The Forest Of Best Things

I

            The trees've outgrown recallable remembrance. Or, perhaps, Idan has stepped into the wrong section of the forest. Of course, there's surely no right section. Because, the second-best thing he remembers about the forest is its unnatural similarity throughout. He is sure, that one'd need more than 8 days to remember the whole forest. But then, if he did have remembered the whole forest, given he had got, say, 10 days, he'd need to stay around to use the remembering of this natural mess. As it happens, he wasn't around & he didn't've 10 days.

            12 years, not-a-day-less, have passed. And, now he is standing & frowning in different directions, hoping against hope, that he should find the way to the lake. However, even if he had eagle's eyes, his luck'd still run shallow. Because, he can still hear the whimpers of the old-trucks, that rampage the roads here. Unless, even the roads've changed their directions, he remembers well that he had gone almost a mile deep into the forest & stumbled upon the mossy docks that line the mouth of the lake. Obviously, he'sn't feeling that tired, as he'd feel if he had walked a mile or so. Thus, knowing the uselessness of standing here, he now goes deeper into the forest.

            Idan knows one thing now: his tiredness'll tell him, when he should stop & look for the lake. Like last time, dad has warned him that there'll be dangerous animals & insects, even plants, in the forest; he should be careful. He is careful. Only, that helped him notice that there're no dangers. Except one: ferns. The density of the ferns has outgrown population density. Idan is surely not the kind of person, who'd squash whatever that comes under his feet. And the ferns'ren't coming under his feet. They're mostly 4 feet in height. Some even look taller than him. Idan is 5'10", mind you. So, for the time being, he is the danger that threatens to kill these innocent autophytes.

            Just when the ferns started to grow denser, he started feeling tired. Stopping, he looked at his watch. 33 minutes passed, since he has began walking deeper into the forest. A mile already? Idan'sn't sure. But, something clearly clicked in his mind, as he starts looking towards a nearby tree.

II

            It's just another tree, with roots buried deep into the soil, with a trunk strong enough to withstand tsunami, with branches free, & high enough to tickle the clouds. A common sight in any forest. But something about it, is still making it seem unusual. The tribesmen never hurt trees. They worship them; it is these trees which protect & cherish them. So, a tree with an arrow stuck in its bark - is purely an unusual scene. Especially when Idan knows the customs. But, 12 years is a long time. In some table-books, 12 years equal to a century. And, a century is a very long [emphasis] time: Customs can change and so unusual scenes can be deemed usual. But, have they changed? No other trees've this mark of peculiarity. So, Idan consciously moves closer to the tree.

            Yes! It's the same arrow! The crimson nock & the kiwi fletching! Time has failed to wane the arrow and the memory of that day. That was the day, when he mastered the third-best thing in the forest. The arching of the limbs, the pull on the string, the strain in the pupils & the tension in the tendons - a long white arrow nocked over the conserved force, ready to fly rampant. A picturesque memory. Idan really doubts, if he has photographic memory. But he can't remember how he missed the target. In fact, he can't remember what the target really was. He missed, obviously. Only, he can't remember why & how. Whatever that might be, that is surely the reason why this arrow is now resting with its head inside the hard-bark. A sight of sheer pain, Kariyaga would say. He didn't pull out the arrow. Because, according to him, arrows, which're actually made from trees [yeah... What?], so they'dn't hurt the tree as much as metal ones'd. Plus, pulling out the arrow would've ruptured the bark, and that surely should hurt more.

            8 days in the forest, and Idan learned the customs well.

            Today he wonders, if he had got caught that day, after violating the 2nd Law, what could've happened? Idan is not sure. He has forgotten the list of punishments. But, that he was saved from one of them, probably the deadliest of ones - made his life as it is today. It'sn't nostalgia, that he adheres to these memories & the forest itself. It's a part of his life. A gear forged in these wilderness and slipped into his system, unknowingly. In fact, it was done unknowingly. If only the forest was more conscious now, it should've stirred at the touch of what it has let happen to itself.

