Stroll By Ennoia

The final stretch of the walk was brimming with a series of warbles layered in mellifluous whistle. They were in the thicket of a dense forest, trickling in morning dew that glimmered under the first rays of the sun. The leaves swayed by the tiny eddies, as an obsidian-feathered bird pecked their wings.

In his previous life, Anu had never been a morning person, not even when he was engaged with Ayano. His assistant was a chronically early riser; she would persistently push him around until he would accompany her on morning walks. Initially, he had obliged, trying to drown in the ecstasy of nature, but soon old habits smouldered in, and later they broke up.

Ever since his reincarnation, Anu had been keenly watching his mother. In his previous life, he had little to no respect for the woman who gave him birth, but here in a new world and by extension a second chance, the urge to perceive differently gnawed at his heart. She was dedicated to him, to the household and to his father.

For the weeks when his father was away, she would take care of everything, including him. A task that, from his own experience of looking after Dr. Schneider's granddaughter once, he knew was a behemothian undertaking. Sure, she had the white-haired girl for help, but the postpartum period was no joke. He had heard cases from Ayano about mothers who would fall into depression.

In the following months, he would only see her resolve strengthen further. She would start doing household chores with Anu strapped to her back. Cooking, cleaning and praying. And then, when his father returned, a gentle smile spread over her tired face as she pulled him into a hug and then a brief kiss.

Afterwards, the home became more lively, with the two couples—like him and Ayano in age—working together.

Reminiscing about those early months made Anu's chest tighten, and a pain swelled up as he felt a sharp pang in his left side. The conversation, the last one he indulged in with Ayano, trickled back.

'Because I do care about you, Anu. My world, despite its own isolation, has you in it, and I care.'

Every once in a while, when the ignorance of the past caught up with the bliss of his present, her words would ring true. Tears would well up, regret would sink in. An apology swelled in his chest, unsaid. Was she okay? He would muse until his head ached from the myriad of possibilities. He would pause every time, only to restart again.

And then he would quietly drift off to sleep, dreaming, sometimes of his cruelty, but mostly of Ayano’s smile and love-filled gaze. Oh, how much he missed her. How much he wished for things to be different. But the dies had already been cast. When he would wake up the next day, the memories would be repelled, his cognition overloaded with survival as he would delude himself into a sea of mock forgetfulness.

Though in the glow of scattered moments, Ayano would return, her voice pristine and true. This made Anu wonder, if he had chosen differently, acted genuinely, accepted help, would the end contrast? A reconciliation, a confession, forgiveness and finally a vow. Just like his present parents, perhaps a dream of family. Children, mended hearts.

He would always stop there. He was a researcher; indulging in delusion was not what he was trained for. Searching for truth in the obscurity of human chaos was. And now, rubbing his face ever so slightly, his fingers teeny tapped his father's head.

They stopped, his father's amber meeting his blue, he uttered a word six syllables, his tone gentle. Anu wondered if he said 'soon'. They resumed again.

After what felt like an eternity, they came to a stop. The sun had risen, peeking from the canopy of Sal above, as the pristine whispers of the stream babbled smoothly over the pebbles. Anu was brought down as his father undressed him. The barrel he carried was perched next to them. He turned him around as Anu saw himself over the clear water.

This world, for now, lacked a mirror. That was Anu's conclusion; thus, any way of knowing his appearance was up until he encountered a reflective surface. Today, he could see it. His face, round and wheatish, was chiselled in the outline of his father's; his eyes were a shade of blue distinct from his mother's, with tiny pigment of amber in the irises, a call to his father. His hair was raven, like his mother's, with wisps of midnight blue of his father, and was thin and sparse.

Anu gleefully cackled. He looked good. In his previous life, he had no qualms with his looks per se, but the present him felt like an exotic new start. Though there was a tinge of anxiety underneath, a thought of being in a different skin, the battle of philosophy, insincerity to living, tried to tug on him slightly. But he was too elated to take notice.

His father gently lowered him until his face was inches from the water. His glee morphed, eyes wide, arms squirming as his heart thumped in a roar.

Won't you swim? The masculine voice belonging to his father from the previous world echoed. The shattered glass, burning home and wailing ladies cackled. His vision dimmed as his lips parted.

A shrill cry reverberated through the grove, birds paused their song, insects their dialogues, and they all gazed wistfully at the father and son.

The first dip was the most terrifying; the glacial ripples glistened through his skin, numbing any sensation. The second made him shiver, and the third made him pee. By the fifth, the final, he had resigned to his fate.

The fear of betrayal and the veil of supposed death had already lifted. He knew this peesoy, his father won't kill him. He wasn't the same person as Arjun Sisodiya. Anu was safe. He was protected. He was alive.

After rinsing and wrapping him in the same clothes, his father trodded up the stream where, by the edge, was a Nangpok-shrine sculpted into a thick trunk. His father knelt and brought out a pair of incense. He then brought it over his palms and recited a singular verse. Words weighted and archaic as light red-orange light flickered over it. There was a sudden crackle as a singular flame erupted, lighting up the sticks.

Placing them under the altar before the male deity, he clasped his hand, completing his prayers.

Anu found this gesture interesting. Until now, his exposure to religion was his mother's morning and evening ritual in a tiny home altar. It bore a five-pronged cross held in the hand of a feminine deity draped in a white cloak. During those prayers, his mother would recite words oddly different from the language he was accustomed to. It was thicker, closer to Latin from his world. By virtue of that, Anu had chosen to believe that people here, despite tribalism and shamanic practices, might indulge in Abrahamic faith.

However, today, the appearance of a wingless dragon over the Pagodas, and now the altar with another deity, nudged towards the existence of a complex Pagan pantheon that this community might follow.

Maybe the deity his mother worshipped and the one his father called were of different pantheons.

All the questions led him to a singular conclusion: he needs to learn the tongue of this land. He knew there existed more, but the first was the one he heard daily.

After that, his father carried him downstream every morning for the next four weeks, except when it rained. Anu thoroughly enjoyed these excursions and would observe the exotic flora and fauna keenly. He made notes of the four-winged birds that emitted cyan gale similar to the ones in the village. He also caught glimpses of blue-translucent fish resembling Koi. It had cyan eyes and a knack for cleansing impurities. He later found these species were used as cleansing agents in the village drains and wells.