What Happens in Katmandu 2
Continued from last week.
The chosen two set off down the mountain road. It was a bleak, rocky road that didn't seem as rocky if you took the communal jeep, which they were not allowed to do, under some stipulations of the legend about the goat, and the fact that Sue, one of the younger daughters of an elder was learning how to drive and wouldn't be rushed off it any time soon.
On foot, however, it was very rocky. The man carried the valise, and the woman carried a wreath of grass clippings other villagers had gathered and sewed together around a wire frame in the hopes that they would entice the goat back. Or at least entice the goat close to the chosen two who could then harness the goat and carry it back up the mountain. Neither the man nor the woman had mentioned the prospect of carrying the goat up the mountain, for fear it would start the inevitable argument about who would have to do the carrying. The man had a sneaking suspicion he was going to be roped, possibly literally, into it.
Besides, they had already had an argument, of sorts, about the valise, and it's usefulness on this sort of trip, about two hundred steps outside of the village walls.
Half way down the mountain they had seen no sight of the goat. But off the road, in a small crevice in the side of the mountain, they saw an old man. "A wise old man," the old man corrected. "The wise old man of the mountain."
"Ah," the chosen two said.
He was very short, and wore a turban and a sparkling clean cloth that would be called a diaper, were it on a baby. He was also sitting in a seat like a bird's nest. "I am the wise old sage of the mountain. I gather you have come to me seeking the meaning of life?"
The two looked at each other for a moment, if only to look away from the curiously bright adult diaper he was wearing. The young man spoke up. "Umm, no, actually. We're seeking our goat."
"A goat?"
"Yes. Say, aren't you usually at the top of the mountain? Sitting on the peak for all eternity, waiting for determined travelers seeking knowledge? Have you seen our goat?" The woman hated how the young man would often string multiple questions and threads of conversation into a single breath. She blamed it on all the time he spent on the internet in message boards and chat rooms.
"You see, this is where I'm truly wise. I see no need to go all the way to the top of the mountain for enlightenment." The wise old man continued to sit serenely in his nest. "Your goat went by about a day ago."
"Oh, okay, thank you," said the woman, and the chosen two headed off down the mountain again.
Another half day's journey and the two reached a level place in the mountain road, still some way from the base of the mountain. This is where they encountered the mountain lion.
It lay on the side of the road, in the shade, licking its paws.
"Ehm, excuse me? Have you seen our goat?" asked the man.
"That one?" and the mountain lion pointed with the paw it hadn't been licking at a goat a few hundred yards down the road.
"Yes, yes, thank you!" And the chosen two ran off after the goat.
In the middle of the night, the chosen two and the goat, following along on roller skates, being pulled by the young man, passed by the wise old man of the mountain, who was roasting marshmallows over a small fire a disconcertingly close distance from his nest. The young man was glad he had packed the roller skates in the limited space in his valise, along with the length of rope, as otherwise he would have had to carry the goat on his back.
"Ah, are you two back for the meaning of life?" asked the wise old man, taking a second to look up from his marshmallow.
"Yeah, sure, why not?" said the woman. She held a wire frame in her hands that used to be the grass clippings wreath, and idly wished it had been a notebook and a pen to write this down.
"Don't lose that damn goat."
Early in the morning the chosen two and the goat entered the village to no fanfare. They simply put the goat back inside the village walls, closed the gate, and watched it head over to the nearest patch of slightly overgrown grass.
They didn't lose the goat. And everyone in the village was happy again, and drank dandelion tea in celebration once they got up.
disclaimer:
Ah ha! We hope you've enjoyed the serial. Again, thank you, muse.
Folks, next week, if you sense a disturbance in the force it's just us... moving from one coast to another. To all the Californians we met, "Hasta la vista," which means, in New England-ese, "We wish you much continued luck in your crazy style of driving, and good luck not falling into the ocean."
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