《The tale of Ocra the Keeper》


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1


    Ocra lived on a high river bank, close to a forest that rose up the hill as a dense wall. Behind the hill, as far as the eye could see, more hills, higher hills were sleeping in fog. The river bed was covered in boulders, mossy at the top where crows and herons would sit and nib at it, slimy and shiny at the bottom having been embraced by the waters for so long. The swift waters were especially dangerous in spring during the high water season.


    Ocra has lived here since she could remember herself, brought up by the previous Keeper, Oni. She never knew her parents or if she ever had any ¨C Oni never spoke about such things. Ocra has been raised to take care of the Hill Region, and since Oni had passed into the subtle realm, she has been the Keeper. She knew there must be other Keepers for every hill beyond her region, but she never met them as there was no need.


    Every morning her profile with long hair and prominent nose could be seen at the edge of the bank, with open palms, just taking in the life force flowing in the air. Her silver braids were flowing in the wind, rings and bells plaited into them softly tinkling, her plain linen dress floating about her ankles. Then she would lie in the river bed, speaking to the river. The river was named Anduna, and Ocra knew her very well ¨C as well as you can know a river ¨C a living being so different from and superior to us. Hills and rivers, not to speak of the Mother Bharat, live in a different time span taking little notice of the fast changes in our small lives, unaffected by them. But you can hear them speaking if you hearken to their flow of life force and tune in to their mind.


    Ocra remembered how she first heard Anduna. She was 4 springs at that time. Oni was teaching her to meditate and lie in water without breathing for a long time and merge into the river¡¯s life force. Many attempts were futile at first: she closed her pale blue eyes, tried to focus her mind on the task, but thoughts scattered like ants. Finally Ocra was able to relax and clear her mind to let in the life force. First she felt amazingly peaceful and safe and lost track of time, when gradually the soft sound of a song started to flow into her mind ¨C the song of Anduna. She didn¡¯t understand the words, but she could feel the meaning with her heart: ¡°Anduna is my name, and I feel my might and beauty as I¡¯m flowing over the Mother, the sparkling magical world around me is filled with life force and is overflowing with love, I want to spread it all around me in gratitude to the Mother¡±.


    Over the years she would ask her questions about the world and listen to her songs, as the time went the songs became clearer and their bond stronger. This was one of many duties of a Keeper¨C to create and maintain bonds with the powerful living beings whose presence is not perceived by people but who shape the life on Mother Bharat. So Ocra also learned how to listen to the hill, the ocean, the fire and the wind, the sun and the moon. Keepers call them Devas and accept their guidance on how to take care of their region.


    Another duty of a Keeper would be to internalize and formulate the Devas¡¯ songs in their own language. That¡¯s why they would also become known as poets and singers. But those songs were not ordinary songs, they weren¡¯t meant to entertain or inform. Rather with their subtle beauty they would put people in a state of meditation connecting them with the heart of the Keeper. From this heart wisdom would flow into the listeners¡¯ hearts who then feel like it was their own. In this way Keepers would weave harmony into the world.


    On a clear evening of the light half of the first autumn month¡¯s second day Ocra was sitting near her stone house running her fingers over the strings of her small harp singing the Autumn Song. This was a very unusual song ¨C she heard it from leaves and tree bark when she was patrolling her region two days ago. Ocra never listened to the songs of inferior beings, but this time she felt she had to. Something was different about the seriousness of the message. As usual during a patrol she opened her palms to sense if the flow of the life force was healthy in this part of her region ¨C she could feel the thin herby flow from the dying leaves, the transparent but strong flow from the trees, several agile flows from small animals ¨C everything was in order.


    Ocra was leaving when she noticed that the leaves were rustling rhythmically and there was a certain emotion hidden there, the emotion they wished to convey. Then, as Oni had taught her, she sat down on the ground, put her open palms on her knees and closed her eyes. First she breathed in and out at regular intervals controlling the life force movement in her own body. Thus she muted her outer senses, stopped her mind¡¯s work and focused on the gentle rumbling humming emitted by the hill and by the soil itself. When the humming filled her she started to rock side to side in accordance with the waves of the sound. At this moment the rhythmical rustling of the dying leaves unfolded and flew into her ears, but this time she could understand what message they were eager to share.


    Ocra diligently noted all the subtle feelings, emotions and images she perceived and then, without opening her eyes, she came back to her senses and used the mind to create associations with every item she received through this song. This would help the Keeper create the song of the dying leaves later.


