THE UNTOUCHABLES
Asha played and recorded with us on a number of wonderful occasions. Marius, the sheepdog was always watching over the creative process.
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The Untouchables is an unusual short story that takes you simultaneously into the past and the future; away into an exotic land and the closeness of your own heart. Born during the Times of Covid, it explores the importance of touch and the ultimate victory of the human spirit over any attempts to suppress it.
I'm immensely grateful to have a recording of 'The Untouchables' by the late musician and mystic Asha Quinn, which I am now
happy to share with you. Asha came a few times to Little Viciente, making his iconic music videos. Thank you, Asha, for your heavenly music, friendship, and inspiration. You will always be remembered with love! |
© Viktória G Duda - published under the Creative Commons 4.0 International License.
You may read and share it freely for non-commercial purposes, provided you credit the author and do not alter the text. |
The Untouchables |
In Memoriam Asha Quinn |
Somewhere in the Jungle of Samarath, stands the greatest temple the world has ever seen. It shall forever be the greatest for every year a new circle of sacred chambers, arcades, and galleries is erected around previous, smaller circles. Circle by circle, year after year, the temple is growing like a tree makes it rings. Gigantic, cone-shaped towers at every point of the compass make the humble houses of the denizens living in the circular streets between the temple premises look like molehills. If you close your eyes, you may see this sacred complex – but it must not misguide you the way I tell this tale. The Temple of Samarath does not exist: it is not a thing of the present or the past, its history is yet to happen in the future.
Once upon a future, when the red lauan tree began to blossom, young priestess Rama decided the days of her loneliness were over. It’s been a year and a day since her hirodule – her untouchable servant – had died. Tired of grieving, tired of having to do everything herself, tired of the waterpipes not working and tea not being served in the evening, she went to the temple office to request a new hirodule.
‘It will not be easy to find someone suitable for you, Priestess, ’ the clerk woman said. ‘Did you have your previous servant since childhood?’
‘Yes,’ said Rama. ‘As customary, we were raised together from the age of seven. He had been very loyal,’ with darkness in her voice, she added: ‘He died protecting me.’
‘Ah, you see, his will be shoes hard to fill! As all the other untouchable servants have also been paired to their touchable masters at the age of seven, hirodules only become available if their masters die. You’re very young, Priestess, not many die at your age.’
While she spoke, the clerk woman went over to the palm leaf notes in the temple’s filing cabinets, hoping to find a candidate.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to make a compromise of some sort. We have no replacement servant who matches your age, as well as your education, and who is – for the sake of gender harmony in your household – also a male. We have, for instance,’ the clerk began to lay out some palm leaves in front of her ‘a lovely young temple servant, but she is a female; plenty of male temple servants, too, but all are quite old – you wouldn’t want to have someone like a father watching over you, would you?’ the clerk laughed a little. ‘We only have one man around your age – but he does not match your education. He’s not a trained temple servant.’
‘What is he of trade?’ Rama asked in an even voice, to veil her curiosity.
‘He’s an artist.’
‘An artist...’ Rama repeated, not disliking what she heard. ‘Can I inspect him?’
‘Of course. I shall go down and bring him up for you.’
‘Let me come with you’ Rama said, only to regret it a minute later.
The quarters of those untouchables who were not owned or claimed by anyone were in cellars below the offices. They were all so small that they resembled cages of animals. Lacking windows and fresh air, their sight made the young priestess’ heart cry out in pain of sympathy.
‘This one...’ the clerk showed Rama the young hirodule ‘has been waiting down here for three years.’
Three years in this rathole! By gods…
Looking at him, Rama immediately noticed the beauty of his eyes. They were drawn all around with a fine charcoal pencil, and that made them shine like stars amidst the midnight black of the young man’s long, wavy hair.
‘I am a priestess,’ she told him, ‘if you come with me, would you be willing to learn about the ways to serve the temple?’
Upon seeing her, he did something Rama never saw an untouchable doing before.
He smiled.
‘Ayay, Priestess’ he said ‘I’m sure, I can. When I paint, the gods talk to me: I’m well used to their horrendous-beauteous company.’
‘But the temple...’ she warned him ‘is full of fearsome recesses and dangerous traps to the soul, forcing you even to face your worst fear. It is not just magical, it’s also a dark place.’
‘Darker than this?’ the hirodule pointed around his tiny, subterranean cell.
Rama found herself lost for a moment in gloomy thoughts, but then nodded.
‘Very well’ she said, turning to the clerk. ‘Deliver him this evening to my house, would you?’
In the evening, Rama was sitting outside her window under the red lauan tree. As always, when the silver moon came out, she began to caress Rika, the tame black panther in her arms.
As soon as the new hirodule arrived and the clerk left, she told him to come, sit with them. No! Not two steps behind as he was being taught, just right here, on the blanket. Rama was pleased to see that he was not afraid of the big cat rather began to stroke her silky fur. Thus, they could sit comfortably in each other’s company, as long as they obeyed the rules and did not touch each other. Rama knew, if she ever touched him, even accidentally, she’d be declared an untouchable herself – and the punishment for him would be… too gruesome to even think about!
‘What is your name?’ she asked and repaid the smile he gave her in the morning.
‘My name’ he said, grateful for the attention ‘is Aladin.’
‘Aladin!’ Rama exclaimed. ‘What an unusual, exotic name! I never heard it before. Who gave it to you?’
They both were pleasantly surprised: Rama that he wasn’t simply referred to by the animal of his birth sign, like Horse, Dragon or Rabbit as most servants were and Aladin that she was interested in him.
‘My mother gave it to me,’ he answered. ‘She found it in an ancient fairy tale from before the Great Cataclysm. Now forgotten, Aladin was a boy with a magical, wish-fulfilling lamp.’
‘Your mother,’ Rama said, ‘must have desired for you to find such a lamp. When did you last meet her?’
‘As usual, on my seventh birthday. That was the last day she was allowed to see me and touch me – that was the last day anyone was allowed to touch me.’
Rama listened to him with sadness, but that flowed away in a stream of fascination as she was curious to learn more. She knew little about the lives of the untouchables, as she was sheltered from the truth while growing up. She was aware that all children were touchable until the age of seven as scientists found babies would not even survive, toddlers would not even grow without nurturing touch – but not a single day further. She, the Priestess of the Love Temple, could not imagine a single day of life without touch.
She looked at Aladin in sympathy but not less so in admiration of his beauty and almost otherworldly charisma.
‘I love...’ she told him ‘how you paint your eyes. I wish my face would be adorned like that! Wouldn’t it look enchanting in the flickering fires of the temple?’
‘It surely would. If you like, my Lady, I can do that makeup for you. No, don’t worry’ he rushed to say upon seeing a little disturbance in her eyes ‘I can do it without my hand touching your skin – I would apply the colours with my pencils, sponges, and brushes only.’
Rama was so delighted by the idea, she sat up straight and held her head like a statue, ready to be painted. Aladin felt even more delighted that he was allowed to do this and conjured up some utensils from the trunk he came with.
While at work, Aladin did not breach a single rule of the untouchables. For no one said that untouchables were not permitted to look you into the eyes – and he did look Rama deep into the eyes, for long minutes of eternity, until she could see his shiny black pupil reflecting the starry sky.
No one said that untouchables were not permitted to come close to you – and Aladin did come close to Rama so she could breathe in his scent of musk and comfort in his body heat. The way he looked at her was not forbidden either, perhaps only because no law ever enacted had words to describe it. But it was dangerous for sure, as it made her heart flutter in its ribcage, wanting to fly like a bird who now remembered freedom...
At night, Aladin slept, as customary, in the corner of Rama’s bedroom. A special, mandatory window had to be kept open, allowing anyone who walked by to inspect whether the untouchable of the household was sleeping and was sleeping separately. That night, however, Rama saw something astonishing happening through that window. On soft and silent paws, another black panther jumped into the room. He caused no trouble. Quick and quiet, the incoming magnificent animal lay down next to Aladin. (Rika, snuggling up at Rama’s feet, only raised her head.) Rama watched, as Aladin wrapped his body around the elegant feline creature and fell asleep.
