8: Throwing caution to the wind

Isabella jumped from her seat and followed the sound and the glimpse of colour through the door of the house as it closed silently behind the new entrant. There was no one visible but there was movement in the air around her and in front of her and she knew she was following something, or someone. However the entrance hall stopped her in her tracks. It was enormous and in the very centre was a marble spiral staircase that disappeared from view. Around the walls were portraits of people, not unlike those on the gate, but this time they were full of colour and their expressions were so beautifully painted they could have been real faces looking down at her.

Against one wall was a magnificent desk and laid on it was a massive and beautiful old book with illustrated letters emblazoned across the page. Although she did not know it at the time she was looking at the reflection of Gold leaf, Lapis Lazuli and Carnelian pigments that adorned the page. She started to go over to read the book but she felt an invisible hand stay her movement as her attention was drawn towards the hum of chanting in the room to her right.

The door to this room was a golden brown glass that reflected the interior out into the hallway. There were red and gold fabrics, earthenware pots and elegant couches to be seen. There was the smell of food and the sound of someone chopping vegetables and chanting at the same time. It was not a chant that Isabella was familiar with, it sounded very ancient and mysterious and she was curious enough to push the door open.

Standing with his back to her was a small man wearing Indian robes. He seemed unaware of her presence as he continued to chop vegetables and chant, but his chanting stopped when he went to a cabinet on which was displayed a great number of spices. He carefully selected a handful, placed them in a mortar and pestle and began pounding, this activity was done in silence and the smells that emanated from the grinding were powerful and magnificent.

“Are you here for dinner?” he asked when he looked round and saw her standing rather uneasily in the doorway and then, without waiting for a reply, he handed her a cup of warm liquid and motioned to the couch. “It won’t be long.” He said and returned to his work.

Isabella took the liquid gratefully because, although she thought she should have politely refused his offer, the smell of the cardamom overcame her desire to explain her presence and a sudden wave of tiredness propelled her to the coach without further protest. She drank the fragrant sweet tea as she watched the man work.

He moved in the same careful and measured way that Icarayus did, focussed and happy in his work and seemingly very contented. She sat back and noticed for the first time that the walls of the room were made from a smooth crystal that was a deep red. There was the same degree of translucence and depth that was contained within the blue mist, but this red was warm to the touch and seemed to radiate heat too. She felt increasingly tired as she looked at it, and when she placed her hand upon its surface she felt a tingling in her palms that shot immediately to her feet and made her feel even more sleepy.

In one corner of the room sat an illuminated book similar to that in the hall. It was larger than any book she had ever seen and was open at a particular page with a magnifying glass resting upon it. From a distance it looked like a series of pictures from a film strip, but hand drawn and painted in such beautiful colours. Some of the ink was smudged as if tears had been shed when reading it, and she got the feeling that the magnifying glass was to pick out the tiniest detail. A candle burned above the book and the reds and the golds flickered in its glow. She tried to take her glimpses unobtrusively for she felt that the book was very personal and rather special. There was a mystery about this place, all what not what it seemed.

The first time she was aware that she had been asleep was when she was being woken up from it by a very gentle shake on her shoulder.

“Isabella, Isabella wake up now dinner is served.”

She woke slowly as if from a deep dream and the amazing smell of the food on the table in front of her distracted her from asking how he knew her name. There was fresh bread, lentils, lamb and vegetables all lined up in wooden bowls. The smell was intoxicating and she rose without a word to take the one place that had been set at the table.

When she had eaten he cleared away the plates and placed another cup of the sweet fragrant tea in front of her, then he took a chair and sat opposite her with a cup of his own. He smiled at her and watched her for some moments before saying, “ I am Simmi, I am pleased to meet you, I hope you enjoyed the meal, you looked as if you could do with it.”

“It was lovely, thank you, but how do you know my name?”

“Icarayus has told me all about you. We have been expecting you to visit for sometime now, but we thought you might be waiting for Raven to return first.”

“Raven is not going to return, he’s dead.”

“I apologise, I didn’t mean that Raven will to return to life, that could not happen, but he has been visiting the Library of Lives and that does take a while. He has been revisiting all his lives and making sense of them and while he does that he cannot commune with people who are still alive. Next time you come he may have finished his journey and join you for a meal, he loves the black lentil Dhal you know, he says that the smell of the spices fills him up for weeks at a time, or so he tells me.”

Isabella was not to sure what to make of this conversation so she sat quietly as he poured another cup of tea. “It’s rather a lot to take in on your first visit, is there anything you want to ask me?”

“Yes, how do you know Raven.”
“He lives here.”

“Raven doesn’t live anywhere anymore.” She retorted with a strangled sob.

“Well, in a manner of speaking he does live here, we are his family, just as we are your family when you are ready to return home. I guess you could say this is the eternal home that we all leave, but to which we all return.”

“I have a family already, thank you, I don't need another one.” Isabella stood up to leave with her arms folded across her chest.

“That’s very true,” replied Simmi very gently indeed as he moved to collect her tea cup. “Don’t you get the feeling sometimes that death is not the end, that your love for Raven and his love for you carries on?”

“Yes, I do, but it all just a memory, it isn’t real.”

“What’s reality?” he asked, “ Have you just drunk that tea or dreamt it?”

“I can still taste it in my mouth and feel its warmth inside me.”

“Sounds like this particular memory smells, feels and tastes real and if it has nourished you also then it has provided all that tea can provide in the mortal world. Would you not agree?”

“Yes, but that is because there has been no gap between the action and the memory.”

“Ah yes you are correct, but as time passes you will find the memories of the past become clearer than the memories of the present. Does your grandmother not talk about her school days far more than about recent events?”

Isabella thought for a moment and realised it was true, Nan was always living in the past, except for her complaints about her ageing bones, her failing sight, or her missing teeth, of course.

“So if I were to return again would Raven be here?”

“That I cannot say for it takes the time it takes to review a life, but I can tell you this, you are always welcome.”

“Thank you, but I had better go now.”

Isabella closed the door gently behind her but not before the chanting had started again. It was true the memory of the meal and the tea remained with her and made her feel satiated and very cared for as she left the house.

She did not look around on leaving, she just wanted to get back to something familiar and was relieved to find her clothes with no trouble at all, next to the portal through which she had entered. As she closed the iron gates behind her she noticed a character holding out an iron pot and wondered if that was Simmi. It seemed that he knew all about her, but she left no wiser about him at all. When she returned home her mother was rather short with her saying she had been worried about her getting cold and asking if she had been in the forest all the time.

Isabella said she had and that she was fine, she just needed some tea and asked her mother if she would like a cup. That calmed things down and her mother relaxed until she smelt the cardamon in her tea and looked rather quizzically at Isabella. Isabella quickly realised her mistake and swapped the teas over, “I was told to try some cardamon in my tea as part of our project on India”, she explained. “India,” she thought, “home of Simmi?"

Later that night she berated herself for her quick departure from the big house. She was not sure what she felt at all, she seemed to be consumed with totally contrasting feelings, fear and curiosity, anticipation and fear, hope and despair all focussed on the big house behind the blue mist.