R.B.R. BARRETO
It takes a strong soul and a deep feeling to reach the Simorgh.
Aisha could hardly believe her eyes when she recognized Balam.
Were the jhins still playing tricks on her? – she thought.
But the old dervish's smile, as well as his complacent gaze, calmed her soul. It was him. The master so sought after by Kadir was now before her, as if he had never left. He greeted her in a familiar and friendly manner and this did not cause her any strangeness. She also felt as if he had always been by her side. So, without thinking much, she responded to the greeting with a joy that was overflow in her chest.
— Aleikum Salam!!
She approached the stone where Balam had sat again and bowed in front to him as is due to holy and wise men. After She crouched on the ground, beside him, with her legs crossed, waiting for whatever he might have to say to her. Even with her soul and body wounded, Aisha had courage and faith. She didn't know how, but she was sure that the master wasn't there by chance.
— Master?— she asked after a while. —It was Simorgh who sent you here, wasn't it?
— Simorgh?— the old man asked, feigning surprise. — What do you know about Simorgh, my girl?
— Strictly speaking, nothing.— She replied, her head down, trying to put into words the reasons for her belief. — I heard my lord Kadir talking about him with the foreigners and with Hamad, a brave Tuareg we met on the way.
The young woman spoke to Balam as if he were perfectly aware of her entire journey and misfortune. Without understanding how, she believed that Balam must know everything, from her escape from the tribe to the disasters she had suffered until she got there. Balam, in turn, let the girl dictate the course of the conversation, without interrupting her.
—But while I was unconscious,— she continued, — I dreamed of a beautiful bird. So big that I could fit in its wings. He saved me from a horrible death and took me through the air. I saw many things during that flight that I will never understand. Sometimes my memory comes back and I can decipher some of them. For example, I remember an enormous mountain with white peaks that looked like an open flower at the top of the world. Beyond that mountain were images and colors that I could not decipher, but that still dance in my mind like sand sculptures that crumble when touched.
Balam listened to her with an ecstatic look. Without knowing it, the young woman was bringing him information that his soul had always sought.
— Go on, little one, go on!! – he asked with his eyes closed and a smile on his lips.
Aisha shook her head as if she was trying to remember and asked:
— Was it you, Master? Did you call out to Simorgh for me so that he would come and save me in that cave? You who have eyes and ears everywhere? Who came to find me even without knowing me?
— Hmmmm – Balam murmured thoughtfully after some time – you certainly dreamed of the Simorgh.
Then he looked firmly into the young woman's eyes to answer her question:
— But... no, gentle child. I'm sorry, but it wasn't me who called out to the Simorgh for you, although it's possible that someone else did. I had no idea of your sad misfortune. On the contrary, it was he who called me to help you. Also in dreams. I came to meet you at the request of the Simorgh, blessed be that sacred bird.
The girl's surprised eyes lifted with a ray of hope.
— Could it have been my lord Kadir, then?
— Kadir? – Balam continued with a gesture of doubt – we can't be sure of that. It takes a strong soul and a deep feeling to reach the Simorgh. Then he concluded with an ironic smile:
— But... that doesn't matter now, girl. What matters is that you are well and ready to return to the world of the living. I came here to help you in this endeavor.
Upon hearing the last words, Aisha recoiled. She still didn't feel ready to return to the world. Where would she go? In practice, her situation was no better than when she had fallen into the quicksand pit.
— Where can I go back to, Master? I have nowhere to go.
— Like all of us, you have to face your destiny, — Balam pondered. — You dreamed of the Simorgh. That is a great blessing. Everything else will fall into place in due time.
— Once again, time,— Aisha said in a low tone, remembering Zahira.
Then she spoke about the unusual encounter with the strange woman she had called Zahira. She told how she had forced her to eat a horrible and unspecific mixture, but that it had d gave her the strength to get up and feel less pain. She could remember her features, but She couldn't explain where she had come from or where she had gone.
— I may be crazy, Master. But I think this woman, Zahira, has some connection with the Simorgh. I heard some comment, I don't remember from whom, that the Simorgh can change shape and take on a human appearance? Couldn't this woman who helped me, Zahira, be the Simorgh?
Balam looked at her curiously and then continued with a sigh:
— Few have the privilege of meeting the Simorgh, my little one. You have met him. The privilege is yours. Only you can say anything about his appearance. What makes you think they are the same person?
