As the full moon rose atop the Moonshine Mount in the ecstasy of the light-and-sound spectacle on the promenade, Zara paddled her tube towards the nine steps, upon which was rolled out a long red carpet all the way up to the promenade and beyond the entrance of the long-mirrored disco guarded by the two tin soldiers. And following her, Zara’s countless cousins, too, paddled their tubes towards the riverbank.
There, alighting on the first step with her companions chanting, ‘Hu va, hu va, hu va!’ in rapturous applause of the performers, Zara, twenty-four years old and five feet seven inches tall, stood resplendent in an off-white Versace cashmere tunic, a pair of orange Christian Louboutin stilettos with broad wrap-around butterfly ankle ties, matching ochre Hermes scarf and belt with a frog buckle with topaz eyes set in rose gold, an emerald- and ruby-studded lizard broach enamelled green by Van Cleef & Arpels, and a diamond-studded elephant bracelet by Cartier with a matching ring set in white gold. A small red dot, the size of a drop of blood, sat prettily between her eyebrows.
‘Where did I come from?’ Zara asked.
‘You come from yourself, Zara,’ said the river in celebration.
‘But how did I come here?’ Zara wondered aloud, climbing to the step above.
‘You came here riding time, Zara. Time, indeed, is your father,’ said the river.
‘Time? Fathah? And how did I come here riding time?’ Zara asked, climbing one more step.
‘Your desire of you rode time here,’ said the river.
‘And how did that happen?’ asked Zara, climbing yet another step.
‘Remember those words inside the whirlwind when you cried out that you had become nothing?’ the river asked.
Zara was silent. She had no recollection of that moment.
‘Those words were your desire to become something that expanded in time,’ the river said as Zara climbed up one more step.
‘Your desire illumined your senses with the colours of the rainbow, Zara, so that you could reach out to your higher self within, just as the tendrils of the plant reach out for sunlight. And that light generated heat. And that heat created the germ of life in you that we call the seed. And that seed is what you ceded of yourself within you, splitting you into two. And the seed that you spilt from you, split into two—one black and one white. And each of those two seeds split thrice over into a pair of seeds each—three pairs black and three pairs white. And each of those twelve seeds split into two, either black or white. And each of those black or white seeds split into two, either black or white. And each of those seeds split into two pairs of seven seeds each, either black or white. And each of those seven seeds split into two, either black or white. And each of those black or white seeds split into two, either black or white. And each of those seeds further split into two, either black or white, and each of those seeds split into two, either black or white, whereupon each of those seeds split into fifteen seeds, either black or white. And each of those black or white seeds split into two, either black or white. And one of those seeds that split from you, Zara, has now become you in a multitude of your likeness that has come along with you riding the rainbow to my bank.’
‘That’s also how one became many, Zara,’ continued the river.
‘What then, is time?’ Zara asked, rising yet one more step.
‘Time is the distance you covered for the idea of you to become you and, therefore, turn full circle,’ said the river.
‘And how does one come full circle?’ Zara asked, rising up to the seventh step.
‘Time rides light that reflects itself to come full circle,’ said the river, adding, ‘just like the sun reflected in the pool on my dry bed many, many moons ago, when you came crashing out of your bubble on the wedge on the river bed between the Moonshine Mount and the Chariot Ridge, Zara.’
‘And how does light travel?’ Zara asked on the penultimate step before stepping on the promenade.
‘Light travels from absolute darkness to bright light to big dazzle, Zara, before reducing to dim light and returning to absolute darkness. The period from complete darkness to big dazzle makes one half of the journey, and the period from big dazzle to complete darkness makes the other half. And each of those halves split thrice over, in a pair of two equal measures, each pair reflecting a mood or season—three pairs dark and gloomy, three bright and sunny. And each of those seasons split into two halves, each called a month. And each of those months split into two, each called a fortnight. And each of those fortnights split into two, each called a week. And each of those weeks split into seven, each in several shades of the sun. And each of those seven split into two, one dark and one bright, called night and day. And each of those days and nights split into two halves of six moods, each defined as an hour. And each of those hours split into two halves, each a period in time. And each period split into two, each a moment, whereupon each moment split into fifteen equal parts, each a second. And each second split into two parts, each a flutter. And that flutter is the time you took, Zara, to ride the whirlwind to my bank from the edge of the forest,’ the river said, smiling at Zara.
