![]() ![]() Unless the lost village of love is found.” I am left awed by my own terror after they have spoken. Even for me, used as I am to aberrant sights, these creatures are unusual, and their foretelling even more so. They would take a person to a different height of normal – paranormal. ![]() These are visions that would be a rip in the fabric of reality for many. Yet each one of them has a misshapen tail, defiant, tense and crooked. ![]() Up close, I see these beings have no uniform shape, no recognizable face and are different from one another. I stand passively even as the pulse in my ears throb. It is then I see shadows that are neither human nor beast who make odd wheeze sounds. The stars above let out small screams of agony. Then in an instant, and without warning, the physical world around me alters. I knew they are there even if I cannot see them, gathering their forces toward a kind of definiteness. I begin to feel shadowy presences gather at the edge of my consciousness. Soon a static buzz grows persistently in my inner world. I listen intently, waiting for a signal above, the chirping of night crickets, the chittering of bats and the croaking of frogs. I feel the moistness of their trunks, laden as they are with the dampness of yesterday’s rain. It is purely by instinct that I carry on, past tall, silent trees that stand watchful guard and their silvery-blue leaves who look on me with patience. My loose black robe merges with the blackness around with only its gentle rustling betraying my presence. A steady stream of floating clouds that fill the sky stop the diffusion. They flash some light into the interiors of this graveyard, where the restless dead are known to roam, but not enough. I see a group of stars huddled in a circle and the moon at a distance away, struggling with her loneliness. ![]() So I walk on towards my revelation gateway, looking skyward from time to time. I, however, have no escape from such shadows who come to life.Īs the one person in the village with an ability to receive signals from spirits, see them and the visions they show and communicate it to whomever it is intended for, it is my obligation to arrive at the spot they have summoned me to. Worse still, for a long time, I could feel the weight of presences on my body, day, midday, dusk and night.” I felt a real visceral fear of harm and a grisly nearness to evil. His version, recounted each time with beading perspiration, is this: “I had a feeling in my muscles and in my gut, I will be physically injured. The one time a villager Nagamuttu did, he said, he was inexorably bound to ill fate. Yet it is a walk no villager from Venthila will undertake. It is a long walk from the flat grounds of the cremation area to the mini-grove in the middle, one that eventually twines its way into a thick forest. I walk alone in the cool damp of midnight from the rim of the cremation ground where I live to its midpoint, or the place closest to its middle. It is November, an odd time for rains, perhaps, yet it is when the north-east monsoon wavers over our region, sometimes generous but mostly not. ![]()
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