Sudir had left Sayba, his city, two days ago, on horseback. The next horse-trading post was still far away. Luckily, the storm had passed, and in front of him, in a clear sky, he could see, at first as a mirage, the rainbow.
From the mountains, though distant, the wind was bringing the pungent scent of wild flowers and berries. Sudir had never made that trip before. He had decided to go since he no longer find what he wanted in Sabya. First of all precious stones such as amethist, especially the lilac-pink variety, jasper, onix, agate. But, most of all, the one particular rock crystal, one of the gems more difficult to get. It was in great demand since light in it amplified and then it was possible to observe, in its transparencies, thousands and thousands of reflections.
People said that Maleck, the wise man, who lived in Mogan, had designed a rock crystal mirror into which a person could foresee his own destiny. There were other people who affirmed that Maleck was a negromancer, but were those just rumors ?
Precious stones and rock crystal, this one when he managed to get it, were used by Sudir to manufacture mirrors. No one, in Sayba, or anywhere for that matter, made mirrors comparable to Sudir’s. The number of clients, since he had opened his own store, had constantly increased since, besides having a refined taste, Sudir also had a great imagination and an uncommon skilfulness. But a mirror is a mirror, right ? Wrong.
And the frame ? And the back ? And the handle ? And the case ? You should keep in mind, in fact, that in Sabya it had become fashionable, among ladies, to go out with a small mirror in the handbag. Therefore the quality and richness of its ornaments were of great importance, and that’s where the gems came into play : Sudir precious stones, set in gold or silver, turned his mirrors into real jewels. Not to mention that each stone was regarded as a charm, a talisman of sort.
In short, Sudir mirrors were in great demand in Sabya. So much so that the Prince of Sabya himself, in the last years, had ordered one, a unique model, to present to the Princess on their wedding anniversary.
Sudir had been able to design for the Prince, every year, such an exceptional model to get an “oh!” of admiration. That year, however, nothing really original had occurred to him, and this worried him. As a matter of fact an idea did cross his mind, but he realized that it was so odd that he had not really considered it. Anyhow, he couldn’t get it out of his mind, and this made him worry even more. What if he could make a mirror that, if one would think of a certain period of his life while looking into it, then the time would roll back, so that one could live trough that period again ? Such a mirror would not only surprise and amaze the Prince, but would turn him, Sudir, into an extremely famous person.
He was only daydreaming, and he knew it. Anyhow, he decided that, since he intended to travel to Mogan, he would try to meet Maleck, the wise man, who was living there. It would not be easy, since they said that he liked to disguise himself, but should he succeed in talking to him, maybe he could explain his idea and hopefully he’d listen to what he had to say. He was proceeding along the road, which was winding through open country, when he had a feeling that he had company. He was right. He slowed down, and he noticed a stranger coming up by his side. It was a man no longer young, since his hair had turned gray over his temples, but his eyebrows were dark and thick and his deep blue eyes, flecked with tiny chips of green, watched Sudir intently. Sudir figured he was a merchant, since he had said that he too was going to Mogan, a trade city. He therefore suggested that they could travel there together.
“What is taking you to Mogan ?” The stranger asked, with a deep voice. Sudir deemed it wise not to disclose his plans, also because he didn’t want the other to guess that he was carrying a rather big amount of money. Therefore he just answered that he was going to Mogan to purchase some goods, and he didn’t even mention his hope to try and meet Maleck. He thought that, if he would have explained why he wanted to talk to Maleck, the guy would laugh.
Since, however, he had the matter at heart, he tried to introduce it in his talk from afar. “I have the impression that goods are getting more and more expensive every year.” He said. “Furthermore, in Sabya it has been difficult for me to find what I need for my business : they say that in Mogan there is a better offer of goods”.
“It’s true.” The other answered. “ Times change”.
“I think - Sudir resumed - that time flies so fast that one is unable to accustom oneself to so many changes. Of course it would be great if one could go back, but obviously it’s impossible.”
