*Universe takes a shot *
Universe – Are you sure you don’t want some of this great stuff I created… I call it… Boo…
Assistant – Is this another one of your “Greatest things ever” that you’re going to call boobs?
*Universe scoffs nervously*
Universe – No… It’s called Booo….ze… Yeah, it’s called Booze
Assistant – I think I’m fine, let’s just carry on with this work
Universe – Suit yourself… nerd
Assistant – What did you say?
Universe – Alright, we’re done with creating reality itself, next, Mathematics. First, we need some real numbers to match reality
Assistant – How many numbers?
Universe – Hmmm… *Shugs* Meh, all of them
Assistant – But we don’t need that many
Universe – Hey, you never know, just shove the whole bag in there
Assistant – Uhm okay, so how about over here, we have square roots of negative, should we leave that out?
Universe – Naahhh just create some imaginary numbers too
Assistant – Ima… Imag… what?
Universe – Oh yeah, create imagination
Assistant – What’s that? How does that fit into reality?
Universe – I dunno, I think for that we need to create life… And consciousness… Yeah, yeah, that would be dope
Assistant – But, but… What would their purpose be?
*Universe takes another shot*
Universe – Dunno let them figure it out, it’ll be hilarious
Assistant – Are you sure you’re fine to work? We can do this tomorrow
Universe – Naaaaah broski, I’m fine to drive, I’m totally fine
Assistant – Uhmm ooookay, maybe we should move on to physics for now… Light, particle or wave?
Universe – Particle! Wait no! Wave! Hold up! I’m about to blow your mind, Bo…
Assistant – I quit!
Universe – Fine I’m not paying you then
Assistant – Paying? What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense!
Universe – Uhmm before you go can you create a monetary system and currency real quick?
*Door slams*
Universe – OW! Close the door quieter next time! That was loud! Like a big… bang! Ooooh that’s tight!
The dilemma of nothing
When we can’t shine, we glow,
when we can’t glow,
we twinkle,
even if it’s just a little.
It seems the universe rages against the very idea of non-existence. Sure, it is quite absurd that anything exists at all. It is, however, just as peculiar how difficult it is for nothing to exist, the absolute concept of nothingness. Even in our daily lives, we are constantly beaconed to an innate call within us, to be something, to be more. This drive is so present that it seemingly takes an immense amount of effort to defy it, and even when you choose to be nothing, isn’t that something? Maybe there’s some wisdom we can gain from the cosmos itself on the subject of nothingness.
Nothing.
When we can’t shine, we glow,
when we can’t glow,
we twinkle,
even if it’s just a little.
One way to describe “nothing” is as empty space, a vacuum. Say the optimist, pessimist and realist poured out the contents of the half-filled glass of water on the table, they might all agree that the glass was empty, however, a physicist might smugly order someone to clean up this mess, and then add that the glass wasn’t empty, it was filled with air, precisely 27 million million million molecules in every cubic centimetre (a space about the size of a sugar cube). Okay, let’s try to get all that air out, shall we? The large hadron collider at CERN has the closest thing to a perfect vacuum in our solar system, even better than interplanetary space. In there, there are still about 200 thousand molecules per cubic centimetre, a vast improvement no doubt, but still not nothing. How low can we go? Well, let’s hop onto a spaceship to venture beyond our solar system, into the cosmos in search of the perfect vacuum. Our journey would first lead us to interstellar space, the space between stars, there, we might find about 1 atom for every cubic centimetre. Nay! Not good enough, let us venture farther, past our milky way galaxy, to the vast incredible ocean of “nothingness” between galaxies. Here, it’s cold, quiet and lonely, not too lonely, however. In this serene abyss, we may find about ten atoms for every million cubic centimetres (about a hundred thousand times less than interstellar space). Still, that’s something…
Still not nothing.
When we can’t shine, we glow,
when we can’t glow,
we twinkle,
even if it’s just a little.
Now you may ask, how about the space in-between those lonely atoms? That must be nothing right? Well, my curious clever compadre, it would seem that the universe has a few more tricks up its sleeves. It appears that the rules of the stage, the stage of space and time is that the show must go on, even when the show is difficult, the drums keep beating. It turns out, even in a perfect vacuum there is a quiet sea of energy and in this emptiness, there are things called quantum fluctuations. Particles of matter and antimatter pop into existence for very brief moments. These particles inevitably collide in tiny flashes, annihilating each other into “nothingness”, minuscule sparks in the dark.
When we can’t shine, we glow,
when we can’t glow,
we twinkle,
even if it’s just a little… Right?