    Ocra didn¡¯t get tired like ordinary people do, she rarely ate and slept for just a couple of hours a day. People need food and sleep to refill the life force supply in their body, but Keepers didn¡¯t have a supply ¨C their life force was always flowing in and out entwining with the life force of all the living beings in their region allowing them to merge into nature, be one with it. This feature made them perfect for their role.


    But there was a kind of tiredness Ocra could feel ¨C the tiredness of spirit. It came when she would only fulfill her duties and forgot about the spirit. The spirit required feeding. Oni was particularly adamant about this practice, teaching Ocra over and over to meditate early in the morning, while everyone was still asleep,  so that she could realize herself as a small spark inside her body, a spark which is an infinite part of the primordial light ¨C the Original Living Being. Oni explained that every spark has a deep-rooted desire to express their love to this Original Being and receive reciprocation ¨C this interaction is the fundamental practice that enabled Keepers to stay alive and maintain their qualification. And their duties, Oni used to tell, were the expression of love they can offer to the Being. It was the hardest practice for Ocra to learn, but she quickly realized she couldn¡¯t perform her duties if she didn¡¯t feed the spirit.


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    So after creating associations for the song of the dying leaves she felt a little tired in spirit. She understood why ¨C the unusual source of the song and the emotional message she received made her a little restless. She needed answers. So Ocra climbed the topmost boulder in the vicinity, laid out the deer skin she always kept on her for such occasions and sat upright aligning the flow of her life force. She took the beads hanging from her neck into the right hand and started to chant the secret mantra Oni taught her.


    Immediately she felt relieved and little by little as if connected to her long lost true home. Ocra loved her life and the work she was doing in her region, she felt satisfied. But chanting this mantra brought a completely different level of satisfaction. The chanting made her delve deep into herself, to the places within her she had never known existed before she tried it for the first time. With years of practice Ocra also found herself connected to other living beings who lived beyond her region, in fact beyond mother Bharat herself, she only communicated with them during the chanting of the secret mantra through the feeling of connection and support they gave her ¨C she saw vague images and felt their life force, but that was it. She knew herself to be a part of a big picture, of a family she left long ago. This always made her feel fearless because she knew she lived in a world created and maintained by those who care for her.


    But this time Ocra also had a task. So she addressed the Original Being ¨C but there was no answer. This was the first experience for Ocra when she felt someone¡¯s presence, but couldn¡¯t communicate. Then she tested the other living beings she felt support from during chanting. One of them whom she saw as a man in white clothes with a long white beard answered her question with short, but concise messages that just appeared in her mind like gusts of fresh wind. Satisfied, but puzzled, Ocra opened her eyes and felt pregnant with knowledge and wisdom of the elders ¨C that is what she called them in her heart.


    Slowly she got up and for some time just stood there taking in everything she learnt. Then she collected the skin and put it in her side bag. The bag reminded her of Oni again: the mentor embroidered this bag for her student when she came of age, that is turned 14. Before the Keeper¡¯s initiation Oni sent her to gather the herbs that only adult Keepers were allowed to gather and gave her this bag. The embroidery showed a deer family grazing in the forest made with threads of different colours and some gemstones Oni received as donation from the village people.


    Emerging from her thoughts, Ocra noticed that it was darkening and headed home. She was safe because she knew what she had to do. Having returned home, she entered her stone house, a small one-room hut with a fireplace and a stove along the back wall, two beds, a couple of chests and a table with chairs. The beds weren¡¯t ordinary human ones, it was imperative for them to be purely natural built without any human craft so that they helped Keepers to be connected to their region at all times. They looked more like big nests woven from soft branches, covered in fresh leaves and grass. It was autumn now, so the leaves and grass turned yellow and red. By the end of winter they would almost entirely wear out, so they were sometimes substituted with soft evergreen foliage until the beds were buried in the woods in spring and created again.


    The table was cluttered with books and notebooks ¨Cone of the Keepers¡¯ duties was to carefully note down all the songs they hear and chronicle all the events they experience or even just hear of. No one Ocra knew needed books, people would come and hear her songs and remember them forever, passing them down to their descendants, but she knew from Devas there would come a time when people would only be able to learn from books. And today¡¯s message from the elders proved that.


