style="font-size:15px;"> More I refuse to disclose.’
The Goddess retired forthwith
To her sanctuary under the hill
To rest awhile, but not sleep—
For Gods and Goddesses never sleep.
Her mind was full of lovely dreams
Of her future companion male,
And curiosity burnt through her soul
As she wondered at what he can be
And what contentment he will bring to her.
But above all she wished that he’d be
A being as beautiful as herself
In spite of the diff’rence foretold.
She patiently waited with burning flames of desire
And as the night wore on the Goddess, who ate
Particular kinds of a metal for food,
Felt hungry indeed and leaving her cave
Searched through the plains for her favourite dish.
The first thing she found was howe’er a piece
Of tasteless, unpalatable granite which she spat
In a donga disgruntedly.
She continued to search and her appetite finally stilled
She returned to impatiently await the dawn.
Then when the first rays of light
Burst over the many-fanged range to the east
And the mountains cast sharp shadows over the plains,
The Goddess heard an awful voice
Calling out hoarsely at her:
‘Come, oh my mate, I await thee here,’
And the shimmering silvery Goddess arose
With a cry of immeasurable joy
And, not heeding the regular exit,
She burst through the side of the hill;
And midst roaring boulders, thund’ring clouds of blinding dust
She held her arms outstretched . . .
‘My Mate! My Mate! You have . . .’
Her voice faded out into gasping silence
As hungry limbs reached out with might
From the billowing dust for her lithe silv’ry form
And – Oh Great Spirit – how horrible they were!
They were not arms like her own
But those of great creeping vines
Whose very bark was studded
With jagged pieces of granite
And diamonds and iron ore
A horrible mineral display!
These branches, as they’ll henceforth be called,
Sprang with a host of others
From the top of a monstrous trunk,
Resembling the biggest baobab tree
That ever grew on earth.
From the middle of the monstrous trunk
Bulged dozens of bloodshot eyes
Which burnt with a lecherous hunger,
While beneath them grinned a wicked mouth
With a thousand pointed fangs.
Now and then a long green tongue
Like the hide of a crocodile
Would lick the granite lips.
* * *
From some of the tree’s branches grew
Great udders which oozed a golden honey-like fluid.
Unlike the ordinary tree, this one had roots which it used
Like a crab or a spider to move from one place to another;
And the sight alone
Of those crawling living roots
Scrabbling o’er the rock-hard plain as they moved
Was enough for the mountains to shudder!
‘Come, my beloved, come to me!’
Roared the tree and drew the Goddess close
And with its rock-studded mouth bruised her silvery lips
With a savage kiss!
‘I am the Tree of Life, thy mate, and I desire thee!’
‘Aieeee,’ shrieked Ma – ‘It cannot be!
My mate you are not – my companion – NO!
Release me, you ugly, most monstrous thing!’
‘Release you, while I’ve only just caught you!
You, my heart’s desire!
I did not catch you only to release you!’
‘What . . .?’ gasped the Goddess.
As more and more branches
Held her fast beyond all hope . . .
And here, my dear reader, I shall, as the saying goes,
Cut the fowl’s beak,
Leaving the rest to your most respected imagination!
Suffice it to say that in agonised moments that followed
The Goddess had very good cause to regret
Her folly of requesting the Almighty Spirit
To grant her a wish of her own.
When the Tree of Life released her at last,
The