Even in the infinite darkness, the universe wills itself into existence,
creating light from the darkness.
All anyone can be sure of is that they exist,
that whatever you are experiencing is real on some level,
the existence of the experience itself cannot be denied.
Being anything is hard and being nothing can be harder,
sometimes the best you can be,
is to be as you as you can be.
When we can’t shine, we glow,
when we can’t glow,
we twinkle,
even if it’s just a little.
Hair today, gone tomorrow
“I am not my hair!” said India Arie in that song I can’t quite remember the tune of. I get the idea but I think on some level, we are our hair, it’s not necessarily a judge of character, however, it does say something about how you choose to express yourself… Or maybe just your genetics.
“Tougher than Nigerian hair”, yeah I know all about that, now, let me tell you some things.
“Dimeji!”
“It looks good, doesn’t it? I’m a barber!” I said to my cousin
“What did you do?! I’m telling dad!”, my cousin exclaimed, dashing out of the room.
“Uncle! Dimeji cut his hair with the scissors again!”
Oooof! I got a major ass-whooping, I think I was about 5 or 6 then, I just wanted to style my own hair, can you blame a boy for taking creative liberty over his own body? They didn’t even let me finish my masterpiece! In retrospect, I should have done it in front of a mirror… My dad let me go to school like that for a couple of days, patchy head and all, last time I tried that form of artistic expression.
I think I realised earlier on in life that my hair was one of the easiest things I could change about my body so it held a profound place in my life. I was never really trusted to choose my own haircut growing up. If you’ve ever been to a black barbershop especially in Africa, you’d see a menu of fine-looking men with sleek haircuts of different types, looking like they were each about to drop the smoothest RnB albums you’ve ever heard. Their haircuts used to sing to me, and every time I was taken to the barber, I’d say “I want that haircut”, pointing at the most absurd looking one. The barber would look at the adult who took me there and they’d shake their head, “just give him a nice hair part”. And I always went back home with what we called a low cut (brush cut in other places) and a Nike tick at the front of my hairline.
*Chwing!*
Fresh!
“Teehee! OW!”
I loved! Loved!! LOVED!!! Michael Jackson growing up. One of my uncles got me two video cassettes, one with recent videos of his at the time and another of his older music.
“Wait! Who’s this guy?” I said after pushing play on the second cassette
“That’s Michael Jackson” my cousin said
“No! That’s some guy in stupid pants that sounds like Michael”
“He used to be black and then he bleached his skin”, she said
“Whoa! what’s that hair?”
“It’s an afro, it was popular in that time”, she said
“DAAAAAAAAAD! I WANT AN AFRO!”
I never got that afro, not until I was in boarding school, six weeks away from home and afros were the in thing at school, people showed off how well they could grow their hair and I was keen to join in. I realised my hair grew quite fast and that was something I was always proud of.
“HEEEE! COME AND LOOK AT DIMEJI! HE LOOKS LIKE A LION!”, my cousin yelled when she caught a glimpse of me as I stepped out the car arriving home from boarding school. “AUNTY COME AND SEE!”, she yelled for my mum.
An overreaction, in my opinion, my mane was majestic.
“LOOK AT YOU! You look like a refugee! All skinny with that hair” my mum said in horror. “Someone please take him to the barber right now, there’s a party tomorrow and I’m not taking my son there looking like this”.
And that was the cycle for 5 years in boarding school, have a haircut at home, go to school and try to grow my hair as fast as I could for six weeks, come home, repeat (I even got in trouble with the principal once for relaxing my hair).
*Cut to England *
“Mom I want to grow an afro, for real this time”
“You’re 17, you’re old enough, but you have to take care of it and make sure it’s neat, you have to shampoo and condition it regularly”
“I will! Thank you Mum!” I waltzed off jauntily, this was the beginning of a new chapter, I never shampooed or conditioned my hair in boarding school, it was bar soap, hair gel and comb.
*A year later with a fro*
“Mom, can I get cornrows?”
“YOU WANT TO BRAID YOUR HAIR?! NO!”, she exclaimed
“Why not?”
“You’re a boy! Why would you want to braid your hair?”
“But it’s normal for guys to do it”, I said
“And when the police see you they’ll think you’re a thug, I don’t want you drawing too much attention to yourself in this country”
“But… “
“Anyway, go ask your dad”
I ran down the stairs
“Dad can I get cornrows”
“Sure”, dad said without taking his eyes off his newspaper
Mom was completely blind-sighted, “Why would you let him, I only told him to ask you because I thought you’d say no”
“Just let him do it, there’s nothing wrong with it”
I was shocked too, still shocked to this day, but hey you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. It, however, didn’t sit well with some members of the Nigerian Muslim community to which my family belonged. I was lured into a debate and I was eventually deemed rude and arrogant for defending my choice to have cornrows as opposed to giving in to their pressure. I probably could have handled that better though, I eventually had to cut it because of all the problems and controversy it was causing.
