winn taylor

The Beginning

Karuna had known the exact time and day of her own death years before it was to arrive. She hadn’t purposely sought out the knowledge; it had merely come to her. She was a powerfully skilled mystic, one of the greatest ever to be. Knowing that she had to keep safe the secrets of divine magic, before her death Karuna resolved to put torch to her own home. Destroying her books, notes, and tools she hoped to save a weaker soul from temptation...a soul who might misuse its power for their own selfish gain. In the wrong hands, such knowledge would be disastrous.

Karuna’s frail body trembled as she dragged a hefty arm chair through her narrow doorway and inched it across the yard, depositing it one hundred feet from the little wooden shack she had just exited. “I’ll be back, don’t get too cozy," she called back over her shoulder, addressing the twelve rats lazily reclined atop the chair’s plushy cushioned seat; she then disappeared through the doorway once again."

It had grown dark by the time Karuna reappeared in the doorway; draped in a black hooded robe, she stood clutching the handle of a flickering lantern as it gently swayed from side to side. The dancing light cast shadows upon the ground around her as she knelt down and carefully poured a pool of oil just inside the doorway. Pulling a long match from within the deep folds of her heavy robe, she struck it to flame and then lit the glistening puddle of oil. As the fire took hold, Karuna stole a final glance within the nearly empty cottage. All that remained were the tools of her mystical trade, stacked respectfully within the center of the room. Upon Karuna’s request, Salvatore had come to collect all other belongings and take them to his junkyard which sat at the base of her hillside. Pulling closed the door; she gently patted its frame. “For reasons of their own, my sprightly rats have cleverly tucked away far too many of my mystical scrolls within secret pockets of your walls and floor. It is much safer that the knowledge hidden here not be left for another to discover." Slowly Karuna returned to the final item spared from what would soon be ashes.

The creatures had not moved since being ousted from the house. Their eyes fixed on Karuna as she approached her chair and began easing the small frame of her body into the seat, causing the rats to scramble and reposition themselves along various edges of its frame. Karuna slid into well-worn cushions which had molded to the form of her figure; perfect indentations created by a lifetime of use. Cradled in the arms of her beloved chair, Karuna released a deep and satisfied sigh and allowed her eyes to drift shut. The air around her warmed as the fire took hold of the modest cottage, crackling like a festive bonfire. Drifting off her thoughts carried her back to the day her precious armchair found its way to her doorstep. She smiled as she relived the unbelievable circumstance of its arrival.

Nearly eighty-eight years had passed since that remarkable day, but time had no effect on her sharp memory and she pictured the moment with sparkling clarity. She was but twenty years young then and had only begun her training in the mystic arts. Just as she had every day for the two years prior, she rose from sleep in that gentle predawn hour after the night owls had all stumbled home to bed, but before the farmers awakened to begin their days work. It was this hour, peacefully void of the chaos of human activity, to which all mystics tune in to align their powers with the natural rhythm of the universe.

A scraping sound outside her front door had intruded into Karuna’s morning ritual. She knew the sound well; it was the familiar scratching of her furry companions, the rats. From an early age, Karuna fostered a very special bond with rats; having always displayed a particular fondness for the fuzzy creatures deemed filthy to most everyone else.

Opening the door to greet her friends, Karuna was shocked by the sight of her twelve small companions shouldering the weight of an enormous and intricately carved armchair. With herculean strength the rats carried the chair past Karuna and deposited it next to her table.

Stunned by the beauty of the chair, Karuna glided across the room, reaching out a hand to run her fingers along the meticulous details carefully carved into sandalwood. Inhaling the powerful and intoxicating aroma, Karuna drifted into a dreamy state as she gazed upon the breathtaking artistry standing before her.

The chair had been sculpted in the image of the great Ganesh, a mighty Hindu god easily recognized by his enormous elephant head. The chair’s back stood tall, and rising well above the head of its occupant. At the top, was the head of Ganesh, his facial features detailed to perfection, his trunk reaching out and around to the side. Real tusks of ivory were securely mounted on either side of the elephant’s wooden head, which was adorned with a golden crown painted in detail with the vibrant, glistening colors of precious jewels. The seat and back were comfortably cushioned and upholstered in royal-purple velvet trimmed with a golden coil. The four legs, heavy and thick, were carved in the shape of an elephant’s legs, and were supported by four elephant-like feet.

