Tales and Stories

Chapter 4 - Mountain fire

“And you usually date delusional paranoiacs?” Baba Gene asked. She shrugged and told him.

“Often. But it has to be said that he was twice the man that night that I expected him to be.”

“I wanted to be a barber once.” Kifkef admitted.

“Well as the primary requirement of the profession is that you stick your nose into everyone else’s business and then tell all their friends and enemies, I’d imagine you were a little over-qualified.” Gypsy Lou teased him.

“Gossip is a necessary lubricant for the community’s welfare.” Kikkef insisted. “But I lost interest when I found out that it was only men that I would be allowed to shave…” He sighed with the sad nostalgia of youthful dreams crushed underfoot.

Baba Gene placed more wood upon the fire from a pile to his left and a smoky aroma arose with a crackling of sparks that sent his guests diving for cover. He smoothed out some hot coals to the side and on these he placed a cauldron of milk and water for the chai. With a knife in one hand he began to slice some ginger into small chunks that he tossed into the pot as he spoke.

“I think the moral tone is slipping a little too low and we forget where we are. These are the Himalayas, the mountains that the Vedas promise will wash clean the soul of any man who beholds them.” He raised and eyebrow and frowned. “However, it doesn’t say anything about women.

But whatever the teachings may be, I feel it as my duty to open your eyes to the spirit that rules this place, the potential within this land of forests, slopes and snowy peaks to access the Divine that belongs to us all.”

“Well, don’t do us any favours.” Gypsy Lou yawned.

“In any case,” Baba Gene said, his long, sombre jaws dwelling on each word, “I will now tell you the tale of a man who felt so much of the Heavenly essence of this place that he was barely any longer of this world.

The Story of the Singer