*Cut to University in South Africa*
“Dee! You look… Ugly with that hairstyle”, one of my neighbours said, shattering my hearts to pieces, her name was Pretty.
See, miscommunication can cause some serious disasters. I was 19 and new to South Africa, and I was about to make one of the most important decisions of my adult life… The barber to choose as my regular in this unfamiliar place. I went to a barber one of my friends recommended, sat in the chair and told him “Low cut”
“Low cut?”, he said
“Yes”
Time seemed to slow down as I watched in horror as he shaved a line from my hairline backwards, it was the first time I had seen the bare skin of my head in years.
“What are you doing!? Why did you shave it?” I said in horror and seething rage
“But you said low cut”, he said, looking concerned
“No, I wanted you to leave a layer”
“Oohhhh! That’s brush cut”
And then I couldn’t be mad at him, I’m the one who didn’t read the book on South African Barber lingo.
“Yes I do look ugly, Pretty”, I said in a sombre tone, I wore a hat for 3 weeks straight until my hair grew to an acceptable level. I did go back to the same barbershop to give it another try, been going there for about 11 years now.
I went through multiple journeys, I guess some of the highlights were growing an epic afro, cornrows again, this big West African woman once braided my hair so tight I couldn’t move my eyeballs. It was excruciating! I took it off that night when I realised I couldn’t even lay my head on my pillow to sleep without agony. I eventually settled into a mohawk, that’s worked for me for a while and with that came with the vow not to use any products like relaxers on my hair again. I thought about dreadlocks, seemed like a lot of effort, oh yeah, I even pulled a Britney Spears and shaved it all at some point, yeah, I was going through things, didn’t get rave reviews on that move.
*The covid situation*
I have recently been forced into an imposed afro due to the present circumstances.
“Wait! Is that thinning? SHIT! Is my hair thinning?! NO! NO!! NO!!! I’ve been eating healthy, exercising, what more does this body want from me?!”
*Sigh*
“God! It looks like I’m 2-5 years away from a full bald spot, I’m not going to be one of those guys with a bald spot”
*Staring at myself in the mirror, the reality dawning on me*
“Well, it’s going to have to go soon… all of it”
A part of me always knew this would come, even though I had dreams of having a silver afro like Wole Soyinka (first Sub Saharan Nobel prize laureate, look him up), I would have been eligible to be called a silver daddy. Sure, I’m aware that there are options available on treatments for balding, especially at the early stages, but I’m not sure that’s a battle I’m willing to fight, definitely not one I’m willing to lose. So I’ve decided to leave the table, it’s not as thick as it used to be, it doesn’t grow as fast as it used to, I might as well shave it all, bulk up and embrace my new image as a Nigerian bouncer.
Time catches up to all of us in different ways, I choose not to fight this battle, I choose to acknowledge that regardless of what happens up there, this face is still a crowd-favourite and with a full beard and a bald head I’ll still look like a bad-ass handsome motherf…Shut yo mouth! So when I’m brave enough to see my barber again, maybe after all this chaos, I could say “low cut” with a bit more confidence and mean it this time. So, one more time India Arie…
“I am not my hair, I am not this skin, I am not your expectations”
The catastrophe of my personality
“Now I am quietly waiting for the catastrophe of my personality to seem beautiful again and interesting, and modern” – Frank O’Hara, Mayakovski
The catastrophe of personality, encapsulating the vulnerability and insecurity of the human condition. To be majestically flawed and painfully aware of it, like cracks on stained glass, casting irregular smudges of rainbows across the room.
This is probably why tragedies seem to be so effective, the reason catharsis works, from that awareness of the chips and cracks in our souls and the resulting fear that our imperfections will send us spiralling into series of catastrophic circumstances. After all, we can’t always help who we are and it would be quite cruel to be punished irreparably by fate for it.
“The catastrophe of my personality…”
Perhaps it’s why friendships and love mean so much, people who see our flaws, our catastrophes as quirky or even charming. People who stick with us through the pandemonium that is ourselves, hopefully till the very end, they still see the fractal of our very being as beautiful.