Throughout Karuna’s life, her furry companions had taken to the curious habit of presenting her with assorted treasures they scavenged while roaming about. Their gifts were always quite useful, usually herbs she used in healing tonics or stones that she needed for one thing or another. It never appeared to be an item belonging to another. This, however, was beyond anything they had ever presented her with. Despite her longing to keep the chair she felt compelled to return it to its rightful owner, certain that the loss of such a piece would bring great sadness.

Karuna thanked her thoughtful friends but informed them that the piece need be returned. “You must show me from where you lifted this chair so that I may carry it safely home.”

The rats lead Karuna to the small but loving single-room shack of a young sculptor named Ashish and his father, a highly revered Hindu Baba whom all the villagers had come to know as, “the standing Baba”. The two had forged an unbreakable bond from the moment Ashish was born, a birth that had taken the life of his mother and left the two to manage on their own.

The grand armchair was lovingly crafted by Ashish to honor his father, the standing Baba who had taken a vow to stand for twenty years, never sitting or lying down, not even to sleep--a nearly impossible task designed to bring forth a deeper connection to god. It was the intention of Ashish that this chair commemorate the completion of Baba’s twenty years standing; paying respect to his father by creating a chair worthy of his first seating. Ashish had taken the full twenty years to carve the impressive piece, working on it each day as he sat talking with his father. Their love and wisdom flowed through the creative hands of Ashish, saturating the sandalwood with each thoughtful insight shared between the two.

As Karuna approached the modest dwelling of Ashish and Baba, she was curious to discover that the extravagant armchair had come from such an unornamented home. Upon reaching the front porch, Karuna noticed the door was slightly ajar as she prepared knock. Lifting her hand, her knuckled fist had not a moment to clank before the rats hastened past and pushed it opened.

Beyond the swinging door stood a wide, grinning face attached to an overly thin body, supported by two disproportionate and hefty ankles. This, no doubt, was the standing Baba. Sitting behind him was a young man with the same kind and welcoming grin, his son, Ashish.

Baba laughed as the rats scurried excitedly around his calloused, bare feet. “They must think me an elephant by the size of my ankles,” he proclaimed in a sing-song Indian accent, “and plan to carry me off too.”

Karuna felt her face flush like a parent embarrassed by the antics of her children. Extending a hand, she offered, “I am Karuna; please accept my deepest apology for my friends. They have never taken something belonging to another. I cannot say what to attribute this lapse in behavior. They have always been quite respectable.”

Baba wrapped her hand between his two. “Ahh, then you will be pleased to know that they have been on their best behavior. It was I who encouraged them to take Ganesh, the chair. It was apparent to me that they knew its destiny and the identity of its true guardian...which, I dare say, is you.”

Karuna snapped alert, jolted from this memory. Her home was now roaring; flames crackling like a leather whip. She had cast a protective spell around the fire, ensuring that the flames would be contained and not spread to the forest surrounding her home. Realizing that her life would come to a close long before the last ember of the now raging fire dwindled out, she could rest easy knowing that all creatures would be safe from the furious fire.

As the fire intensified, its radiant light illuminated the darkening sky. The surrounding woods flickered to life as the light danced around, bouncing off tree branches; sending shimmering light upon the wildlife discretely gathered in shadowy spaces. Seated in her chair, the head of Ganesh hovered a few feet above Karuna’s own, faithfully watching over her as it had always done. Karuna could think of no place she’d rather be, at her final breath, than sitting in this chair. She had always sat with Ganesh while casting spells, reading fortunes and healing sickness. To her, the chair was filled with the love and wisdom of Baba and Ashish. It was unimaginable to destroy it. To do so would be like destroying love itself.

