Ibrahim Waheed “Kalaavehi”

He had been pursuing the Magdala for days! Through fields of blue ice chilled powder-dry, over orange deserts that seared his parched, browned skin, the hunter had followed the elusive wing-beat of the enthralling creature for months. Sometimes he had been tantalizingly close enough to have smelt her heady musk in the crook of his neck. At times, he had felt her alluring breath on his cheeks, as she whispered barely audible verses about pink blossoms long-forgotten, about songs long-silent, about lullabies gone past gray beards. And yet, he had never had the will to spear her red-beating heart with his enchanted golden spear.

“Come to me, my dear wanderer with the pure heart. Do not hunger after worldly meat. Your hunger is for me, and for me only. Throw away your spear for my heart is already open to you. Come to me, charming soul. Your presence is a sweet song in my ears, your absence silence. Enfold me in your arms, sit by my side and pray with me… for a better day awaits us. A glowing, brilliant new day of sunshine and cool breezes. Come to me….” She whispered.

Magdala! The soothing salve his estranged soul had sought for years in the deep purple half-light where the night feasted on the remnants of day! The ever-charming, enthralling, throaty-laughed consort his dying inner spirit had hungered for what had felt like long-lost centuries. She was the life-essence his chi and rooh had to merge with to reach up to Betelgeuse and beyond, his divine hour-el-ain, the unseen mother to the youthful fruit of their conjoined psyches, the lush green field on which the seed of their combined pure spirits would germinate and grow in exaltation of their shared names. He simply had to step into her sphere of life so that he could bed her down on a silky nest of expansive silence. And they would ravish each other respectfully yet hungrily.

“Sweet sweet soul, so tormented and so hunted! I, who have followed you for years and have only pursued you in the ways of the knights of old, in the manner prescribed by the gallant chevaliers of yore, shall throw away my precious spear, placing in you my faith and sustenance. I know that you are aware that I am contained in a human vessel. You know that I will need real, corporeal, earthy meat to satiate my belly, to keep the container of the soul you appear to love from dying and rotting away. I believe that you are in full possession of the magic incantations that shall satisfy the cravings of my body. Take me, Magdala for I am hunter no more!” He stopped in his tracks, a sudden weariness followed by a burst of healing energy overtaking him.

Magdala! Kings and hungry seers had sought her rosy physical form over her misty, ethereal presence for centuries. Very rarely, a particularly treacherous torturer had caught her in his treacherous black snares, ever so briefly, and had sucked her ruby-red blood to sell at a premium to his shady comrades, that they might have had enchanted lives and have had it abundantly. She had always escaped, inevitably a more saddened, warier soul. Other miscreants had tried to butcher her alive for it is believed to have been said in the old scripts that the flesh of an immortal Magdala would bring immense wealth to he who ate but a living morsel of it, preferably sharing the pulsing, pearly purple meat with ravenous allies.

“……..” The silence was deafening. The emptiness maddening. The draining of the sweet spirit so demeaning, debasing, humiliating.

Hunger gnawed at his heart and at his guts equally in almost blinding, raw-red urgency. He felt his knees buckle under him. He had vowed to himself eons ago that the only time he would kneel in the presence or absence of any being would be in the presence of the Magdala. As he realized that his poor, weary, bleeding, aching feet would not last him, he knelt on the hard black rocks of a wasted valley and reached for his golden spear. He looked up and saw a flash of red-orange where the shadows should have been indigo-black. And in the shadows he saw pin pricks of citrine, emerald, amethyst light, like stars on a moonless night. It could have been the Magdala waiting for her knight, and yet too frightened to take a risk on a soul that despite its aura of divine mercy could still be only too too human. On the other hand, it could have been the binding effects of a hunger unattended for too long.

The plump, tawny rabbit sat there with bulging cheeks, slowly chewing away at an earthy green wad of fresh grass she had just clipped off the field with her buck teeth. Of souls and wisdom, she knew nothing and was fortunate enough not to care. Knights and chevaliers she had heard about when the little human children sometimes came to play on her field. She did not have the slightest idea, or even care who they were. She knew no verses about pink blossoms to forget knew no songs or lullabies, and was therefore silent. She was no life-essence, was in the least bothered about a chi and a rooh, and never looked up at Betelgeuse directly overhead. She was nobody’s ethereal hour-el-ain. She simply twitched and then lay still as the long, cool shaft of the golden spear ran through her small, pulsing heart.

As the hunter knelt on the rocks and skinned and ate the nameless rabbit, bleeding crimson raw, to feed his aching guts, he tried not to attach too much sham meaning to the natural act of kneeling. For he had tasted raw meat and had felt his pulse quicken, his heart race, his body grow stronger and younger. He tried desperately to consider the possible falsity of his being the spiritual succor to a being that existed but only in the imagination of a Mandrake whose religion had died a long time ago, whose presence in clay tablet graced the table-top of an agnostic professor of extinct faiths, who denied the possibility of a precious, charming, soul-invigorating creature that came to man to rise higher with him, make their shared faith stronger, build themselves into a stronger fortress, so that their spiritual progeny would make the world a better place to live in!

“O, Magdala!”


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  • mysterystar  On November 19, 2010 at 3:05 pm

    “……..” Beautiful “……..”

    • ldive  On January 31, 2011 at 3:09 pm


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