“To seem beautiful again, and interesting and modern…”
I suppose this has a special place in our society, we all want to be celebrated for our individuality down to our faults. Vanity? Nah that’s confidence. Volatile? No! You’re just passionate. Apathetic? You’re not… you just don’t give a fu… oh wait, isn’t the same thing? Well, it sounds cooler this way. Just be you because there’s no one like you and you can be anything you want to be as long as you are you.
Huh?
Well, I guess as long as you have people in your corner those fears can melt into the basement of our minds. Still, deep down in the silent chambers of our hearts, we are all quietly waiting, waiting on the chaos of our souls to seem magnificent again and fascinating and new. We should learn to be patient with ourselves, with our journey and with our progress. We should hold ourselves dearly with care like an infant, be benevolent to ourselves yet hold ourselves accountable. Ultimately, as Diane from Bojack Horseman said;
“I don’t really believe in deep down, you are all you do, you are the things that are wrong with you”
It’s who we are, like the sun that sustains us, like the universe that hosts us, we are this bright ball of frenzy, the good, the bad and the anxiety.
Two birds
I’m usually not the type of person that idioms happen to. But a couple of weeks ago, my friend’s twin kids told me they’d like Parrots for their birthday, I told them I’d get them one to share. I went to the pet store, got one in hand, then to the cashier, saw the price and thought “Hell naaww! I’ve got a tranquilliser gun, I can go to the bushes to get my own Parrots”
So I went hiking in the bushes hoping to find some plot convenience. I stumbled upon a marijuana farm and heard a couple of Parrots arguing, one named Peter, one named Paula.
Peter: Aarrkkhh the best things in life are free Aarrkkhh this is some good shit right here Aarrkkhh
Paula: When you said we were going on a date I imagined something more romantic *She rolled her eyes* and haven’t you had enough? You always take things too far
Peter: Aarrkkhh that’s rich coming from Mrs Irish up my coffee every morning Aarrkkhh yes I know about that Paula, get your own bottle Aarrkkhh!
*Paula stares*
Peter: Aarrkkhh I’m sorry, that was mean Aarrkkhh I promise I’ll make it up to you Aarrkkhh
Paula: Whatever! And why do you keep saying Aarrkkhh?
Peter: Aarrkkhh I know, it’s annoying Aarrkkhh, I sound like a parrot stereotype, my mouth is just dry, I’ll go get some water real quick Aarrkkhh
*Peter flies off*
*Paula let’s out a heavy sigh*
Paula: I’m married to an idiot
So I ready my tranquilliser, aim… *Fthuuu* I hit the mark. I rush with my cage to place the Paula in, as I place her in the cage I hear the Peter approach. I panicked and ran back to my hiding spot. As I hid I thought “Damn! I forgot to close the cage… Shit! I also forgot to take the dart off her”
Peter: I’m baaack! Ooooo sick crib babe! Where did you score this?
*Paula is silent*
Peter: Ooh okay, nice! Very nice! You’re just going to lay there and ignore me with that thing sticking onto your ass?
*Paula is silent*
Peter: But I apologised Paula! What more do you want from me?
*Paula is silent*
Peter: Fine! Be like that!
*Peter pulls out the dart*
Peter: Ooooo look at me fancy with my tail accessory, ooooo look, Paula, I can be fancy too! I’m Mrs articulate
*He mockingly pricks himself on the ass with the dart and falls to sleep*
I head back gleefully, close the cage and head home… How lucky was I? Two birds, one stoned
Escape velocity (Burn baby burn!)
Here’s the thing about comfort zones, they have this pull to them. They’re like massive rocky planets with a gravity that makes the knees ache and the bones tired. See, when you’re on this planet, it’s easy to convince yourself that it’s better to lie down and tell yourself you’re lucky to have found a habitable planet after years of searching a vast and unforgiving universe. Yes, you’ve spent years and years trying to get to where you are, and you should appreciate the breathable air and drinkable water, but deep down you know something isn’t right, you feel it in your aching bones. Eventually, like everyone, you realise it’s crushing you either way and to lay there is to accept an avoidable fate.
So what happens when you decide it’s time to leave? When the comfort is no longer worth the creeping agony. Well, to leave a planet you need to reach a certain upward speed called escape velocity, that’s the speed you need to escape a planet’s gravitational pull. For this, you need a lot of energy, it’s never easy, the comfort zone is doing everything it can to keep you there, the comfort zone doesn’t want to be alone, poor ol’ comfort zone, it’s spent aeons making itself suitable for life, for you. Do you really want to head out into that uncertain blackness in the sky? Well, you do, and to do that you need to gather all the fuel and tools you need. So, you push yourself up, like getting out of bed on a winter day, you feel your joints crack as you push off the cold solid ground to stand painfully tall. It’s not easy but with will, determination and perseverance you can gather enough of that fuel you need to leave this fluffy prison. How much of a push do you need? Who knows? There’s only one way to find out.
