SALVE | PROSE AND POETRY PROMPT
Nature’s Sting
Recollection of a suppressed epiphany — encounter with nature
A few days back, I was listening to some Carnatic music. With a foot already out there, music quickly pulled me down the rabbit-hole to a memory from my childhood. The clock had wound back a billion years to when I was in 6th grade. Yes, it feels like it was that long ago.
I have spent a chunk of my childhood vacations travelling with my family; it was usually for marriages, ceremonies, and sometimes celebrations. During our time there, we would always make visits to more than a few temples. It was a mandatory part of our travel; as you may have guessed, I was usually very reluctant to tag along for the temple portion of it all. Of course, with my goldfish-like attention span back then, the pointless tantrums quickly subsided at some point during the trip. But I am sure there are more photographs of me grouching than smiling when a camera made its impromptu visit.
One such trip was my visit to a temple called Dharmalinga Malai. My family on my mother’s side had a function smack in the middle of school vacation days. My mother rushed with her children (us) to Coimbatore, India — where a chunk of relatives had settled down — leaving my father a few days of peace from our drama.
Dharmalinga Malai is an Indian temple situated at the top of a hill about 25 kilometers away from the city of Coimbatore. The deity at this temple is a “Swayambumurthi”, which meant it was supposedly a self-manifested deity devoid of human intervention. The path up towards the temple is a set of 800 steps amidst quite a few shrubs and other hillside greenery. My mother and uncle (her younger brother) planned a visit on one blazing summer afternoon. Now, the south of India regularly delivers temperatures that would slowly bake a person; being dragged out in that heat was a given.
As I said, it happened a billion years ago. I cannot for the life of me remember how many buses we changed or if we opted for a local taxi-equivalent (rickshaws). Before I knew it, we were at the foot of the hill, looking up at the majestic simplicity of the temple. From that point onwards, my memory contained no reluctance or any grumpiness. I loved the sight, the steps, and the image of a route that seemed to say: “come on up”. So I did.
Bounding past my mother, uncle, and sister, I began climbing up the stairs at full pace. Now, these steps were every child’s enemy, each incredibly flat and impossibly lengthy. The whole structure seemed to be a pointless replacement for an inclining slope. It was troublesome. For a kid to climb excitedly, a one-step, one-leap was a bare minimum. These steps were almost too long for a single stride without the focus that us children tend to let go of while running. Not to mention the empty feeling that came with climbing a step that was only a tiny bit higher than the last.
Nevertheless, the hilltop beckoned, and who is a 10-year-old kid to deny such a wonderful invitation. I ran with energy and focus, two steps at a time. About 3/4th of the way up, I stopped and turned around.
Why? Had you asked me then, I would have told you it was to check how far behind my family was. Today I can say I may have been hiding my breathlessness with that excuse.
My family had stopped a few steps below me, their scared eyes stuck to one particular step. My eyes followed their gaze and eventually met with a hissing snake.
Hey! I never said I was fast that day — it was the steps. They were that bad.
Yes, there was a snake on the way to the top of the temple.
Not surprising in hindsight, but at the moment, it was pretty scary. The snake was at the center of the step, a step that I had, not more than a moment ago, leaped over two steps at a time. A staring contest ensued, the snake won.
The snake continued to hiss, baring its fangs in a warning. It did not look out of place at all; in fact, we were the ones feeling like intruders. After a moment of realisation, the snake did not scare me much. What did was the fact that I could have stepped on it on my way up.
A couple of minutes later, the snake slithered back into the shrubs.
My perspective to this day is that the creature had let me by, even though it was scared. It felt fitting that the snake recognised the intent of danger and chose not to strike me.
The possibility that passed — of the snake biting me — did scare me. The reality that I did not step and kill the snake relieved me (I was a healthy kid). I had without a doubt escaped “Nature’s Sting”.
Of course, like most kids, I soon processed the events with the fact that I escaped the jaws of a mighty viper (could have been) with my sheer speed and muscle.
The epiphany drowned by pride. A memory suppressed to resurface one day.
Today it humbles me in the face of nature.
Prompt:
The theme of this prompt is “Nature’s Sting” — a trigger of stories and poetry about the entropy that bubbles within beautiful nature.
Endless are the possibilities of intentional/unintentional flux in nature. From wildflowers & animals, poisonous fruits and natural calamities to natural rarities, road trip detours and childhood experiences. How one movement could have or did; change the situation and experience entirely.
Bring forth the gravitas and beauty you have experienced from life around.
Optional: Feel free to tag fellow writers and favourite pieces to keep the invite and prompt going.
Tagging some of our poets & writers on Medium, as an invite to the prompt,
Somsubhra Banerjee/ Priyanka Srivastava / William J Spirdione / Dennett / Pierre Trudel / Dr. Amy Pierovich / Vashni Stories / James G Brennan / Denise Larkin / Shruthi Sundaram/ Elisabeth Khan
Apologies if anyone has been missed out. Please feel free to join in.
Thank you Somsubhra Banerjee, Priyanka Srivastava, Nachi Keta, Elisabeth Khan.