The stranger stared at him, with his piercing glance. It seemed he was carefully considering Sudir’s words : “ Even if it were possible, I wonder if, after all, it would be great, as you say.” They kept riding along in silence.
Suddenly, while looking around they saw a cloud of dust, still far away, on their left. They made out several mounted men, and only marauders were wandering in this area, off the road.
The two men stooped and put the spurs to their horses. After a while they looked again : they were losing ground. “ We are done for !” Sudir cried out.
The other man didn’t answer. He bent down and got a long rope from one of his two packs-saddle.
He stood up on his stirrups and tossed the rope towards the rainbow. The rope went up upright, appeared as if it clasped the rainbow and stayed there, straight, gently waving.
The stranger jumped to his feet and climbed adroitly up the rope. “ Quick - he said - grab on. “
Sudir was too amazed but also too scared to ask any questions. He therefore did as he had been told. And the rope, with the two of them, started rising, slowly and straight as a balloon. They had reached such an height that they didn’t notice that they had come out on a cloud. It was a small white cloud which, pushed by the wind, was chasing her sisters, which one could barely make out in the distance.
The last sun set the horizon on fire. The two men sat down on the cloud. Sudir leaned out of the edge to look down and was really amazed : the meadows down there, instead of green, appeared deep red. He leaned further out to get a better sight, lost his balance and fell.
There was no way out.
And yet, the absurdity was that, in that very instant, the idea that he was going to lose his life did not cross his mind. Instead he was thinking that, by falling, he had lost everything he had put on the cloud.
He looked up, and only saw the boundless sky, of a blue so intense that seemed painted : the cloud, pushed by the wind, was now far away. Strangely, he felt no panic : in a very short time, he thought, it all would be over. He bumped against something, got the feeling he was sinking, and lost consciousness.
When he came to, he found himself clinging to something as soft as a feather pillow. He realized that he was lying on a large bird, with deep red plumage. The bird belonged to a large flight that formed, in the sky, a great triangle. It was a flock of purple herons, which were flying towards warmer lands.
That’s why, when he had leaned out of the cloud in the first place, he had thought that the ground had turned red. The heron did not seem annoyed by his appearance. Without turning back his head he said : “ You really were lucky that we were passing by. But where did you fall from ?” And without waiting for his answer he added : “ In a little while we will fly over the city of Mogan. If you wish, I can leave you there.” Sudir, still half stunned, thanking heavens for his good fortune, said that any place would do, but the wind took his words away. Anyhow, after a time that he would not know whether long or short, the heron lowered, turned, and put him down on the roof of a house.
Sudir looked around and, judging by the number of houses, thought that Mogan should be a rather important city. He was surprised by the great number of chimneys he saw on the roofs all around : he had never seen so many. It was growing dark, and there was a great crowd in the streets.
Cat-women, peacocks going on in couples, colored balloons which marched in, windmills running after each other trough flowerbeds, curls of wind playing with girls hair. And a great number of chimney-sweepers, in groups of three or four, were going for a walk chatting and laughing, with their faces and their hands blackened by soot. Many people were getting in and out of the stores, which followed one after the other. Sudir paused to look at the shop windows.
A store, along with lines and squares, displayed commas, semicolons, exclamation marks, question marks. Only full stops and new paragraphs were missing.
Another store showed small bird cages with tiny pink clouds inside : they looked like cotton flocks.
A confectioner shop offered boxes of sweet words, lined up on gilded shelves.
A store was selling colored bottles containing all kind of flavors : girls’ smiles, flowers sighs, moon reflections. “ One drop is enough to become filled with joy” a display in the window stated. Opposite, fragrances were sold : the aroma of the burning desert sand; the one, rough and strong,
of the sea wind; and also that, sweet and fine, of pale music, the one which is played with a clarinet. In his own city Sudir had never seen something similar. Next to him he noticed a man who was looking at the windows, like himself. “ I’m sorry. I just arrived from Sabya. There we don’t have such things. I think the merchandise here is so fanciful.”
