The Tale of the Polycosmosian - Part 2
Written and Illustrated by Arman Chagla (she/they), a visual artist, hand-poke tattoo artist, and creative writer. They are a voracious reader and tend to write in the genres of fantasy, historical fiction, and horror-punk. Currently a student at St. Mira’s College for Girls Pune, Arman is pursuing a Master of Arts in English Literature.
Where we left off… and where we are…
In Part 1, Ambrose, our ennui-ridden and tired embroiderer extraordinaire feels like an island in a sea of listlessness. But when a chance encounter with a stranger opens up a path to adventure to them, they find themselves flung across the universe and through time, far from home.
Now in the allure of a new world, Ambrose is carried away by the tides of friendship and revolution. Yet, should the opportunity present itself; a mirror held up to reality may reflect only the beholder’s perception. There are plots of fire and blood brewing as Ambrose faces their own conceptions; simmering beneath the shadow of an emerald mountain.
This handle turns, as many did not
To reveal a room rather plain,
Except that on every side Ambrose’s reflection was caught
For a number of looking glasses did it contain.
This visual is inspired by the Sheesh Mahal, a palace in Lahore Fort. Constructed during the reign of Shah Jahan, it is known for the complex mirroring inlay and was called the 'jewel in the Fort's crown.’
For looking was the game, as they quickly surmised,
Each a kind of them, each with a different name
And set in differing scenes.
In one did they lie prone on a hospital bed, a weeping wound on their face,
For those of you who have seen the newest instalment in the Kenneth Branagh-starring Poirot films, Death on the Nile, one of the most jarring images in the film was that of a scarred Poirot being tended to by his nurse paramour.
Another saw them with their voice raised in mournful song.
This line foreshadows the action to come; and is a reference to the Oracle of Delphi, a.k.a. the Pythia. Read more about this easter egg in the references at the end!
A third, pampered and swaddled in fine lace,
In another did they sit beside a stream as the water flowed along.
Because the sight of golden-haired Morfydd Clark (as Galadriel in the new series, Lord of the Rings: Rings of Power) sitting by a brook in Valinor moved me so deeply.
But in the last, the only one that held their gaze,
Was an Ambrose with scars on their brow and cheek speaking of baffling belligerence.
Their armor had borne the brunt of harsh days,
Yet a simple smile made all the difference.
For smile they did, from ear to ear
Even as blood stained the hem of their robe,
Even as dirt cut tracks for each solitary tear,
This grin only ever seemed to grow.
A moment’s deliberation, nothing more
And their fingers meet the surface of the glass;
The most recognizable use of the mirror-as-a-travelling-conduit motif is in Lewis Carroll's 'Through the Looking Glass'!
Washing them upon a foreign shore before the mountain evergreen, looming and vast.
They wander up the pier, towards the foreign town,
Smoke and fog swirl in a sky cinnamon brown
But as they weave through thin cobbled streets,
The townsfolk are rather unnoticing.
This ancient city, alight with an odd diaphanous glow
Was emanating the nostalgia of a half-remembered home, from a time long ago,
For similar enough was it to our Earth yet not exactly the same,
Where every bird, beast, and leaf went by a different name.
Yet, everyone’s attention was seemingly drawn
To a loud gathering at the square,
Where feet are swiftly marching by, voices raised in martial song
And flagbearers hoist the charges they bear.
Pennants of some faction shiver in the procession, men and women lowering their heads as they pass by.
A figure stands prone on an uppermost ledge.
His voice as he begins, adopts a certain derision.
“Fellow citizens, I bring before you a situation most dire,
About a man who threatens treason with every breath he takes;
A heathen that should guarantee your utmost ire; and a fellow patriot amongst us does you make.”
“For I speak of Merfoz, the villain of our times,
Sitting in his fort plotting the downfall of the republic of Qaf,
Qaf, in Islamic tradition, is the legendary mountain where the jinn dwell. It is said to be made out of emerald, and the mountain range rings a flat Earth that is balanced on the shoulder of a great bull. It is said that it takes 40 days to travel through the darkness to reach it, and that it is a land of humble beauty.
A utopia we the jinn have toiled for, he undermines,
Taken from 'Legend of the Fire Spirits' by Robert Lebling, a short and simple explanation about jinn is that, "according to Islamic tradition, God created angels from light, humans from clay and jinn from smokeless fire. Jinn- a word derived from an Arabic root meaning to 'conceal' or 'cover with darkness'- are said to have the ability to hide themselves from humans, often disguising themselves as animals such as snakes, dogs and cats."
Throwing out the seed along with the chaff.
For the people have agency, highest and pure
To pursue what our heart desires,
And to a hellscape of governed control does he forever lure
Us, lastly bound to his workman’s gyre.”
