Oontab [Episode 19]

Mama Yuttputt

On a very bright day, in the morning, late enough for everyone to be awake, Queen Shere could not wake up. The old woman just lay there, and it was only when Mama Yuttputt came in to clean that she was discovered to be dead. Mama Yuttputt looked into the Queen’s eyes which were open as though she had woken up before dying, and tears fell down her cheeks. Mama Yuttputt was older, yet she was still alive, but some did not have the privilege she was having. However, she did not completely see it as a privilege, because sooner or a little later, she wanted to join the ancestors. She closed Queen Shere’s eyes and called the guards; another burial.



The New Spokesman

King Greda had appointed new council members after doing away with the old and dying ones his father had left, and they had conducted the ritual of appointing a new Spokesman. The man was young, very unlike Bantaik, the old man his father had chosen. He was calm unless there was an occasion that demanded the lash of his whip. His whip was shorter, because he was concerned that he did not whip someone by the careless swinging of it. His walking steps were a lot more precise; he spread his feet with every deliberate step, sending tremors to the beads on his muscled ankle; they jing-jangled. He wore raw leaves for clothing, covering only the lower part of his body to just below the knees. Both his round biceps were tied with thin bands around which were attached smaller leaves and dried hay. ‘Nature is the garment of the gods’ he often quoted. Samthanasmuths.





The New Generation

Many years had passed, and the land saw the last of the generation of the old to their graves from whence they would awake and dig out of the soil into where the ancestors dwelt. The will of the gods had not yet failed the people of Gardutkar, even though they had lost the right to deserve their mercy because of the sins of a few men. A new tree sprouted, one of which they had never seen before; its fruits were green, like most of the mangoes, but it was more evenly shaped than the mangoes and the inside was made of segments of a sweet watery substance. People had once eaten the fruit by eating off the skin and throwing the inside away until they discovered that the inside was sweeter. There became a mad man, and he circled the streets of the enormous land preaching something about creatures from another land. Only mad men who did not circle the streets believed him.
The King had become ruthless, and many prayed that their paths would not cross. Some even prayed to the gods and against the King, rather than pray with the King to the gods.
The elders had meetings in the palace with King Greda, and each time they did, there were opinions untold, anger suppressed, goals untended, secrets become lethal, such that each man that came was already allied with a smaller group within the group of elders and biased to their own ideas. One of such groups was made up of Elder Rubinto, Elder Tandoop and Elder Edongo; another was made up of Elder Risanga, Elder Pos’hungi, Elder Choriki and Elder Tarak. Elder Fonjam sat somewhere in the middle of the two groups, still holding on to his friendship with the King, yet not pleased with what the King had seized the right to do in the Kingdom, above the rights allowed him by the gods. Even the Spokesman, Samthanasmuths was under the influence of King Greda’s direct control, as he grew dubious and wicked at heart.

He did not forget his father, and he burned with unquenchable anger within.
Digging into the past, he went in circles searching till he found the truth about the path his father had hidden. His search took him to the shrine; he involved Samthanasmuths with the search, as they both looked through the spells and substances Rotyuk and the others after him had come in contact with and kept over time. The less he found, the more curious he became, and obsession gradually began knocking at the door of his sanity. The new Spokesman studied the substances that had been left over a generation of Spokesmen and prayed to the gods to open his eyes to see their use. Samthanasmuths was close to reaching a desirable result, and King Greda was anxious.

King Greda let his hatred for Kanaka calm down, himself seeing that the man was not entirely to be blamed for his misfortunes. Kanaka had kept himself hidden, and King Greda did not search for him because in the last 8 years (which is eight times twenty-six fortnights) he had not set eyes on him and Kanaka had not yet proven to be a threat. And if he became one, he was readied to take him out as soon as he sprung up.




Samthanasmuths

“Long live the King!” Samthanasmuths called as he entered the council meeting of the elders of Gardutkar with the King. His stout form made his large legs look more caricatured than they really were. “Elders,” he bowed, as they concluded side discussions. The meeting had already ended, and a few of them had left the palace.

“Honorable Spokesman! The gods are with you!” King Greda announced.

“As with you, your highness. I come here to see you.”

Samthanasmuths knelt on the bare ground on one knee resting his body on the staff he was holding. It jingled with the sudden movement. The King had not replied, he kept throwing glances at the Elders still in the palace discussing, anxious that they leave. They seemed to understand.

“Have you brought me good news?” He asked immediately. It was the first thing he wanted to ask as soon as he had seen Samthanasmuths entering the palace.

“Yes, your highness.” Samthanasmuths looked around and whispered. “I have seen the path.”

King Greda’s smile was ear to ear; he frowned almost immediately, realizing that he had expressed too much excitement over Samthanasmuths’ response. Now he could see what lay at the end of the other path.

“Shall we go and see it now?” Samthanasmuths asked the King.