At sunrise, when the people of Samarath ventured out to attend their various affairs – worldly or religious – many of them turned their heads after Rama and Aladin. When they saw the untouchable young man going side by side the beautiful priestess, both walking towards the Outer Temple Ring, both wearing the same mesmerizing paint on their face, some shook their heads. Yet, nobody could report them, as they were neither touching nor doing anything that was, strictly speaking, forbidden.
‘Temple servants, like all other children, learn their duties in school from the age of seven’ Rama said to Aladin as they arrived at the Outer Temple. ‘But, of course, it would be awkward and take too much time to send you in with them. I’ll need your help soon. Hence, I shall show you around the temple myself and teach you everything you need to know.’
‘Yes, my Lady’ Aladin said with pleasure. He always liked the temple. On all those occasions when he was ordered to paint or carve inside of it, he found himself enchanted by the presence of the gods.
Young servants like him were, of course, never allowed to enter the Outer Ring – as the newest erected building was home of leading-edge magic and that remained strictly reserved to the priesthood, to artists who have attained sacred ranks, and to special guests.
But today... Aladin, with a beautiful teacher, was about to enter the Outer Temple Ring! This was the 233rd ring of the temple as that many years have passed since the beginning of a new civilisation after the Great Cataclysm. And the gate of it now opened, for Rama to step in and Aladin to follow – what a magnificent day this was!
The Outer Ring was subject to a lot of mysterious speculations being the place where the newest sacral operations were invented, tested, and practised. Anyone who had ever been in there was obliged to the strictest secrecy. Simple residents only noticed that anyone who went in there came out different: those people had a high command over life and fate, as well as a clear sense of purpose to which they remained devoted.
‘There are chambers in here’ Rama told Aladin under the arcade, ‘you must get to know. Today, each of them will be veiled in utter darkness, as I want you to feel them first before you can understand them. Feel everything, see nothing. I will walk ahead with a tiny light in my hand. Follow that.’
How wondrous it was: the light Rama was carrying looked like Aladin’s lamp in the story his mother used to tell him. It was a relief to see such a magical thing, especially since nothing else could have prepared him for being in those chambers!
Feeling, inside there, took a different dimension to anything Aladin had ever experienced. He was a sensitive artist who could collect the feelings from those around him, whether it was from the sacred beauty of a chant or the anger of a bewildered mob. But in here, there was nobody – only grave silence and lack of movement. Yet! He could feel the chambers, not by seeing, hearing, or smelling, rather by discerning something similar to heat rising or wind blowing. Each chamber sent powerful sensations to him and in each of the three, those were different.
In the first chamber, an overwhelming sense of love and desire got hold of him; remarkably, it was the kind of love based on touch, the kind he was never permitted to experience. In the second chamber, thick and sticky fear oppressed him; he only kept going to demonstrate Priestess Rama his valour. But in the third chamber, whatever he felt, he could not name. A spiralling force grabbed him: one moment, he felt like a child again, the next moment, it was as if walls were crumbling and the world all around him was no longer in existence, or rather… had not yet come into being...
‘These were the three most important chambers,’ Rama told him out on the gallery again, ‘for you to familiarize yourself with: the Chamber of Love, the Chamber of Shadows, and the Chamber of Time. For the next three days, I will initiate you into each of these chambers, respectively.’
After a vow of secrecy, Aladin was lead by Rama into the Chamber of Love.
This time, the priestess illuminated it: she opened a large, stone-framed window that was grown all around by roses from a secret inner garden. Light curtains were caught in the breeze and like them, flying in the sunshine, Aladin’s imagination was moved by the magic of this room: how it must look, when the torches are lit by the fire of passion and bodies touch on those large, silky cushions...
‘I know it’s hard for you to be in here’ Rama told him. ‘The other two chambers are hard on everyone but this one will be hard especially for you, as it is dedicated to the touch I am the priestess of but you are forbidden to experience. Fate is cruel, for I cannot save you the inconvenience of having to learn how to serve – and nothing but serve – this chamber.’
Aladin nodded.
Only his honest wish to be of use for Rama had helped him to live through the day. Being taught about the rituals of love, preparing oils and utensils for touch were to him like for a hungry lion being presented with the smell of sweet blood. The chamber awakened his starving spirit and sent him into incessant despair of desire.
Rama understood his agony.
‘These chambers are operated by a field’ she explained. ‘There is always an invisible field of energies, thoughts, and sentiments surrounding us but we, members of the priesthood, understand how to work that field. It is our craft to enhance or change aspects of it. This chamber is tuned to love and desire – that is what you are perceiving every moment you spend in here.’
‘Who tuned it?’ Aladin dared to ask. ‘Who tuned the chamber?’
‘I did, for I am the Priestess of Touch. It is my work to initiate all the young man into the art of love before they get married so that their touch did not remain an act of animal instinct but may become a gateway to the higher realms.’
Aladin looked at Rama – with compassion. Suddenly, he understood the inverse similarity of their fate: the reciprocal suffering of the hirodule who was not allowed to touch anyone and the priestess who was obliged to touch everyone. Neither of them was allowed to find lasting companionship, both of them were doomed, in a way, to a lonely life.
The question he always wanted to ask came to Aladin’s mind:
‘How does it feel to touch another human being?’
But Rama only said:
‘Answering that question would cause you further pain – and I do not wish to impose more suffering than you already must endure. Hence, I shall not answer. But tell me: How does it feel never to touch an Other?’
Aladin looked at her. Did she really want to know?
‘There is…’ after a little pause, he began ‘always an emptiness in my heart. The pain of my soul aggravates into a pain of the body that keeps me restless and often sleepless at night. Without Raul, I would always suffer from a lack of sleep.’ Aladin did not have to explain, Rama guessed that Raul must have been his mysterious panther. ‘Day and night, my skin and my muscles ache, as they are forced to hold back the life force, keeping it in a perpetual prison of inner madness. And because I learned to keep my vitality within, everything is always far away from me. Everyone is always far away from me! Most untouchables, my Lady, are numb, walking around like ghosts from the graves: such is nature’s clemency for them. My body and my mind, however, are rebelling against that, no matter how high the price in pain. My heart’ Aladin pointed at his chest ‘is empty, yet wanting, forever wanting, yet empty still.’
As he spoke, Rama noticed a teardrop forming in Aladin’s magnificent eyes. Without even the smallest movement of his face, it rolled down his cheeks.
At that moment, something never-before-seen happened in the Chamber of Love.
Rama, the priestess stepped up to him and lifted her finger. Slowly, she moved it closer and closer to Aladin’s face to wipe off the teardrop. She was touching the untouchable’s skin...
Once it happened, she placed her hand on Aladin’s chest and with her most tender touch, filled his empty heart with powerful love magic.
Transfixed, he looked at her with incredulous gratitude but also fear for the priestess, who had just risked her freedom for his comfort!
She, however, just whispered calmly:
‘Tell no one and no one will know.’
At night, when Aladin lay down to sleep in the corner of Rama’s bedroom, the black panther jumped in again through the window. This time, the priestess watched him sleeping with Aladin for a long while… She was wondering how it felt. Of course, she couldn’t risk finding out. There were always some of those terrible guards, wearing iron masks and long, black cloaks, walking down the streets, checking all the windows…
At dawn, after the panther had leapt out the window again, Rama and Aladin made their way back to the temple, this time to enter the Chamber of Shadows.
‘Is it a field of fear?’ Aladin asked on the way. ‘Or does the chamber harbour real, physical dangers inside?’
Rama liked the question as it showed that Aladin understood the very nature of the temple.
‘It brings out your own thoughts and sentiments,’ she replied. ‘Once inside the chamber, you are inside the depths of your own mind: all fear and pain but also all hope and courage are brought to you not from the outside but from within.’
Aladin nodded that he understood.
‘The fields do not produce a substance,’ Rama continued, ‘dense or hard enough to physically harm you, but the mind is powerful. The visions inside the chamber can be so convincing that your mind may believe there is real, even mortal danger, and that illusion can indeed kill you. That is what happened...’