    It was dark inside, and as the last light of the day was leaving the hut, it made everything look blue and soft as if blurred. Ocra fumbled in the dark to make fire, it wasn¡¯t very cold yet, the autumn was still settling in, but the presence of fire always gave her a sense of approval from the Devas. Then lit a candle, sat at the table, took out an ink bottle, a writing stick and opened her notebook. For a moment she paused, taking a breath before diving into inspired writing. She loved the process, it was always so immersive and liberating ¨C she felt like a vessel filled with infinite wisdom and beauty seeking to pour it on paper.


    Ocra was writing for an hour or so, pausing to find a better word or metaphor for what she felt and perceived during her meditation. Then she extinguished both the candle and the fire and went to bed. Keepers didn¡¯t actually sleep at night. Their body and mind needed rest just for a couple of hours so they plunged in a deep meditative state. They used the time to breathe in synch with mother Bharat and to tune into the flow of life force of the whole planet.


    The next morning was the first day of autumn. Ocra knew the song of the dying leaves had to be sung today. After the morning rituals she washed her clothing in the Anduna river and hung it outside the house, changed into a formal Keepers¡¯ dress consisting of a saffron cloth wrapped around the body and neckbeads made of some unfamiliar tree. It was kept in a chest beside her bed and has always been there since before Ocra could remember, being passed down generations upon generations of Keepers - that is why they were so shiny and smooth. Then she reached behind her bed for a harp case, took it out and went outside to play in the sun. Ocra closed her eyes and let her innermost feelings lead her fingers to accompany the poem that she wrote yesterday. At first she lightly touched several strings one by one to set the mood of a meditative atmosphere. Then she swiftly ran her fingers over them pulling chords and sequences with regular intervals as if every chord needed to take its breath: breathing out, fading, pausing, breathing in, building up again¡­ Then the gaps began to shorten gradually and the chords weaved into a continuous fabric of music with a melody emerging on top of it. This is when Ocra¡¯s voice entered following the pattern of the melody, flowing beneath it:


    The life is leaving us and death is closing in,


    The juice of life cut off - fragile and dry or skin.


    We heard so many living fade and die before,


    Being full of fear while passing to the other shore,


    But we don¡¯t fret regretting neither life nor death


    For just external shells are cast with our last breath.


    For shapes and forms will die and are already thus


    But only we live on and joy lives on in us¡­

 Chapter 2

    Ocra had to stop before she finished her song, before she came to the most important part of the message. A woman came from the village to tell alarming news ¨C a fire started in the eastern part of the forest, a big fire. When Ocra was little she and Oni dealt with a couple of forest fires, but those were only 20 or 30 patches big. Oni warned her then that a fire is the Mother¡¯s rage and means something is not going according to the plan of the Devas. This one, the woman said, judging by the amount of smoke and the number of animals fleeing westwards was at least 150 patches big. Ocra immediately understood that the song was connected with the fire. Something was wrong. Changing back into her usual dress she made up her mind to hold the evening hearing circle nonetheless for it was of a vital importance for the people to hear the song. But now other matters needed attending.


    The village people already started dealing with the fire by bringing in water from Anduna, sand and earth to subdue it and praying to the river and the hill for protection. They also sent a messenger to the nearest villages across Anduna and over the hill for extra help. Together they stood a chance of taming that wild fire before it destroyed the whole hillside. Ocra felt very compassionate towards all the living beings¡¯ sufferings and empathized with their fear and devastation trying to help in her own ways. But on the inside she understood that birth and death are integral parts of life, that there are times when things have to be demolished as well as times when things have to be created. There are times when living beings have to fight for their life and prosperity and times when they have to surrender to the greater force and accept their fate. Oni has always told that we should do everything in our power as if all depends on us, but understand that ultimately we depend on the Original Being who at all times has a plan for us.


    The Keeper never directly takes part in the lives of her region¡¯s inhabitants ¨C that¡¯s a rule, so Ocra¡¯s task was to meditate, listen to the hill and the clouds and pass on the message about the plan for today¡¯s occurrence to people: whether the hill agrees to the help of clouds and whether the clouds are willing to help. In the eastern part of the forest there was a cave that led to the roots of the hill, though to access the entrance you had to clime midway up the hill. This is where Ocra came to hear its songs. The cave end was very close to the hill¡¯s heart and Ocra could see its heart¡¯s beating like concentric circles before her eyes when she closed them. She called it ¡°heart¡±, but actually it was vibration emanating from every living entity ¨C the hill¡¯s one was too low and subtle for humans to hear or feel. Once in a while there appeared unusually perceptive ones that could almost sense something, but in general humans are not meant to hear songs, this life form has a different purpose. All this lore was passed down the generations upon generations of Keepers since the beginning of time.