“Well - the man answered - we are used to these kinds of products. You know, here tastes change frequently. What you see today in a store, tomorrow, or in a couple of weeks, in a month at most, is gone, completely forgotten. I couldn’t explain why, but in Mogan we always think of novelties. Whatever belongs to the past , even to yesterday, does not interest us.
Also with books, you know, it’s the same. There are writers who think of a new book, maybe they have it all there in their minds, but they don’t have enough time to publish it since, in the meantime, it has become something out-of-date to them, something which belongs to the past. Sudir noticed that the man had been talking absent-mindedly, with a dreamy look, and wondered why.
He turned his gaze upwards : in the sky, which retained the last soft brightness of the twilight, all the chimneys were smoking, and there were so many that it was impossible to count them. From each of them a bluish wisp of smoke was rising.
And yet, as if the sky had lowered and roved the streets and the squares, each wisp of smoke tapped gently on the windows of the houses, and that smoke ended up by permeating the entire city, giving it an absent-minded look, as the one he had seen before on that passer-by. He wondered where he could spend the night, since he did not have a single coin. He saw a group of people, sitting around a table, amid the flowerbeds of a square : they were playing cards. When he got near, they invited him to join in the game, and as he said that he carried no money, one of them answered that it could easily be put right: he would lend it to him.
They were playing with crystal tablets : on each of them the name of a star was engraved. Whoever was the first to put the names of a certain constellation together, won.
It happened by a fluke, or he was helped by his lucky star. The point is that after a while he had won a fortune. With a part of that money he could by a cloak, when he had fallen he had lost that too, and a mirror as well. Just out of curiosity he wanted to find out how they were making mirrors in Mogan. When he addressed the player to give him back the money he had leant him, he had a feeling that he had met him before, due to his intent, deep glance. He however decided to introduce himself, and to tell him about the extraordinary adventure he had experienced.
The man was listening, smiling with a half-amused expression on his face. At the end of the account he said : “ But we know each other. We were together on that cloud . You were really lucky to get off. I’m Maleck, the one they call the wise man, an appellation I don’t deserve. I like to mingle with people and listen to their talks. Quite often, that way, I learn things which I could not even find in books. However, I try not to be recognized, since when people find out who I am, they start asking me questions . They probably think that I can solve their problems. Sudir said to himself that it really was his lucky day.
He carefully debated talking about the question he had at heart, then plunged ahead, since, after all, meeting Maleck had been his hope, when he started the trip. “ Would you care to tell me wether it would be possible to make a mirror into which one could, somehow, see what happened to him in the past ? To live again, in other words, the
past ?” Maleck remained silent for some time.
Then, staring at him with a glance which, Sudir could not say why, made him feel uncomfortable, he answered slowly, as if weighing his words. “ You already mentioned to me this morning something similar, namely the possibility of going back to the past. I don’t know why you are so interested in this matter, however, if you are patient, I’ll try to explain to you why it’s difficult. Then you’ll be the one to judge wether it’s worth it to try.” And in the tone of Maleck words, Sudir got the feeling of a disquieting note. “ You see, he began by saying, all places, all events, all people as well as every object leave a trace : colors, sounds, tastes, smells, sights and feelings, both physical and intrinsic. But of past experiences men usually only keep the memory of what they think they saw. Men hardly ever know how to keep any other trace . In particular, they don’t recall the emotions, nor the perceptions, the sentiments and the feelings of that time.
On purpose I said they think they saw, because what they remember is influenced by their minds, by their reasoning. As a consequence what they remember hardly ever corresponds to the reality. This is the reason why, for men, the reality of the past is an illusion.
And if the past is an illusion, how could men go back to it ? Also, if they would go back, they would discover things that have been buried in corners of their minds where it’s best for them not to look. Things that, should they surface, could feel quite shocking. “Excuse my question - said Sudir - but why then can birds go back to places where they have been, perhaps, only a year before ? Is it not, for them, in a way, like going back to the past ?” “Well, answered Maleck , that’s correct, but for many animals things are a little bit different .