Aladin noticed that Rama’s voice choked up a little. Was she frightened, disconcerted, or sad?
‘Rama, my treasure’ Aladin found himself in distress seeing her unhappy. ‘Tell me, please, what happened?’
‘Dragon died in there! Like that. Dragon, who was your predecessor.’
‘Oh!’ Aladin cried out. ‘Was he so frightened by his deepest fear that it killed him?’
‘No’ the priestess’ voice sank. ‘He died, protecting me, from my greatest fear. Neither of us remembered in that horrible, fatal moment that the giant snake who drove its venom into his heart was but a nightmare of my imagination.’
When they arrived at the Chamber of Shadows, Priestess Rama admitted:
‘It is hard for me to enter here with you. I do not want your death, dear Aladin, to be my fault, as well.’
‘Nobody’s death is your fault, my Lady’ Aladin urged to say. ‘Do not harm yourself by nursing such dark thoughts. It was his own mind that killed your servant. But fear not, my mind is strong – the only way, after all, to create art is through a strong mind. I will withstand any horror the chamber may bring upon us, I promise.’
Aladin’s noble determination gave Rama the strength to open the sealed gate to the fearsome chamber, just as his own promise gave Aladin the strength to enter.
Oh, but had he known the horror that would grab him inside!
Knives!
Knives were coming towards him… not only one or two… at least half a dozen at a time… nothing was more urgent than escaping them... at the same time nothing more impossible… he couldn’t retreat... ice-cold blades were touching his never before touched skin… he found himself tied down... tied down!… it was happening… those knives were not merely coming to kill him… not to stab him mercifully into his hara or into his heart... but to cut skin deep… and then to peal… he was now feeling the pain everywhere… inch by inch on all of his body… where for his entire life he was longing only for touch.
His was the fear shared by all the untouchables: the fear of being skinned alive, for that was the punishment if they ever – even with one finger – touched someone.
The chamber was powerful... Aladin began to feel not only the maddening pain of the cuts but…infinitely worse!… he began to see what was being done to him… how his smooth cocoa skin was being turned into an unsightly, stinking mess of butchered flesh… it made him dizzy... his very own sight… and the dizzier he became the more he was being turned into an entropy of death.
He needed to escape: get out as fast as only a ghost could, fly away above the rooftops of this crazy world – but he was not allowed to die... his tormentors were making his agony last for a long time... unthinkably long… unbearably long…
He heard himself screaming. It seemed the scream would never stop until another cry for help merged into it. It was Rama!
At that moment, Aladin began to think. How come those knives were cutting into his skin although nobody was holding them? Of course, he now remembered, this was in a magic chamber where thoughts manifested as reality. He was experiencing but a kind of dream that could not harm him if he did not allow so. Aladin relaxed and as he did, the ropes eased their grip on him, the knives fell from his flesh, leaving no marks, only flawless, beautiful skin behind. No longer tied by invisible ropes, Aladin felt so relieved, he wanted to laugh but then he saw what was happening to Rama.
As quickly as it all came about, he had no time to think.
Aladin found himself behind Rama and saw, how she just stood there mesmerised, with her thoughts and movements frozen in fear. Aladin was young and his senses acute, sharpened by thousands of hours observing nature as an artist. He knew the giant cobra towering over the priestess only looked motionless, his muscles were already pulling back like a rubber band ready to shoot out faster than the blink of an eye. Aladin moved quickly, without thinking, guided only by his natural instinct of protection. He braced Rama around her shoulders and – just in time – pulled her down with himself, out of the lightning danger’s way. As they looked back, the snake had already stricken down with murderous precision exactly where Rama had been standing. This way, it had sent its venom into the ground and the moment after, the apparition vanished into smoke and sand.
Rama, perhaps in shock over the snake or in memory of Dragon, or more in the unexpected relief of their embrace, began to weep in Aladin’s arms. It was the dark irony of fate that he, who was not permitted to do so, now seemed the only one who knew how she ever wanted to be touched. Aladin needed no words, no teaching, no practice. He let the moment linger on, with her head tilted into his shoulders, heart-beat to heart-beat under the canopy of his falling black hair...
In the end, when they both realised how dangerous it was to remain like this and let each other go, he whispered into her ears:
‘Tell no one, and no one will know.’
At night, Aladin lay again under the mandatory open window, Rama in her silken bed, both embracing their big wild cats – but this time, they faced each other and neither of them could fall asleep.
‘Rama’ Aladin whispered into the dark ‘beautiful Rama...’
‘Yes...’ she whispered back.
‘Do you know how this all came into being?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘… that there are touchables and untouchables.’
‘You seem to think that it has not always been like that.’
‘I’m sure it hasn’t,’ Aladin’s voice grew a bit louder with passion. ‘This is not natural. I feel it with every fibre of my body that I should be there lying there with you, holding you all night if you so wish. The law that forbids it, is not the highest law.’
The way he spoke was heresy, of course, and saying it to a priestess should have been outrageous.
Nonetheless, Rama listened to him most calmly and moved to the edge of her bed, leaning closer:
‘There was a time…’ she revealed to him, ‘when the untouchables ruled.’
Aladin took in a great sigh!
‘The untouchables ruled?’ he repeated in silent surprise.
‘Yes,’ Rama nodded. ‘Century after century, they imposed more and more restrictions on touch, until most forms of it were outlawed. Mind you, they ruled for a long time: first, they taught that touch was indecent, a lustful sin against god and when that was not enough, they outlawed it by raising fear of disease. Nobody was touching anybody anymore, people were hiding alone in their homes, in desperate isolation – until there came The Touchable Revolution.’
‘What is that, my Lady...’ Aladin asked with awe ‘The Touchable Revolution?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Rama promised, ‘I will take you into the Chamber of Time. There, you shall see with your own eyes.’
Aladin could not sleep for a blink that night. Yet, when they arrived back at the temple the next day, there was not a pinch of tiredness in him.
‘Pleasant or unpleasant, we never know what awaits us in the Chamber of Time. ’ Rama introduced the day’s challenge to him. ‘This enchanted place will take you to events of the past, perhaps in your childhood, perhaps long before that, to reveal your destiny. This will be a personal journey into time, but you may see some world events on the side, as we are travelling.' Priestess Rama hinted at their nightly conversation. ‘Don’t be afraid. The chamber may begin to spiral, but that is only its nature.’
Aladin was glad to have been warned: upon their first step into the third sacred room, they lost the ground under their feet. No longer walking, no longer in charge, they were falling down a spiralling, whirling, and twisting tunnel: a wormhole of crazy physics mixing the laws of nature with the madness of the gods. It led them through worlds formed not by matter but the primordial mind. First, Aladin felt dizzy, but eventually, they slowed down and found themselves hovering above the jungle. Beneath them was the temple, but the temple was changing.
‘We are now travelling in time,’ Rama said, and see miracles! Every time Aladin looked, the temple lost a ring. The wilderness was taking back the grounds of the sacred city until even the innermost ring of the temple was gone.
They were falling again, fast and infuriating, towards something red and glowing in the below. It appeared like the mouth of a volcano.
‘Don’t worry,’ Rama shouted over to him. ‘The fire cannot burn you here. This fiery tunnel of time will bring us back into the era before the Great Cataclysm.’
They flew so fast over the flames, Aladin lost consciousness. Embedded in silent darkness for a while, later he began to hear voices all around him.
Can you all hear me? Your host will start the meeting soon. Where are you located now? How is the weather there? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you yet. Please, can you make sure that your microphone is turned on…
Floating again in mid-air, Aladin had time to look around and move like swimming underwater. He found themselves surrounded by the strangest kind of pictures: with their shiny surfaces, they neither looked painted nor carved. Most peculiarly, they were moving! Some large like gods, others life-size or much smaller, they all showed faces, talking: serious, engaged, smiling or looking bored – but all of them ready to talk.
‘This was the state of the world before The Touchable Revolution,’ Rama hovered over to explain.
‘People used this curious type of ancient magic you can now see around you. It allowed people to see each other on screens, talk to each other, even work together but always without touching. Even if you tried, you couldn’t touch the people you can see here.’