— Oh, I'm not sure, really. I don't know how I got here. I dreamed about the bird and when I woke up I found her, right there, where you are sitting now. She fed me, showed me the details of this place and talked to me. Somehow she helped put my head in order, because I was confused and in pain. However, later on, I didn't realize when she left. She disappeared in a very mysterious way. I didn't find her anywhere and she didn't leave any trace. I only found this, look. — she said, taking out the enormous feather that was hidden among her clothes.
Balam looked at the feather with a dazzled look, as if he were in front of something wonderful.
— By Allah!! — he exclaimed, not daring to touch the feather that the young woman was holding out to him.
— Yes, master! It can only be a blessing from Allah, may He be praised! — she exclaimed, repeating almost automatically the expressions that she had heard so many times from Kadir and other Muslim believers.
— Look how it shines!! — she continued, raising the feather towards the sunlight. There is an inscription here, probably a name. But I can't read it. I don't know what it says.
— Cailin— , said Balam, — it says Cailin.— The young woman fell silent and opened her eyes wide, astonished, such was the surprise that this revelation brought her. Balam continued:
— Cailin is a gypsy name... do you know who it refers to?
The young gypsy's memory went back in time at the speed of lightning. The feeling of dizziness was so strong that if she hadn't been sitting on the ground, she would have fallen. In the vision that unfolded, she saw the tribe of her childhood so clearly that it seemed to hear the noise of the people, the laughter, the sound of the music, the smell of the abundant food and the heat of the fire. She saw herself, very small, in colorful clothes running freely between the tents. She lived in one of the main tents that belonged to one of the landlords. She was happy and danced exuberantly. It was an important day. And as young as she was, she had been well trained for this moment. There would be a union ceremony. The families would seal ties and she, still almost a baby, was part of this agreement. It was such a happy time. There was no longer the weight of servitude, nor the pain or fatigue of excessive work that never ceased. At that time, the members of the tribe bowed down as she passed by. They played with her and tried to please her in every way.
— "Princess Aisha, where are you going?" asked the maide, full of care. "Please don't get dirty. The ceremony is about to begin."
When Aisha came back from that fortuitous and revealing trance, her eyes, brimming with tears, turned to the quill and then to Balam.
— It's me! — she exclaimed, overcome with deep emotion. — Cailin, it's me. There was a ceremony and I was given this name. It's a secret name. Only pronounced between the family and my future…
She stopped what she was saying and stood up, still dizzy, her gaze fixed on the name written on the quill. The truth found in the past was unfolding like a scroll released in the wind, which could not be contained.
—Yes,— she continued, —There was another child destined to be my husband. Randú!!
She stopped again, breathing deeply. Balam followed the entire drama without interfering, but attentive to the young woman's emotional state. He knew that a revelation like that could cause a very strong shock. Many things coming to light at the same time, in a time frame that was difficult to process. Remembering the life she had before slavery, all she had lost and the ties she had left behind, could purge ghosts, but it could also trigger a belated mourning, a buried pain whose extent was unknown.
Aisha squatted down next to the stone again, her face in her hands, feeling that she could no longer stop the tears from flowing profusely. She remembered Hamad, the tuareg. His gaze resembled the gaze of the boy who had stared at her in her past. Dark, deep, challenging eyes, but strangely present in her memory. Eyes that aroused fear and trust.
Still unable to connect all the dots perfectly, Aisha had to agree that Hamad had always been right in his judgment of her. She had a past. She was not a "nobody" as she used to think. Her life and destiny had been cut short, but the legacy of her blood was beginning to take its toll on her memory. She had the right to fight for her freedom. She had the right to choose another destiny.
Balam waited for the young gypsy to adjust to the truths that were emerging from her soul. He began to recite prayers to Allah out loud, with the intention of calming her and shedding light on her spirit. He needed to pray too. Having come into contact with the Simorgh and the mysteries that surrounded it was a blessing that he had always sought. He had prepared himself for a long time, studying legends, memorizing poems and songs, and learning the language of birds. He was certain that there are mysteries that only touch us once, and usually in an unexpected way. He never imagined that that small and elusive gypsy, who hid to follow the lessons he gave her master, would be the key to meeting this great mystery. He was in front of a person who had met the Simorgh, face to face. This was much more than his soul could hope for. He was grateful! He felt a peace he had never imagined he would feel. Now he had to help those souls find their own paths. He would wait for the young woman to exhaust all her pain and surprise and then they would move on.