Hortensia de los Santos

Seeker of Ancient Echoes

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FIRST EXODUS

© 10/14/2016

Damyanti had been thinking and thinking about her new task. She knew it was a gigantic endeavor, something she couldn’t even envision completing. She wondered if the gods wanted her to do this alone, or if she was ever going to be able to have a companion, a helper to aid her.

“What’s this I hear of you not teaching anymore, Damyanti?” Asked Visha’s sister between curious and worried. “Is everything all right?”

Damyanti jumpedat the sudden apparition, and gave a startled shriek of fright, but now she laughed.

“Oh my, you startled me so!” She replied. “So you heard, eh?”

“Both by my sister Bina and by the teachers. Everyone is talking about it.” Replied Abhaya.

“I imagine they would. What are they saying?” Asked Damyanti. She wanted to hear the other teachers’ opinions, though she feared them, too.

“They are divided in their thoughts. Some say you are deluding yourself with this idea of Agni talking to you, others say it goes against all we know to preserve the Vedas in anything but our memories.” Explained Abhaya.

“And what is it you think, Abhaya?” Asked Damyanti, looking into Visha’s eldest sister eyes. She had never realized how deeply green these were, perhaps because they were so deeply hidden under bushy eyebrows, too bushy for a feminine face.

“I was there, remember, when the god elected you. I know very well it was not a delusion, or else, we were all deluded; a great number of us, to be exact. I also agree with you, I have agreed since you first explained your idea to Malika. Yes, I overheard, and saw Malika’s disapproval that day; I thought about it many times, after. I believe you have a good idea there, little sister, and even if the sublime god did not ask you to do it, I like it.”

“The god truly came to me, Abhaya. You know I do not lie, ever.” Replied Damyanti between happy for Abhaya’s opinion and anger for her doubts.

“Yes, I know.” Replied the older one, looking deep into the young one’s eyes. “What do you think will happen now, then? Will you still be able to marry and have children, like everyone of us wants to?”

Damyanti blushed deep red. She understood Abhaya’s questions and realized the question was in fact if she would be able, with the new task set before her, to marry Visha. She blushed even more when she understood Visha’s feelings and hers were apparently known by the man’s family.

Abhaya had been looking at her, and she smiled.

“Oh, come, Damyanti! Did you think we wouldn’t know about my brother’s feelings? I understand his smallest gesture, and so does my mother and even little Bina. I imagine I shouldn’t be talking about this, but you are also my sister, are you not? In ceremony, at least.”

“I didn’t know… It seems… How can anyone keep a secret in this town? Everyone knows about everything!” She stuttered at first, but the last sentence came out as a long wailing complaint.

Abhaya laughed.

“In that you are right, little sister.” She said. “Listen, I am willing to help you, if the gods want. Let me know, right?”

“I was just wondering about it, Abhaya, thinking if they would ever grant me a helper, a companion. Your showing up at the same moment is a great coincidence but let’s not rush about it. I will wait for another sign and let you know, big sister.” She ended with a mischievous smile for the ‘big sister’.

Abhaya returned to the building, saying goodbye with a gesture, and Damyanti followed her, more slowly. She turned her steps toward the small room that had been previously awarded her when she became a teacher. Two men were waiting at the door. She knew them by sight, they were old teachers of the school, and taught only to the most advanced male students, those who wanted to go into priesthood.

She saluted them with bowing head and pressed hands, and waited for them to start speaking.

“Damyanti.” Said the oldest of them, who must have been nearing his hundred year, so old he looked. “We have come to tell you we are upset, child. You know very well the sacred knowledge has to be passed from teacher to student by way of mouth, exercising the mind and memory to recall it all, in its most perfect way. You have come up with something that will affect, not only the way we teach, but the development of our young ones’ minds. I am very displeased about this.”

The old teacher paused and looked at his fellow teacher, who realized this was his cue to speak.

“Further, you are sustaining your decision on the manifestation and apparent election by the divine God Agni. We consider this intent on your part a most sacrilegious one, in our opinion…” He had stopped because the older teacher had given a little cough of warning.