3…
2..
1.
Lift-off!
For the first time since you got here, your feet are not planted to the ground, inch by inch, foot by foot, you get closer to the clouds. As soon as those wispy clouds become your neighbours… Uh oh… The planet pulls its strings again and you find your space ship falling back, gliding its way back to the ground for a jarring thud. Well, that hurt! I’m pretty sure I need to fix whatever that sound in the back was. Not quite escape velocity, but you’ve tasted the clouds, how do you go back to just watching them float past? Don’t worry, you’ve got this, you were never going to waltz jauntily out of this gravitational pit, no! Keep swinging at it.
After a few tries and even more bruises, your space ship propels you towards the sky, your chest feels heavy, it’s hard to breathe, you get sweaty but you’ll be fine, just a few more minutes till you’re past the clouds and then, the silence of space…
Space…
Free…
Weightless…
Your joints begin to relax…
Now you’re in orbit, surrounded by a vast ocean of stars and you look behind you, planet comfort in its entirety. So you orbit and feel the freedom of weightlessness, better than flying they say. There’s a catch, yep, there always is, being in orbit, all that space, all that weight shed from your joints have a way of making you feel like you’ve escaped, but eventually, you realise you’re still floating in circles around the same planet. Still held in place by the gravity of that damn beautiful planet but falling too fast to hit the ground. Watch out! If you don’t keep the engines rumbling you’ll find yourself closer to the ground with every passing day.
Hey, look at you! You’ve made it this far and it’s much easier to escape orbit than to escape ground, you have the fire, you have the fuel. You can do a couple of loops to take in the view of this mesmerising planet, after all, it gave you all the tools you need to get to your next destination, solid ground to rest your head for a while, a beautiful sky and oddly tasting food. A couple more orbits to scan the cosmos and set your target, engines warmed up, heart revved up, set your sights and burn baby burn. So this place isn’t for you, but somewhere out there is a land better suited for your skeletal frame… Keep your eye on that twinkle, push your throttle and burn baby burn!
The umbrella
A few nights ago I dreamt I was in an aircraft about to jump out with a couple of people. We all grabbed our parachutes, strapped them to our backs and jumped. As I approached the ground, I realised it was time to deploy the parachute, I reached to pull the chord and I realised there wasn’t any, SHIT! I could have sworn I grabbed a parachute pack. I reached for the bag behind me and felt an Umbrella, I thought “Fuck! Well, I guess this is it”. Every rational thought in me knew there was no way this would help but I pulled out the umbrella hastily anyway but didn’t open it, I hesitated and kept falling. I had somewhat accepted fate, then there came this little sliver of a moment where a voice in my head said, “This… This is the right moment to open the umbrella.” So I pulled the umbrella open and I started falling slower but still saw the ground approach me at an alarming pace. I eventually hit the ground and felt the impact all the way to my knees but I seemed to be alive and fine. I stumbled to stand and when I finally got on my feet, I jumped and yelled “I’M MARY POPPINS BITCH!”
I woke up wondering what that was all about, I couldn’t quite shake off the absurdity of the dream, both the symbolism and the psychology behind it. I mean, I haven’t seen Mary Poppins in a while and why would my psyche conjure up an umbrella of all things, those things can’t even survive a little gust of wind in the wrong direction, I mean, I’ve even seen a slight breeze make an umbrella go skirts up like groupie flashing a rock band at a concert
I’ve recently started putting a bit more effort into trying to remember my dreams in an attempt to track what’s going on up there. I’ve found that it can be quite easy to mask issues with coatings of distractions and routine. I suppose paying more attention to the subconscious can sometimes offer some cryptic insights into things that we generally don’t give second thoughts to, our fears, insecurities, hopes and sometimes even anger. I followed the crumbs of thoughts on a trail that led me to memories of some of the more difficult times of my life, one, in particular, stood out, one of those eras of despair, a pit of pity if you will, a horrible hole, a wallow well, a slum of sorrow, a cave of catastrophe! Okay, I’ll stop now.