Aladin’s head was spinning with curiosity – he floated closer and indeed tried to touch the pictures.
But Rama was right: they weren’t real, there was no warmth on their surface. Nonetheless, those talking heads seemed to have recognised that he wanted to touch them, as some of them laughed at him, others demanded an explanation of what he was doing!
‘What an evil piece of black magic,’ Aladin turned away in disgust from the screens. ‘Why did they use such terrible artefacts? I cannot understand how such a thing was possible.’
‘Neither of us does,’ said Rama. ‘The technology for it got lost during the Great Cataclysm – and perhaps that’s for the better.’
As if her last words worked like a magic spell, they began to fall again. This time, there was no jungle, no fire, no screens surrounding them, only darkness and very soon and rather hard, they hit the ground.
‘Are you all right, my love?’ Aladin, who landed harshly on his left arm, heard Rama’s worried voice.
‘Yes,’ he rubbed his shoulder. ‘I don’t think it’s broken. Where are we?’
They found themselves in a forest. The time around them had brought a fresh, carefree lightness into the air; gone was the thick, oppressive presence of guards and spies all around. Aladin and
Rama began to laugh like children. Walking through the woods together, they needed nothing more for their happiness. By the evening, they arrived at a little town with a great plaza full of taverns and terraces where people gathered for dinner and drinks, chatter and dance. Finally! This was where they belonged with all their heart and soul. They sat down at a little round table under a lantern-lit tree.
‘Excuse me,’ Rama said to the waiter when he came. ‘We are not from here. Do you have any laws restricting touch... for certain people… or under certain circumstances?’
The waiter first frowned, then smirked.
‘As long as it’s consensual,’ he lifted his shoulders. Was this a joke or a trick question, he wondered. ‘As long as you can pay for your dinner, all is fine with us...’
Rama offered him a Samarathian money coin. Since it was made of gold, the waiter accepted it happily for dinner and lodging.
Lodging!
‘Does that mean…’ Aladin slowly began to understand ‘that tonight, as I dreamt on countless nights, instead of the black panther ...’
‘… we will hug each other, yes,’ Rama finished the sentence for him.
And so it happened.
Don’t be afraid - she whispered that night - when you touch me, it will feel as if you have never lived before. We only live through each other’s touch. Why else would we have been born into these bodies when it is easier to exist without them? Touch me, until your boundaries dissolve. Touch me, until you know that you are not alone – that the icy, soulless separation is the illusion, belonging is the truth. Touch me, as it is the gateway to eternity. Come with me, my love, on a journey from which we shall never return...
It was on the little tavern bed, caressing Rama in candlelight, that Aladin – for the first time in his life – felt human warmth, no longer hidden from him by conventions and prohibitions. His passion came down like rain, whipping up arid soil and flowing down mountains in the form of a mighty river rushing into the ocean. He touched Rama only as the wind could take in all the land, and his magic eyes guarded her like the stars watch over the night. Most of all, he loved to hold her at the end, still, in silence, sheltering her with his own velvet body, never to let her go again.
‘You said,’ Aladin whispered ‘that the tunnel of time will take me to my destiny.’
‘Yes. I am your destiny’ Rama whispered back, and they both fell asleep.
At midnight, sinister noises woke them up that sounded like bells from a ghost temple. But it was much worse: the danger came not from a hellish beyond but from the future: the terrible future where they, in truth, belonged.
A dozen guards wearing those ghastly iron masks and dark, long cloaks have already surrounded them.
‘Untouchable transgression’ one of them announced loud the implacable words “in the Temple of Time.’
Aladin was torn out of Rama’s embrace! He was still trying to reach her hand again but the guards had already grabbed him and pulled him away.
‘Rama, Rama!’ he called out to her, full of panic. Turning to the guards, he tried to explain: ‘We were in another time. We did not touch here, not in the temple. It wasn’t here. We didn’t do anything wrong!’
Worst of all, he saw how Rama had woken up, too – but she just sat up and remain calm like a statue.
‘Rama, please help me...’ Aladin begged her, but she remained motionless like on their first night when he painted her moonlit face. All the warmth seemed to have left her and no emotion could be detected on her beautiful face, while Aladin was being dragged away.
He was taken to the Northern tower of the temple, to the forever-feared Execution Chamber. There was no trial, of course, there never was. Untouchable transgressions were always treated under martial law.
‘You will wait here’ the last guard tossed him into a cell at the foot of the tower. ‘You will remain here for an hour, until we prepare the location for your execution.’
One hour… during that time Rama must come for sure! Aladin was still suffering more from their separation than from the fear of what will come. He needed to see her, he needed to know what Rama was thinking! Why was she so calm and emotionless? Could this be… a trap the priestess set up for him? Were these grey clouds of doubt, brake into a thunderstorm of betrayal? Aladin just stood and waited, holding on to the bars of the cell door hoping for Rama to arrive – but Rama never came.
Only the guards did: those sinister creatures in their frightening masks. This cannot be! Thoughts of terror flooded his mind as fear flooded his body while guards began to walk him not up into the tower but down into the dungeons. He could already feel the knives cutting into the flesh… Gods!
Give him a final moment of peace, I beg you! Why do you torment him with a rehearsal of the torture before it had even begun? Today, it must be even worse for him than it was yesterday in the Chamber of Shadows – now that Rama had forsaken him. Gods, I pray: leave his mind clear, let him take his final steps in glory!
In a moment of magic, all of Aladin’s maddening fear vanished. He realised, he’ll be able to have a moment of victorious death very few can claim. Thousands of people live in this temple city every day in fear, and they will die in fear, even if it was to happen among pillows in old age. But Aladin! He gets to die with a certainty about what’s real. He knew since last night that all these laws and regulations only came into being as a reaction to fear, hence lacked any inherent, substantial existence. That touch last night, that love he felt, only that was real! Forever real! It didn’t matter anymore what Rama was thinking. Aladin was taking every step in his authentic power. He lived his life honourably up to the very end and he never let his spirit be killed. May come what needs to come, Aladin decided. Regardless of the suffering that was ahead of him, he knew: he will, in this life or the next, touch again, and no law will ever be able to stop him for good.
At that moment, the doors of the Execution Chamber were opened for him.
He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed for courage. No longer was he willing to draw back his life force, no longer was he willing to keep it imprisoned in the most confined recesses of his being. He wanted to be fully present. He wanted to endure this torture without a sound of complaint and with his head held high, to show Rama and the watchful universe that he didn’t regret anything.
As he opened his eyes again, he already saw the executioner coming towards him: the tallest of those soulless monsters with the masks. Most curiously, however, the executioner, as soon as he arrived in front of Aladin, took his mask off, let his cloak fall and so did the dozen guards who have walked on his sides. Now everybody was dressed in light, colourful clothes: Aladin couldn’t help but notice how beautiful they all were.
He looked further into the room: no execution chamber on earth was ever this spacious and embellished. Tables were laid out with fruits, cheese, and wine; soothing, dreamy melodies began to play in the back. Many guests have arrived, like at the beginning of a banquet.
What was this: a cruel celebration of his death? Some festivity at which his torment will provide gruesome entertainment?
The executioner was smiling at him. Was this a sick joke, or perhaps a final gesture of humane goodwill like a last meal?
But no! Something else…
‘Welcome!’ the executioner announced. ‘Welcome, Aladin! Welcome among us!’
As unthinkable as this was, with these words, the executioner embraced Aladin, after which every guard and every guest came over, too. With kind smiles and grateful faces, they gave Aladin hugs and kisses, congratulated him and expressed their most sincere happiness about his decision. Aladin just stood bewildered – and only when everyone formed a great circle around him, in the middle of which the executioner began to speak, he slowly understood what was happening:
‘I am the executioner of your initiation, Aladin. Understand this: After the Touchable Revolution ended the No-Touch Terror Regime, we, the children of the revolution, had to vow that we never again allow the untouchables to rule. They were to remain forever under our control. However, we also wanted to give the untouchables a chance for redemption, each of them, one by one. That is when we enacted our most secret and sacred law: If an untouchable demonstrates that his desire to touch an Other in love was stronger than his very real fear of death, he shall become touchable. As soon as you, Aladin, walked through that door with your head held high, you became one of us. Let the feast begin!’
