The Lost Fragrance Read online

  The postman, who was a good and kind man, hugged the old man and said, ‘I tried, old friend. I really did.’

  Then, he sniffed the air once more, ‘Wonder where this awful stench has come from. And the weather, how odd that it is so cold when the sun is shining so brightly!’

  The old man, his wife and Balloon were left behind.

  Somehow, the old couple managed to fold Balloon and bring her home. They left her in the garden of their house.

  The children never came after that.

  The old man stopped making more balloons.

  He even stopped going to the school. Not wanting to anger the parents or the students, his good friend, the principal, never came to visit. The old couple were now left all alone, with no one ever coming to visit them.

  Balloon lay as she was left, covered with dust and dead leaves for it was now autumn. Lonely, cold, sad and helpless, she felt like an orphan.

  And in the cottage, the old man and his wife felt that somehow, they had failed the girl child.

  A whole week passed.

  And then, on the seventh night, while the wind howled like the dead in torment, the old man dreamt of a hideous hooded figure whose eyes glinted in the dark, and from whose mouth a forked tongue slithered as he hissed and said, ‘You have done well, Balloon Maker! She will soon come to me!’

  The old man shuddered. He knew that his wife must have had the same dream. ‘This must be the sign the flute player spoke of,’ he said to her the next morning, ‘and like much that is unexplained, let us wait for the unfolding of the mystery.’

  Nine

  In the village, there lived a little girl who slept under the trees at night and worked in a bicycle shop during the day. For the last year or so that the old man and his wife knew the little girl, they had come to love her because she had such an angelic face, and also because she was so alone. Having no children of their own, the two of them would look after the girl and feed and clothe her. They had very much wanted that she should live with them, but she had always declined.

  Sometimes, the little girl would spend time with the old man and help him make balloons. In the afternoons, she would always slip away, saying that she had to work in the bicycle shop. That wasn’t exactly true because what she would actually do was hide behind a tree and watch the children play in the park. The children never spoke to her because she was poor and had no parents and never went to school. They would always drive her away, if they ever saw her, heartlessly calling her an orphan.

  The little girl knew that the old man and his wife would be deeply hurt if they ever found out how the children treated her. She thought that it would be best to spare them this sorrow and so, she never spoke to them about it.

  Fearful that they might one day find out, she took great care to peep from behind a giant tree, as she watched the children play and heard the sound of their laughter. And then, she would slowly disappear into the shadows and go back to work in the bicycle shop.

  The little girl did not go for the picnic even though the old couple had invited her. She had hidden behind the trees and watched with frustration, their anger and tears. Her heart rebelled at the shallow and petty people who thought nothing of yelling and screaming at the gentle old couple.

  And, she had smelt that evil stench. ‘Never forget this smell,’ her father had once told her, ‘for when you smell it, know that something terribly evil is near at hand, and that people will be at their most vicious, and will think nothing of whom they hurt by their actions or their speech.’

  She went back to her tree and lay down to sleep, curled up near the trunk. It was a lovely night sparkling with stars and a bright moon. She looked at two big stars and knew at once that one must be her father and the other, her mother.

  ‘Ma,’ the little girl said, ‘why can you and father not help me to fly Balloon? I see no reason why good persons, like the balloon-maker and his wife, should be hurt, especially when they have spent all their time trying to make other people happy.’

  She had grown to love the old couple very much. Mind you, she was only around fourteen years old and yet she thought like a grown-up.

  ‘I am going to sleep now,’ she said finally, ‘talk to me in my dream.’

  What conversations the little child had with her parents in her dream that night are a mystery, but, the next morning, she woke up well before the sun arose. Then, she sat cross-legged, as her father had taught her, and turned her face towards the east and closed her eyes. For seven days and seven nights, she sat motionless, in deep meditation. When she was hungry, she used her mind to pluck an apple, slice it into two and to eat it. And then she used her mind again, to return the whole apple to the tree from which it was plucked, so that she might eat it when she was hungry again.

