۱۳۹۳ آذر ۲, یکشنبه

Arash the Archer






It all started when I went to my auntie’s village.  It was in the middle of August. I was laying on the rooftop of my auntie’s hut, in the bed where we once slept to escaping the heat of the house. The gentle fresh breeze was relaxing, and my eyes wandered among thousands of glittering stars. The Moon was full, and the village and its surrounding gardens and fields and mountain were lit brightly by its light.  I could even see a flock of sheep and goat just outside the village. I saw a shooting star ascend. Of course I knew this was impossible, but just the thought of it was exciting. I knew from experience with stars that we can be tricked by our senses. You know, if you stare at stars for a long while where the sky is covered with them, you feel they are coming so close that you could pick one up with your fingers, and even cry, “Ouch!  I burnt my finger again”.

I decided to venture outside the village, as I had to get back to the city fairly soon and knew I may not get another chance.  I climbed down from the rooftop and then the mud-built house, and after a short while found myself walking towards the mountain. It looked so different at night. I knew my way as climbing the mountain had been one of my favourite ways to spend an afternoon. But still I felt cautious, and I decided to go as far as the fountain where I used to swim while on my way back to the village. It was located midway to top of the mountain, behind a huge rock.  I climbed the mountain slowly, immersed in a mysterious feeling of being there in middle of the night on my own, when I heard a gentle song. I felt as though it was coming through the breeze from the mountain.  At first, I thought that I was  imagining it. But as I approached the fountain, I heard the singing song more clearly. I found myself standing next to a rock, looking at the fountain. It was shining and dancing with small waves under unusually bright moon-light. Suddenly, I saw the Moon stand out of the water.  I was made breathless by this magic scenery. Streams of water gushed off her milky coloured skin, and after a few moments they narrowed to a trickling that reminded me of how our rivers dried up after the heavy floods of the spring. Drops of water hung on, reluctant to leave her milky skin, but eventually rolled down and disappeared into the fountain.
She stood motionless, her feet still under water.  Her waist narrowed, but a defining curve and long but not narrow legs disappeared in the water. Her shiny, dark, straight long hair lay on her back and drops of water dripped down over her.  I could see her wine coloured lips, hymning.  Her deep eyes stared up at the mountain, towards the highest cliff where a pair of eagles was nesting.  Maybe she was crying, but I could not be sure. She was there at the heart of the mountain, in the tearful eyes of the mountain, or maybe her tears mingled with his. 

Now, after many years, I understand this look. It seemed that she was talking, the kind of talk lovers do when they cry.  But that talk is soothing and brings togetherness, and hers was different. She was silent, but with a silence more expressive than words.  Yes, It was that kind of feeling in her eyes, the kind of feeling that remains in the deepest recesses of our being unless it can be shared with another who feels it.  But who could be this other for her?

Suddenly, a small stone fell from under my feet and rolled down towards the fountain.  In a moment all of my thoughts evaporated. She turned back and saw me, stared at my eyes, blushed, and then left the pool like an ascending star to hide behind a cloud.  That night, no one saw the moon. I understood why she blushed.  Her secret was revealed, but only to me. Any time the Moon is full and looking at the mountain, she blushes. But because no one knows the real story, they make stories up.  That night I kept looking at the cloud behind which the Moon had taken refuge.  Maybe it was for just a moment, or maybe it was more. But then, there she was. There were no clouds or stars, not even sky; even time had gone, and we were left with her eyes. They took me to a land I had long forgotten.  I saw two exhausted armies facing on another and agreeing to settle their frontier dispute with an arrow, which would be released by a Persian champion. Wherever it landed was destined to become the frontier of Iran. 

I was witnessing the birth of a legend. Arash the archer, a knight of the land, had volunteered to release the arrow. He was an old man with long, wavy, grey hair hanging around his neck, a man well known for his cavalier attitude.  He had the scars of many wars on his body and a wounded heart that was still bigger than life itself.  He removed his armour and let the quiver rest on his bare back.  He said farewell to his friends, the knights of battlefields whose intimacy and sacrifices he knew well. 

Silent tears ran down his sun burnt face and curled on the wrinkles beneath his thick grey eyebrows. He was their champion. If anyone wanted to find him in battle, they had only to search for the most dangerous, deadliest and bloodiest scenes and would see him covered in blood and sweat, off or on his horse, fighting his way forward.  But now he was silently crying, and they didn't know why.  Were these tears of excitement from having had the honour of deciding his land’s frontiers? Or was he afraid of failing in his mission? This was impossible; no one had ever traced fear in him, and even when he was afraid he was a master of disguising it.  No one could answer for the tears but himself. Arash knew that his arrow should go farther than he could imagine an arrow can fly, but he also knew that this distance had a cost.  He placed his bow in his hand, slung the quiver onto his back and walked to the top of the hill. His freshly wounded chest was covered in sweat, and his bared skin chafed red under the pressure of the leather strap.

He stood at the top of the hill.  He heard nothing but the wind walking through his hair and the neighing of horses in the distance, and looked back at the Iranian army watching him in silent excitement.  For a little while, the flashes of bared swords in the scourging sun absorbed his attention. How far could he shoot the arrow? How far can we travel safely? How far can we take our flocks for grazing? A few soldiers whispered among themselves. If it is not far enough, how will we feed our families? Another added: Although he was one of our greatest champions, the spring of his youth is gone.  Isn’t it selfish of him to volunteer for such a vital matter? Why did they let him do it?  But other soldiers who had fought next to Arash in many wars didn't even look back. Their knight, who they knew so well and loved so much, was now standing next to a wild and lonely tree. Its hard, twisted branches reminded them of his battle-hardened body.

He no longer looked at the army or his warrior friends, nor even at the immediate hills, mountains and valleys. He was looking somewhere further, so far that he could only see it through his imagination. He was looking at the long-gone wonder years of his childhood.  He saw the first time he tried to mount his father’s horse and fell off the other side.  He remembered the stories of his mother, told after dinner while he lay on her lap. He felt her fingers slip through his long hair when they were sitting out in the cool nights of the summer, under a roof of stars. And he saw the Moon, lighting the field alight, and he saw his old white sheepdog on the grass, just next to the flock, licking his hands. 

Now he could hear himself bidding farewell to his mother’s stories with the warmth of his breath and with the sound of his heart.  The tears on his face had dried in the wind, but as he closed his eyes and imagined the wonder years of the children who were going to live in peace, without fear of raids but without him, new tears followed the routes of the old. He turned back and looked down at the enemy’s soldiers.  Their children will become free too, he thought.  Then he raised his head and looked deep into the valley, to where he could see no more. He pulled an arrow out of his quiver.  He placed it on the string of his bow and drew it back. He drew every bit of life from every bit of his body into the arrow.  It had become the meeting place of his soul and body in their most selfless forms. And when he felt he had recruited all his strength, he released the arrow.  It left the bow like a wild river gushing down into a valley, but even faster, like thunder when its anger shakes the mountains. After journeying a day and a half, it finally landed on a walnut tree.  Arash, still holding his bow, fell off the rock. His skin opened its last wound and a stream of blood drew a rose on the soil.  His eyes remained open, staring in the direction of the arrow’s flight. His silvery hair still danced in the breeze on his bleeding chest. Arash had become Arash the legendary archer.

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