as the tribe drove her down from the trees, and onto the jungle floor.
âThe Tikki may be lost, or dead, or gone altogether,â she sobbed to herself as she pushed her body through the denseness of the ferns, creepers and thorny vines.
It was possible. Throughout the history of the tribe the Tikki had got lost and the tribe had not known where to look for her. Without her, the tribe suffered sickness and disaster until they managed to recreate her by using subtle tools, resins of enlargement, and the essence part of many plants and creatures. They put into her the crawling of the snake and the scuttling of the beetle. They gave her the appetite of the elephant and the grace of the panther. They planted weather into her so that she could instruct the rain and cause the sun to shine again. They trimmed her with sickness so that she could seal disease from them. They empowered her with the running of water and the growing of plants. She was possessed of the essence of all the things the tribe required for life. And when all the ingredients were put together, the Ama stone was struck and set life to her. Sometimes, if the sacrifice was good enough she would ward death away though the people of the tribe knew that this was a terrible thing for her, and they did not ask it often.
But to create a Tikki was a difficult and unpredictable thing. Sometimes the subtle ones would have to create a thousand failures first and some of these most dangerous, before having the vital single success.
The Tikki was only considered ready when she had been endowed with ferocity and courage, with speed and cunning, with weight and the ability to become lighter than air. At first she had fit into the palm of a manâs hand and sometimes, because it made her laugh, they would let her loose like a floating moon. Crickets and frogs would nourish her and then, later, birds and hares. Sometimes a generation of suffering would go by while the tribe listened hopefully, trying to hear among the sounds of the jungle that one which told them that their Tikki now walked upon the ground.
Animals were the result of one failed goddess and when the tribe understood the value of the strange hybrid they had inadvertently created, they made a pack of them. At first the behaviour of Animals was dull and unpredictable, they sometimes even turned on the people of the tribe and attacked them without provocation. But then the subtle ones entered the brains of the Animals with transparent mineral tools and doctored them, giving each a single characteristic; courage, cunning, affection, brilliance, caution. The only shared quality among them was ferocity. A pack like this could achieve almost anything.
As the people of the tribe waited, filled with anxiety, their sufferings were increased by a new clamour from the Coarseones that lived below. These Coarseones had always been a source of misery for the tribe, with their terrible noises and blaring lights, but a few days after the woman went in search of a gift for the Tikki, the noise from below became gigantic. There came ceaseless cries of, âAnwar, Anwar, where are you?â and the lights went bobbing about through the lower jungles throughout the whole of the night so that the people of the tribe got no dark at all.
Because Sangita had lent her watch to Anwar, it was only when the syce began to shout and run that real fear, instead of anxiety, took hold. Fear comes rushing like a hurricane going through a jungle. The heart leaps and the throat hurts. Strange tingling things happen to the finger ends. The lungs feel tight and only little breaths are able to emerge. For, with a shock of horror, she had remembered a dreadful prayer she had once made to the elephant-headed god. Perhaps, thought Sangita, Ganesh was now answering Sangitaâs instantly regretted prayer.
As the voice of the syce was heard, receding and echoing into the distance, calling out, âBaba sahib, Baba sahib, come back, come
âThe Tikki may be lost, or dead, or gone altogether,â she sobbed to herself as she pushed her body through the denseness of the ferns, creepers and thorny vines.
It was possible. Throughout the history of the tribe the Tikki had got lost and the tribe had not known where to look for her. Without her, the tribe suffered sickness and disaster until they managed to recreate her by using subtle tools, resins of enlargement, and the essence part of many plants and creatures. They put into her the crawling of the snake and the scuttling of the beetle. They gave her the appetite of the elephant and the grace of the panther. They planted weather into her so that she could instruct the rain and cause the sun to shine again. They trimmed her with sickness so that she could seal disease from them. They empowered her with the running of water and the growing of plants. She was possessed of the essence of all the things the tribe required for life. And when all the ingredients were put together, the Ama stone was struck and set life to her. Sometimes, if the sacrifice was good enough she would ward death away though the people of the tribe knew that this was a terrible thing for her, and they did not ask it often.
But to create a Tikki was a difficult and unpredictable thing. Sometimes the subtle ones would have to create a thousand failures first and some of these most dangerous, before having the vital single success.
The Tikki was only considered ready when she had been endowed with ferocity and courage, with speed and cunning, with weight and the ability to become lighter than air. At first she had fit into the palm of a manâs hand and sometimes, because it made her laugh, they would let her loose like a floating moon. Crickets and frogs would nourish her and then, later, birds and hares. Sometimes a generation of suffering would go by while the tribe listened hopefully, trying to hear among the sounds of the jungle that one which told them that their Tikki now walked upon the ground.
Animals were the result of one failed goddess and when the tribe understood the value of the strange hybrid they had inadvertently created, they made a pack of them. At first the behaviour of Animals was dull and unpredictable, they sometimes even turned on the people of the tribe and attacked them without provocation. But then the subtle ones entered the brains of the Animals with transparent mineral tools and doctored them, giving each a single characteristic; courage, cunning, affection, brilliance, caution. The only shared quality among them was ferocity. A pack like this could achieve almost anything.
As the people of the tribe waited, filled with anxiety, their sufferings were increased by a new clamour from the Coarseones that lived below. These Coarseones had always been a source of misery for the tribe, with their terrible noises and blaring lights, but a few days after the woman went in search of a gift for the Tikki, the noise from below became gigantic. There came ceaseless cries of, âAnwar, Anwar, where are you?â and the lights went bobbing about through the lower jungles throughout the whole of the night so that the people of the tribe got no dark at all.
Because Sangita had lent her watch to Anwar, it was only when the syce began to shout and run that real fear, instead of anxiety, took hold. Fear comes rushing like a hurricane going through a jungle. The heart leaps and the throat hurts. Strange tingling things happen to the finger ends. The lungs feel tight and only little breaths are able to emerge. For, with a shock of horror, she had remembered a dreadful prayer she had once made to the elephant-headed god. Perhaps, thought Sangita, Ganesh was now answering Sangitaâs instantly regretted prayer.
As the voice of the syce was heard, receding and echoing into the distance, calling out, âBaba sahib, Baba sahib, come back, come
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