The Guitar Man (Part three)

THE GUITAR MAN (Part Three) by Leela
Belina, for that was the wisewoman's name, looked at him sweetly and sighed. "If for some reason I wanted you to be dead......." She left the sentence unfinished. "This is the result of being healed by mani. Roo and desa will always taste foul to one who has had his thirst quenched with the purest drink."
Tentatively Almasta reached for the clear liquid that had originally been brought. He lifted it to his lips and drank. And drank, and drank....until the glass was empty. When he looked up his eyes met Belina's again and they were both smiling. "You understand now?" she asked.
He nodded
"Would you like some more?"
He nodded again. He could not stop smiling. When the wet drink slipped down his throat he felt an explosion inside his head...no...inside his whole being and he could understand everything that this woman represented. He was in touch with ancient memories of trees, flow-ers, seeds, flowing rivers, sunsets...things he had only read about on his compu-reader he now felt he had experienced. He reached for the precious necklace he always wore and with all his strength, for he was still weak from his desert trek, he pulled it off and held it out to the beauti-ful little old woman. She took the seed gratefully into her gnarled hand and nodded to him.
"Almasta, I thank you on behalf of all Oasisers! We need all the seeds we can get. By the strength of your gift I can tell the mani has helped you to see. I am surprised your waking is so powerful, though. Go out into out oasis and enjoy the day and come back when it starts to cool, we will have your initiation then."
He leant down in front of her and touched her feet. Then he stood and made the sign of protection over her head. She laughed. "Thank you Almasta, Belina may need your protection one day!" And with a wink she sent him out into the Oasis."
Almasta was grateful for the arm of the dark young man supporting him for he felt the colors that greeted him outside would blind him. There were plants growing everywhere. Red and yellow and purple flowers; vines and trees, grass and ferns and many things he had never heard of. From his AAP studies he had been certain that the Earth was no longer capable of supporting plant life so what had been done here was even more miraculous. All day he wan-dered around in a daze with the young man at his side, walking through endless gardens and farms. Here and there, always in the distance, he glimpsed people, some naked, some in color-ful, flowing robes. Some were working in the fields, some playing with children, others just sitting alone, quietly. And some were singing! Almasta was shocked. Only Guitar Men could sing! But then he remembered where he was and felt happy again.
But the singing had reminded him of his guitar and how it must be sitting alone and lonely in his quarters back at the Academy. His heart stung with longing for the old friend that had brought him so much joy and helped him through the hardest times in his life. At that moment, when his present joy seemed in jeopardy, he saw the most amazing sight. It was a thin stream of the same clear blue liquid he had drunk earlier in the day. He pulled his companion along, trying to run, falling and crawling, until he came to the source of it. A small gush of mani was bubbling up from underground. It was a sweet, pleasant sound, a music. Almasta dunked his head in the widest part of the stream and gulped the fantastic juice of life.
Soon afterwards he felt it was time to return to the "cushion room", as he thought of it. When he got there Belina met him and took his hand. "I can see you are ready, let's go!"
She led him out a side door. On the other side they found themselves in a huge outdoor pagoda. There was no-one there and Belina led him to the few scattered cushions that lay piled in one corner, where they both sat down. Slowly, slowly, people started arriving. They were all different. Some were dark, some light, some tall, some short but all were graceful, happy and silent. And each carried something in their arms: a tray, a bowl or jug that they would bring to the corner where Belina and Almasta were sitting and lay it down nearby. In this way the hall filled with two thousand people and a small mountain of gifts had grown up in Almasta's cor-ner. He watched this procession in wonder, until finally Belina cried out "Let's eat!"
People sprang into action, dipping their fingers into bowls and plates, feeding each other. Almasta took his first bite of food from the his dark companion, Shami. It was a yellow-orange mush and Shami had to maneuver it with his fingers so that it did not fall back onto the plate in front of him. It was delicious! Magic! Heaven's nectar! A mango grown by the people of the Oasis. After an hour of this wild food orgy Almasta sank back into the cushions, grinning and burping with glee.
Belina spiritedly clapped her hands. "Bring the final gift!" and turning to Almasta she added, "Close your eyes. Your initiation is complete, now I have something else for you."
He could here movement and laughter tempting him to peek but he kept his eyes squeezed shut. After a few minutes Belina's bony fingers poked his back and he opened his eyes....and saw his guitar. He pulled it from the arms of the woman who held it out to him and caressed it, hugged it. He looked up at the gift-bearer and blinked, and laughed and cried. It was Neeta. She took him in her arms and stroked his hair the way she used to when they were little and he had hurt himself. They hugged and caressed deeply until at last Neeta said "I have missed you, brother," and Almasta recognized her voice. It was the voice of the figure in black, the one who had pushed him off the tower at the Academy, but before he could ask why or how she asked gently "Why don't you play for us?"
He took his guitar and started to play. At first he played one of his favorite slow tunes that he had learned at the Academy but within minutes he realized he was playing something unknown and free...Jumbing. And it was as delicious as the food, as clear as mani water and as playful as the Oasisers. He was lost in the music and when he finally looked up he saw the whole pagoda was full of people swaying and jumping and giggling the way Neeta had in his dreams. It was the most natural, most real thing in the world. Almasta's dream had come true.

The End

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