  For seven days and seven nights, nothing bothered her. Neither the cold wind, nor thirst, nor hunger, nor sleep. Not even the ants that crawled all over her tiny frame, or the bees that fanned her face. Her father had taught her that these were all weaknesses of the mind and that it was the mind that needed to be controlled. ‘When you can do that,’ he had said, ‘you will realise that true strength lies in recognising what matters and what does not.’

  And then, on the eighth day, while it was still night, she opened a bag that she had hidden among the branches of a huge oak tree, and took out a bicycle pump and a neatly folded dress that her mother had stitched for her to wear on special occasions. It was pink in colour with little blue flowers embroidered all over.

  ‘Pink is my favourite colour,’ her mother had told her, ‘and the flowers are jasmines—for your protection. Put your face to the jasmines and close your eyes and you will smell their heady scent.’

  ‘But the jasmines are blue,’ the little girl had protested.

  ‘So indeed they are,’ her mother had responded, ‘and they have great power, for as you can see, these are the blue jasmines.’

  ‘But, Ma!’ she had exclaimed. ‘ Jasmine flowers are never blue!’

  ‘Sometimes,’ her mother had whispered, ‘they are blue. And when they are, they are special. That’s because, dearest one, they are different from what you expect them to be!’

  She smiled as she remembered the conversation, and how her parents always spoke in riddles.

  And then, with the bicycle pump in her hand, the little girl walked purposefully to the old man’s house. It was very dark and still. But two lovely stars shone brightly. She looked at Balloon lying on the ground, limp and lonely, and whispered softly, ‘Wake up, my friend. We have a journey to take.’

  She put the pump to the nozzle of Balloon and said, ‘Bless this pump Ma, as indeed you said you would,’ and then, she started pumping in air.

  Balloon was fast asleep. She yawned a big balloon yawn and stretched her arms and back and was most annoyed at finding a nozzle attached to her. ‘And, what’s that?’ she asked with a raised eyebrow. ‘I don’t like attachments. They end up in disappointments.’

  The little girl patted Balloon and said, ‘You will like this attachment. I promise you!’

  ‘Ma has heard,’ the little girl said to herself, for the two bright stars suddenly seemed to shine even brighter.

  Balloon could not believe what was happening. She screamed in delight as more and more air entered into her and she became bigger and bigger. And bigger. And BIGGER.

  It was almost as if she was going to fill the sky.

  The little girl now looked very small beside Balloon. She kept on pumping air till Balloon became rounder and firmer.

  And as the first shafts of sunlight appeared, Balloon looked so lovely that even the sun was a wee bit jealous! The two stars shone brightly. It did look like they were smiling. And then, they slowly faded away in the morning glow.

  The little girl looked at Balloon and patted her in appreciation. Then, she carefully fixed two strings—one black and the other white. When she pulled the white string, the air would start coming out and when she pulled the black string, it would
stop the air from coming out. She felt Balloon and found her nice and firm and knew that there was enough air in her now. Then, she fixed a little folding chair to Balloon, right next to the nozzle, so that she would be able to decide whether to land or keep on flying.

  By now, of course, Balloon could hardly restrain her joy and her impatience. ‘Hurry up, Little Girl!’ Balloon said as she kept trying to bounce up and down. ‘Let us fly! Let us fly!’

  ‘You have called me “Little Girl”,’ said the girl child to Balloon.

  ‘And that is what you are,’ said Balloon with a smile, ‘a little, little girl.’

  ‘All right then,’ said the girl child, ‘I am Little Girl from now on and you are Balloon!’

  The two nodded, as if a pact had been sealed. ‘Give me a moment, my newfound friend,’ said Little Girl, ‘before an important journey, contemplation is helpful in quietening the mind. A mind that runs wildly cannot think clearly!’

  And so, she sat quietly by the side of a tree and looked at Balloon. Finally, her dream would come true and she would fly. Higher and higher she would go, up into the sky, even higher than the birds and the clouds. There, she would see God and her parents. She would travel to distant places and meet new people. It was all so exhilarating.