    So Ocra climbed into the cave and followed its turns to the heart of the hill. With every step the heart beating grew stronger. She could feel the alarming mood and hurried to hear the rest. Having taken out her deer skin and sat down, the Keeper controlled her emotions and breath and plunged inside her consciousness. She focused solely on the song allowing it to fill her mind completely. She felt like a vessel of sound and images. With her inner eye she saw the form and colour of the sound, of the whole song. It looked like signs, letters from some unknown alphabet, vibrating the song, containing the whole story in itself. Later Ocra would start recording these letters from her numerous meditations and compiling the ¡°original¡± writing system, as she called it. She passed it on to people to preserve and live by along with the records of all the songs she had ever heard. That was the beginning of the ¡°Keeper¡¯s scriptures¡±.


    In her heart she heard those signs as the sounds of an unfamiliar language, chanting, chiming of the fate of the Hill region and lands far beyond it. She knew what it was about because the sounds turned into images and knowledge that settled into her mind directly without words. Ocra just knew what was being told to her and needs to be done. The scope of knowledge was much bigger now, and it was clear now how it was connected to the song of the dying leaves. She wasn¡¯t surprised though, it felt as though she had always known it. She slowly returned closer to the surface of her consciousness, now her task was to carefully select the proper words for this knowledge. The Keeper slowly climbed out of the mountain and proceeded towards her house, walking and singing on her way:


    The Time consumes all in a single blink


    Its all-devouring mouth will crush our lives¡­


    When she entered her house, she cast a look on the saffron cloth lying on the chest lid. It made her think of Oni dressed in it at the formal singing, with sun darting through tree leaves, flying across the cloth like little fiery birds. It always seemed mysterious and cozy at the same time, as if the elders from the subtle worlds were approving and stroking her gently and lovingly. Those were her happy childhood memories. It felt strange at first to wear it after Oni had passed on, like she was just filling in for Oni, it took some time to get used to being the Keeper. Although Ocra didn¡¯t lament for Oni like humans do, she felt sad she didn¡¯t have her association anymore. But she was sure somebody else did, since Oni had certainly moved up the hierarchy and was helping other living beings in the subtle worlds.


    Now was the time to concentrate on the task, so Ocra wrapped the cloth around herself, put the neckbeads on, took the harp and went outside. The Keeper swiftly walked across the lawn, sat under a colossal oak tree growing right in the middle of the lawn, crossed her legs and put the harp in her lap. Then she closed her eyes, started breathing and slowly synchronising the breath with the surrounding living beings and the flow of the life force. In - the life force enters, out - it exits having come through her body. Thus Ocra established herself as a vessel filled with the wisdom destined to be sung today, carrying it safely and ready to pour it onto the listeners.


    She had already informed the villagers earlier of the formal singing tonight, so the front lawn was already filling up. Ocra was still sitting with her eyes closed. She would look everyone in the eye later, greeting them and asking about the fire, offering comfort and advice, after the ritual singing has finished. But now was the moment to share wisdom, heart to heart. As the tradition required the Keeper and the audience started with a simultaneous chanting of a one-syllable mantra that cleared the mind and reconnected the soul to the source of life, turning listeners into hearers, giving them the ability to perceive the wisdom: deep breath, from the depth of the abdomen comes the sound a, the flow of air concentrates and turns into o vibrating in the chest, which condenses to become oo in the throat and concludes with a long m ringing in the forehead. They all chanted it several times until a crispy clean atmosphere covered them where they could hear the echo of the mantra in their minds. They were ready.


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    Letting herself open the dam, the words and music somewhere on the outside of her consciousness, Ocra felt the powerful message pouring through her:


    The life is leaving us and death is closing in,


    The juice of life cut off - fragile and dry our skin.


    We heard so many living fade and die before,


    Being full of fear while passing to the other shore,


    But we don¡¯t fret regretting neither life nor death


    For just external shells are cast with our last breath.


    For shapes and forms will die and are already thus,


    But only we live on and joy lives on in us.