III

            All his tiredness melted away, while the old, matted, yet not forgotten, gears started to revive. Some engines can never be killed. And, Idan happens to own one of such. And, some memories, though obscured through time, aren't meant to be shifted into the unconscious. These memories remain intact, through all age & time. They mayn't be remembered daily. But, whenever they get sufficient excitant, they ignite themselves and burn afresh on the canvas, that is the mind. Like colors on a palate, only waiting to be touched by the right brush, and the magic happens automatically. And the portraits, that're now floating in Idan's mind, however blurred they might be now, still make everything real. The penumbra exists only because the umbra does.

            Instead of diving deeper into the pensieve, Idan turns, facing the apparent horizon, with which the nock makes a perpendicular. The shadows of Lethe are shifting. Only few trees stand in its wake, which're just new growths in this harvest of life. Idan is now in the right gear. He steers straight, trying hard to keep the line unbroken.

            He can already smell it! The layers of breeze that surround the lake, used to give him an welcoming gesture. Good thing is, they're still. Idan feels relieved, at least these layers'ven't lost their scent. Soon, he's standing upon the docks, whose mosses still look new. They looked new on that day, when he came across the fourth-best thing in the forest - the Yahsalaj. Idan hasn't got to see many lakes in his life. But all those he has seen, the Yahsalaj is the best one among them.

            It suddenly occurred to Idan, that he never fancied the lake enough. Or perhaps, he never got the chance to. The mirror of water that flawlessly reflect the sky, every cloud & star, is an artistry brewed in the cauldron of mother nature. The mirror seems so calm, that even his stare might cause a ripple, vandalizing the masterpiece. The infallible serenity is only an allegory of beauty.

            He now recalls, that day he was standing, almost exactly, on the same plank of the dock. The broken edges, that're rumored to have been bitten off by a big shark, along with a young boy, still catches his eye. It's pretty thrilling to stand on that same edge. Kariyaga said that this part of the dock is cursed. So, hardly anybody, in fact nobody, ever comes & stands here, much less sit on the edge. That is why, the mosses got the freedom to grow here.

            But... But...

            He swayed his gaze all around, and his heart skipped a beat, again, after a century.

            The whole length of the dock, which lines the mouth of the Yahsalaj, is now an abundance of rootless existence.

IV

            No matter how immune memories're to time, the existing reality's as much vulnerable. Susceptible to the tides of time, that wash over these docks, every fragment of the past is now past. The very thin line that separates today from yesterday, is now a huge chasm. And, the curse now seems to be in bounty, which has spread plank by plank, filling every gap in the chasm.

            Taking a deep breath, Idan moves along the portion of the dock on his right. For some reason, he's unbeknownst to the torments he's offering to the mosses under his feet. That's very much unlike him. And, it's as much unlikely, for all these mosses to be here. What happened in these 12 years? Why has everything taken this ashen look, the valors of life all burnt? A century is, indeed, a very long time.

            At the end of this portion of the dock, there was once a path that led into the forest. Yes, once. What if, that'sn't there anymore? Idan'sn't ready to find that out. Still, he proceeds, as if pulled by some invisible string that connects a segment of his heart to the heart of the forest - Saffro-tohr-hettee: the fifth-best thing in the forest. It was never like those villages, that exist in the world. In fact, it was very hard for him to accept that it was a village, in the first place. It was like any other portion of the forest - all trees. Only, these trees were home to people of all ages. The residences were divided according to the age of the residents. The older one got, the lower s/he lived on the tree. And, vice-versa for the young. There was no special arrangements. The trees, and people lived on the trees. Just like that.

            The dock ended, and a narrow path opened on his right. For the first time today, Idan's in a dilemma. Does he want to go ahead? Or that, should he proceed further? He has come this far, and the future's always unknown. So, Idan takes the path & goes into the forest. Saffro-tohr-hettee is still not his final destination. Rather, a stimuli, that'll ensure his impulse to be rendered true.

            Hettee - that's what the tribesmen called themselves. They were unlike any other tribes. They were literate, civilized & well-clad. They even had good sanitation facilities. Still, the hettee lived here in this forest. Saffro-tohr-hettee actually means "home of the hettee". Again, to them, home & heart were synonymous. In fact, they used "saffro" to mean both home & heart.

            They say "home is where the heart is". Thus, Idan proceeds towards his home.