You see, they, unlike men, can accurately recollect those traces I mentioned before : it’s enough for them to follow up the traces to reach their destination.
But to come back to our subject, I would like to add that the inhabitants of this city understood all this from time immemorial. Every evening they burn their memories in their fireplaces : in this way their recollections go up in smoke and get lost. At times a wisp of smoke tries to go back into his home : he knocks, surreptitiously, at the windows, but the inhabitants are aware of it, and keep their windows well barred. With no memories, the life of Mogan inhabitants is not burdened with remembrances, with nostalgias. Their life goes on as when they were children, when terms such as past and future were empty words.
The inhabitants - he added - live in the present only. A present that at times is slightly absent-minded. Is this a good thing ? Perhaps. At least they have no regrets.”
Sudir wandered about the empty streets. He knew that he should have looked for a night’s lodging, but all the adventures and the events of that day had made him lose his sleep. He sat on a bench thinking over Maleck’s words. After a while, a wisp of smoke took a seat nearby him. The wisp turned and with a voice that seemed less than a whisper murmured : “ I’m Jengin. I just got out of a fireplace. I strove to get back home, I knocked at the windows, but nobody opened. My friends had warned me that, here, the inhabitants don’t want to keep any memories. For that reason, they burn them, and don’t want them back, even as a wisp of smoke. Sudir did not know what to say. He could have told him what Maleck had expained to him, but he felt ill at ease, he was afraid of offending him. Instead he said : “ Where I live, in Sabya, we take good care of our memories. In fact, since you are certainly an expert, would you mind my asking you a question ? In your opinion, would it be possible to live the past again ? To go back, in other words ? “ Jengin, judging by his looks, seemed to find the question rather peculiar. It looked like he was pondering on the matter, then he answered, yes, perhaps it would be possible.
“Maybe using a mirror ?” Sudir, hopefully, asked.
“Looking inside oneself.” The wisp of smoke answered. “ If a mirror could help, why not ? But I don’t know whether to live the past again is what one wants.”
Without paying attention to Jengin last words, Sudir drew the mirror out and asked : “ Well, then,
how do I do it ?”
“Choose the period of your life that you would like to live again and concentrate on it.” Sudir looked into the mirror and started thinking of when he had decided to open his own store, and of the day of the opening, so many years ago. “ Don’t try to just recall what you remember you saw, also think of the sensations you felt, and make use of all your senses” Sudir put the greatest effort to concentrate on that event, forgetful of what sorrounded him, and gradually saw that his image faded away from the mirror while, in its place, faces of people he thought he had forgotten started to appear.
He heard, close by, the voices of all those young people, the silvery laugh of a girl he had, perhaps, been in love with. It was like living again in that time. It had started raining, the day of the opening, and from the wide-open door the distinctive smell of the wet dust of the road was getting in, along with the sounds of the rain drops.
He tasted in his mouth the flavor, at the same time bitter and sweet, of the cider which was being offered to the guests. He was not recalling, he was totally immersed in the past.
But he also felt an anxiety building inside, along with a lot of worries. The uncertainty of what the future would bring him, the fear that the enterprise he was going to undertake could fail. He would have liked to think it over, to put off his decision, but it was impossible. It was as if a door had closed behind him, and the distance to cover was still so great.
What was waiting for him, over there ?
Even the clouds, loaded with rain, were now running in a leaden sky, which gave him a feeling
of dismay. With a huge effort he tried to take his eyes off the mirror and turned, almost without realizing it, in search of what he vaguely remembered : houses with barred windows, a bench on which, he recalled as in a dream, he had been seated.
There was nothing any more. Everything had vanished. “ Jengin ! Jengin ! “ He cried. “ I want to go back to Mogan ! “ From an infinite distance the silence answered back : “ You can no longer go back. “