There never were any skinnings – Aladin thought amazed. – It was all but a test!
He had, however, not too much time to think. He already saw Rama, with her most wonderful smile, flying towards him, to grab his hand and whirl him to the dancefloor, as the music grew faster and louder. It was a night where the wine sprang from the well, the music never stopped, and Aladin was caressed by each of those beautiful souls who celebrated with him.
But Rama and Aladin did not quite wait until the night came to an end. As soon as the birds began to sing in the green of the forest, they left the gathering. They did not need to speak; their bodies, having touched each other, already agreed on what to do. Both of them wanted to leave this City of Samarath forever torn between love and fear. They took each other’s hands and – followed by two black panthers – they walked away into the sunrise, to find themselves a future place where they could be the king and the queen of their own hearts.
‘It will not be easy to find someone suitable for you, Priestess, ’ the clerk woman said. ‘Did you have your previous servant since childhood?’
‘Yes,’ said Rama. ‘As customary, we were raised together from the age of seven. He had been very loyal,’ with darkness in her voice, she added: ‘He died protecting me.’
‘Ah, you see, his will be shoes hard to fill! As all the other untouchable servants have also been paired to their touchable masters at the age of seven, hirodules only become available if their masters die. You’re very young, Priestess, not many die at your age.’
While she spoke, the clerk woman went over to the palm leaf notes in the temple’s filing cabinets, hoping to find a candidate.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to make a compromise of some sort. We have no replacement servant who matches your age, as well as your education, and who is – for the sake of gender harmony in your household – also a male. We have, for instance,’ the clerk began to lay out some palm leaves in front of her ‘a lovely young temple servant, but she is a female; plenty of male temple servants, too, but all are quite old – you wouldn’t want to have someone like a father watching over you, would you?’ the clerk laughed a little. ‘We only have one man around your age – but he does not match your education. He’s not a trained temple servant.’
‘What is he of trade?’ Rama asked in an even voice, to veil her curiosity.
‘He’s an artist.’
‘An artist...’ Rama repeated, not disliking what she heard. ‘Can I inspect him?’
‘Of course. I shall go down and bring him up for you.’
‘Let me come with you’ Rama said, only to regret it a minute later.
The quarters of those untouchables who were not owned or claimed by anyone were in cellars below the offices. They were all so small that they resembled cages of animals. Lacking windows and fresh air, their sight made the young priestess’ heart cry out in pain of sympathy.
‘This one...’ the clerk showed Rama the young hirodule ‘has been waiting down here for three years.’
Three years in this rathole! By gods…
Looking at him, Rama immediately noticed the beauty of his eyes. They were drawn all around with a fine charcoal pencil, and that made them shine like stars amidst the midnight black of the young man’s long, wavy hair.
‘I am a priestess,’ she told him, ‘if you come with me, would you be willing to learn about the ways to serve the temple?’
Upon seeing her, he did something Rama never saw an untouchable doing before.
He smiled.
‘Ayay, Priestess’ he said ‘I’m sure, I can. When I paint, the gods talk to me: I’m well used to their horrendous-beauteous company.’
‘But the temple...’ she warned him ‘is full of fearsome recesses and dangerous traps to the soul, forcing you even to face your worst fear. It is not just magical, it’s also a dark place.’
‘Darker than this?’ the hirodule pointed around his tiny, subterranean cell.
Rama found herself lost for a moment in gloomy thoughts, but then nodded.
‘Very well’ she said, turning to the clerk. ‘Deliver him this evening to my house, would you?’
In the evening, Rama was sitting outside her window under the red lauan tree. As always, when the silver moon came out, she began to caress Rika, the tame black panther in her arms.
As soon as the new hirodule arrived and the clerk left, she told him to come, sit with them. No! Not two steps behind as he was being taught, just right here, on the blanket. Rama was pleased to see that he was not afraid of the big cat rather began to stroke her silky fur. Thus, they could sit comfortably in each other’s company, as long as they obeyed the rules and did not touch each other. Rama knew, if she ever touched him, even accidentally, she’d be declared an untouchable herself – and the punishment for him would be… too gruesome to even think about!
‘What is your name?’ she asked and repaid the smile he gave her in the morning.
‘My name’ he said, grateful for the attention ‘is Aladin.’
‘Aladin!’ Rama exclaimed. ‘What an unusual, exotic name! I never heard it before. Who gave it to you?’
They both were pleasantly surprised: Rama that he wasn’t simply referred to by the animal of his birth sign, like Horse, Dragon or Rabbit as most servants were and Aladin that she was interested in him.
‘My mother gave it to me,’ he answered. ‘She found it in an ancient fairy tale from before the Great Cataclysm. Now forgotten, Aladin was a boy with a magical, wish-fulfilling lamp.’
‘Your mother,’ Rama said, ‘must have desired for you to find such a lamp. When did you last meet her?’
‘As usual, on my seventh birthday. That was the last day she was allowed to see me and touch me – that was the last day anyone was allowed to touch me.’
Rama listened to him with sadness, but that flowed away in a stream of fascination as she was curious to learn more. She knew little about the lives of the untouchables, as she was sheltered from the truth while growing up. She was aware that all children were touchable until the age of seven as scientists found babies would not even survive, toddlers would not even grow without nurturing touch – but not a single day further. She, the Priestess of the Love Temple, could not imagine a single day of life without touch.
She looked at Aladin in sympathy but not less so in admiration of his beauty and almost otherworldly charisma.
‘I love...’ she told him ‘how you paint your eyes. I wish my face would be adorned like that! Wouldn’t it look enchanting in the flickering fires of the temple?’
‘It surely would. If you like, my Lady, I can do that makeup for you. No, don’t worry’ he rushed to say upon seeing a little disturbance in her eyes ‘I can do it without my hand touching your skin – I would apply the colours with my pencils, sponges, and brushes only.’
Rama was so delighted by the idea, she sat up straight and held her head like a statue, ready to be painted. Aladin felt even more delighted that he was allowed to do this and conjured up some utensils from the trunk he came with.
While at work, Aladin did not breach a single rule of the untouchables. For no one said that untouchables were not permitted to look you into the eyes – and he did look Rama deep into the eyes, for long minutes of eternity, until she could see his shiny black pupil reflecting the starry sky.
No one said that untouchables were not permitted to come close to you – and Aladin did come close to Rama so she could breathe in his scent of musk and comfort in his body heat. The way he looked at her was not forbidden either, perhaps only because no law ever enacted had words to describe it. But it was dangerous for sure, as it made her heart flutter in its ribcage, wanting to fly like a bird who now remembered freedom...
At night, Aladin slept, as customary, in the corner of Rama’s bedroom. A special, mandatory window had to be kept open, allowing anyone who walked by to inspect whether the untouchable of the household was sleeping and was sleeping separately. That night, however, Rama saw something astonishing happening through that window. On soft and silent paws, another black panther jumped into the room. He caused no trouble. Quick and quiet, the incoming magnificent animal lay down next to Aladin. (Rika, snuggling up at Rama’s feet, only raised her head.) Rama watched, as Aladin wrapped his body around the elegant feline creature and fell asleep.
At sunrise, when the people of Samarath ventured out to attend their various affairs – worldly or religious – many of them turned their heads after Rama and Aladin. When they saw the untouchable young man going side by side the beautiful priestess, both walking towards the Outer Temple Ring, both wearing the same mesmerizing paint on their face, some shook their heads. Yet, nobody could report them, as they were neither touching nor doing anything that was, strictly speaking, forbidden.
‘Temple servants, like all other children, learn their duties in school from the age of seven’ Rama said to Aladin as they arrived at the Outer Temple. ‘But, of course, it would be awkward and take too much time to send you in with them. I’ll need your help soon. Hence, I shall show you around the temple myself and teach you everything you need to know.’
‘Yes, my Lady’ Aladin said with pleasure. He always liked the temple. On all those occasions when he was ordered to paint or carve inside of it, he found himself enchanted by the presence of the gods.