While 'gyre' colloquially means a vortex or a whirl, the visual reference is to W. B. Yeats' poem, 'The Second Coming'. In it, he uses the image of the gyre to demonstrate the hopeless and chaotic atmosphere of post-War Europe. Similarly, Yarmeth's use of the term brings to mind an endless, droning grind that the citizens would be chained to under the so-called tyrant's reign.
“I, Yarmeth, the first of his name,
Now pledge to rid our land of this plague;
With the hammer and sword, and my blood on my blade do I proclaim,
Free people of all shall I make.
Join me now, in the good fight,
To rid our city of this bastardly heathen.
With the strength of our minds and military might,
We will create our very own Eden.”
Eden, otherwise referred to as Jannah or Firdaus in Quranic contexts, was a land above the human realm to which entry was permitted only for "those who refrain from doing evil, keep their duty, have faith in God's revelations, do good works, are truthful, penitent, heedful, and contrite of heart, those who feed the needy and orphans and who are prisoners for God's sake." (according to ‘The Islamic Understanding of Death and Resurrection’, a 1981 book by Jane Smith and Yvonne Haddad.)
Yet a mutter arises behind our Ambrose, close enough to discern;
“Heresy drips from his tongue like honeyed fruit gone sour.”
Another says, “This is a grave matter if his speech takes off, we must be concerned.”
“Only He knows what Yarmeth will do when he has gotten that much power!”
Ambrose turns to find a group standing out from the rest,
Their disdain apparent in a cheering crowd.
The same pennant crossed out in deep red, on their breasts,
Nathaniel Hawthorne's use of the emblematic alphabet in 'The Scarlet Letter' reflects the inner turmoil and mindscapes of the character who bears it; similarly, the pennants donned by the rebels clearly mark them as outsiders in the crowd, splintered in their beliefs and their allegiances.
And on each of their faces, a deep frown.
When the largest among them takes notice of this stranger,
“Oh, a new recruit? You must join us at the feast!”
They allowed themselves to be carried off the street,
Their flight was lost in the pounding of a thousand feet,
“You wish to know what stands against the republic? Welcome to the resistance of Merfoz and the bloodless.”
A doorway opens from a disguised crack in the wall,
Pouring forth warm verdant light.
The mountain’s part is enough to admit a man 8 feet tall,
And on the glassy face, the reflection of flame flickers bright.
Ambrose takes a deep breath,
Eyes flitting to the faces of each expectant host,
Before closing their eyes and taking a step,
To be swallowed by the shadows whole.
As they journey down winding paths,
Raucous laughter does ever so often echo,
Until they come upon a widening cavern,
Where another man in the center, is mid-bellow.
“My friends, my friends, I am glad to see you- the night has been weary and long.
And Yarmeth’s minions have had much to do, yet we are still ever strong.
For in this fortress are we safe and sound,
No harm may reach us here.
Here, where bread, fruit and honey abound, you may have no fear.”
“But lest you become lax and careless yet, eat one bite less,
For when Yarmeth does come for us, we must put our might to the test.
There is much to discuss about our next steps.
We must proceed with the siege primarily remotely.”
“For we all know why we find ourselves here,
Fighting for the right of the good,
Before the false prophet’s regime is made law to which we must adhere,
Damning all to chaos, and hell for us is assured.
And let me remind you, my friends,
That Qaf alone shall not bear the brunt of Yarmeth’s fanaticism.
This sentence will signal many world’s ends,
This nihilistic regime succeeding each cataclysm.”
“What we desperately need to enforce
Is the balance we believe in as the best course;
Just as the Great Bull upholds our jabal nation across
Kuyūthā is the cosmic bull in medieval Islamic cosmography. It is said to carry on its back the angel who shoulders the earth and the rock platform upon which the angel stands. The bull is said to stand on the giant fish or whale, Bahamut.
'Jabal' is an Arabic word which means 'mountain'.
The spine of Bahamut, slick with primordial gloss.
So must we temper our drives with moral weights,
Iron conviction to carbon instinct alone,
So must we run our very own state,
And spread the same philosophy to employ in any world known.”
As he speaks, Merfoz’s energy captivates every soul present in the soaring fell hall,
As palms slam against tables, glasses, rough-hewn bowls, answering the call.
Recruits rise, pledging their green allegiance,
To forever the nihilist faction condemn, and to obey Merfoz, liberal leader, Qaf regent;
Ambrose, volunteered by their friends, amongst them.
Yet as they settle into the rush,
Ambrose tests the crowd like a stone for a thrush.
For beyond the realm of idealistic hypothesizing,
The jinn had no sense of what it meant to rule,
Of their own principles, self-confessed, were they compromising.
