Desires
reaching far beyond
By Sujata Narang
Zakula lay on the
thick grass that carpeted the upland gazing at the star-studded sky, he started
Recollecting the ten years he’d spent in this new realm. The sun emerged from the foot of the lurid
green mountains and each evening settled in his saffron kingdom. The waterfall
gushed from the mountain peak, with tremendous speed. It seemed as if the
droplets couldn’t wait to dissolve in eternity having travelled the journey of a
lifetime. The sound of the hummingbirds and the roar of the water created a
melody indulging the senses. The spells cast in Neverland expanded into
magnificent mountains covered with exotic flora and fauna. Every sight was
breathtaking. A charismatic world, beyond belief.
Zakula had never
seen its like. Back home Mother Nature wasn’t so kind. The trees bore fruit,
but they were not edible. Hazda and its surrounding were home to reptiles and
other creatures that crept and slithered. The sun was fierce and shot warm
scorching rays that pierced down to the bones tearing flesh apart. Motherland
was nasty and uncharitable, one could only enjoy her wealth and treasures if
you had toiled enough in the unpleasant heat of the day and survived the stings
of the Deathstalker scorpions, her guardians who populated the land.
Ever since he was
a young boy, he was fascinated by the stories of men who made it to the Neverland. He was inspired by their legacy of being the
most respected men amongst the tribe. The tribe of Hazda believed there existed
an alluring land beyond the adjoining dingy forest. Not many men had made it to the Neverland.
Reaching Neverland was a
gruelling task. One must be proficient to survive in the wilds.
The tribal tales
of men who set foot in the Neverland cast a spell on him. Those stories
created a web of enchantment around him. He wanted to experience the splendid
adventure for himself. The tribal chief’s saga was his all-time favourite; the
story of bringing the enchanted emerald from the Neverland. Each year
this triumph was celebrated splendidly. The Hazdan community observed a weeklong
holiday, lavish ceremonies, to honour the bravery of those men. Village craftsmen
spent six to eight weeks making large figures of the Kishi monster, only to be
brought to ashes by the glorious men with their flaming arrows demonstrating
their victory to the villagers. The burning flames sparkled Zakula’s desires
and each year these fireworks served as a source of reaffirmation.
Zakula knew one
day he would have to set out on this quest. He would find the Neverland,
he would defeat the monstrous beasts in the forest and conquer his fears. He
would not let anything stop him, not even himself.
He knew if he
wanted his dream to come true, he would have to persevere. He prepared himself
well, diligently learned swordsmanship, persuaded Zataya, tribal chief to train
him to hunt and survive in the wild. Each day he grew stronger, Leading a
disciplined life.
So, Zakula finally
found his Neverland. He had a blissfully wonderful life; his Neverland
had everything he had desired. There was an abundance of food. Never a day past
when he was hungry.
He never wished
to return, but sometimes he felt restless experiencing a strange yearning churning
like a whirlpool in his stomach. His heart
and mind uncertain, his beliefs shaken, the peace was all so strange.
“I wonder why I
feel so anxious and empty inside. What is bothering me?”
A loud gush of
wind brings his mind back to the present, in the web of his unsettled emotions
he hadn’t noticed the passage of time, the sun has sunk beneath the earth. He
prepares himself for bed. He dips his hands into the flowing stream to cleanse
his face and hands.
Yet again his
scars remind him of his brutal battle with Kishi, the demon of darkness, who
resided in the dark forest that stood between the Hazda village and the Neverland.
The battle was swift and brutal. Kishi fangs scared Zakula’s face leaving an everlasting impression of their encounter.
These scars also
reminded him of the last days he spent in his hometown Hazda village, his
childhood, his mother and Yakoli.
Yakoli was a spirited
young maiden, residing in a dwelling just a few yards away from his own. He
became engulfed in his memories of her watching him master archery, learning to
tackle the wild beasts, it seemed perfect ecstasy to her. Life was eternal
bliss for Yakoli. She was a slim framed girl who had deep dark brown eyes, her
hair curled around her bronze face. She was beginning to transform into a
charismatic young woman like a flower blossoming in spring exhibiting its full glory.
Yet, Zakula never took notice of her lush magnificence. Yet He felt she lacked
sparkle. He had never been attracted to her.
Yakoli loved
Zakula madly and she would go to any extent to make him happy. Zakula was aware
of her feelings but did not reciprocate nor encourage her. Yet he enjoyed having her by his side because
she affirmed his worth. He believed she
was instrumental in showcasing his manliness to the tribe. For him she was
nothing more than good company. He never felt an inch of guilt in accepting her
unrequited affection.
He shooed away his
feelings of guilt, “I have told her I do not love her.”
But, Yakoli was
confident, “one day Zakula will change his mind.”
Words of his last
conversation with Yakoli echoed in his mind.
“Zakula,
where had you been? You promised you
will go up the mountains with me to fetch berries!” she’d said.
“Fetching berries? Who do you think, I am Yakoli,
A lame gatherer? I am a hunter,
an explorer, a discoverer and you must know I am preparing to travel to the Neverland.
We are training to defeat the humungous beasts of the wilds. I have a lot to do
before I leave. I must repair my tools and sharpen my wedges.”
“I didn’t mean that Zakula. I know you are
occupied, but I wanted to show you something on the mountains today.” She
sounded like a little child.
“Don’t you understand Yakoli, I can’t waste more time with you. The
clouds are clearing up. My days in the village are numbered. If I have to make
any sense of my life I must leave now!” he yelled.