Young servants like him were, of course, never allowed to enter the Outer Ring – as the newest erected building was home of leading-edge magic and that remained strictly reserved to the priesthood, to artists who have attained sacred ranks, and to special guests.
But today... Aladin, with a beautiful teacher, was about to enter the Outer Temple Ring! This was the 233rd ring of the temple as that many years have passed since the beginning of a new civilisation after the Great Cataclysm. And the gate of it now opened, for Rama to step in and Aladin to follow – what a magnificent day this was!
The Outer Ring was subject to a lot of mysterious speculations being the place where the newest sacral operations were invented, tested, and practised. Anyone who had ever been in there was obliged to the strictest secrecy. Simple residents only noticed that anyone who went in there came out different: those people had a high command over life and fate, as well as a clear sense of purpose to which they remained devoted.
‘There are chambers in here’ Rama told Aladin under the arcade, ‘you must get to know. Today, each of them will be veiled in utter darkness, as I want you to feel them first before you can understand them. Feel everything, see nothing. I will walk ahead with a tiny light in my hand. Follow that.’
How wondrous it was: the light Rama was carrying looked like Aladin’s lamp in the story his mother used to tell him. It was a relief to see such a magical thing, especially since nothing else could have prepared him for being in those chambers!
Feeling, inside there, took a different dimension to anything Aladin had ever experienced. He was a sensitive artist who could collect the feelings from those around him, whether it was from the sacred beauty of a chant or the anger of a bewildered mob. But in here, there was nobody – only grave silence and lack of movement. Yet! He could feel the chambers, not by seeing, hearing, or smelling, rather by discerning something similar to heat rising or wind blowing. Each chamber sent powerful sensations to him and in each of the three, those were different.
In the first chamber, an overwhelming sense of love and desire got hold of him; remarkably, it was the kind of love based on touch, the kind he was never permitted to experience. In the second chamber, thick and sticky fear oppressed him; he only kept going to demonstrate Priestess Rama his valour. But in the third chamber, whatever he felt, he could not name. A spiralling force grabbed him: one moment, he felt like a child again, the next moment, it was as if walls were crumbling and the world all around him was no longer in existence, or rather… had not yet come into being...
‘These were the three most important chambers,’ Rama told him out on the gallery again, ‘for you to familiarize yourself with: the Chamber of Love, the Chamber of Shadows, and the Chamber of Time. For the next three days, I will initiate you into each of these chambers, respectively.’
After a vow of secrecy, Aladin was lead by Rama into the Chamber of Love.
This time, the priestess illuminated it: she opened a large, stone-framed window that was grown all around by roses from a secret inner garden. Light curtains were caught in the breeze and like them, flying in the sunshine, Aladin’s imagination was moved by the magic of this room: how it must look, when the torches are lit by the fire of passion and bodies touch on those large, silky cushions...
‘I know it’s hard for you to be in here’ Rama told him. ‘The other two chambers are hard on everyone but this one will be hard especially for you, as it is dedicated to the touch I am the priestess of but you are forbidden to experience. Fate is cruel, for I cannot save you the inconvenience of having to learn how to serve – and nothing but serve – this chamber.’
Aladin nodded.
Only his honest wish to be of use for Rama had helped him to live through the day. Being taught about the rituals of love, preparing oils and utensils for touch were to him like for a hungry lion being presented with the smell of sweet blood. The chamber awakened his starving spirit and sent him into incessant despair of desire.
Rama understood his agony.
‘These chambers are operated by a field’ she explained. ‘There is always an invisible field of energies, thoughts, and sentiments surrounding us but we, members of the priesthood, understand how to work that field. It is our craft to enhance or change aspects of it. This chamber is tuned to love and desire – that is what you are perceiving every moment you spend in here.’
‘Who tuned it?’ Aladin dared to ask. ‘Who tuned the chamber?’
‘I did, for I am the Priestess of Touch. It is my work to initiate all the young man into the art of love before they get married so that their touch did not remain an act of animal instinct but may become a gateway to the higher realms.’
Aladin looked at Rama – with compassion. Suddenly, he understood the inverse similarity of their fate: the reciprocal suffering of the hirodule who was not allowed to touch anyone and the priestess who was obliged to touch everyone. Neither of them was allowed to find lasting companionship, both of them were doomed, in a way, to a lonely life.
The question he always wanted to ask came to Aladin’s mind:
‘How does it feel to touch another human being?’
But Rama only said:
‘Answering that question would cause you further pain – and I do not wish to impose more suffering than you already must endure. Hence, I shall not answer. But tell me: How does it feel never to touch an Other?’
Aladin looked at her. Did she really want to know?
‘There is…’ after a little pause, he began ‘always an emptiness in my heart. The pain of my soul aggravates into a pain of the body that keeps me restless and often sleepless at night. Without Raul, I would always suffer from a lack of sleep.’ Aladin did not have to explain, Rama guessed that Raul must have been his mysterious panther. ‘Day and night, my skin and my muscles ache, as they are forced to hold back the life force, keeping it in a perpetual prison of inner madness. And because I learned to keep my vitality within, everything is always far away from me. Everyone is always far away from me! Most untouchables, my Lady, are numb, walking around like ghosts from the graves: such is nature’s clemency for them. My body and my mind, however, are rebelling against that, no matter how high the price in pain. My heart’ Aladin pointed at his chest ‘is empty, yet wanting, forever wanting, yet empty still.’
As he spoke, Rama noticed a teardrop forming in Aladin’s magnificent eyes. Without even the smallest movement of his face, it rolled down his cheeks.
At that moment, something never-before-seen happened in the Chamber of Love.
Rama, the priestess stepped up to him and lifted her finger. Slowly, she moved it closer and closer to Aladin’s face to wipe off the teardrop. She was touching the untouchable’s skin...
Once it happened, she placed her hand on Aladin’s chest and with her most tender touch, filled his empty heart with powerful love magic.
Transfixed, he looked at her with incredulous gratitude but also fear for the priestess, who had just risked her freedom for his comfort!
She, however, just whispered calmly:
‘Tell no one and no one will know.’
At night, when Aladin lay down to sleep in the corner of Rama’s bedroom, the black panther jumped in again through the window. This time, the priestess watched him sleeping with Aladin for a long while… She was wondering how it felt. Of course, she couldn’t risk finding out. There were always some of those terrible guards, wearing iron masks and long, black cloaks, walking down the streets, checking all the windows…
At dawn, after the panther had leapt out the window again, Rama and Aladin made their way back to the temple, this time to enter the Chamber of Shadows.
‘Is it a field of fear?’ Aladin asked on the way. ‘Or does the chamber harbour real, physical dangers inside?’
Rama liked the question as it showed that Aladin understood the very nature of the temple.
‘It brings out your own thoughts and sentiments,’ she replied. ‘Once inside the chamber, you are inside the depths of your own mind: all fear and pain but also all hope and courage are brought to you not from the outside but from within.’
Aladin nodded that he understood.
‘The fields do not produce a substance,’ Rama continued, ‘dense or hard enough to physically harm you, but the mind is powerful. The visions inside the chamber can be so convincing that your mind may believe there is real, even mortal danger, and that illusion can indeed kill you. That is what happened...’
Aladin noticed that Rama’s voice choked up a little. Was she frightened, disconcerted, or sad?
‘Rama, my treasure’ Aladin found himself in distress seeing her unhappy. ‘Tell me, please, what happened?’
‘Dragon died in there! Like that. Dragon, who was your predecessor.’
‘Oh!’ Aladin cried out. ‘Was he so frightened by his deepest fear that it killed him?’
‘No’ the priestess’ voice sank. ‘He died, protecting me, from my greatest fear. Neither of us remembered in that horrible, fatal moment that the giant snake who drove its venom into his heart was but a nightmare of my imagination.’
When they arrived at the Chamber of Shadows, Priestess Rama admitted:
‘It is hard for me to enter here with you. I do not want your death, dear Aladin, to be my fault, as well.’
