knew what the Wizard of the Crow was driving at.
“So even children’s stories can teach us a thing or two about the ways of the world?” Tajirika said excitedly. “Mr. Wizard of the Crow, I now know what you have been trying to make me understand: Like these four fingers, the foolish take definite positions. Everyone knows where they stand. I have been too definite in the company I keep. I should maintain at all times the deceptive appearance of the thumb. Mr. Wizard of the Crow, thank you, thank you a thousand times.”
“No wonder Jesus wept!” said the Wizard of the Crow loudly, as if talking to himself, clearly frustrated.
“Why do you say that Jesus wept?” Tajirika asked, genuinely puzzled by how the mind of the Wizard of the Crow worked. He was now into the Bible.
“Because he told them things, and even though they had ears they did not hear. He showed them things, and even though they had eyes they didn’t see.”
He even uses the Book for his rites. That’s why his magic is so powerful, Tajirika thought to himself. If he puts his mind to it, there is nothing the Wizard of the Crow cannot do for a person like me.
“And that is why it is said that even God can only help those who help themselves,” said the Wizard of the Crow.
“Mr. Wizard of the Crow, how do you want me to help myself so that you can help me?” said Tajirika encouragingly.
“Again, look into your heart. Beview whatever is inside you.”
“How?”
This man cares only about himself, thought the Wizard of the Crow. He hears and sees only what he wants. The Wizard of the Crow, Kamltl wa Karimlri, grew angry, very angry.
He had not forgotten how Tajirika had humiliated him on the premises of Eldares Modern Construction and Beal Estate; he was flooded by the memory at odd times. He had never imagined that a human being could behave toward another with so much evil and malice. Kamltl had long decided not to seek revenge himself, for to do so would erase the difference between him and Tajirika.
But now he decided to jog the man’s memory and remind him of their first encounter to see if Tajirika would show some shame. People like these, so self-centered, needed to be told things directly, without ambiguity.
“Do you want to hear a story?” he asked Tajirika.
“Yes,” Tajirika said quickly. “I will gladly do so if the stories will help you spring me from this prison.’’
“I am not so sure about this prison, but if you listen to the story very carefully it might help spring you from a prison bigger than this one made of stone and iron.”
“I knew it. I knew that that’s why you came. I knew that there is no way you would have allowed me to rot in this prison. So please tell your story, begin it right away, and I promise you that I shall not even allow a cough to interrupt you.”
14
Have you ever heard of Mahabharata, Ramayana, or Bhagavad Gitar The three, or shall we say two since the Gita is a chapter in Mahabharata, are the key texts in the religion, culture, history, and philosophy of the Indian peoples. They were written in Sanskrit, the ancient language of India, though now, like Latin, Greek, Geez, and Sabean, it is dead.
Mahabharata tells of a war between the Kurus and the Pandavas, two branches of the same family. Arijuana, the hero of the Pandavas, is an expert archer, reputedly able to shoot an arrow at targets on the moon. But Arijuana and his teacher Drona hear of another archer, Ekalaivan, whose skills surpass those of Arijuana by far. He can shoot seven arrows into the mouth of a dog as soon as it opens its mouth, giving it no chance to bark. Ekalaivan had taught himself those skills but under the shadow of the statue of Drona, which Ekalaivan himself had erected as a source of inspiration. Still, Ekalaivan claims that Drona is his teacher. Now, the law, dharma, requires a student to give something to his teacher, as a token of gratitude. Although Drona never taught Ekalaivan, he demands his dues. Anything you ask, says Ekalaivan. Then give me your thumb. They cut off Ekalaivan’s thumb. Do you see the humiliation, the cruelty? Drona refuses to teach Ekalaivan, a son of the poor, but when the same, through his own creativity, rises to excellence, Drona disables him so that sons of the rich will have no competition. Arijuana’s superiority is affirmed by Ekalaivan’s forced inferiority.
Do you think that this is a story of ancient India only? It is the story of our times. A rich man has come into riches through the housing business, buying and selling, developing and selling, overseeing construction and getting paid for it. To be fair, the rich man has been considerate and put up a billboard stating clearly that there are no jobs available. But you know how it is! Need, like love, is blind! A tired bird in flight, they say, will land on anything. So one evening a stranger looking for a job enters the man’s office. Even though it’s the end of the workday, the rich man agrees to interview the stranger. He scrutinizes the documents of the job seeker and asks him many questions. But what do you think the rich man does next? Please follow me, he tells the stranger, so that I can give you a proper interview. The rich man takes the stranger to the gate and asks him to read the billboard to test the stranger’s reading skills and comprehension. Now, before I go on, let me make clear that nobody can blame an employer for not having jobs. But think hard and tell me this: how does one find humor in humiliating the already humiliated? Tell me, Tajirika, why this joy at the cry of misery? How would you feel if someone derived joy from your wandering around this prison cell?
Why did you do it, Tajirika? How did I wrong you by asking you for a job?
15
These revelations hit Tajirika with a force both unexpected and to him, now, seemingly inevitable. He recalled the encounter and knew, even before the Wizard of the Crow had confirmed it, that the stranger and the Wizard of the Crow were one. So that’s why, during the divination and cure of his white-ache, he had felt intimations of a previous encounter? Then, he had dismissed the feeling as a hallucinatory side effect of white-ache. And now it had come to this! Tajirika had never heard of dead languages, and he assumed that the Wizard of the Crow was talking about the languages spoken by the dead. The wizard was in possession of the secrets of dead sorcerers from Africa, India, the world. Faced with the new unknown, he felt terror grip him as never before. For a few minutes he remained frozen in his corner as his mind raced swiftly, feverishly, sinister images giving way to others even more sinister. Still, incredibly, the revelations seemed to throw a light, as he imagined it, on what had been a mystery.
This wizard must be the source of all his troubles! He must have put a spell on the ground outside his office, sparking the queuing mania. The queues had started only a day or two after he had driven this job seeker from the premises of Eldares Modern Construction and Real Estate. He had tied Tajirika’s tongue. He had put a spell on Vinjinia and NyawTra and turned them against him. He had not even been looking for a job but for an occasion to practice malice born of envy and I, an innocent, fell into his trap and gave him a reason to seek vengeance. He even stole my money.
“I gave you three bags of money” Tajirika said, hoping this would mollify him and blunt the edges of his fury.
“Your kind of money smells evil. You can have it back. I buried it in the prairie,” said the Wizard of the Crow, and to Tajirika’s incredulous consternation, he described the burial spot.
Had he been sent now, once again, by Tajirika’s enemies? Brought to his cell at the midnight hour to entrap him with stories and lie about burying money in the ground? He could think of only one enemy with the clout and opportunity.
Sikiokuu’s words haunted him:
