Tau listens while Rao prepares to relate the story of Talib and his search for the unfeigned effulgence of the upper world. His story begins on a small isle of the sea.
Fluffy clouds cover the canopy above the isle. Heavy mists linger on the waters in eternal turbidness.
These two phenomena separate the island from the surrounding world. Only a leviathan mountain rises through the dense layers above; it’s the center of the isle.
Talib, a young man, sits on a lush hill gazing at the mountain. It’s barren and desolate.
“If one could scale the sharp slopes,” he reasons, “Then the upper world of glory could be seen, yet I wonder why no one does so. It seems a formidable task but not an impossible one for youth and ingenuity.
He decides to question his father about the mountain. In his tribe no one converses about it which seems very strange to Talib.
Talib’s father is resting when he arrives home. He ponders on how to start his discourse.
“Father.”
“Yes,” he says as he opens his eyes. He sits against the east wall outside as a cool breeze races through the tranquil vale.
“Why has no one ever climbed the mountain?”
Fear agonizes his countenance. He looks toward the sea.
“It’s taboo,” he replies solemnly. “There will be no more questions about it.”
“Father, what frightens you so?”
“Talib, you will obey my request,” he states in a harsh tone.
“Yes, my father, I will obey without knowing why.”
His father stands and places his hand on Talib’s shoulder. “Son, there are things which best remain unsaid and unthought.”
The night season arrives with a blanket of sleep. All sleep soundly except Talib who is bothered by a night phantasm.
A month passes, and every night the same dream comes to Talib. It tells him that he must scale the mountain into the clouds to view the upper world of glory.
His father sends him to the other side of the island. He is to seek the Wise One for counsel in this matter.
This part of the isle thrives more abundantly than the other. Talib wonders why as he searches for the man known as the Wise One.
A vermilion and niveous structure stands in a garden of lotus. The smell enhances the air with sweet fragrances.
Talib approaches the open door. A warm voice beckons him to enter.
“So Talib, my son, has come to seek me.”
Talib is awed. “How do you know me by name?”
“I know everyone by name.”
“Is that why they call you the Wise One?”
“No, no,” he laughs. “I am the oldest and therefore the wisest, so they say.”
“Is wisdom found in years?”
“It is better to find wisdom in youth than in age.”
“Why?”
“So one can avoid the foolishness of mistakes.”
“A life of experience surely has abundant wisdom.”
“That is true only if you profit from your failures; few do though; few truly do.”
“Does that make you sad?”
“Yes, sadness is a bitterness that the heart needs.”
“Joy is truly better than sorrow.”
“Sorrow makes us men while joy keeps us children; joy in maturity is a treasure.”
“To debate with you is foolishness.”
“A fool who knows he’s a fool is no longer a fool.”
“He’s not wise.”
“True, Talib, but he is walking in the light of wisdom.”
“What is the light of wisdom?”
“‘Tis the path to the upper world of glory.”
The Wise One has answered Talib’s quest. “You’re truly wise.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “Wisdom is a gift from above which we receive, not learn.”
“What is the mountain, Wise One?”
“It’s the way.”
“To wisdom?”
“To the upper world of glory.”
“Can it be climbed?”
“It is there for that purpose.”
“‘Tis possible.”
“Naught is impossible.”
They go into the garden and view the mountain. Rugged edges protrude with adamantine firmness.
“One must be careful; the way is narrow, and only a few can traverse it.”
“Is that because of its straightness?”
“No, it demands a total sacrifice of oneself; few are willing to give what it demands.”
“I am willing to give all.”
“Would you give your life?”
“Is life worth anything if one does not truly live?”
“To reply requires wisdom, and in your youth you possess wisdom.”
“Wisdom and youth are invincible.”
“To a degree that is true.”
“I must go and find my quest.”
“May you find your quest.”
“I shall, Wise One.”
“If Providence deems it so, my son.”
Talib travels to the foot of the mountain. He views the steep slopes and slippery edges.
Night approaches swiftly. He rests there until day.
At day Talib begins his treacherous trek to the heights above. Much loose soil flows through his fingers.
Fatigue overtakes him many a time, but he presses forth toward the mark of his high calling. Naught will prevent him from reaching the summit.
The air thins. Heat increases to unbearable intolerance.
Sweat pours from him in giant drops. His every muscle aches and groans in supreme torture.
Soon the cloud layer is achieved. He enters knowing not what awaits him.
The farther he travels, the brighter it becomes. His eyes burn with a tingling sensation.
His vision blurs. His head begins to spin as he loses consciousness.
He seems to fall and float in a pelagic of vivid tints and harmonious tones. Talib feels himself hit the ground, but it is soft like the lotus.
Time elapses, and he awakens. Some substance covers his eyes as he tries to open them.
In several moments his vision becomes accurate. He gazes about at the lovely chamber.
A niveous robe like the mountain snow clothes him. He rests on a bed of lotus.
Into the chamber enters a lovely being. A special light radiates from her.
Talib had never seen such a beautiful woman. “Who are you?” He stutters.
“I am Sophia.”
“Where am I?” He inquires.
“You are above the clouds of your isle. This is my home.” The woman extends her hand to Talib; he takes it as they leave hand in hand through the portal of the chamber.
They stand on a marble porch. The darkness of the east is breaking.
“What beauty it is!” Talib exclaims as dawn arrives in glory. “Mortal words cannot explain it.”
“They are feeble and finite to describe eternity.”
“It’s refined gold as precious as true life,” Talib expresses.
“So it is, but how few will ever see the dawn of tomorrow! They waste the moments beholding the hours; how utterly tragic it is!”
“Can they never see what I see?” He inquires with compassion.
“No, my son, they have chosen their way to darkness; they sleep until eternal night unfolds forever.”
“Surely, if they knew, they would give anything for the dawn.”
“Once your tribe had communion with the light, but they refused to submit to it; they ignored the true way for their way.”
“Is there no way for them?”
“Yes, the mountain is there for that purpose, but they do not see nor do they hear.”
“What a pity it is so true!”
Tau smiles at his father as he ends his account of Talib and his discovery of aurora. “I understand.”
“‘Tis good that you do because only a few can. All are called, but few answer the summons.”
“‘Tis a pity.”
“Truly, it is a tragedy to die without knowing that dawn comes tomorrow.”
G. D. Williams © 2012
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Photo is by Helminadia Ranford
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