Daily Theosophy

He wished that his brother would do something very stupid, so that everyone would jeer at him. He wished that he would be better than Marico, but that almost never happened.

(61)

(The Witch)

One day Shano had a black wound-like spot on his forehead. He didn’t know where it had come from: he hadn’t hit anything, and it did not hurt in a way sores hurt. It didn’t disappear. He tried several things but to no avail. Then his mother sent him to the crazy witch, and he went there trembling. She asked with her cracking hoarse voice which caused him shivers down his spine: “What’s wrong with you, Shano-boy?” “Nothing, Mme. Only a small thing. I thought you might …” “Yezzz, sure I might,” she said. And she laughed with a hoarse voice that seemed to arise from the hollows of space. “Yezzz, I might” Come let me see. Shano was in a situation where he would rather have turned around and run away. But the door was looked. Moreover he felt paralyzed. She looked at his black spot. And said: “Yezzz, I will,” and laughed again with some mean cheerfulness. “Don’t worry, you’ll be okay … after some time.” She took a medium size black cauldron, spitted in it, and added some herbs. Then added water and put it on fire. She went out of the house, locking the door behind her, and after considerable time she came back with some herbs and branches, and put these in the cauldron. Honestly, Shano didn’t feel at all happy in this situation, but being only ten, he was to shy to protest, fearing the witches reaction. He trembled on his legs, but on the other hand his mother had told him that the witch looked worse than she was, and that he should have confidence in her. Anyway he had no choice. The fluid started to boil and she was pointing at it with her fingers, as if she wanted to flow the power from her hands into the soup. At the same time she spoke some magic formulas, and Shano looked at her face from aside and asked himself whether she looked mean or amused, or both, but it did certainly not reassure him. After a long process during which she added some substances from bottles, she said that the potion was ready, and that after cooling down he should drink it. After some ten minutes he tasted it, and … he could not have imagined anything on earth tasting more horrible than this drink. It was like a bitter and astringent mixture of vomit and horse radish. But he drank it – he didn’t dare to refuse. When he had finished he felt okay, only he thought of himself as the lousiest child in the whole world. He wanted to say thank you to her and go, but she insisted that he stayed for a while. Three minutes later he felt a sudden jolt in his stomach. It was like a hot explosion. His heart beat double speed. He felt like swooning. Then he started to vomit in the cauldron – which caused the witch to scold him.

He thought he was going to die. He saw all kinds of colors dancing before his eyes, and some took form as grayish black monsters made of mist and with red bloody eyes. No !!! he shouted. But the witch stumped him in his stomach. And more ugly slimy greenish vomit came, and more and more. When his stomach was finally empty, and he felt if he had vomited his intestines and brains out also, he fell on the floor and saw with eyes bulging from fear the witch standing above him. “Poor boy,” she said? (‘How can you call me poor – you have done it,’ he thought.) She took some clean water, and she opened his mouth and poured the water from a stone bottle. He washed his mouth and spitted the filthy water on the floor. And she smiled: “How was it?” she said, “Nice?” Before he could answer she said: “Don’t you realize that the black spot on your forehead was exactly on the place where you hit me with the bullshit two years ago. Now I wanted to have my sweet revenge,” she laughed with her cracking hoarse voice. “You have to learn some things the hard way.” He blushed. “You must know the old witches’ wisdom,” she added, “Whatever evil you do, will return onto yourself.” And that was exactly what had happened. She said: “I only helped you to let it happen a little quicker – so be grateful to me, Shano.” He was not too sure whether he could feel grateful. She said: “If you have any problem you can always come back to me again.” Instead he did not even dare to walk through that part of the village any more, and he never came back to her. When he came home his mother asked, and his mother said: “How was it,” he answered only: “Okay ma.” And he never told his experience to anyone until he was grown up. The next day the black spot had become much smaller, and after three days it had completely vanished, and forever.

(62)

(Life was good at the village)

The region in which the village was situated was quite dry most of the year. Good rains came only after the very hot summer with dust storms, and when it came the rain season lasted for two or three months.