‘And where does this light come from?’ asked Zara, nonplussed, climbing up to the promenade.
‘That light rests in your eyes, Zara, and it appears and disappears with every flutter of your eyelid.’
And as the river said so, the thousands upon thousands of the zorbs-turned-tubes on which Zara and her lookalikes came, first rolling down the rainbow and then floating down the river, rose to the sky as lamps, and the sky lit up in a burst of fireworks above the Moonshine Mount under the full moon night as Zara’s countless lookalikes climbed the steps in her footsteps.
And the Rivah!bank Orchestra reached a crescendo.
And Zara, calm personified, asked, ‘And what moves the eyelids?’
‘Warmth moves your eyelids,’ said the river.
‘And what gives warmth?’ Zara asked.
‘It’s heat that provides warmth,’ said the river.
‘And what gives heat?’ Zara asked.
‘Food generates heat, Zara,’ said the river.
‘Go, walk across the promenade to the entrance of the Ah!nandita Hills, where challenge turns into excitement,’ the river exhorted. ‘There, inside the mirrored disco, you will meet the hollow man, who sees the unseen, hears the unheard, tastes the untasted, thinks the unthought, and knows the unknown. He, alone, will lead you through nine sliding doors, to a secret chamber deep inside the corridor called ‘Mamaroy’s Kitchen’, painted in the subtlest shades of the lotus. There, you will attain the fulfilment of your desire.’
The river continued, ‘Whatever your spirit has longed for all these years is to be found within that small space that is as great as the infinite space beyond. For there, upon a giant oven, dwell the sun and the moon, the lightning and the stars, the fire and the air, and the water. There is no old age, no decay, no withering away, no hunger, no thirst. There, you can feast your senses to delight your eyes, playing music to your ears, watering your mouth, rejuvenating your mind, and feeding your soul to warm your body to move on, Zara,’ said the river.
Zara didn’t take long to walk the red carpet to the entrance of the Ah!nandita Hills, where she came face-to-face with the two tin soldiers—Thunder and Bolt—guarding the entrance to the disco.
‘Access control?’ she asked, smiling.
‘Who are you?’ asked the soldiers, straight-faced, without blinking.
‘Jo tu hai, so main hoon; jo main hoon, so tu hai,’ smiled Zara.
‘About turn,’ commanded the soldiers. ‘Access denied.’
Zara turned around towards the river, and found neither the river nor the performers, nor her lookalikes who had been following her down the rainbow to the now empty promenade. Instead, a dark and deserted embankment descended into nine slippery steps at the edge of the world.’
Zara turned around hurriedly to face the tin soldiers once more and demand the right of passage.
‘By what did you acquire your strength to reach here?’ asked Thunder.
‘By breath,’ replied Zara.
‘By what did acquire your form?’ asked Bolt.
‘By eyes,’ replied Zara.
‘By what did you acquire your voice?’ asked Thunder.
‘By ears,’ replied Zara.
‘By what did you acquire your odour?’ asked Bolt.
‘By nose,’ replied Zara.
‘By what did you acquire the flavours?’ asked Thunder.
‘By tongue,’ said Zara.
‘By what did you acquire your movement?’ asked Bolt.
‘By feet,’ said Zara.
‘By what did you acquire your actions?’ asked Thunder.
‘By hands,’ said Zara.
‘By what did you acquire your pleasure and pain?’ asked Bolt.
‘By body,’ said Zara.
‘By what did you acquire your identity?’ asked Thunder.
‘By mind,’ said Zara.
‘By what did you acquire your judgment of right or wrong?’ asked Bolt.
‘By intelligence,’ replied Zara.
And with that, the soldiers stepped aside and the first of the nine glass doors slid apart, revealing the first boxed compartment of a long, narrow-mirrored corridor partitioned at regular intervals.