“No hurry, Samnas, let us wait till after dark,” Said King Greda referring to the Spokesman with a shorter name.

“Yes your highness.” Samnas answered, getting up on his feet. “May you live long.” They both knew that their discussion was over, so Samnas found his way out, heading back to the shrine as King Greda was swimming in expectation.





Li'ved

Li’ved snapped his fingers to the music his ugly minions produced from their dusty voice boxes. With the movement of his leafy fingers, he seemed to be in control of the sound he was entertained with; it was as if he was entertaining himself. But the look on the faces of the singers was of torment rather than of enthusiastic service to the one in control. If a man from Existence could hear these hideous heralds gurgling soil, residue air and disproportionate screeches and rhythms from their mouths, it would be a blood gushing hurt to the brain. Yet Li’ved held a sheepish smile, showing the all but one mucus infested teeth. The white one was like gold to them that lived in this land, which was part of why Li’ved’s followers admired him.

He tapped his fingers on the stump in front of him that served as his footstool, then he waved a hand to shove the musicians away from his presence. There were heart wrenching screams from a hole just outside the dark dome Li’ved lived in, but there seemed to be no one to stop them. There was also laughter, which seemed to follow after each scream; it was an ordered chaos. Li’ved reached out beneath his large seat and pulled out a huge clay bowl of black water, steadying his face to watch it. When the ripples had settled, a man’s face faded into view; this face was faceless. It had no ears, eyes, a nose or a mouth, but the head had a retarded looking wooden crown sitting on it. Li’ved was puzzled at what he saw, and even though his face was already as wrinkled and roughened as the bark of a tree, one could see he was angered. Every time he was about to yell, a loud churn began in his stomach seconds before, then the creatures around began to dodge for cover because they knew what it meant.

“Qwindriiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!” Li’ved sent tremors that cracked weak points in the structure of the dome he called home.

Something slapped the one who was called out of hiding; Qwindri.

“You called, Master.” He shivered verbally.

“Come closer.” Li’ved gurgled.

When Qwindri came closer, Li’ved puffed putrid air into his face to scare him. He trembled.

“Look into the pot.” Li’ved commanded.
Qwindri peeped in.

“Isn’t the King already dead?”

Qwindri shifted closer adjusting his eyes to the up-side-down image.

“Grrr…” Said Li’ved.

“Yes… I mean, no Master…”

“Are you lying to me?” Li’ved probed as though he expected the fool to say the truth about lying. “He is not breathing…”

No response. Qwindri seemed to be distracted by the image.

“Answer me before I eat yoouuuu!”

“Oh… forgive my… me… forgive me Master. He is breathing… There is no… th… nose but there are nostrils.”

“Listen to yourself, fool…”

Qwindri was now pointing into the bowl and when Li’ved looked into it, the man in the water indeed had two holes on his face that Qwindri had called nostrils. They were very tiny holes, barely noticeable over a quick glance. Li’ved straightened.

“So he is still living?”

“Yes Master…breathing.”

“Then the prophecy can come alive?”

“…only where your evil lives, Master.”

The Master was pleased. He put a finger on his face and shifted in his seat. Another question in his mind popped up,

“When exactly will this be?” he pushed the bowl of black water closer to Qwindri, bidding him consult the water for more information.

Qwindri’s eyes widened with curiosity. He stretched forth two fingers, the other arm bent towards his face, and touched the surface of the water at a corner of the bowl. He drew a circle and as the water spun to his control, a black solute that looked like the coloring component of the water dropped to the bottom and in an instant, the black solute rose to the top and combined with the water once again, forming images of the sun, moon and stars. It seemed not to make sense to Qwindri because he frowned.

“Well?” Li’ved, angst, asked.

“I… I don’t err… I d –“

“Whaaaaat?!”

“I don’t know, master. We do not know where the prophecy comes from, but we see it.
Perhaps, the gods –“

“The gods are burning in the Dark Master’s fire, along with the other ancestors!”

“Yes, master.”

“And this means… we are in control. We will make it happen when we want it?” He asked with expectation.

“As long as your evil lives, master.” The smaller plant answered.

The massive shrub creature smiled as his tree bark face shed a few layers from the expression. Li’ved praised himself, “And where does my evil live?” he shouted for everyone to hear.

“Wherever the scourged exist!”

The dome resonated with responses from creatures that do not exist. The place was full of toxic phlegm and putrid breath, rotten trees, stumps, branches, shrubs and blood. Here, plants ate animals, and when a plant found no animal to eat, it ate another plant. But elite creatures ate men. And when Non-Existence was threatened by extinction, the gateway to Existence was left open to rampage. The creatures dragged their roots on the floor while humans used feet to walk. The trees that actually stood still, were the deadliest of them, poisoning the soil with acid that rejected all who were alien to the ground that surrounded them. That was why this place was called Non-Existence, and it was there, in Non-Existence, that the gods of the land lived; and Lived, their Master.


To be continued...

- Telsum Bini