Meeting Rada

The stars against the amethyst heavens sparkled in an icy manner and the boy felt more alone than ever. Pulling his knees up to his chin, he looked up and searched for the one star that was his sister’s favorite; she used to call it “The Queen of Hope.” Mother and Father slept soundly in their humble home and knew nothing of this silent reverie; they often knew little of what he felt.

A single drop of sorrow crept down his noble cheek and graced the earth’s womb. When the sun would cast his wholesome rays upon it the next morning, he would find a sapling of rare beauty. The boy stood up, trembling, and walked, every step cumbersome, laden with grief of an acute degree, to the house, up the stairs and into his room. With a last gaze at the stars, he fell asleep.

            With morning’s arrival, the boy awoke, kissed his parents, and began to walk towards the local school. It was an unassuming building of clay, reddish brown and sweet smelling. The heavy door of some curious wood lead into a circular room with adequate windows and bright tapestries, in the middle stood a desk cluttered with papers and books, and on that desk sat a man. The man was of medium stature, old but without the appearance of age; his eyes were thoughtful and mysteriously dark, they were eyes that could warm you and eyes that could pierce, a beard like sea foam seemed to cascade down towards his chest and his cheeks were like apples as he smiled at the children. Most of the children were already sitting on their mats around the desk, waiting patiently. The boy unrolled his mat to the right of the man, sat in padmasana and waited.

            The man arose and began to speak in tones trembling and sweet, reminiscent of the first Dawn. “Join hands children and let us begin the day with prayer…” quoth he and raised his palms towards the heavens, chanting piously.

 

                            Father of All, from whom all sweetness flows !

  Open our Hearts to Thy voice, our Minds to Thy governing, and part our Lips to Praise Thee.

       Do not abandon Thy children even when they stray from the path of the Wise

                           Chastise them and envelop them in eternal embrace

            Lift the veil of illusion

                                      And open the gates leading Home

                                         Let us forever honor Thy name

                      Amen

Moved, the man stood with his eyes closed but then seemed to waken to his earthly calling. “ Take out your histories and turn to page two hundred and eleven.”  The school day droned on as it did every day with language following history, then arithmetic and the study of the natural world ,literature and speech, and  then tapestry and music .Then came the afternoon hours and the children rolled up their mats and went home, that is all but one.

The boy stayed behind and pressed himself into a corner. The man looked up from his papers and asked not unkindly, “ Why do You not go home like the other children, Mirti? “ “Master, why are we here? Why must people die? Why does God allow suffering? “ The Schoolmaster searched Mirti’s face and slowly began to speak. “ You ask me these things because of what befell your dear sister, but you have always been bright, cannot you answer these questions yourself?” “We are here to learn, people die to begin new life, suffering teaches… but why her? Why now? How did she die? Master, I wish to understand.” “ Child, there is much to be explained to you but tis not my destiny to be the one to explain it to You… for now, do not trouble yourself with questions that have not answers nor with matters beyond your control.” The boy bowed and left the Schoolmaster to his books. When the boy was a good distance away, the Schoolmaster sat pale at his desk, muttering, “Great evil is afoot..I cannot..it is not time... it is not right..“    

Mirti walked to the place where he had sat the night before gazing at the stars. Astonished, he nearly tripped. There, where he had sat was a small tree but it did not look as other trees for it was translucent and of vague form;the boy could see something flowing through its narrow veins and a heart beating. Slowly he placed his palm on the tree and screamed for the tree was wet, it was all water, but when he withdrew his hand, it was dry. He stared at the tree. Suddenly a voice came out of the thin air. “ Did no one teach You that it is rude to stare, Child?” Mirti jumped and looked around but no one was there. “ Greetings, I’m down here, the tree You  plunged Your hand through.” “ You’re alive.” “ Goodness gracious, of course, I’m alive.” “Trees don’t talk, they can’t be alive.” “ Child, ants do not speak, yet You would agree that they are alive, why not trees?” “Trees can’t move or breathe.” “ Can trees die, Child?” “But it is not really death, it is merely a figure of speech.” “ Is it?” “Are You saying trees have souls?” “Is that what You think I’m saying?” “But that can’t be.” “Can’t it?” “But…” “But you’ve read from arrogant humans that what is not human cannot have a soul for humans are the highest order..but what would that say about Your God? Child, You must learn to think beyond what You know.” “ Why  do You have a water form? How did You come to be here? Do You have a name?” asked the boy eagerly. The tree chuckled heartily. “ Names have power but You may call me Rada for now. I grew out of the tears You shed so ardently upon that starry night to befriend You and to guide You for woe is on the horizon. Did you not see it in the stars? Perhaps not..Humans..are not so perceptive of the evident, then wherefore should I expect You to perceive the nebulous... This form is because of what You gave..You shed tears, thus I am of water, but this skin, You see its pattern?..it is even now beginning to harden and then shall only my centre be of water and my shell, that of a tree.” The boy nodded and sat down beside the tree, pensive.

Reviews

[E.H. Monroe]

“The stars against the amethyst heavens sparkled in an icy manner and the boy felt more alone than ever.” And you wonder why I compliment you. This is the kind of beginning that starts off narrator to movies. “
“A single drop of sorrow crept down his noble cheek and graced the earth’s womb.” More excellent description.
For the huge middle section I fell like I was in school. The why do we live, die and suffer answers were prolific. The tree answers of of course I speak and the idea that man has placed themselves on the highest pedestal without the say so of the other creatures was fascinating. Reading you is the younger equivalent of getting through the pages of Khalil Gibrann.

You are a witch for leaving us THERE. The boy sits? Oh you foul thing. Where is the rest? This was a perfect ending because, yes, your audience wants more..immediately.
Excellent job..again and again