“And then you became the Limping Witch?”
“What are you implying? That a Limping Witch is less powerful than a Wizard of the Crow? I challenge you to a power contest.”
“How?”
“Do you see that bird on the tree over there? Make it land on the ground with the power of your sorcery. Go on, sorcerer.”
Kamltl tried whistling different tunes, with varying pitch and rhythm, alternating the whistling with calling out,
“You have failed,” she said.
“No, no,” protested Kamltl. “It came nearer.”
“But you failed to make it land on the ground.”
“Okay! Your turn,” Kamltl said.
Nyawlra dug in her bag, took a piece of bread from their lunch packet, and, mumbling some incantations, crumbled it and threw the pieces on the ground. I command you to come down, she called out. The bird, followed by others, landed on the ground, looking for the crumbs in the grass.
Nyawlra laughed triumphantly.
“Are you saying the magic I taught you was just a bag of tricks?” Kamltl asked.
“It means that the pupil has surpassed the teacher and he should accept defeat with grace.”
“But you know that a successful pupil owes a token of gratitude to his teacher,” Kamltl said.
“What do you want for a token?”
“Your thumb.”
“What do you mean?”
He told her the story of Drona and Ekalaivan.
“You mean depriving the poor, even of the least they have, has a long history?” she asked.
“No politics. I want my thumb,” Kamltl said, and he tried to push her to the ground with his right hand.
Nyawlra released herself from his weak grip and took off. Kamro could not run, so he walked, looking for her under shrubs and bushes and even up in treetops. After a while he saw her clothes on the ground. He called out her name and, getting no response, became a little frightened.
He heard some whistling farther down the river. The sight of her made his heart palpitate. She was bathing in the river. Beautiful. Badiant. Graceful. Glorious. He juggled the words in his mind but none quite described what his eyes saw, seeing her among the reeds.
“Come for your thumb. Or do my powers scare you?”
In a minute he had removed his clothes and joined her. They did not really swim. They splashed water. They scrubbed each other’s backs-no, not really scrubbing but stroking. In the end they found themselves lying down by the riverside on green grass under the shade of another shrub.
Mindful of Kamltl’s scar, they had to be careful. So they went about it gently, groping, searching, but when eventually they felt their bodies soar, they forgot about the scar and let themselves float on a river across a beautiful plateau. The river flowed slowly, smoothly, almost soundlessly, except for the gentle lapping and foaming of the waters against the banks. And after it, Kamltl felt as if all the rot that had stuck to his body and soul since they last parted had now been washed away by a new beginning. He became aware of the fragrance of fresh flowers. He looked at her with gratitude in his eyes, but it was she who came up with the words.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
3
Afterward, as they lay on their backs on the same riverbank, fully clothed, Kamltl turned to his right, faced Nyawlra, and, without any preparatory words, brought up the subject of his return to Aburiria from America.
“Why bring up painful memories so soon after our own landing from the clouds?”
“The sweetness reminded me of loss. You see, when looking for you I often felt tears over the many things I should have asked you but did not. The regret deepened as it increasingly appeared that I would never see you again. It is not often in life that one can say, I got a second chance. Now I don’t want this moment to pass me by”
Ask and see if it shall be given,” Nyawlra said.
“Don’t you think it is time we built a new home?”
“Rebuild the shrine?”
“I am not talking about a building. I am talking about tying the knot.”
Nyawlra turned over the proposal in her mind, but not for long, since this was not the first time that she had given the question some thought.
“Do you know that in all the time that Kaniuru and I were friends and even lived together, I never once dreamed of having his children? But with you I dream about it every day, often trying to imagine how our children would look or whether they would have more of your features or mine. The dreams are still with me, even now as we sit here. In a way we are already married. Is there a knot more complete than the free union of souls? The rest is ceremony to bless the union, and we can do that whenever time and circumstances allow. Right now there is work to do to clear the rot and pollution that fell over the land, and clean the atmosphere.”
There was such finality in the tone that Kamltl did not press the issue further. She thought she had been a little harsh and now softened her tone.
“Nothing is for free, though. A task for you. Each time you have failed to make me out in my disguise, you always vow that you would not fail the next time?”
“I must say that I would never have recognized you as the Limping Witch,” he said in admiration. “But next time it will be different. I honestly don’t see how you can top that performance.”
“You want to bet?”
“It depends on the wager.”
“If you succeed in seeing through me, I will buy the wedding ring; and if you fail, you buy it.”
“I accept. Although it does not answer the question of when. Tell me more about the Movement for the Voice of the People,” he asked.
Caught by surprise, Nyawlra turned to her left and faced him.
“You know,” she said after a pause, “you don’t have to take a political stance just to please me. Even if we continue the way we now live, God willing, we shall have that home of our dreams.”
“I know, but hear me out. During our stay here I have been able to review the many issues that you and I have talked about since we first met. I now agree with you that the task of healing the land cannot be done by one person or by any number of people when each is acting on his own.”
“What do you want know? Where we stand on issues? Our view of the world is not much different from the vision you outlined at the People’s Assembly. In Aburlria there are those who reap where they never planted and those who plant but hardly ever reap what they planted. The first camp, even with its allies abroad, is small, and yet it is able to lord over the second because it divides it along ethnic and sometimes gender and religious lines. Our movement wants to reverse that. We do not ask people what their tribe is but where they stand in the conflicting interests of the two camps. You have not a say in the ethnicity into which you are born, but you have all the say in the choice of associates. Biology is fate. Politics is choice. No, the life of even the least among us should be sacred, and it will not do for any region or community to keep silent when the people of another region and community are being slaughtered. The wealth of science, technology, and arts should enrich peoples’ lives, not enable their slaughter. We oppose the tendency to make women carry the weight of customs that have outlived the contexts that may have made them necessary or even useful earlier. The context is gone but the practice goes on,” she said.
“I am really asking, how does one become one of you?” “Ask or be asked. You were invited once. Your silence was taken as meaning that you were not ready or did not want to. With us, nobody is forced into the movement