V

            The path, which was an artwork of clay, is now ankle-deep leaves & humus. The trees on both sides have grown older & shabbier. The hettee believed, new things were born out of old ones. Just as new trees grow from already aged seeds. While the city-dwellers sweep off the fallen leaves, the hettee gathered them sincerely. That was a thing, they enjoyed doing most. And, every night, they burned them; using matchsticks, of course. They believed, the fallen leaves, when burned, would rise up to thhe sky, and reside in the clouds. Although there was no heaven in hetteelore, but the clouds were regarded as a haven for the fallen leaves. And then, when it rained, new life started to grow, as the leaves descended from their heaven and again took the form of their former glory. For some mythical reason, they considered leaves to be the basis of life, not seeds. You might as well kick off a dead person, but never even dare to step on a dead leaf, while in their woods. And so, it's becoming difficult for Idan to proceed. The rumor, the mosses whispered to him, seems to be getting a mortal shape gradually. For every leaf he stepped on, a tiny part of truth is getting added to the rumor's soul. There's an existential reality awaiting him ahead. But the path is too long. It was too long then. And, while he walks along, Idan has to fathom the realisation that's slowly stirring in him, again. He had denied that realisation, when it first occurred to him, which was just a while ago. It is now, that Idan understands: intentional denial is hazardous to the mortality of hope. And, all along the way, now Idan has to keep visualizing the truth. It's making him shudder, and stumble without any obstacle. But, there's an obstacle now. An obstacle that is growing vicious every moment, threatening to corrode the last piece of armor away. He has kept this piece of armor shinning, in all these years. Now it seems to shear off, atom by atom. And, the atoms are breaking apart, as well, releasing the catastrophic amount of ferocity, Idan has kept bound in their orbitals. Staying impervious, when factual fragility is indifferent of all the impediments he can offer, is like an incredulity towards the fabric, that binds life with hope, tears with smiles.

            The path is just too long. It was too long then. But now, it's just too much longer.

            Realisation is more fatal than reality. It is a matter of dispute, though, how long one should wait before facing the reality, in order to adapt to its concerning realisation.

            And then, there is the hearth. Although there is no fire, it ignites the tiny flick of hope, that still persists. But the light is slowly fading from the wick, just as Idan reaches the hearth. The hearth was always kept dry, even if there occurred a flood. But right now, the hearth is home to planktons. The 2.5 feet deep hole in the ground, the heart of the Saffro-tohr-hettee, is now drenched in smearing reality. All the surrounding trees, home to the hettee, are now standing abandoned. The trees are alive, but no life, old or young, now lives on them. The strings that held their home together, are all torn apart, by nature or her parasites, Idan doesn't know. And, Idan doesn't want to know.

            He turned around, ready to walk back to the realms of life, whose density is infinite, but the vessel occupied by volume, below the bar above which mass resides, is now empty. And, empty vessels sound much. Idan doesn't want to hear that sound, not now. But, where can he go? Years ago, he had left his heart, somewhere near the hearth. If only he could lit the hearth, and see if he could find his heart in its caressing light.

            Idan still remembers the coldth of her bare skin. Her fingers lacing through his, while they walked around the Yahsalaj. Her maddening laughter, when he couldn't nock his arrow. And those eyes glistening with pearls, that slipped down along her cheeks, in a shade of watery green, when she heard that Idan had to leave.

            Idan isn't leaving this time.

            Looking around, he found a place. The place. That is the place, where he sat along with the best in the forest. It was Kariyaga, who noticed that Idan wasn't listening to her lores. Because, he was looking at her  hair, as they carelessly swayed behind her, some even caressed his cheeks. But still, Kariyaga kept on, and so did he.

            Time has eaten the place away. The triangular stone is now more of a circle. Amazingly, mosses have failed to reign this shrine with their abundance. As if the stone stood rebellious against them, for it would only exist to house memories, not some rootless creatures.

            Idan proceeds to sit on it, one more time.

            Possibly, it is the first time in human history, when Idan took no notice of the dirt, but sat on it with ease.

            But Idan didn't sit there for too long, like one can suppose.

            Standing up, he looks up at the sky. The sun is as bright as the smile that has now spread on his face. And, the winds take the liberty of carrying away his laughter, to distant corners of the forest, where even the hettee probably haven't put their steps on.

            But these winds are not the right winds, amidst which Idan would think about Aninni. He remembers her smile, though.

            The hearth is wet, but his heart is lit.