    And we will come again and take a mortal dress


    And sing of beauty and eternity profess,


    As we have done for countless eons in the past -


    The light this ageless knowledge will forever cast.


    Still there will come a time for light to fade away


    And living beings across the world in darkness stay.


    And we already feel its whisper in the air


    So in our hearts we¡¯re overcome with deep despair.


    Ocra finished the Autumn Song and a dead, but pregnant silence hovered over the lawn. The people started stirring, whispering, exchanging concerned looks. The times were changing and they called for different actions - everyone understood that. But they knew that their Keeper also got some answer from the Hill, so they were still hopeful and prepared to listen to the second song. Ocra opened her eyes and cast a meaningful glance at the villagers. There was a depth in her eyes that both fascinated and frightened them. She wanted to pacify them and share her confidence in the ultimate benefit of all happenings. Closing her eyes again, plunging into the depths of her consciousness she unveiled the song of the Hill:


    The Time consumes all in a single blink


    Its all-devouring mouth will crush our lives.


    It¡¯s by design of life: when on the brink


    We see the real value, spirit thrives.


    The age of fade is sinking on our lands,


    It will establish in a hundred years.


    Preventing it must be in Keepers¡¯ hands -


    To save the knowledge ere it disappears.


    Disasters, mere heralds of the age,


    Will then unfold into a sea of plight:


    There¡¯ll be no more respect for priest or sage,


    No value of the knowledge or the light,


    The true and false will be inverted, virtue - mocked,


    The blind will lead the blind to an abyss,


    Profess themselves as Gods, the truth concoct


    And only trust their beastly pleasures¡¯ bliss.


    All Keepers must unite and cooperate,


    Each one contributing their strength and skill,


    Devising new ways to get through the gate


    Of people¡¯s darkness, and the souls instill


    With knowledge, hope and joy and lead the way.


    Since memory will wane and sense decline


    Books must be written and as pillars stay.


    The Keepers must preserve the path divine


    And roam over the world, both far and wide -


    In every corner will the elder¡¯s songs be sung,


    Enlightening the passage to the other side


    Where all are ever blissful, wise and young.


    The villagers, who were gasping and silently crying in the middle of the song, were now murmuring and conversing, hopeful and inspired. The pride they felt for their Keeper had empowered them as well. Ocra had to venture to some distant lands with an important purpose, and as unwilling as they were to be left without a Keeper, still the colossal picture of the future painted with the words of the Hill filled them with safety and calmness.


    Then their leader, a sturdy man named Foll, rose and voiced the question many of them had: ¡°Respected Ocra the Keeper, we know that you also asked for advice from the other spirits (people didn¡¯t know about the elders or the Original being, Oni instructed against it since it was beyond their capacity and didn¡¯t benefit them, but they knew there was some other spirits Ocra sometimes sought advice from). We would like to know what they answered.¡± All villagers started nodding their heads in agreement, even young children, although they all knew they were not supposed to ask that question, they hoped that this time it was different.


    So it was. Ocra felt it in her heart that sharing this knowledge would be safe and to the benefit of all listeners. She took a deep breath, concentrated on conveying the message exactly as it was given to her and started speaking. Everyone could feel the power of these words. Keepers accumulate unparalleled power through contact with Devas and elders, keeping silent, meditating, serving people which they only spent while speaking. When Ocra opened her mouth to speak or sing, the surrounding world faded and one felt as if in a tunnel whose effulgent end was she, the only clear object at the moment, and the words entered one¡¯s heart and left no room for doubt as if deep down one had always known it.


    Ocra uttered: ¡°In a hundred years the age of darkness and illusion will start, it will continue for hundreds of millenia. Keepers can slow it down by spreading knowledge through writing books and building special places for honouring Devas, otherwise people will forget everything. Despite our effort, the age of darkness and illusion will continue fifteen millenia later. It will then be followed by another golden age, and so this cycle will continue forever. I must go and find other Keepers, form an alliance and help them fulfill this task. You must follow the instructions from the Devas¡¯ songs and live in peace until I return. Respected Foll, please arrange that the books are looked after.¡±


    Having said that, Ocra rose from her seat under the tree with a serene expression, five heads taller than everyone else, pressed her palms together in front of her chest and bowed to all of them. They mirrored the gesture as they watched her put the dress into the bag with the deer skin and leave the Hill region.