“It is my opinion,” continued the man. “Your sacrilege should be punished, forbidding you access to our temple of knowledge and depriving you of any right to repeat the Vedas. But it is my opinion only, and not one the reverend one holds.” He finished, bowing to the older teacher, who nodded his head, approving the last phrase.

“If I may reply, respected teachers?” She asked.

The two men acknowledged, and she continued.

“I understand your considerations, I know the sacred knowledge has always been transmitted as you say. But I cannot deny the god, nor his sacred words; he ordered me to stop teaching, and to set myself to the task he wants. I have to obey him. Or should I obey you instead?” She asked.

She was awed by the two eldest teachers in school. She had always admired and revered them, but now, she was in a quandary; of both options, she would definitely obey Agni’s.

The younger of the two teachers straightened at Damyanti’s last words, apparently ready to lash at her with remonstrance; the oldest one, though, held his arm.

“Definitely the god’s words have always to be obeyed, child, if they are truly His. That is what we doubt.” Said the eldest teacher. He spoke softly and with measured rhythm, in the same way he recited the Vedas. “Now, we have told you our view of the matter, and you should do what you see fit. Understand, though, that we are displeased and unless we have direct confirmation of what you say, we cannot afford to let you stay in school.”

“Do you understand?” Asked the other teacher, still with a proud mien.

“I understand.” Replied Damyanti, bowing her head. “I should also tell you that, wherever I am, I will continue the task the sublime one set to me. I cannot do anything else.”

“We will see!” Exclaimed the younger teacher.

Once again, the eldest held him by the arm to prevent him from more talk or actions. He bowed to Damyanti and motioned for his colleague to follow him.

They left the young woman trembling at her room’s entrance. Her eyes swelled with tears both of anger and of fear. She didn’t want to leave her school, where so many years of her life had been spent; where her teacher Malika taught and her friends were. Now she understood Abhaya’s questions, and knew why she had intercepted her at the entrance to the building. What was she to do?

She entered her room and looked around, everything was there, as she had left it; she felt strange, though, as if she had never seen the place before. Shrugging her shoulders at her strange reaction, she went to her cushions near the window and sat down. Damyanti wanted to meditate on what had happened, so she adopted the eternal posture. After a while, her mind calmed, and the help of the gods requested, she asked.

“Could it be I am imagining this, dear gods? Is my mind sick and giving me orders I believe are from you?” She asked silently.

For a while she waited, keeping her mind as blank as possible, to be able to hear the answer, if any came. The only think she heard though, and this in a female’s voice, was: “Do not doubt!”.

A long time after she rose. She had taken her decision. Before the other teachers resolved to act against her, she would leave the school. If she left by her own volition, they would not be able to forbid her working in the sacred knowledge; at least she thought they wouldn’t. She thought about asking her father, first, but decided against it; he was a man of conservative ideas, better to present him with a done deal.
She went to Malika’s room, the teacher must be in her own class, so she waited there, patiently until Malika returned.
“What is it this time, child?” Asked Malika. She sounded worried and upset, probably she had had to face the other teachers’ opinions and complaints, too.
“Kanva and Angir came to me a while ago, teacher.” She explained. Then she continued to relate all the two men had said. As she spoke, she saw how her old teacher grew more upset. Damyanti could not understand if she was worried for herself or on Damyanti’s behalf.
“I went then to my room, and meditated for a long time, dear teacher. I asked for guidance.”
“Did you receive any?” Asked Malika.
“The only thing I understood was ‘Do not doubt.’”Answered Damyanti.
“And?”
“I have taken a decision, dear teacher. I am going to leave the school; I will not make use of the room you so kindly set aside for me, nor will I bother any of the teachers with my presence. I think that is the best solution.”
Malika looked at her silently for a while, then she turned and went to look out the window that opened to the banyan tree. She stood there for a while, and Damyanti waited patiently, standing in the same spot she had stood when she came in.
Malika turned to look at her some minutes later.
“I think it is the best decision too.” She then said. “I will be sorry to see you go, and not to have you here in the mornings, before the students come and all is so fresh and new. But, yes, I approve. I will still help you, dear student of mine, even if they don’t want me to.”
Damyanti felt some tears falling down her cheeks, this was goodbye. Goodbye to her old life, to all she had learned to love and cherish, to a life she had thought would be hers forever.
Malika came to her and softly brushed the tears with her withered hand.
“Be happy, dear one, because I am sure the gods are guiding you now. You will be well if you follow them.” Said Malika in a husky voice. She too was very moved by the forthcoming parting. “I will let the other teachers know, do not worry about it. You better leave now, before anything untoward happens.”
“Please tell Abhaya.” Said Damyanti. She bowed deep to the teacher who had guided her all her life, and left, almost running, out of the room and the building.

