Krovanh
I have always led an atypical life which I
perceive as something strange. I have this certain ability which I believe only
a select few are endowed with, intermittently manifesting itself from time to
time, an inherent
talent which even I can hardly fathom.
I know deep inside, I have a mission to
accomplish. It appears repeatedly in dreams; visions of a faraway land, distant
from the throngs of humanity, a land of verdant landscapes and majestic
mountains, of unusual flora and fauna which can only be seen in the tropics. It
also shows a woman clad in white robes having blue eyes the shade of mine which
gleam at her stare and whose auburn hair capturing the effervescent rays of the
sun bidding me to come and follow her lead.
In another vision, I witness a deluge, a hellish
firestorm eating away the core of that beautiful landscape and that of the sea
swallowing it whole into its sentry depths. In all of these, I saw myself as a bystander,
welding an orb from which bursts an intense light of the most electrifying of
the blues blinding the entire horizon stirring a potent and profound energy
within me to the zeniths of my soul.
Unwary to of all those visions, I simply took them
at a glance, never indulging with the real score behind it.
Amidst all that, I have walked the road likely
traveled, along the gravel-lined walks of life, where everything seemed
smooth-sailing. Never have I realized then how meaningless my life was. I tried
to become a nobody, travelling along a secure and crowded path. My life seemed
so dull and ordinary and I used to accept my destiny.
As I yielded myself more and more to emptiness,
the dreams persevered and became more frequent, eating away the sanity which I
sturdily held myself into.
Bound in the earthly dominion where lies, greed
and conceit abound, I gradually lost my place in the pedestal of earthly
hierarchy. Life lost its splendor and I succumbed to despondency.
But, one day I woke up finding the will and the courage
to embark on a journey to truly discover myself and my purpose in the grand
scheme of things.
As if being guided or being drawn by an unseen
force, for an unknown reason I was led to the mountains of Krovanh.
Krovanh, a mystic dwelling place of the Meranti;
an ancient race whose origin is nearly lost in time. A high altitude village where one is
literally with the clouds once darkness hits. Even the moon can not be seen as
the entire area is enveloped with billowing mists.
The Meranti is said to have descended from the god
Mekhala, the supreme ruler of the skies who fell in love with a mortal woman,
Meranti. They settled within the steep mountain slopes of Krovanh and bore a
son whom they christened Chanhom who in his prime established the village.
Mekhala, being a god had to leave his mortal
beloved and his son as duty calls. Already fond of his life in the earthly
realm, Mekhala was reluctant to go. However, the troublesome skies had to be
silenced as it did become livid and chaotic with the absence of its ethereal
ruler. Torn between duty and love, Mekhala had to choose the former. His wife
though mournful of her lover’s demise, started to carve the terraces on the
faces of the Krovanh. The terraces meant to become stairways leading to the
heavenly realm of her lover. Generations upon generations, the terraces were
sculpted and eventually formed to its current state. A breath-taking view
sculpted by hand and primitive tools over millennia.
The terraces became the lifeline of the Meranti as
it became the source of their staple food, rice. A man-made beauty which looks
so natural with its wide expanse, irrigated by means of mountain streams and
springs that have been tapped and channeled into bamboo pipes and canals that
run downhill, the lifeline of the village people. A testament of hope from a
woman’s dire wish to be reunited with her lover.
Hanging bridges are a common scene as it gives
access to villages across ravines. A mere walk through it would give a thrill
as it easily sways over a great height.
Nothing was mentioned of Meranti since then, as her
existence became lost in time. It is said that she ultimately joined Mekhala in
her final days. And this is what I have learned from the villagers.
For several months, this was my dwelling place, on
a hut which is a simple wooden structure, built on stilts on the side of the mountain
where every time I looked
out the window, I could watch a magical scene as stairs of rice terraces climb
into the mists of the mountain tops.
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