The same iron that forges the steel,
Pervaded in truth, by abhorrence for their kin
Has ground their beliefs into fine meal,
Until the veil between right and wrong is silk thin.
Yet kindness shines through,
The inherent lot of this alien race;
Ambrose touched by the emotional coup
As they did these queer friends embrace.
With blood, sweat and tears mingling in the emerald sand,
Did Ambrose grow to love the jinn,
Izzie, the first among them to fall, the soft-hearted Amir and Azra and Div,
And Merfoz himself, the leader of them all.
Green sunrises in reflecting caverns,
To pools of spring water from underground lakes,
Dark coves in overgrown bowers
Did the homes of these memories make.
There were weddings in the shadow of war,
Soft ‘qubool hai’s whispered in the chill of dawn,
When roses graced the palms of lovers adored,
And children of the revolution were born.
Considerably the most important part of a Muslim wedding, the two partners are to consent to their marriage by saying, 'qubool hai' (or 'I accept') three times, in front of their witnesses and the maulanah.
Until at last, a war cry arose from the summit.
The cinnamon sky brought forth the hordes,
Running the enemy force right through,
Chimaera of every form, a cruel machine’s puppets.
The term 'chimera/chimaera' traditionally refers to the Greek mythological creature, composed of different animal parts from Lycia, Asia Minor. It is usually depicted as a lion, with the head of a goat protruding from its back, and a tail that might end with a snake's head. More contemporary usage of the term is beautifully depicted in Laini Taylor's 'The Daughter of Smoke and Bone' series, where she uses the word to refer to a race of anthropomorphic creatures from a parallel world called Eretz. (A must read!)
Ambrose themselves engaged in the conflict,
Yet no life did their blade ever take-
Cauterizing wounds, bandaging injury with a stiff upper-lip
If not for their own but the warrior’s sake.
When at last the combat seemed over and done,
Did the survivors gather at their own sad camps,
For the war had its course run
And Merfoz was the obvious champ.
He cheered and mourned as a commander must,
Patting backs and placing chaste kisses on the heads of his troupe,
But soon, the disguise aside did he brush
And revealed his own chilling truth.
For he had come to learn that control was good,
Agency was a rotting root in a man;
And all of the principles for which he once stood,
Would remain in repose as his rule began.
Kohl-rimmed orbs peer out of obsidian pools,
Water overflowing in the wake of the revelation;
There had only been amongst Merfoz and Yarmeth, one side true
A dictator who would invite no contradictions.
Bright-eyed soldiers understood what was lost,
The blood of their countryfolk spilt.
They had all paid the ultimate cost,
Carried away in a madman’s lilt.
A thought blooms in their mind
Anticipating the bearing of a sweeter fruit,
A revolution to beat Merfoz in kind,
And pull out the poisonous plant by the root.
The soldiers at the fore surge in one wave,
Beating back the tide of their own impotent rage,
To confront Merfoz and the empty promises he gave,
To break out of this sarificing cage.
Ambrose’s hurt now burns through their composure,
And abruptly they felt dragged back to the void again.
They beat their fists against a buffet of wind,
Encompassing them in an angonizing rush
For tears in their eyes now brimmed
For a revenge that they could never discuss.
The dark runs forever, until they happen upon a glow in the distance
Where a familiar figure huddles against a fireplace
Odin, the All-Father and God-King of the Aesir, one of the Norse mythological pantheons, was often postulated as a wanderer who travelled the nine realms, interconnected by the World Tree Yggdrasil, in a constant search for knowledge. He is said to have sacrificed one of his eyes to Mimir, a being whose knowledge of the cosmos was unparalleled due to his access to the Well of Urd, in exchange for wisdom.
And whose eyes are twinkling in casual cognizance.
The Stranger smiling almost as if he knew.
He seems worse for the wear, as they must too,
Yet no question but this is posed for which
Their restful nights have they sacrificed in lieu;
“How have I come to be here? Am I bewitched?”
A laugh and a hearty pat on the leg,
He begins in a voice carefully kept in check,
“A wise man, such as me, once said
‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’
Formulated by British science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke, Clarke's three laws are a part of his philosophies concerning futuristic writing. This line that features in the poem is the third, and debatably most famous, law. All three laws appear in Clarke's essay "Hazards of Prophecy: The Failure of Imagination", first published in Profiles of the Future (1962).
“I have often found that travellers, at first, do stumble and struggle.
But home is a kind and comforting thought
As you will come to discover.
For the thrill of a new world is pleasure that can’t be bought
And the pain of leaving is like no other.”
“But there is more for you to learn
Than just the war in the emerald realm,
Maybe those living unfinished lives can help,
The dwellers of the plain of elms.”