She knew she shouldn’t go home, not at this time of day, not in her present state. She walked aimlessly, considering all that had happened since her adulthood ceremony. She remembered the emotion she had felt when the sublime god had elected her, and then she remembered Visha, and the statuette. She smiled softly, that was a good memory. Where would the young man be now, she wondered; probably in Lothal already. She wanted him back, she was sure he would approve of her actions, of her decisions; she sorely needed someone to back her up in this.
She was startled when she heard the noise of waves slapping on the shore. She had come to the river, without realizing it. She looked up. The river seemed wider, she still could see the shore across though she thought it was farther away. How could that be? She strained her eyes, looking toward the forest in that shore. She must be mistaken, because the trees appeared shorter, no, that was not it! The trees were under water.
Sudden understanding flooded her, and she turned back and ran up the slope toward the city.
To her cries of alarm, many villagers came out. She pointed to the river, gasping for air. Where she had stood, only some minutes ago, was now covered by the waters.
A general cry of alarm followed, and the villagers ran to their homes. Some, though, made use of the many available conchs to blow an alert. The long penetrating sound of the instrument brought fear in itself, it called at all, old and young. Damyanti felt a frisson of fear, while her bones vibrated at the sound of the sacred conch. She ran to her father’s house, all other idea erased from her mind before the peril they faced.
Her mother was outside, looking toward the place where the conchs were blowing.
“What is it, Damyanti?” She cried as soon as she saw her daughter, who was running as fast as she could. “What is happening? Why are the conchs blowing?”

She took her daughter in her arms, Damyanti almost collapsing for lack of wind and fear.
“The river, mother!” Cried the young woman. “The river is rising! It has already covered part of the forest!”
Anutri covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes widened in terror.
“Your father, your father is not here!” She cried, the tower of her strength absent. “He’s in the market place, the water will be there first!”
“They must have heard the alarm, mother.” Damyanti was slowly recovering from her running. “He most surely will be here soon. We have to make the house ready, mother. Do not wait for him!”
“Yes, yes, you are right!” Exclaimed the woman, still totally distraught. “Come, come, help me! Oh, if Gadin at least was here!”
Fear clutched then at each women’s heart.
Gadin! And Visha! Thought Damyanti. If they were still in the river they were doomed! But they should be already in Lothal, shouldn’t they? She decided not to say a word, if her mother had not thought about it, there was no need to bring it to her attention.
Inside their house, they started taking their belongings to the second floor. If there was time, they would then take them to the roof. At least on the second floor there was the hope the waters would not reach. There had not been a flood so high, not in living memory. Usually they were safe, the waters not rising higher than the first floor, and that would be a rare occasion.
They had brought several items upstairs, including Anutri’s cooking utensils and some of the food she had prepared when they heard Mathesas’ voice calling to them.
Damyanti and Anutri looked out the window. There was the merchant, with terrified face looking up at them.
“You are safe?” He cried, looking at Damyanti. “Thank the gods, the water is rising rapidly, the school has been evacuated; no one could tell me where you were, they said they had seen you walking toward the river!”
He ran upstairs and hugged his only daughter.
“I feared you were lost!” He cried, holding her tight to his chest.
“What is happening, Mathesas, tell us!” Said his wife, more afraid now seeing her husband’s alarm.
“The river is rising rapidly, very fast.” Replied the man. “I hope we will be safe up here, but let’s take some provisions to the roof, I will feel better then.”
“But why, what is it? Why is it happening?” Cried the woman again, holding to her husbands arm as if her life depended on it.
“A tidal wave must have come up the river, mother.” He replied. “A tidal wave, and our ships are out there!”
He ended, looking at her with such a sad and worried face, Anutri’s heart seemed to stop.
“Gadin!” She whispered, and started crying.
“Shush, mother, shush.” Said the man, now, embracing her. “They must be safe, they should be in Lothal by now, and the town is well protected. He will be all right, don’t cry!”
Damyanti looked at his father over her mother’s head, there was doubt in her eyes, and her father read it. He shook his head softly, Damyanti couldn’t understand if it meant there was no hope, or if his father didn’t want her to ask anything. She kept silence, then, and went to hug her mother, uniting all in a big embrace.
“All will be all right, mother.” She added to her father’s words. “Gadin will be fine, do not worry, the gods will protect him!”
She didn’t voice the doubt she felt then, would the gods protect someone who did not worship them?