  This, her father had told her, was the time to still thoughts. So, she closed her eyes in meditative silence.

  Ten

  Naturally, the little girl did not notice the old man and his wife standing beside her. They stood wide-eyed, staring at how beautiful Balloon looked that wonderful morning. The old man put his hand on Little Girl’s shoulder and knelt beside her.

  ‘Thank you,’ he whispered, holding back his tears, ‘thank you for making this miracle happen. She is yours now. Take her and complete the journey that awaits you!’

  Little Girl put her arms around the old man and his wife, and knew that she was going to miss the two very much. They reminded her so much of her parents.

  ‘You must be the one the flute player had spoken to us about,’ the old man said as he sat beside the little girl. Then, he told her about the dream he and his wife had. He spoke about the strange and secret land that lay hidden somewhere, swathed in shadows and steeped in evil. He told her that, while he did not understand all the words perfectly, he was quite sure that he had heard the flute player talk of a double-headed serpent in the land of the un-dead and the nights of the starless sky.

  ‘This place,’ asked the little girl softly, ‘does it have a name?’

  ‘I am told,’ the old man said, ‘that it is called the Land of the Blue Jasmine and that, you might be The Awaited One.’

  The little girl grew very quiet. ‘The time has come then,’ she said mysteriously, ‘and we will finally meet.’

  She suddenly sounded so much older than her age that the old man instinctively embraced her and said, ‘I fear for you, my child, because there seems to be something frightening about the place.’

  The old lady had tears in her eyes but she hurried back to her house and returned a few minutes later with a little bag. ‘I’ve packed some food,’ she said, ‘and some water, and some woollens, and some books, and some toothpaste, and a tube of mosquito repellent and some…’

  ‘I can’t possibly take all that,’ Little Girl said, smiling and hugging the old lady.

  ‘Don’t argue,’ said the old dear firmly, ‘you’ll need all these. Remember to put the woollens on because I think it might get quite chilly up there. And don’t forget to brush your teeth regularly and have a bath everyday. Oh dear, oh dear,’ she said. ‘How silly of me to forget a comb.’ And she rushed inside to get one.

  ‘She’s going to miss you very much, my child. And so indeed, shall I,’ said the old man. He could not tell her that she was the child they had always wanted.

  The old lady returned and put her arms around Little Girl. Letting her go wrenched her heart, for she had grown to love her. ‘God go with you, my dearest child. May the stars and the sky protect you!’ she said and kissed Little Girl, making her face all wet with her tears.

  Goodbyes are always difficult, thought Little Girl. Either one cries too much or one never knows what to say. She thought it was better to leave things unsaid. So, she hugged the old couple and said simply, ‘You are like the parents I have lost and I will return when the job is done. Pray for me.’

  The old man and his wife covered their faces with their hands as they wept.

  Little Girl sat on the chair and released the rope with which she had tied Balloon to the tree. It was a wonderful sight as Balloon slowly floated upwards.

  For Balloon, the feeling was one of pure abandonment. Sheer freedom. Total joy. This was what flight was all about. She was in the sky where she had always wanted to be.

  By now, the people in the village had started coming out onto the streets. They could not believe their eyes. What a lovely sight it was! And so full of magical colours!

  No one spoke a word as they watched Balloon’s journey upwards into the sky and saw Little Girl sitting on the chair, waving to the old couple. They remembered how cruel and harsh they had been. Now, a little girl had done what they could not do. Silently, they all raised their hands and waved to Little Girl and Balloon.

  The bells in the village started ringing.

  Little Girl smiled and waved to the villagers. She shed a tear as she watched the old couple grow smaller and smaller as Balloon lifted her higher and higher up in the sky.

  And, as she was lifted into the sky, a hissing shadowy figure said, ‘She is strong, this little girl. The time will come, and soon, when things will be all too different! She will be mine, or she will join her parents, whom I have already killed!’

  Eleven

  By now, Balloon and Little Girl were actually quite high. It was long since they had left the other balloons far behind. Indeed, the other balloons did not know where to hide. They were ashamed that they had made fun of Balloon, who was not only bigger than all of them put together, but also much prettier.