In Celtic mythology, elms represented the Underworld, and were closely associated with elves and fairies who guarded these entrances. Its associations with magic also hark back to the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice from Greek mythological canon. Orpheus is said to have rescued his beloved wife Eurydice from the Underworld by enchanting everyone there with his harp music. He then paused to play her a love song, at which spot the first elm grove was said to have sprung up. There is a lovely article that talks about these references in detail.
He leans forward one final time
And in a conspiratorial whisper,
Muttering into Ambrose’s ear strange lines
To which they could only be a passive listener.
As they begin to question the Stranger,
Does he reach out to grasp their arm.
“Fare thee well, my young friend. Keep away from any danger!”
The flame is blown out and they topple back in blank alarm.
For the old man is nowhere to be found
And the night has suddenly turned to day.
Ambrose rubs their eyes and looks around
To behold the world of the Faie.
Another word for fairies, the fae are a type of legendary or mythological creature that finds inspiration in various European mythologies in varying temperaments and appearances. While most modern perspectives view them with some sort of playful benevolence, medieval understandings of the fae were cautious and admonishing.
They awake to lying on a bed of blue moss,
Fairy rings, also called pixie rings or elf circles, are a phenomenon where mushrooms grow in circles. As hypothesized in Western European tradition, they occur due to fairies or pixies dancing, and were portals to the land of the fae.
Ringed with mushrooms of every color and size,
Black volcanic rock spans a cavern across with fruit trees perched on the rise.
Towering monoliths materialize in the distance, accompanied by great trunks of elm.
These peculiar folk notice the newcomer soon,
For they stood out like a sore thumb, caught wandering the plains mid-afternoon.
They are led to a commune in the shrub,
Where they ogle and stare and poke at their form,
Demonstrating their own beauty.
And they do inquire where Ambrose comes from,
But simply as a matter of duty.
For the Faie are more alien all the more than ever the jinn were,
These bodies are a canvas for adornment galore,
Colorful hair, jewel-toned eyes and all the ornaments they could have worn
Grace their lithe frames in the epitome of style.
Yet the only ornament that they did not wear was a smile,
Puckering their thin mouths all the while.
At length does one Faie ask,
“Do your kind not long to be something… more?”
Probably Relevant End Note
This is our first time working with not just fiction, but also poetry, as a way of bringing you, dear reader, some enjoyable reading. The annotations above as well as the references below have all been painstakingly put together by Arman and we hope you find them as intriguing and insightful as we did. The Tale of the Polycosmosian will conclude next month. Until then, tell us what you thought of this rendition of war, magic and everything that makes us human and what you think will unfold next. Reach out to us at hi@artnowthus.com or on social media @artnowthus.
References:
The Oracle of Delphi was one of the highest female authorities in male-dominated Ancient Greece. Peasants and kings alike flocked to her for her advice. The reference to this oracle reflects Merfoz’s downfall in the parable of Croesus, king of Lydia. Believing himself to have received a favourable prophecy running up to a war with Persia that stated, “If you cross the river, a great empire will be destroyed,” Croesus staked his campaign in order to defeat their long-awaited enemies. Instead, it is the Lydian empire that is brought low, just as the liberating faction of Merfoz’s army is shattered by their ideological loss.
My information about Qaf, jinn and Islamic traditional mythology is taken from, what I consider to be one of the greatest and most engaging non-fictional books I’ve ever read, Robert Lebling’s ‘Legend of the Fire Spirits’.
Sir Edward Bulwer-Litton writes in his novel ‘Zanoni’, "The microscope shows you the creatures on the leaf; no mechanical tube is yet invented to discover the nobler and more gifted things that hover in the illimitable air. Yet between these last and man is a mysterious and terrible affinity... Now, in space there are millions of beings, not literally spiritual, for they have all, like the animalculæ unseen by the naked eye, certain forms of matter, though matter so delicate, air-drawn, and subtle, that it is, as it were, but a film, a gossamer, that clothes the spirit... Yet, in truth, these races differ most widely... some of surpassing wisdom, some of horrible malignity; some hostile as fiends to men, others gentle as messengers between earth and heaven."
For anyone who wants to deep-dive into Norse, Greek, Roman or Egyptian mythology in an entertaining (and honestly much more feasible than doom-scrolling-on-Wikipedia-for-hours) way, look no further than Rick Riordan’s various book series. Although the novels are targeted at a young-adult audience, the prose is engaging and easy to understand. His world-building is flawless, and he manages to bring niche subjects from mythology into modern contexts with the turn of a page. I highly recommend his work, and would encourage you to begin with the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series
If you’d like to read more about the fae, this book is absolutely fabulous. Cassandra Eason’s ‘Fabulous Creatures, Mythical Monsters, and Animal Power Symbols: A Handbook’ covers a range of topics, and they take the time to flesh out their content by referencing a number of works.