I was seeing a therapist at the time and in one of our sessions, I told her I was hesitant to speak to my friends about how bleak things had really gotten in my mind for a worry that I might bum them out, in retrospect, maybe that was just an excuse to avoid being vulnerable. She urged me to speak to them about it anyway and let them make the choice on how to handle it. So I walked out of that session part filled with determination, partly filled with fear about when the appropriate time to talk to them would arise. A couple of days went by and one of my friends came to visit, I had hung out with him for a bit and decided to take a shower because I had been wallowing the whole day. In the shower, my thoughts had been racing through several dark pits until I reached a breaking point. There was something oddly poetic about sobbing in the shower while listening to Fix you by Coldplay, some might say I brought it upon myself and to those people I say, are you going to let me finish this or are you going to keep victim blaming?
I went back to the living room, after getting dressed, of course, I imagine it would be a bit traumatic for my friend if I showed up wet, balls hanging and sobbing. Still, he could clearly see something was wrong so he asked, and at this point, I held on to that umbrella and I let myself fall and be vulnerable. I told him what I had been going through and how everything felt hopeless and pointless, he listened like a good friend would and we talked through it. He suggested we go out out for a drink. I didn’t feel like it so I resisted, he told me it would be a quick one.
I didn’t want to go mostly because I didn’t see the point, I didn’t see how it would help me and why I needed to put so much effort into being sad outdoors, coincidentally one of my other friends happened to be performing at a bar that night. A voice in my head said I should give it a shot anyway so I pulled open that umbrella, “Okay, fine let’s go” I said and so we did. It turned out to be a lovely night with a few friends, watching one of us sing beautifully, talking, laughing, you know, the small simple things we humans do. Most of all, I found it astonishing how much of a difference that one night made, it seemed to slow my fall just enough so I could make it to the ground safely somewhere down the line. I couldn’t say I had any profound epiphany that night about how life was worth living or how there could be a silver lining, nothing like those cheesy climaxes in a hero’s journey. I just felt better, enough to want to face the next day and maybe the day after, one step at a time.
That’s just it isn’t it? We hope for parachutes or big life-changing events that would turn everything around, but often all you get is an umbrella, sometimes it’s all you need and sometimes times that’s all you can offer, it might not be much, but it just might be enough. Could be a five-minute conversation, a drink, a cup of coffee, a text, sometimes maybe even a smile to a stranger, the roles turn, the umbrella changes hands and it’s just as important to take the umbrella as it is to offer one because one day, you too could be Mary Poppins bitch!
The Alchemist of Aldeboz
The metal bars slammed shut and the keys turned as Kalam stood from the corner he was just shoved into, he lunged at the bars with a seething rage,
“You can’t keep me here forever! You hear that! You’re all gonna pay! You can’t keep Kalam here forever!”
In the cell opposite him emerged a face from the shadows chuckling,
“Of course they can’t keep you here forever, you’re going to die someday” the man said
He kicked the skull laying on the floor to the stone wall of his cell then paused, “Or maybe they could… My apologies Cassian” he said to the skull
Kalam diverted his burning scowl to the old man, breathing heavily
Bemused, the man stepped back startled, then he took a step forward and squinted as they held eye contact, “What was that?”
“What?” Kalam snapped
“That glint… in your eye… I’ve only seen it when… Ahhhh”
“When what? What glint?”
“I see you’ve met the Wizard…”, he stepped forward, illuminating the wrinkles on his face
“You met the one”
He pressed his face against the bars “Ohhh but you didn’t just meet him, you really really met him” he said, stroking his long grey beard
Now worried, Kalam relaxed his scowl “What? What do you know?”
“Don’t waste my time young man, I know you met him, the one they call the Time Walker” he said now gripping the bars till his knuckles went white
Kalam staggered backwards “How… How do you…”
“He leaves an imprint on the souls of those he connects with, and you, you have his signature in bold”
“That’s… “
“Conceited on his part, I know, but then again, I suppose we all have our quirks.” he stepped back from the light, leaning his back to the wall
He looked up at the ceiling with half a smile, shook his head, “So what prophecy did he tell you?” he scoffed
“Wizards… Oh wizards and their prophecies, that’s all they’re good for anyway…” he smiled
“They are the only ones with the power to single-handedly stop this madness,
but all they do is push poor young saps like you to battle in the shadows.”
With folded arms, he stared into the darkness shaking his head
“So, spill it young fellow, What did he tell you?”
Kalam dropped his head and began to speak
He said just a couple dozen particles drew the line
Between the King’s chains and mine
But iron is more stable than gold
That’s why Kings surround themselves with walls of stone,
Reinforced with steel columns, gates and doors
And men with iron armour and steel swords
Eventually, the weight of all of that takes its toll
The weight of the screams of pain and hunger and sorrow
And when those screams are sharpened by the pressure of souls,
Then heads, oh heads will begin to roll
“Ominous…”
“Ya…” Kalam sat, still staring blankly
“Wait, he said iron is more stable than gold?”