Meanwhile, at Visha’s home, a similar scene was taking place.
Ekavir, though, had a harder time. He worked in silence. He placed the smoothest planks he could find against the workshop wall, making a ramp through which he could pull some of the wood he had so carefully gathered with Visha. He packed the tools, wrapping them in a woven mat he had used to cover the floor, and tied them well. He then climbed to the workshop’s roof and threw some ropes down; back to the again ground, he tied the tools’ package to the ropes, and some planks that were maneuverable enough.
Again on the roof he pulled at the ropes, so the items would slide up the ramp. He worked incessantly, not minding his aching muscles, or his worry about Visha. He had to protect their livelihood, if not, the young man would have nothing at his return. Ekavir did not want to finish the sentence, but his own mind supplied it; if he ever did return.
He was pulling at one of the last big trunks when he heard a soft crack. Without giving him time to react, the plank where the trunk was lifting broke, the trunk fell all the way down, pulling Ekavir with him. The fall was broken by a foot or more of water, Ekavir would have been safe but for the second plank. Lacking the hold of the broken plank which had held it in place, the second plank fell. Ekavir saw it coming to him, but he couldn’t do anything, and the plank fell over his lying leg. The pain was terrible, and he fainted.
What seemed seconds later, he recovered. Strong hands held him, and he recognized Leelam, Visha’s friend.
“Thanks!” He muttered, trying to hold back the scream of pain that fought for release.
“Come, try to stand, the water is rising!” Said the young man. “I will help you get up to the roof.”
“My leg is broken, I cannot move it.” Replied Ekavir.
“That’s all right, I can carry you.” Said Leelam.
The young man held Ekavir by the arms and positioned himself under him. With might effort, he lifted Visha’s father to his back, and started walking to the house. The water was now at mid thigh, and walking that way was even harder, but soon they reached the stairs. Sachi was crying out for Ekavir, and he replied.
“What is it? What has happened to you?” She cried, running down to him.
“Go up, go up!” He whispered.
Sachi, realizing they needed the space to move, returned to the higher floor. She helped Leelam, who had finally reached the room, to carry Ekavir to a bed.
“What is it?” She asked, looking at Leelam.
“He fell from the workshop’s roof.” Replied the young man. “I was running to help when I saw one plank get loose. I couldn’t reach him in time and the whole thing fell over his leg. He believes it is broken.”
Sachi moaned, hands to her face, trying to hold back her fears.
Abhaya and Bina were with her now, and while Bina tried to soothe her mother, Abhaya kneeled besides her father.
“Are the tools safe, father?” She asked.
Sachi protested in a whisper. What was this about the tools when their father, the man of their house laid there, crippled.
“Shush, mother.” Said Abhaya. “Tell me father, were you able to save something from the workshop?”
“Yes.” Whispered Ekavir through clenched teeth. “Yes, almost all.”
“They are safe?” She insisted.
“If the water holds, I put them up on the workshop’s roof.” Replied the man.
“That is good, for now. All right, let me take care of your leg.” She continued. In the absence of a male figure in the house, and seeing her mother’s utter lack of composure, she had assumed that role.
“Leelam, will you help?” She asked of the young man. “Perhaps your family needs you now?”
“I will stay, and help you.” Replied Leelam. “We could do nothing for our shop.”
“I am sorry.” She replied. Those words meant Leelam’s family means of life could be lost, it was something difficult to face, but the man was facing it with courage, it meant something to her. “All right, then. Can you look for a short board where we can put his leg? The important thing now is to keep it immobile.”