‘Nobody’s death is your fault, my Lady’ Aladin urged to say. ‘Do not harm yourself by nursing such dark thoughts. It was his own mind that killed your servant. But fear not, my mind is strong – the only way, after all, to create art is through a strong mind. I will withstand any horror the chamber may bring upon us, I promise.’
Aladin’s noble determination gave Rama the strength to open the sealed gate to the fearsome chamber, just as his own promise gave Aladin the strength to enter.
Oh, but had he known the horror that would grab him inside!
Knives!
Knives were coming towards him… not only one or two… at least half a dozen at a time… nothing was more urgent than escaping them... at the same time nothing more impossible… he couldn’t retreat... ice-cold blades were touching his never before touched skin… he found himself tied down... tied down!… it was happening… those knives were not merely coming to kill him… not to stab him mercifully into his hara or into his heart... but to cut skin deep… and then to peal… he was now feeling the pain everywhere… inch by inch on all of his body… where for his entire life he was longing only for touch.
His was the fear shared by all the untouchables: the fear of being skinned alive, for that was the punishment if they ever – even with one finger – touched someone.
The chamber was powerful... Aladin began to feel not only the maddening pain of the cuts but…infinitely worse!… he began to see what was being done to him… how his smooth cocoa skin was being turned into an unsightly, stinking mess of butchered flesh… it made him dizzy... his very own sight… and the dizzier he became the more he was being turned into an entropy of death.
He needed to escape: get out as fast as only a ghost could, fly away above the rooftops of this crazy world – but he was not allowed to die... his tormentors were making his agony last for a long time... unthinkably long… unbearably long…
He heard himself screaming. It seemed the scream would never stop until another cry for help merged into it. It was Rama!
At that moment, Aladin began to think. How come those knives were cutting into his skin although nobody was holding them? Of course, he now remembered, this was in a magic chamber where thoughts manifested as reality. He was experiencing but a kind of dream that could not harm him if he did not allow so. Aladin relaxed and as he did, the ropes eased their grip on him, the knives fell from his flesh, leaving no marks, only flawless, beautiful skin behind. No longer tied by invisible ropes, Aladin felt so relieved, he wanted to laugh but then he saw what was happening to Rama.
As quickly as it all came about, he had no time to think.
Aladin found himself behind Rama and saw, how she just stood there mesmerised, with her thoughts and movements frozen in fear. Aladin was young and his senses acute, sharpened by thousands of hours observing nature as an artist. He knew the giant cobra towering over the priestess only looked motionless, his muscles were already pulling back like a rubber band ready to shoot out faster than the blink of an eye. Aladin moved quickly, without thinking, guided only by his natural instinct of protection. He braced Rama around her shoulders and – just in time – pulled her down with himself, out of the lightning danger’s way. As they looked back, the snake had already stricken down with murderous precision exactly where Rama had been standing. This way, it had sent its venom into the ground and the moment after, the apparition vanished into smoke and sand.
Rama, perhaps in shock over the snake or in memory of Dragon, or more in the unexpected relief of their embrace, began to weep in Aladin’s arms. It was the dark irony of fate that he, who was not permitted to do so, now seemed the only one who knew how she ever wanted to be touched. Aladin needed no words, no teaching, no practice. He let the moment linger on, with her head tilted into his shoulders, heart-beat to heart-beat under the canopy of his falling black hair...
In the end, when they both realised how dangerous it was to remain like this and let each other go, he whispered into her ears:
‘Tell no one, and no one will know.’
At night, Aladin lay again under the mandatory open window, Rama in her silken bed, both embracing their big wild cats – but this time, they faced each other and neither of them could fall asleep.
‘Rama’ Aladin whispered into the dark ‘beautiful Rama...’
‘Yes...’ she whispered back.
‘Do you know how this all came into being?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘… that there are touchables and untouchables.’
‘You seem to think that it has not always been like that.’
‘I’m sure it hasn’t,’ Aladin’s voice grew a bit louder with passion. ‘This is not natural. I feel it with every fibre of my body that I should be there lying there with you, holding you all night if you so wish. The law that forbids it, is not the highest law.’
The way he spoke was heresy, of course, and saying it to a priestess should have been outrageous.
Nonetheless, Rama listened to him most calmly and moved to the edge of her bed, leaning closer:
‘There was a time…’ she revealed to him, ‘when the untouchables ruled.’
Aladin took in a great sigh!
‘The untouchables ruled?’ he repeated in silent surprise.
‘Yes,’ Rama nodded. ‘Century after century, they imposed more and more restrictions on touch, until most forms of it were outlawed. Mind you, they ruled for a long time: first, they taught that touch was indecent, a lustful sin against god and when that was not enough, they outlawed it by raising fear of disease. Nobody was touching anybody anymore, people were hiding alone in their homes, in desperate isolation – until there came The Touchable Revolution.’
‘What is that, my Lady...’ Aladin asked with awe ‘The Touchable Revolution?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Rama promised, ‘I will take you into the Chamber of Time. There, you shall see with your own eyes.’
Aladin could not sleep for a blink that night. Yet, when they arrived back at the temple the next day, there was not a pinch of tiredness in him.
‘Pleasant or unpleasant, we never know what awaits us in the Chamber of Time. ’ Rama introduced the day’s challenge to him. ‘This enchanted place will take you to events of the past, perhaps in your childhood, perhaps long before that, to reveal your destiny. This will be a personal journey into time, but you may see some world events on the side, as we are travelling.' Priestess Rama hinted at their nightly conversation. ‘Don’t be afraid. The chamber may begin to spiral, but that is only its nature.’
Aladin was glad to have been warned: upon their first step into the third sacred room, they lost the ground under their feet. No longer walking, no longer in charge, they were falling down a spiralling, whirling, and twisting tunnel: a wormhole of crazy physics mixing the laws of nature with the madness of the gods. It led them through worlds formed not by matter but the primordial mind. First, Aladin felt dizzy, but eventually, they slowed down and found themselves hovering above the jungle. Beneath them was the temple, but the temple was changing.
‘We are now travelling in time,’ Rama said, and see miracles! Every time Aladin looked, the temple lost a ring. The wilderness was taking back the grounds of the sacred city until even the innermost ring of the temple was gone.
They were falling again, fast and infuriating, towards something red and glowing in the below. It appeared like the mouth of a volcano.
‘Don’t worry,’ Rama shouted over to him. ‘The fire cannot burn you here. This fiery tunnel of time will bring us back into the era before the Great Cataclysm.’
They flew so fast over the flames, Aladin lost consciousness. Embedded in silent darkness for a while, later he began to hear voices all around him.
Can you all hear me? Your host will start the meeting soon. Where are you located now? How is the weather there? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you yet. Please, can you make sure that your microphone is turned on…
Floating again in mid-air, Aladin had time to look around and move like swimming underwater. He found themselves surrounded by the strangest kind of pictures: with their shiny surfaces, they neither looked painted nor carved. Most peculiarly, they were moving! Some large like gods, others life-size or much smaller, they all showed faces, talking: serious, engaged, smiling or looking bored – but all of them ready to talk.
‘This was the state of the world before The Touchable Revolution,’ Rama hovered over to explain.
‘People used this curious type of ancient magic you can now see around you. It allowed people to see each other on screens, talk to each other, even work together but always without touching. Even if you tried, you couldn’t touch the people you can see here.’
Aladin’s head was spinning with curiosity – he floated closer and indeed tried to touch the pictures.
But Rama was right: they weren’t real, there was no warmth on their surface. Nonetheless, those talking heads seemed to have recognised that he wanted to touch them, as some of them laughed at him, others demanded an explanation of what he was doing!
‘What an evil piece of black magic,’ Aladin turned away in disgust from the screens. ‘Why did they use such terrible artefacts? I cannot understand how such a thing was possible.’
‘Neither of us does,’ said Rama. ‘The technology for it got lost during the Great Cataclysm – and perhaps that’s for the better.’
As if her last words worked like a magic spell, they began to fall again. This time, there was no jungle, no fire, no screens surrounding them, only darkness and very soon and rather hard, they hit the ground.
‘Are you all right, my love?’ Aladin, who landed harshly on his left arm, heard Rama’s worried voice.
