ESL Blogs

Noa’s post about that lovely Malay legend  fired my envy to such a great extent that I decide to post a fable which my Mom told me in my early teens.  Here I feel obliged to warn the readers that this fable has its roots in the old Persian legends and myths, which my Mom translated form Farsi into Polish and as time went mercilessly by, most words faded out in the haze of distant days, and only the main thread remained vivid in the eyes of my mind, therefore I shall take the liberty to write it in my own words, not always matching the elegant flamboyance of  the ones my Mom used.  Ready?  Steady…here it goes…

    Eons ago, ever since the homo sapiens started sullying Mother Earth with their nefarious existence, there would always be some skeptic hardcore ready to pop out with a challenge to  oppugn all accepted and prevailing dogmas, beliefs and what- nots in the name of sacrosanct quest for the one and only irrefutable Truth.

      Evolution was no step-mother to mankind, it generously, if not with gleeful wantonness,  bestowed it with almost unlimited creativeness, abysmal imagination and fathomless curiosity,   especially in the field of constructing lethal tools. Imagination was the main cause that Truth gained such a vast arsenal of definitions and expected attributes. As society and customs developed, Truth became ever more burdened with attributes people expected, or even  blatantly demanded it to manifest. Some people were even ready to put on their war paints to defend their Truth.  The further evolution developed, the worse it got. I mean, the acquisition of sophisticated knowledge in one field, made people go completely blind in other fields, or something like that.  So many scholastic theories about Truth came to be, that it was a real philosophical jungle, to say the least.

   In the ancient and wonderful land of Elam, somewhere between Anshan and Samarkanda, but most probably somewhere else,  a young and ambitious Prince thought to himself – Jeziz kerist, basta, ya baba jan… I shall no longer stand all this gibberish about khanome Truth. [hmmm… I wonder why in so many cultures, Truth is of feminine gender?]  After a short reflection, the noble and brave Prince took up a final decision –  I shall find Truth no matter where she abides, even should I have to pay for it through my royal, Sasanid nose [although it may as well have been a Seleuki nose]. Having taken up such a laudable decision, off he set in his shining armour, mounted on a magnificent, white stallion, ready to stand up to any odds that fate may fling at him.

    Being brought up in a loving family among minion courtiers, the Prince could not have the slightest idea what atrocities brutal fate had in store for him. [Ahhhhhh..blissful ignorance]. Although stormy seas of destiny roughed him up with little respect to his blue blood, and unfavourable winds of fate tried to push him astray from his course, not once did he feel like driftwood, his goal was set like a bright star in trouble ridden dark skies. How many a times he managed to escaped death by the skin of his teeth, only his Guardian Angel knew. Even when crossing the turbulent and foamy river Ob Amma he suffered the loss of his faithful horse, his will and defiance never wavered. When attacked by ruthless, gorge bushmen, having no other  means of defence, the proud Prince fenced them off with his royal shoes. The Prince’s aim was so viper fast and deadly that they were not able to duck.

    Wherever the Prince would set his royal foot, be it a grand palace, a sky-high castle or splendid towns, he could witness anything  a mortal could imagine, everything.. but Truth. Yet, even a royal person is human inside. With time the Prince felt that his persistence and die-hard attitude were gradually starting to abandon his brave and noble heart. [how much roughing up can a mortal take, ironman was not on screen yet] On his way yet to another castle in a distant land, the Prince encountered a desolate, almost fallen into ruin grand manor surrounded by thorny trees and evil looking plants. To his great surprise, he saw a faint light in one of the windows and languidly footed his way there. Once inside the room, the Prince saw an old woman, in shabby robes sitting on a rocking chair by a meager fireplace. Having nothing better to do, the Prince mustered all good manners still left in his possession and asked – Lady, who da dickens are you, if I make take the liberty to ask? The woman turned her haggard, yet bearing indisputably noble features face and stoically replied in a surprisingly young and strong  voice – I am Truth.

    And then hell broke loose. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, the last drop that overfilled the goblet of bitterness. The Prince felt much like a man run over by a column of heavy tanks, moreover, the driver of the last tank got out and kicked him where it hurts most.

    The Prince felt completely flabbergasted, dumbstruck and mentally devastated. With a blank look In his royal eyes, his face frozen in a mask of  undescribable disbelief, he managed to croak out – Caramba, what shall I tell the folks back home, ha???

    The old woman stoop up from her comfortable seat, came up to the crumbled figure of the Prince,  stood towering over him, and calmly said – Son, why don’t you simply lie, HA?

   Oh yes, life is really cruel and brutal, it surely isn’t a rose garden, but then, as I said earlier – even were it a rose garden, there still would be much more thorns than roses, no?