Vacations in Katatonos

In the summer Corrin and I used to pluck berries. Berries always scared me. One day after we had plucked berries, I went home to find one berry left in my pocket. And it had turned into a bulbulate. The bulbulate said it was happy to see me.

During the evenings we'd sit on the verandah listening to the crickets in the distance. Corrin stayed alone with his grandfather. His mother had died when he was very young, and his father had run away fearing the revenge of the hand-that-is-always-near. Corrin's grandfather would sometimes read us stories. Occasionally a bus would pass in the distance.

The passengers on the bumpy rid to their destination. The old man with his granddaughter, the wife going back to her home village, the workers going home after a hard day's work.

Sometimes Corrin's grandfather would shoot crow, then he'd use the flesh as bait to catch fish. We'd sit by the pond with crudely fashioned rods and wait for a bite. Birds would fly out of the water with a fish thrashing in their beak.

After lunch we'd watch the old man smoke his hookah. On it was an intricately carved design telling the story of how Vahikute had vanquished the Narakumbe demons. He would sometimes recount the battle as he had seen it.

Borusada would never let us into her kitchen. We'd love to sneak in when we could, dip our fingers in her jelly fruit pickle and lick them clean. She would complain to Corrin's grandfather when she had found out the mischief we had been up to.

The temple priests would finish their rites for the evening. Then after the purification ceremony they would sit around and play a game of heloroid on the big, brown and black boards.

Corrin had a smaller heloroid game. My favourite piece was the elephant trunk, because it wriggled like a worm. I was really good at the game. During one game it started bleeding. His grandfather said it was because we played it too much.

It was always a shame when the summer would end and I'd have to go back to the city.