Neuropia

After Ma tucks in the edges of the net, and turns off the light with a “goodnight, kanna”, the show starts.

It begins with a candyfloss man with holes for eyes and a gaping mouth pedalling a bicycle at the far end of the grid around me, the bell a-tringing. Once he comes close to my face, his fluorescent form hops off the bicycle, prances around, and opens his mouth wide enough to let out a school of fish that quickly swim on the net in all directions and slide off it; all but one. That one grows bigger within seconds and bites my toe. And the net turns into a waterfall.

I wake up screaming. Next to the waterfall. Its roar echoes in my ears as the fine mist sprays on my face. Here, I get to make a choice- to climb down the cave behind it or take a hike through the jungle on the other side. I wish I could just flow with the water or fly up in the sky.

I wonder which way to go; toss my coin.

Heads! So, I turn to the cave.

***

There is a rainbow at the entrance. I slide through it. The golden sunlight dapples on the shallow pool inside. A soft glow fills the cavern, caressing the delicate ferns and mosses. The rumble of the waterfall gets faint as I move into the twilight zone. I move forward in wonder, gliding my fingers along the hanging formations by the side. It is silent as a grave, but for the trickle that keeps hitting the slippery floor. I keep moving till I reach a passageway at the other end.

I peep inside, it is pitch dark. A musty odour of something I used to know once hangs in the air. I stumble into it and stand up. My palms run across the cold wet folds of the inner wall. After some fumbling and scraping, I manage to get hold of a torch.

My hands tremble as I light it. My eyes squint.

The place has changed since my last visit. It is no longer a cozy toy room. It’s a maze of uncountable passageways! Ready with their jagged mouths to swallow me. And none have a sign on them.

I should have taken a hike into the jungle. Too late. A cold sweat breaks on my peach fuzz.

I get a feeling the cave can sense me. It wants me to go on; by offering a guide. It moves my torch-holding hand towards a ledge. There’s a cat, an earthworm, a raven, and a scorpion waiting on it. Their expression is a curious mixture of service and command.

This is easy. I pick the cat.

She snatches the torch from me, growls, and canters into a passageway. I follow.

***

A purple hue lights up the wrinkly dome. It is chillier here. And my cat has already taken the high seat. Her meow makes the light ripple on the puddle below.

There’s an ochre dot on a protrusion to my right. It draws me close. Once I stand in front of it, there’s an eerie silence. The dot starts unspooling itself, its fine threads binding me in a web. I thrash around in panic, crackling electricity, and charring the threads.

The cat disappears. The dome light turns orange. I am back in the twilight zone.

I can either give up or try again.

I inch forward to the centre of the cavern. There’s a root that has pierced its way from above, its coppery tertiary hair shimmering. I grasp it, tug at it, and swing. Only to fall with my face down. The ground murmurs. The light turns red.

I get up with a sediment-ridden face and scraped knees. The high seat has moved further up. And a crater has formed separating me from it. With the cat at its bottom.

I walk back to the mouth of the cavern, inhale the damp air, and exhale fire. Then I turn, sprint towards the hanging root, grapple it, swing, and land a whisker away from the high seat.

Countless roots hiss their way through the dome; each one sparkling with a distinct colour.

The cat is back on the seat. She purrs at me, with a jiggle of her high tail. I let out a primal cry as I seize, fuse, and swing across the roots. With each jump, transferring an impulse, without a pause.

***

The cat teaches me how to dance with the roots; to listen to them, and to make them listen to me.

After a while, she takes me to a peephole that opens to the stars and the sky. I dip into the glistening pool below as she gallops around it. The ether above has a strange pull. At times, when I float in the pool with my eyes closed, I can hear the vibrations of a voice calling “kanna” wash over me. It sounds timeless.

We hunt around the pyramidal structures for new experiences and stash them in the deep recesses of the caverns we can intuitively go back to. At times, I hang them up on the stalactites like bulbs in chandeliers. The happy ones shine, and the sad ones sear. I am okay with it.

After what seems like an eternity, the cat shows me how to use whiskers. To sense, anticipate, and predict with near accuracy the kind of jolt I am about to experience, the kind of roots I am about to swing, and the places I am about to stow it away. It takes me some time, but I get a hang of it.

The cave becomes a familiar playground.

The cat prances and paws her way to the waterfall. As the water warbles before us, she turns back, blinks at me slowly, and dives.

That’s my cue, to keep moving. I know where to go.

***

I march into the jungle for a while. Under the canopy of giant trees, making my way through the bushes underneath. The thistles and leeches in the undergrowth latch onto my bare calves. I don’t care much.

Pythons coil around the dark branches and yellow eyes on crouched forms prowl me on the way. Shivers try to run down my spine. but I shake them away.

Trudge I must. If I want all the treasures I have stowed in the cave to be of any use. And this is just the beginning.

I keep walking, climbing, and heaving. There is no let-up in the sights, sounds, and feelings that keep hitting me. I catch onto most of them, weave them into a pattern, and store them in my backpack. A few of them escape me, and I let a few slide.

The summit is within my sight. But my stride is not what it used to be. I am beginning to doubt if I should have taken the beaten track.

The air around me is crisp and thin. And my impulse is losing its power. I have overestimated my reach. How am I going to go back to the other side of the waterfall and unload my backpack? I feel dizzy and close my eyes.

The thrust of air on my face pries my eyes open. The buzzing sound of the wings gets closer.

The raven swoops down, clutches, and carries me. Through the slope of the jungle, through the waterfall, and the maze of the roots. And drops me on the floor.

The patterns slither out of my backpack and climb up the roots. There is a clap of thunder at the dome above me as it opens up. I see the glittering motes swirling down the peephole lit by the full moon. The stars and the sky; I long to get there.

I get up and clasp a root. My grip is not as strong as it used to be. I slip up as I try to swing across the roots.

The cave watches. I know it wants me to keep trying. I will, after a pause.

The raven gives a friendly peck on my bald pate.

The candyfloss man somersaults, takes a bow, and slides out through the slit of the net. A tiny head peeps in and trills, “good morning, grandpa.”