Kalam nodded slowly, “What does that mean?”
The old man held a vapid stare like he was in a trance
Rapidly tapping his right foot… Pensive…
Then he stopped
He turned his blank stare to Kalam
“So?” Kalam shrugged, “What does it mean?”
“It means we’d better get to work” he replied as he receded to the shadows at the back of his cell
“What work? And who are you by the way?”
The man knocked on a sequence of stone tiles on the floor, four knocks, then seven, then one and finally, two slow gentle knocks. A cloud of thick smoke and a green glow crept from below the tiles, lighting up his face as he looked up to say,
“The name is Alcham, but you can call me Al”
Agni’s Pass (Full)
My grandma used to tell me stories of times long before her when Pavaka was just a small village in the middle of nowhere. She said the men from the village would go out hunting for deer in the late afternoon. On some days the hunt would take them past the sunset, so they would plead to the fire god Agni to guide them home past the forests of Svaha. He would pluck a flame from the sleeping sun and place it in a lantern to lead them home and in return, they would use the flame to light a campfire when they arrived safely. The people of the village would gather around the fire to repay Agni with stories. After the stories were done, they’d sing him songs of praise and feast as Agni ascended back to the mountains to prepare the sun for another day. The legends say, the only thing Agni loved more than a good story, was a true story.
As time advanced, the people of the village no longer needed Agni to make fires, so he retreated to the mountains, where he and his best friend, Prithvi, the god of earth combined powers to harness lava to carve an intricate web of tunnels and chambers for him to retire, undisturbed for the rest of time…
Ahead of a pair of star-crossed lovers stood two swirling lights piercing intensely
Behind them, endless winding trails through the cool damp caverns of Prithvi, a labyrinth of tunnels that would otherwise have been impossible to navigate without the lantern of truth. The last of two lanterns that had helped them through this treacherous journey, one squandered on a frivolous question and she still held a faint but noticeable resentment towards him for wasting a valuable resource.
Now that the last lantern’s purpose was served, the question answered, the flame in her lantern flickered before dispersing into sparks of golden dust and the amber lines that guided them along the tunnel floors dimmed softly as the chamber descended into a green ambient glow
“Well, that’s our last lantern gone, our last truth burnt-out” she scoffed
“So here we are, the impasse
The infamous Agni’s Pass”
She tried to muster a smile
The last hurdle in their journey
Undoubtedly the most difficult of all
One light to salvation, one light to damnation
They both knew what was at stake
A deadly mistake they couldn’t afford to make
You could say a two-headed snake
Agni’s Pass as the legends say
Trades a soul for a truth, a life for a way
“Let’s have a look, there might be a way around it”
He said as he paced frantically
He stopped to squint past the shadows in the luminescent tunnels behind them
“There has to be another way out of here”
Unmoved, she kept a dead gaze on him
“You know what we have to do, don’t you?” She said
“No we can’t, there has to be some other way” he uttered, negotiating frantically with a reality he couldn’t deny
“It doesn’t matter, we have to get this message out there,
That town depends on it, its people, OUR PEOPLE
Pavaka is falling apart and with this information we have, it might have a fighting chance
We can’t afford to flip a coin on this, the stakes are way too high
In a way, our fates had been sealed since we were down to one lantern”
“I can’t accept that reality… We’re guaranteed to lose each other once we take those steps”
“Well, you should have thought of that before you decided to waste…”
“I know, I know, it’s my fault, I wasted the lantern but I just needed to know” he interrupted
“I just needed to be sure, I guess I could have asked”
” I’ll do you one better, you could have told me how YOU felt, you could have been a man laid it all on the line” she snarled poking him hard in the chest
“but you haven’t changed one bit”
He stood, mouth ajar, dumbfounded
“I… I guess I didn’t realise the cost would be this… everything…”
“But if we don’t do this it definitely will
It’s Agni’s Pass…
You know how the story goes”
They stared at the two glowing portals peering at them
One lives, one dies
One salvation, one damnation
“Well, I’ll just go through the same path you take ”
“Don’t you dare!” She snapped, her voice quivering with a mortified rage
“I’m not letting you go, you know once we walk into those things, it’s goodbye forever”
“Then so be it!” her voice echoed through the hollow tunnels behind them
“But don’t you dare pretend that all those lives out there don’t matter
It’s not romantic, it’s… it’s disgusting”
He let out a heavy sigh
“I guess there’s no arguing with that, you’re right”
“Of course I am”
“Do we have to do this, right now?” he slumped to his knees
Her tense shoulders dropped
“I’m sure we have a couple hours to spare,
Death can wait” she said as she knelt to kiss him
“Do you think there’s any chance that we both make it out of here?” he whispered
“This is…”
“Yeah, yeah… Agni’s Pass
Truth for soul, blah blah blah” he muttered
She smiled and uttered
“I feel like the things we went through on this journey pale in comparison to this moment right here,
All we saw,
All that we lost,
But…
If this is it for me,
There’s no one else I’d rather be spending this moment with
And that’s one truth that would never burn out”
As the minutes inched on, lots were shared, stories, laughs, tales of unrequited love, blissful adventure, and emotions unfamiliar.