  Little Girl saw a crow flying nearby. ‘Hello, Crow,’ she said, ‘come and sit with me. I have many questions to ask you.’

  Crow was a bit startled at how big Balloon was, but he liked Balloon’s colours and decided that Balloon must be a friendly sort of balloon.

  ‘I need the exercise,’ said Crow. ‘Got to keep flying around. Keeps the muscles in shape. Anyway, what do you want to know?’

  Little Girl didn’t seem puzzled that Crow had spoken to her, or that she had understood what he had said. ‘How high do we need to go before we can see God?’ she asked.

  ‘Can’t say exactly,’ Crow said philosophically, ‘but I gather it is a somewhat long journey and quite ill-advised, if you ask me. God sees you when God wants to see you and not the other way around.’ He paused before he enquired, ‘In any case, why do you want to see God?’

  ‘Actually, I want to see my mother and my father who are with God and have become stars,’ said Little Girl.

  ‘Stars?’ asked Crow, somewhat shocked. ‘I think that’s pretty far. End of the sky, I’d say. Moreover, you have to travel only at night, otherwise, you will simply not be able to see the stars. And then, of course, you could lose your way. Something, I dare say, that is best avoided, especially when you are up there.’

  What Crow said made sense. They would need to know where they were going or else they could quite easily get lost.

  ‘You thirsty?’ asked Crow.

  ‘Oh, I have some water. Do you want some?’ asked Little Girl, taking out the water bottle the old lady had so neatly packed in the bag.

  ‘Many thanks but I only drink the best,’ said Crow. ‘Watch this.’

  Balloon had floated straight into a patch of a dark cloud. Crow opened his beak and bits of the cloud floated inside.

  ‘Mmm,’ he said, ‘lovely. Try some. It’s the purest and the best.’

  Little Girl opened her mouth and the cloud flakes melted inside. It was indeed delicious.

 
In a nice sort of way, Crow was showing off and Little Girl was quite content having his company. He did seem knowledgeable and there was really no harm in humouring him. They kept floating in and out of the clouds in a lazy sort of way. Balloon had never enjoyed herself so much, nor indeed had Little Girl. She opened her bag and took out a sandwich and offered it to Crow.

  ‘Delighted,’ said Crow and sat on the arm of Little Girl’s chair. ‘It’s the dear old tum-tum,’ he said, patting his rather copious stomach, ‘needs nourishment now and then.’ He appeared to be lost in deep thought as he munched away happily on the sandwich. After a while he said, ‘Tell me Little Girl, have you ever been to the Land of the Blue Jasmine?’

  ‘No, never,’ said Little Girl excitedly. ‘I am supposed to go there. I mean…I need to go there to settle an old score. My father had told me that it was a secret, neither-here-northere sort of place, very difficult to find, but full of great magic and fraught with the most terrible danger. It really is most strange because before I left, Balloon Uncle told me that a flute player came to him in his dream and told him about the place. He also told me that many were waiting anxiously for my arrival. Quite frankly, I always thought that it was only some kind of story that my father had made up for me. He was such a good storyteller!’

  ‘No story,’ said Crow authoritatively. ‘It exists. I was told about it by the elders in the pack.’ He cleared his throat as he added, ‘Now, if you are interested in directions, you have to go straight as the crow flies, if you pardon the expression, and then turn left at the big tree down there, go on till the road bends to the right and then turn left again. And then, beside the river that you can’t see but which is on the other side of the mountain, you turn left.’ He raised his claw and scratched his cheek. ‘Or maybe right. Now, let’s see, could it be that you have to go straight?’

  Crow was a bit confused with all this right and left and straight. ‘Anyway,’ he said finally, ‘there’s no problem. All we have to do is to fly straight on and we ought to be able to see it from up here, if we look for a neither-here-nor-there sort of place, as your father put it, remembering of course, that it’s a secret place and so, very, very difficult to find. Camouflaged and all that, if you know what I mean.’