“Pythagoras possessed great command over magic and incantation. There are numerous tales attributed to his disciples as well”. The scorpion was moving in a circle on the dice.
“We can imagine a world without red, yellow and blue colours but a world without numbers is beyond our imagination. Numbers are an integral parts of our existence”. The scorpion lay dead on the dice. Most of its body remain buried under the thick History of Philosophy book. Only its head and forelegs were poking out.
“Tetraktys is a holy symbol consisting of numbers. Pythagoras and his disciples would take pledge by this symbol to initiate their secret worship”.
The scorpion was quivering under the thick book. The book trembled and eventually fell on the floor and the scorpion came back to life.
“Fetch me some chalks, I’ll draw the sketch of Tetraktys”, the teacher turned her gaze towards me.
The scorpion was at the door. I was afraid of it. It’s a perilous creature. But I was to bring chalks at any cost. Thus I strolled out of the door. In a moment I was back and held the chalks out to the teacher.
The scorpion had its sting still fixed on my right shoulder. My shoulder was getting heavier and heavier and I couldn’t move my right hand
By then the scorpion had positioned its sting against my right shoulder. The teacher transformed into old age right before my eyes. Her crimson lips turned blue and her bangles gathered rust and broke apart, one by one. She wore a black thread around her palm. Dust of absurdity took over her eyes which had sunken deep into their sockets. Her hair turned grey.
“You took quite a long time”.
“I was looking for the lost keys of the drawer; it took me a while to retrieve them. By the way I’ve brought the chalks”.
The scorpion had its sting still fixed on my right shoulder. My shoulder was getting heavier and heavier and I couldn’t move my right hand.
The teacher addressed me in a frail voice: “Let me tell you an old tale. It may clear things between us.”
“Once a mendicant called at the door of a castle but nobody answered. He left his bowl at the door and travelled to a distant jungle. When he reached there, he found all trees dead. Wings of birds were entangled with branches of dead trees. Rivers and plains were covered with dead bodies of wild beasts.”
“He lost all his strength in search of shadow in the jungle. He thought of the castle again and after a tedious journey, he reached back at the ironed gate of the castle. But instead of his bowl he found a dog in chains there. The dog recognised him and with a melancholic heart he turned to him and said: My wife is the mistress of this castle. She has put me in chains to dream sweet dreams.
The door swung open. Two black dark-skinned slaves dragged a man to the dog. The dog put its mouth on his left leg. The mendicant wanted to ask about the man but the slaves scurried back to the castle and the he followed them. This must be the mistress’ room; the mendicant thought and opened the door. A beautiful young lady reclined against a bolster on a bed. She wore a necklace with a silver scorpion pendant. Well, is she the wife of that dog and mistress of this castle, the mendicant wondered.
She raised her eyes and looked at the mendicant. He meanwhile moved slowly towards her and sat beside her. She gently caressed her neck and clutched the pendant. The mistress tried to dissuade him but he pushed her hand away. The pendant slipped off the chain and fell on the bed and started to move in a circle. The mendicant trembled in fear. Scorpion is a dangerous creature. It positioned its sting against mendicant’s right shoulder. The mistress turned old right before his eyes. Her lips turned blued and her bangles…”
“Nobody knows how and where Pythagoras lived the last days of his life. Tomorrow we will dwell on Xenophon”. The teacher strolled out of the class.
This a translated version of a Balochi short story by Asif Shafique
Published in Daily Times, August 20th 2018.