“You know, to be honest, I didn’t choose to come on this journey to save the town or for any noble reason, I did this because of you” he said
“What about the people you have there”
“Heh, Who? I have nothing left in that place”
“I thought you loved Pavaka”
“Because I was so eager to step up to save the day?” he chuckled
“Naaaaah, you have no idea how horrible it was growing up there being the unpopular kid, all that town showed me were a bunch of assholes and I couldn’t wait to leave”
They were oblivious to the fact that the green glow in the chamber had started to shift to a yellow tint
As he stared into the emptiness, he smiled and said
“You know in my head I saw my story being the outcast who left the town to reinvent himself, come back and get the girl he’s always dreamed of”
“Lemme guess, the moment the crisis came up you thought this was the perfect opportunity to be the hero to swoop me off my feet” she laughed
“You’re such a chomp”
He laughed along to hide his embarrassment
“So you see, for me, if I lose you, I lose Pavaka, I lose everything, I lose it all”
The chamber was now a vibrant amber glow, the swirls in the portals were now synced and a whistle screamed from the portals echoing through the tunnels
Startled, they turned their heads towards the portals
Agni’s Pass they say…
Trades a soul for a truth
And the only thing Agni loved more than a good story was a true story
Agni’s Pass (Part 3 of 3)
They stared at the two glowing portals peering at them
One lives, one dies
One salvation, one damnation
“Well, I’ll just go through the same path you take ”
“Don’t you dare!” She snapped, her voice quivering with a mortified rage
“I’m not letting you go, you know once we walk into those things, it’s goodbye forever”
“Then so be it!” her voice echoed through the hollow tunnels behind them
“But don’t you dare pretend that all those lives out there don’t matter
It’s not romantic, it’s… it’s disgusting”
He let out a heavy sigh
“I guess there’s no arguing with that, you’re right”
“Of course I am”
“Do we have to do this, right now?” he slumped to his knees
Her tense shoulders dropped
“I’m sure we have a couple hours to spare,
Death can wait” she said as she knelt to kiss him
“Do you think there’s any chance that we both make it out of here?” he whispered
“This is…”
“Yeah, yeah… Agni’s Pass
Truth for soul, blah blah blah” he muttered
She smiled and uttered
“I feel like the things we went through on this journey pale in comparison to this moment right here,
All we saw,
All that we lost,
But…
If this is it for me,
There’s no one else I’d rather be spending this moment with
And that’s one truth that would never burn out”
As the minutes inched on, lots were shared, stories, laughs, tales of unrequited love, blissful adventure, and emotions unfamiliar.
“You know, to be honest, I didn’t choose to come on this journey to save the town or for any noble reason, I did this because of you” he said
“What about the people you have there”
“Heh, Who? I have nothing left in that place”
“I thought you loved Pavaka”
“Because I was so eager to step up to save the day?” he chuckled
“Naaaaah, you have no idea how horrible it was growing up there being the unpopular kid, all that town showed me were a bunch of assholes and I couldn’t wait to leave”
They were oblivious to the fact that the green glow in the chamber had started to shift to a yellow tint
As he stared into the emptiness, he smiled and said
“You know in my head I saw my story being the outcast who left the town to reinvent himself, come back and get the girl he’s always dreamed of”
“Lemme guess, the moment the crisis came up you thought this was the perfect opportunity to be the hero to swoop me off my feet” she laughed
“You’re such a chomp”
He laughed along to hide his embarrassment
“So you see, for me, if I lose you, I lose Pavaka, I lose everything, I lose it all”
The chamber was now a vibrant amber glow, the swirls in the portals were now synced and a whistle screamed from the portals echoing through the tunnels
Startled, they turned their heads towards the portals
Agni’s Pass they say…
Trades a soul for a truth
And the only thing Agni loved more than a good story was a true story
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