Jess and I spent a lot of time in the library, lost among the old records. Afternoons, mornings, it didn’t matter. We would spend hours poring over those yellowed, faded pages.
She finally found a subject of interest. The trade relation between the Kingdom of Tibet and India. Wool, furs, salt, musk, and borax, from 1860s until the early nineteen sixties.
Groups travelling over mountain passes made their way into the grounds of Kalimpong. Long-haired men with long knives herded mule trains and camped in open grounds.
Commerce. I soon lost interest in the figures but was intrigued by the old photos. It reminded me of the journey taken by Marco Polo to China.
“Jess, what are doing to do with all these information?”
“Maybe one day I’ll travel the route myself and use you as a mule to carry my luggage”, she laughed.
“Hey, I don’t want to go to those frozen lakes and mountain passes.”
“You know Sam, the mountain people have a belief that the higher you go, the purer it gets. In fact, they say, if you go high enough and look up at the blue sky, you will glimpse the tail of the dragon.”
I was amused, “The tail, why not the head?”
“You won’t understand. It’s not the dragon that you are looking for, it’s the belief in yourself. The purity of your soul.”
I kept quiet.
“Why do you think that travellers went where no one had gone before? Not knowing anything about the terrain, the climate? And yet they came back, wiser and humbler.”
“Sam, you must travel. I want to travel. To those places where you can glimpse the dragon’s tail.”
***
Our library visits came to a halt as she fell ill. Cold and fever. She called me up to tell me to stay away or I might catch it too. I wanted to tell her that I would have happily caught it.
But I stayed away.
She was unable to come to the phone so we couldn’t talk. After three days, one of the kids in her neighbourhood brought me her letter.
“Dear Sam,
First letter. Can’t believe that I have to write to you. Feeling weak and tired. I know you must be enjoying your days outside. Your walks. Your music. Your books.
I feel jealous that you have so much to do. Just by yourself.
All I do is look outside my window and watch the day go by. I see the flowers and the birds. I hear the wind rustling in the leaves. Then I fall asleep. When I wake up, Aunt Ruth is there to feed me.
I look outside. It’s afternoon. I manage to sit on a chair and look outside. I can hear the buzz of the crickets in the afternoon sun. A lone woodpecker tapping way.
I love Kalimpong. I am not surprised that you are not in a hurry to leave. As soon as I am better, I want to take a walk with you to the stream.
See you soon,
Jess.”
****
After five days, she finally called me.
“Sam, I am better. Can you come and visit me?”
My mom baked a cake for her so I took it with me.
She looked pale but happy.
“Jess, you look like a mule-train driver. All the way from the mountains.”
She smiled. “I feel like one too. Tired.”
“Never mind”, I told her, “you will be right as rain”.
After we ate the cake with hot tea, she looked at me and said, “Sam, I wanted to tell you about a dream that I had. It was last night. I saw a dragon and rode on its back and flew up in the sky.”
“Really?”
“Yes Sam. The dream was so strong and when I woke up in the morning, it wouldn’t let me go. So I wrote it down. For you.”
She handed me a page. Written in her curly neat writing was this poem.
DRAGON GIRL
Against her legs, the blades of grass brushed,
her strides were short but not rushed.
Up the craggy slopes, each step firm and measured,
She rose up the hill, a day warm and treasured.
The breeze played with her hair,
murmuring a soft melody in her ear.
The smell of spring,
of earth, flowers and leaves – all sharing.
The chirping of birds, preening their feathers,
lent magic to the vale,
the start of an ethereal fairy tale.
On a lonely rock, she paused and stopped.
The top of the hill was now nearer than before.
She touched the talisman,
this rock was a milestone for sure.
The rock had stood in storms and tempests,
In moonlight nights, a lodestone for the searcher,
a sentinel for the traveller.
She patted the boulder and started up, a little bolder.
Once she reached the summit, there was no more ground to cover,
The grass felt greener and the land was softer.
The river below, a silvery serpent,
Gliding down the mountain, bringing life resplendent.
The skies were blue and the clouds were smiling.
She closed her eyes, her talisman in hand,
Lifted her arms, and hummed a prayer,
With childish fervour.
Her Grandma had told her, “Reach out your arms, you can feel it’s tail,
The dragon will come, if you chant and exhale.”
The wind calmed down, the grass grew still,
The birds waited as she enchanted the hill.
Then she felt, a warm soft purr,
A loving growl, right beside her.
She dared to touch and felt it’s beat,
Rough and scarred, she found her seat.
Her Grandma had given, her love divine,
An ancient talisman, a mystic rhyme,
The dragon girl she was, the queen of the hill,
Up they soared, the skies to thrill.
****
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