Karuna smiled and let out a soft chuckle recalling that the Baba had only sat but once in this majestic chair. She remembered Ashish’s good-spirited laugh as he had recounted that when finally Baba had completed his vow to stand for twenty years, he sat only for a mere twenty minutes; one minute for each year standing. Baba then stood, declared he would stand for twenty years more and suggested, with a sly grin, that Ashish begin a new chair.

Karuna felt the heat rising off the fire; the warmth keeping calm her thoughts as the last breath drew near. Her companions, the rats, began scurrying about the chair. Animals don’t fear death the way that most humans do, though they often sense when it is approaching. Her furry friends began nuzzling her ears and playing with her hair, dedicated to keeping her final moments as playful as her life had been.

Karuna reached a hand in the pocket of her robe and pulled out a dozen empty spools of thread allowing them to drop to the ground around her feet. The rats immediately scurried along her arms, leapt to her knees and then to the ground. They then each selected an empty spool and began performing tricks and playing games that Karuna had taught them. “They’re so clever,” Karuna beamed happily, tossing a handful of their favorite snacks, which she always kept in the other pocket. Watching the rats play, she began to envision her chair, Ganesh, running around as alive as her furry friends.

Karuna knew that life existed in everything, not only in the creatures that move about. Ganesh had experienced his own long life’s beginning as a seed planted in the earth that grew into a sandalwood tree. The tree was then crafted into a chair becoming part of the lives of Ashish and Baba. Ganesh had enjoyed a full life with Karuna as well. She believed all of these memories and all of the goodness was now part of this beloved chair.

Drifting deep in thought, a foreboding vision flashed through Karuna’s mind, like the crack of lightening before a downpour, illuminating the quiet night. It was no ordinary thought; it was a premonition. The vision was fleeting, choppy and hard to make sense of; a dark cloud loomed over an endless collection of statues. One by one they all toppled over. A lonely, sad figure sat looking out over the ruins; its vacant stare crushed the heart of Karuna. Its wings drooped as though they had not taken flight for centuries. With that, the vision had ended.

Karuna’s heart paused, missing beats as though it struggled not to cease its rhythmic pump. The foreshadowing of dreadful events always threw off her balance. It was as though she was jetted to some time in the very distant future and then hurled back to the present.

Karuna knew that the prediction was of an event in the distant future. The further away in time, the less clear the vision. Some mystics believe these images are blurry because there is time to change how the future unfolds…it is not fully written. Different choices can be made which alter an outcome.

Karuna immediately informed her rats of a distant threat and requested that they pass the omen down to future generations of rats. “You are the guardians of something precious; something I can not yet see, but I am certain it must be watched over.”

Reluctantly she conceded that despite her best efforts in her final moments, that truly it would all be in the hands of fate.

Karuna’s breathing became strained; allowing her head to lie back onto the soft cushioned chair, she tilted her gaze upwards. Staring at the peaceful, smiling elephant face, Karuna smiled. All thoughts and worries drifted away. Drawing in a final deep inhale, Karuna would perform her last mystical spell. In a whisper she cast the words to her Ganesh, “I grant you life to share your wisdom, I wish you peace to walk your path.” As her final words trailed off, like a wisp of smoke rising from a dying candle, Karuna slipped from our world. But her magic did not leave with her; it remained, seeping through every pore and crack of the majestic chair, giving breath to that which the mystic had loved so dear.

Upon the mystic’s final word, her body exploded like the fourth of July into infinite particles of a blinding white light. Each vivid spec whirled into space then instantly came hurling back towards the chair like a ball tethered to the end of a rubber band. Gathering into a single twisting tornado, the resplendent rays engulfed the chair. The light flickered and danced then instantly disappeared, absorbed into the body of the chair. The once dull and lifeless wooden eyes burst to life, glistening amber, they began to move. The elephant’s trunk uncurled, stretching as though waking from a deep slumber. The head twisted from side to side as Ganesh the chair took his first breath of life; a life which would mark the beginning of a new species, a new breed, a fantastical civilization of metamorphic furniture.


copyright under the title "planetwinn", 1998

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