‘Yes,’ he rubbed his shoulder. ‘I don’t think it’s broken. Where are we?’
They found themselves in a forest. The time around them had brought a fresh, carefree lightness into the air; gone was the thick, oppressive presence of guards and spies all around. Aladin and
Rama began to laugh like children. Walking through the woods together, they needed nothing more for their happiness. By the evening, they arrived at a little town with a great plaza full of taverns and terraces where people gathered for dinner and drinks, chatter and dance. Finally! This was where they belonged with all their heart and soul. They sat down at a little round table under a lantern-lit tree.
‘Excuse me,’ Rama said to the waiter when he came. ‘We are not from here. Do you have any laws restricting touch... for certain people… or under certain circumstances?’
The waiter first frowned, then smirked.
‘As long as it’s consensual,’ he lifted his shoulders. Was this a joke or a trick question, he wondered. ‘As long as you can pay for your dinner, all is fine with us...’
Rama offered him a Samarathian money coin. Since it was made of gold, the waiter accepted it happily for dinner and lodging.
Lodging!
‘Does that mean…’ Aladin slowly began to understand ‘that tonight, as I dreamt on countless nights, instead of the black panther ...’
‘… we will hug each other, yes,’ Rama finished the sentence for him.
And so it happened.
Don’t be afraid - she whispered that night - when you touch me, it will feel as if you have never lived before. We only live through each other’s touch. Why else would we have been born into these bodies when it is easier to exist without them? Touch me, until your boundaries dissolve. Touch me, until you know that you are not alone – that the icy, soulless separation is the illusion, belonging is the truth. Touch me, as it is the gateway to eternity. Come with me, my love, on a journey from which we shall never return...
It was on the little tavern bed, caressing Rama in candlelight, that Aladin – for the first time in his life – felt human warmth, no longer hidden from him by conventions and prohibitions. His passion came down like rain, whipping up arid soil and flowing down mountains in the form of a mighty river rushing into the ocean. He touched Rama only as the wind could take in all the land, and his magic eyes guarded her like the stars watch over the night. Most of all, he loved to hold her at the end, still, in silence, sheltering her with his own velvet body, never to let her go again.
‘You said,’ Aladin whispered ‘that the tunnel of time will take me to my destiny.’
‘Yes. I am your destiny’ Rama whispered back, and they both fell asleep.
At midnight, sinister noises woke them up that sounded like bells from a ghost temple. But it was much worse: the danger came not from a hellish beyond but from the future: the terrible future where they, in truth, belonged.
A dozen guards wearing those ghastly iron masks and dark, long cloaks have already surrounded them.
‘Untouchable transgression’ one of them announced loud the implacable words “in the Temple of Time.’
Aladin was torn out of Rama’s embrace! He was still trying to reach her hand again but the guards had already grabbed him and pulled him away.
‘Rama, Rama!’ he called out to her, full of panic. Turning to the guards, he tried to explain: ‘We were in another time. We did not touch here, not in the temple. It wasn’t here. We didn’t do anything wrong!’
Worst of all, he saw how Rama had woken up, too – but she just sat up and remain calm like a statue.
‘Rama, please help me...’ Aladin begged her, but she remained motionless like on their first night when he painted her moonlit face. All the warmth seemed to have left her and no emotion could be detected on her beautiful face, while Aladin was being dragged away.
He was taken to the Northern tower of the temple, to the forever-feared Execution Chamber. There was no trial, of course, there never was. Untouchable transgressions were always treated under martial law.
‘You will wait here’ the last guard tossed him into a cell at the foot of the tower. ‘You will remain here for an hour, until we prepare the location for your execution.’
One hour… during that time Rama must come for sure! Aladin was still suffering more from their separation than from the fear of what will come. He needed to see her, he needed to know what Rama was thinking! Why was she so calm and emotionless? Could this be… a trap the priestess set up for him? Were these grey clouds of doubt, brake into a thunderstorm of betrayal? Aladin just stood and waited, holding on to the bars of the cell door hoping for Rama to arrive – but Rama never came.
Only the guards did: those sinister creatures in their frightening masks. This cannot be! Thoughts of terror flooded his mind as fear flooded his body while guards began to walk him not up into the tower but down into the dungeons. He could already feel the knives cutting into the flesh… Gods!
Give him a final moment of peace, I beg you! Why do you torment him with a rehearsal of the torture before it had even begun? Today, it must be even worse for him than it was yesterday in the Chamber of Shadows – now that Rama had forsaken him. Gods, I pray: leave his mind clear, let him take his final steps in glory!
In a moment of magic, all of Aladin’s maddening fear vanished. He realised, he’ll be able to have a moment of victorious death very few can claim. Thousands of people live in this temple city every day in fear, and they will die in fear, even if it was to happen among pillows in old age. But Aladin! He gets to die with a certainty about what’s real. He knew since last night that all these laws and regulations only came into being as a reaction to fear, hence lacked any inherent, substantial existence. That touch last night, that love he felt, only that was real! Forever real! It didn’t matter anymore what Rama was thinking. Aladin was taking every step in his authentic power. He lived his life honourably up to the very end and he never let his spirit be killed. May come what needs to come, Aladin decided. Regardless of the suffering that was ahead of him, he knew: he will, in this life or the next, touch again, and no law will ever be able to stop him for good.
At that moment, the doors of the Execution Chamber were opened for him.
He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed for courage. No longer was he willing to draw back his life force, no longer was he willing to keep it imprisoned in the most confined recesses of his being. He wanted to be fully present. He wanted to endure this torture without a sound of complaint and with his head held high, to show Rama and the watchful universe that he didn’t regret anything.
As he opened his eyes again, he already saw the executioner coming towards him: the tallest of those soulless monsters with the masks. Most curiously, however, the executioner, as soon as he arrived in front of Aladin, took his mask off, let his cloak fall and so did the dozen guards who have walked on his sides. Now everybody was dressed in light, colourful clothes: Aladin couldn’t help but notice how beautiful they all were.
He looked further into the room: no execution chamber on earth was ever this spacious and embellished. Tables were laid out with fruits, cheese, and wine; soothing, dreamy melodies began to play in the back. Many guests have arrived, like at the beginning of a banquet.
What was this: a cruel celebration of his death? Some festivity at which his torment will provide gruesome entertainment?
The executioner was smiling at him. Was this a sick joke, or perhaps a final gesture of humane goodwill like a last meal?
But no! Something else…
‘Welcome!’ the executioner announced. ‘Welcome, Aladin! Welcome among us!’
As unthinkable as this was, with these words, the executioner embraced Aladin, after which every guard and every guest came over, too. With kind smiles and grateful faces, they gave Aladin hugs and kisses, congratulated him and expressed their most sincere happiness about his decision. Aladin just stood bewildered – and only when everyone formed a great circle around him, in the middle of which the executioner began to speak, he slowly understood what was happening:
‘I am the executioner of your initiation, Aladin. Understand this: After the Touchable Revolution ended the No-Touch Terror Regime, we, the children of the revolution, had to vow that we never again allow the untouchables to rule. They were to remain forever under our control. However, we also wanted to give the untouchables a chance for redemption, each of them, one by one. That is when we enacted our most secret and sacred law: If an untouchable demonstrates that his desire to touch an Other in love was stronger than his very real fear of death, he shall become touchable. As soon as you, Aladin, walked through that door with your head held high, you became one of us. Let the feast begin!’
There never were any skinnings – Aladin thought amazed. – It was all but a test!
He had, however, not too much time to think. He already saw Rama, with her most wonderful smile, flying towards him, to grab his hand and whirl him to the dancefloor, as the music grew faster and louder. It was a night where the wine sprang from the well, the music never stopped, and Aladin was caressed by each of those beautiful souls who celebrated with him.
But Rama and Aladin did not quite wait until the night came to an end. As soon as the birds began to sing in the green of the forest, they left the gathering. They did not need to speak; their bodies, having touched each other, already agreed on what to do. Both of them wanted to leave this City of Samarath forever torn between love and fear. They took each other’s hands and – followed by two black panthers – they walked away into the sunrise, to find themselves a future place where they could be the king and the queen of their own hearts.