One

 

Once upon a time, there lived an old man who spent most of his time making balloons. Mind you, he wasn’t always a balloon-maker. Indeed, for almost thirty years, he was a teacher of geography in a quiet and little village school. The other teachers would say that he was the best geography teacher, for his eyes would light up every time he spoke of exotic and distant lands separated by mountains, deserts and oceans. If you asked him the location of a country, he would authoritatively point in a geographical direction and tell you where it exactly was. Everyone knew that he was very well read and thus, had to be right. His fellow teachers would nod in appreciation and the principal of the school was most proud to have such a fine teacher, especially of a subject as dry as geography. The children swore that he was their favourite teacher because he made learning geography such fun.

But one night, a strange and mysterious dream changed everything for the old man and his dear wife, and it seemed as if the simple and quiet world that they lived in had been rudely turned inside out.

The old man dreamt of a flute player sitting by the side of a mighty river. He spoke to the old man and said, ‘You have been chosen for a very special task. You have to help a girl child fly.’ The flute player spoke of the need for great haste, because in a strange and faraway land, many awaited, with great eagerness, her arrival. He said that some also awaited, with equal eagerness, her death. Indeed, those some others were—even at this very moment—conspiring on how they might kill her!

‘To fly? Oh dear, dear me. I know nothing of the subject and, I dare say, it is a highly technical one at that!’ the old man said, scratching his head and looking most distraught.

The flute player sighed and gave the impression that, while he most certainly agreed that it was a difficult undertaking, he was hopeful that the old man would know how to go about his assignment. ‘I am confident that you will do what is expected. Don’t worry about what happens after that because I will guide the little girl. You need to believe that!’

‘That’s all very well,’ said the old man, ‘but where does she need to fly off to?’

The flute player smiled and then turned to play his flute. With soft and peaceful notes, his music spoke of the sea and of the sky, of the birds in full flight and the first yawn of a newborn child. The flute player put his flute down and then said, ‘Where does she need to fly to? Well, it is a secret place, tucked away somewhere between here and there and it may only be sighted from the sky, on a clear day, by those who are pure of heart.’

He paused, for he knew this was difficult to assimilate, even for a very good geography teacher. He then said very gently, ‘It is known as the Land of the Blue Jasmine.’

A moment of silence ensued. The old man did not know what to say.

In a hushed voice, he uttered the words that he had never believed he would ever be called upon to say. These were words you never said, for it was believed in the all-knowing circles of the village that if uttered in public, they would only bring intolerable suffering to the family of the speaker and others around.

The old man spoke, in his dream, ‘I have heard of such a place! We are not allowed to speak of it publicly, for it will cause us horrible death and untold misery.’

He asked, ‘Why do you wish me to seek out this accursed place that we know only as fiction and as a nightmare? And why would you send an innocent little girl there?’

The flute player responded, ‘You must help the girl child or the most unimaginably horrible things would happen.’ Then, the flute player spoke briefly and incomprehensibly about the world of the un-dead, the nights of the starless sky and about a fearsome double-headed serpent.

‘What are you talking about? The un-dead? The starless skies? Double-headed serpents?’ the old man asked in shocked surprise.

‘Yes, yes…’ the flute player said. ‘It’s all very complicated. But it is easier to start from the beginning and that, quite frankly, lies in finding the girl child.’

‘But how will I know where to find her, or that it is her?’ the old man asked.

‘She will be different from the others,’ the flute player smiled as he replied, ‘for she is The Awaited One.’