THE BIG WATERS

A torrential downpour was occurring by the cave.

Zalo walked up to the cave entrance for the umpteenth time, to check whether the pouring water had stopped or not. He grumbled. The rain was still gushing down, this time even more water was coming down, from up somewhere. It had never rained so much in his life before. He stood there transfixed. His heavy brows knitted close together in perplexed thought. He’d never understood where the rain really came from. He knew it was coming from up somewhere, but, from where exactly? And by whom?

He stretched his right arm, inching closer to the cave mouth, in an attempt to catch a few raindrops. The rain was pouring heavily outside. As Zalo moved forward, a blowing wind sprayed drops of water on his face and body, slightly wetting him up. He instantly licked the water off his lips.

 The water- it was cold, sweet; like the water that ran down the big rocks, where he usually goes with his tribe folk to quench his thirst. It wasn’t like the big waters by the sands; that water tasted... awful. He shuddered to recall the day at the big waters by the sand. It was a beautiful day, until that dreadful incident. Zalo’s face contorted into strings of creases. He always felt a convulsion recalling that episode. How much sweet was the rainwater, how much refreshing? It wasn’t a bit like the awful taste of the big waters by the sands. He knew its taste so well. How couldn’t he? Wasn’t he forced to drink that on the day of the tribe fishing? Zalo immediately straightened up thinking about the uneventful day. He wasn’t a small man anymore. He was a big man now. Zalo thought, his fingers touching the small new baby hairs on his face and a proud smile erupting on his lips. He had already determined to make bigger, sharper and sturdier spears and much heavier stone mallets. He would be the greatest huntsman. That way he could outwit the menacing boys of the Mabo- the new tribe leader; only that way he could settle the scores. The days weren’t far when he would lead their tribe, just like his father.

Nevertheless, it was always pleasant for Zalo to think about the big waters; it looked akin to the sky above. Suddenly, his big brown eyes glinted up. An excitement dashed across his face. Was the rain coming from the big waters up the sky? Both looked so much alike; blue, clear and magnificent. ‘Were there fishes too, up there?’ Zalo wondered. ‘But, if the water was falling down, then why didn’t the fishes?’ He inched another step closer to the entrance; in the hope that he could see if fishes were falling too. He scanned the ground for some time, his heart sinking into the saltiness of the big waters. He couldn’t spot a single fish. Maybe, the sky rained all its fishes at night; when he was asleep.

All of a sudden Zalo’s stomach purred like a wild cat of the thick forests. He hadn’t eaten a morsel for a long time. Zalo tried to recall his last meal. Was it the rabbit he had hunted with his arrow, or the partridge his brother had caught? He was suddenly feeling too famished; the thought of food was making him feel so, even more. He couldn’t anyway ruminate about his growling stomach, not until the rain stopped. Now, only a palm-full of red plums was left in the cave; for his little siblings. Zalo’s eye hopefully stared out again, at the dismal patter of the downpour; he shifted his weight from one foot to another, hugging up his arms.

 The wind had started blowing hard now, bringing in lots of water and drenching his hopes of going out. Zalo’s eyes shifted to a little pool of water collected in the small pit, a little distance away from him. A thin streak of water was flowing down through a fissure on the upper wall of the cave, detouring its flow through a protruding rock and silently diving into the pit, making the pit overflowed, and again running out of the cave.

His eyes were tracing this hushed manoeuvre of the water when it fell on a big sharp stone lying outside. Zalo’s face instantly lit up. He immediately looked around to spot any branch to drag the stone in. It was a wonderful piece. Zalo observed it again. It was of the right size for a small mallet, it only required a little sharpening and it would be perfect than to pick up fishes and crabs. He eyed the stone lustily. What if someone else would pick it up? He was determined to get it at any cost. Zalo looked around and spotted a big branch lying by the wall. He immediately grabbed it and inching another step closer to the entrance, and trying not to overstep or else he’d get drenched, dragged the stone inside. He shoved the branch aside and immediately picked up the stone. His keen eyes examined the stone. It was bigger than his palm, greyish and slightly pointed at one end. Zalo tried to gauge its heaviness by holding it in his palm. It only required a little bit of scraping and sharpening. No doubt, it was a prized possession. He cradled the stone like a baby, and carefully let it beside him as he sat down on the ground.

Zalo squinted his eyes to make out the figures outside the cave. The trees on the other side of the clear land looked smoky as if they’d wrapped themselves in the pelt of smoke. And the big rock behind them…Zalo hastily got up and rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. The big rock had disappeared. He stood there baffled. How could the big rock disappear? He was starting to feel awful, just like the day of the incident at the big waters by the sands.

 A few more drops splashed on his face. Zalo squirmed. He observed his hairs standing on his arms, his body feeling a shiver. He was getting cold now. The thin deerskin hide he’s wearing wasn’t capable enough to give him enough warmth.

Suddenly, a flash of light cracked from outside. The dark cave lighted up for an instant. The flash was followed by a thunderous roar, which came slashing down the air around him. The whole cave vibrated to the bellowing beat. Zalo jumped back alarmed, his heart palpitating hard. It was a strange kind of raucous. He had observed it earlier also; it always came along with the torrential rains from the big waters above. Perplexed and scared Zalo retreated back his steps. A few tiny rocks tumbled down the cave walls, few rolling down to his feet. He glanced at them. None grabbed his attention. He could hear low murmurs from the inside of the cave. His siblings were sitting huddled to his mother. Zalo turned around his head. It was pitch dark inside. They had run out of dry sticks. He fidgeted impatiently for some more time at the spot, scraping the wet soil with his toes. Bearing no further he walked back inside.

Slowly manoeuvering his steps he walked up to sit beside his mother. The hushed reverie of the cave was possessed by the muffled downpour outside and light snoring of his siblings.

With his vision getting adjusted to the darkness, Zalo’s eyes fell on his half-made tools. Those were his dreams, his desire to settle the injustice done against him, his desire to settle the score, his yearning to lead the tribe, to paint himself beside his father’s picture on the wall.

 As another streak of lightning came through a fissure on the wall behind him, it instantly lit up the painting on the cave wall before him.

There was a man standing with a bow and arrow, aiming at a herd of deer. Soon Zalo would be painted too, on the wall, beside his brave father, once his tools would be made. Once he would become the greatest huntsman, once he would settle the score and become the new tribe leader.