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SANGEETHA KAMATH

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CHAPTER 1: THE JADE SHAMBHALA

SANGEETHA KAMATH
This post is Chapter 1 of short story series titled The Jade Shambhala. Tasseography is as old as time. The stories in the tea leaves will leave you in a spin, while the healing tea that precedes it anchors you like gripping oak roots. Every day for the next seven days, Xiu-Ying will welcome a new traveler seeking refuge from their heavy burdens, reading their futures in the settled leaves and guiding them toward peace as the seasons shift on the ridge. Welcome to The Jade Shambhala Tea House!                               CHAPTER 1                            EARLY SPRING  Ko-San Tê Bai Mudan (White Peony and Red Dates) The morning mist in the rolling hills of the 1980s Taiwanese countryside did not rise; it dissolved, burning away into thin silver threads under the persistent warmth of the early spring sun.  The Yun-Shan Ridge grew f...
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HIRAETH

SANGEETHA KAMATH
Most rainy afternoons make me jog down memory lane, to the rhythm of the downpours that cascades down in sheets. And I slacken to the percussion of the raindrops tapping against my window pane. Flashes of memories of the halcyon days of the mid 1970’s come back to find me, to haunt me like mists hanging heavy and still. My only solace at this juncture are my vintage albums. The windows to the past and my very own time machine.  Mulling over the pictures, I pen her a tribute: Once upon a time, there was a time when photos were Black & White, Monochrome, Sepia But the trees in your backyard were a much Idyllic Green--Verdant, Jade, and Lime. The fire in your hearth, a sunset Orange--red-hot, Amber and glimmering as you stoked it. The skies, immensely boundless, a much Pristine Blue--Cornflower, Sapphire and Azure, As you pointed out to me the floating frothy clouds, the eagles gliding with their fanned out wings; Or the occasional lone airplane soaring dominantly, a tiny speck hi...
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CHẠ̀WKHRĀW (Chxw̒kh rxw̒)

SANGEETHA KAMATH
  As usual, at the dot of 8 pm, the Guzheng plays its stirring chords, the haunting notes beginning a slow sweep, rising to a powerful crescendo and alternating with a tranquil ebbing of melody surfing me along the waves of soul-stirring, yet a serene stretch of an hour every day.  I make it a point to sit right beside my dining room window to bask in this lulling sound therapy as my neighbor downstairs diligently plays on this zither, oblivious to my admiration. What a luxury it is to have a live orchestra while I savour the last meal of the day. It's a welcome distraction to the otherwise jarring squabbling of the playful neighbourhood children.  The Chạ̀wkhrāw of this– that the musical household might move one day is a foreboding thought. Foreshadowing this, deeply ingrained in me is the shattering news I had received upon returning to Singapore after an 8 month absence here.  The Ramadan festive season was fast approaching at the end of March but the apar...
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QUEST FOR THE BEARS (DAY 18, LETTER Q)

SANGEETHA KAMATH
                      CHAPTER 17             QUEST FOR THE BEARS  The next day, the pigs trotted off to spread mischief in the woodland, their ricky-ticky steps scuffing the damp path into a mess of overturned leaves and broken twigs. Goldwynn stayed crouched behind the wonky rain barrel until the sound of their pig-trouble thinned, then thinned again, then dissolved into the larger quiet of the trees. She didn’t move right away. The woods had a way of listening after the pigs left, as if it wasn’t sure they were truly gone. The air held its breath with her. When she finally stood, the silence felt heavier than noise. No birds called. The light came down in broken pieces, the sun playing hide-and-seek through beech and alder, dappling the forest floor with spools of pale gold. The ground under her boots was soft and cold, a black earth that smelled of truffles gone to rot and old rain. It stuck to ...
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HILANG

SANGEETHA KAMATH
  Chapter 2                Muay, the Maddening Scamp Seasons had gone by with vibrant autumns and chilling winters. Muay Thai had now  become very outgoing and social. On a full moon night, this newly transformed scamp  had bounded away on some nocturnal adventure.  I waited for her return for almost a week. As I searched high and low for Muay Thai, my heart raced with panic with every passing moment.  On one of my search treks, I spotted something that made my blood run cold. Lying on the ground, partially hidden by the underbrush on the curbside, was Muay Thai's collar. The vibrant fuchsia leather was faded and dirty, but the delicate zircon pendant still sparkled in the sunlight and that had caught my attention. Holding it gently in my hands, I examined it for any sign of what might have happened to Muay Thai. But there was nothing - no blood, dried or otherwise. Maybe, just maybe, Muay Thai was still out there, wait...
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