His words, “waste
time with you,” pierced through Yakoli’s soul, as if she had been jolted
from a dream. Zakula had never
considered her feelings and had been extremely rude to her.
“Spending time with me is a waste, did I hear
you right? What do you think I am!”
“Yakoli, I didn’t
say that,” Zakula replied looking away from her, to prevent her seeing his
face and reading more of his mind.
He’d
meant every bit of what he said also she had read his words correctly, yet he
didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“Yakoli it’s your choice to think and assume what
you will, it’s none of my business. Please leave me alone, Yakoli I don’t fancy
want your company.”
Gazing at the
luminous sky, through the cavity from his cave Zakula spent hours lying on his
rock bed. His mind wandering endlessly, keeping him awake.
“I think I know
it! I must admit I miss my family. I wish I had said a proper farewell. Mother
must have worried for days and spent sleepless nights. Strangely, I also miss
Yakoli. I never bothered about her but, she was an inseparable part of my
life.”
I wonder how is Yakoli, doing? Has
she managed to move on and forget me? She
must by now be married with 4 or 5 children. I am sure she must have found
someone else. Someone better than me, more worthy of her love and kindness. His thoughts taunted him.
“I must go back;
I owe apologies to everyone.”
What
if mum is no more? What if the villagers have moved to a new place? Maybe no
one will recognise me?
Countless thoughts and fears entered his mind.
***
The next day he
packed for his journey, another quest to be completed. After a few months of
toiling in the wilds and numerous sleepless nights, he returns to his village.
His eyes absorbing the changes from the world he’d left long ago. He was
comforted to learn that the village was still there. Heading home to face the rest
of his fears.
He sees a fragile, old woman in the now dilapidated property that once was home.
“Who are you? Who
are you looking for?” asked the fragile woman.
Zakula, looks
down at her. As she came closer her appearance seemed familiar. Her hair is
grey. Her eyes are clouded with dark circles around them. The passage of time has
left its impression on her face. Yet, he can still notice the same old sparkle
in her eyes.
“Who are you?
What do you want?” she asked again.
He continued to
stare at her unaffected by her words. His stare conveyed his heartfelt
emotions. As she looked into his eyes, she began to tremble.
“Zakula” she only
managed to say his name and tears started from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks
as if they were loosely stationed on the edge of her eyes.
“You are alive!
Where had you been? Why didn’t you return?” questions and tears rolled out, her
voice cracked, as she struggled to keep hold of her bursting emotions.
“Pardon me mother
for my selfishness. I have only been a source of misery for everyone who loved
me. Blinded in my quest.”
“No, my child, it
isn’t your fault. One cannot escape the call of fate, but I am glad that you
have returned a wiser man.”
“Mother, where is
Yakoli? I Must see her once” Zakula said with urgency in his voice.
“Zakula do you
remember the Banyan tree on the outskirts of the village?”
“That tarnished
tree is still around! It is amazing nothing has changed here in so many years.”
“Go to the Banyan
tree, you will see it for yourself.”
Zakula jumps on
his horse clutches its reins and raced along the path leading to the Banyan
tree. As he rides his mind is transported back in time. Old narrow bushed lanes
bring back a flood of childhood memories.
It seemed as if only days have passed since he last visited this place.
The lanes were loaded with thick green lush of wild berries and Acacia trees
loaded with densely bunched thorns. The blowing wind puffed out the thorns
creating a spiked bed of misery.
As he reached the
borders of the village the surroundings began to mellow. A warm pleasant scent
swirled in the air. The sunshine seemed gentle. A strange intensive aura began
to invade his thoughts, he was eager to find Yakoli.
The Banyan tree was
close, and his heart galloped faster than the horse. The land surrounding the
banyan tree didn’t resemble the harshness of Hazda village. It was filled with
grass, large fields covered with mesmerising lavender, tulips and roses. The
busy chirp of birds elevated the symphony of the scene. How was this possible?
This place seemed to be so much like the Neverland.
A few yards,
ahead he could see a woman sitting crossed leg, her eyes were closed, maintaining
her posture, her skin and hair matched that of Yakoli. Her face was glowing
with eternal bliss. Can it be, could she be Yakoli?
Zakula could see
and feel she was attractive. He could see her femininity.
Any
man would be proud to have this attractive woman by his side, Zakula thought.
Zakula mustered his
courage and walk the remaining yards, he begins to rehearse his words.
“Yakoli?” he
asked, feeling unsure.
Yakoli’s eyes opened
and settled on Zakula. She kept her gaze fixed on him. She was trying to
recollect who he was or perhaps taking time to awaken from her deep sleep.
“What brings you
to me?” she asked.
“I am Zakula.”
“I am aware it’s
you Zakula, what brings you to me after so many years?”
“I wanted to see
you before it was too late.”
“People in Hazda
village say you have conquered the mighty beast; people remember you for your
courage. You are now part of the elite. I believe that you should be very wealthy
and rich. I am sorry I have nothing to offer you.”
“Forgive me
Yakoli. I found all the worldly
comforts, but I felt emptiness inside. I
wish I had known; one must earn love and nurture it, not throw it away. I am here to seek your forgiveness for my
wrongdoings,” said Zakula.
“No, you don’t
have to; you followed your dream, your destiny. You don’t need me to forgive
you. I have set you free.”
As he stood
staring at her, he felt his visit has only added to his misery. He could not forgive himself for treating her
so badly. He had set out on this journey to see if Yakoli was happy, strangely
he wasn’t pleased to have found her content and gratified. He wanted to know
what had happened to her. How she was changed and how she had transformed this
land?
Copyright Sujata Narang