“I’ll check.” He said.
Some minutes later he returned with a polished piece of wood. Abhaya did not want to ask from whence it came.
She took it and carefully placed it under her father’s leg; the man moaned and fainted.
“Good. Let’s do this fast now his unconscious.” She told Leelam.
Abhaya looked at Sachi who was rocking back and forth while wringing her hands and moaning.
“Mother, enough!” She shouted. “This is not a moment to collapse! Take care of the girls and see if you can brew a strong tea for father! I don’t think there’s much bleeding, but he needs liquid!”
Bina, who had been standing by her mother, mouth opened and tears dripping unattended from her eyes, shook herself, and ran to where they had placed their cooking utensils. She made a small fire on top of the impromptu stove and soon returned to her sister with a steaming cup in her hands.
“Put it here, it is too hot to drink.” Said Abhaya. “Good work, little one.”
She smiled at Bina, who smiled back. It was good to have someone in control.
Meanwhile, Abhaya had tied her father’s leg to the board with strips of cloth she ripped from the bed covers, while Leelam held the leg in place. At last, she was done, and straightened with a sigh.
“Well, that is all I can do until we get a healer.” She said. “Thanks, Leelam.”
“That’s all right. I had to help him…If Visha had been here…” He replied.
“Things would have been different, yes.” She said. “Will you stay with us?”
“I think the waters are to high for me to risk returning to my house. I hope my family is all right.”
“Can you check if the water has reached the workshop’s roof, please?” She added.
Leelam complied, and returned with a happier face.
“No, its quite below the roof, perhaps just a bit higher than mid wall. I hope it stays there.” He said.
“Do you know what happened?” She asked.
Leelam shook his head, he had no idea.
Abhaya took the tea cup in her hands and blew on it, then she tasted it. It was of a good temperature, and Bina had added some herbs. Ah, yes, that one was for the fever; the little sister was not so ignorant. She looked at Bina and winked, nodding. Bina smiled.
“Let me see if I can make him recover.” She put her hand under her father’s head and lifted it, with the other one bringing the tea so the man could feel the aroma.
“Father, father, do you hear me?” She asked, softly shaking him. “Father, please.”
“Wait.” Said Sachi then. Apparently she had finally gathered her wits and was reclaiming her place. “Let me.”
While Sachi took care of her husband, Abhaya motioned to Leelam and Bina. They went to the window and looked out.
Before them the river flowed, just where they had been some hours ago. They could see people standing on their roofs, some looking, as they did, out of the windows of the second floor; their faces showed worry and fear.
“Won’t your family worry about you?” Asked Bina.
“I told them I was coming to help your father.” He explained. “They know where I am.”
“Why do you think this happened, Abhaya?” Asked Bina, looking down at the water lapping at their house’s walls.
“I only heard once about this, sister. When I was almost a baby, it happened.” She replied. “Mother told me about it, years ago. At first they knew not why it was the river flooded, but then people from down the river came, fleeing.”
Abhaya looked at her sister and continued, with a sad face.
“They explained the water in the ocean had risen like a huge wall, a huge wave, a tidal wave, they called it. The wave had collapsed on the shore, and moved inland, going up the river with incredible and swift strength. They said they did not want to live near any river, not again in their lives; they went north, far from here.”
“A wave caused this?” Asked Bina, dumbstruck.
“I am not sure, but it could be.” Replied Abhaya.
“But then,” whispered Bina, and now she looked terrorized, “but then, what about Visha?”
“That is my worry too, dear one, what about Visha?”