Autumn Leaves

“Leaves are on the ground,

Fall has come,

Blue skies, turning grey,

Like my love’

Alter Bridge, Watch Over You

Otum was in a hurry. He had stayed a little too late at office and as a result, there was a chance he would miss the train home. He started to jog towards Central station, brushing past the occasional pedestrian and leaping over a few puddles.

Yes, it was raining and he had forgotten an umbrella. He hated London.

Otum managed to make it to Charring Cross station and onto the platform just in time for the train. It was pulling in when he arrived, panting from having jogged his way there and cursing under his breath, because he was soaked to the skin.  He heard someone approach and felt a tap on the shoulder.

He turned around.

“Don’t scream”, said the figure facing him. “Board the train, we can talk on the way”

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“What are you?”, was the first question out of Otum’s mouth.

“I am a man, Otum. I just have a scary face. I’ve come here to your world in order to have a little fun.

“Fun? What fun?”

 “Am I the only one that can see you?  I don’t  see anyone else looking in our direction.”

“Others can see me, but they see just a man in a Homburg hat chatting with you. I can’t broadcast my existence like this to everyone. There would be anarchy! I have to obey certain rules. But all that later. The train has started and so has the game!”

“Now, to the business at hand.  I told you I was bored. I am. I want to play a game with you. I have jumbled up the names of the train stations on this route. You mean to get off at Piccadilly. You’re going to have to get off at Piccadilly station.

Understand the game. Piccadilly station is still Piccadilly station, but the name of the station is different. It looks the same, it goes the same way. But it’s name isn’t Piccadilly. I won’t tell you what the name is. That would be cheating.”

Otum smirked. He knew what Piccadilly looked like and he knew it would take twelve minutes to get to Piccadlly. Of those twelve minutes nine had passed, and so Otum got up from his seat and headed to the door.

The train began to slow. The djinn was behind Otum. He whispered “You’re sure about this?”

Otum replied “Oh yes. I know Piccadilly”, and stepped off the train.

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The stranger and Otum got off the train. The stranger was laughing heartily. He came up to Otum and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Well done boy! Well played. Now, you get a prize from me. You got the month of October as a prize.”

“October?  The month? What will I do with October? “, asked a bewildered Otum.

“That’s upto you, my boy. Meanwhile, I need to rush.”

The man vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Otum with a legal deed to October in his hands.

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Dinner was quiet. His wife, Lena had made pot roast, spiced with cinnamon, his favourite dish. But, Otum ate without tasting. He was preoccupied with the deed to October in his pocket.

After dinner, over coffee his wife asked im if everything was okay.

“You seem a little off tonight dear. Long day at office?”, she asked

“Yes. That new plant project manager called. He wasted my entire lunch hour.”

“Take a valium and try to sleep Otum.”, advised Lena

Otum had trouble sleeping that night. He had a very strange dream. In his dream, he saw a tree with yellow leaves, under a blue sky. Slowly, clouds appeared in the sky and the tree’s leaves started becoming tinted with red.

After some time, the tree had bloody orange leaves and the sky was grey.

Otum woke up, with a scream. Lena who was next to him switched on the light.

Her husband was shaking and covered in sweat. He groped frantically for his glasses. Lena found them for him and put them on him. She helped him out of bed, told him to splash water on his face and then went downstairs to make tea.

Otum told her what he had seen in his dream. He told her about the tree with yellow leaves. He told her how the leaves took on an orange hue, which seemed bloody orange, as if a person’s blood were being mixed with the leaves.

“Does this mean you need to take a life, Otum?” asked Lena.

“The contract merely states that I own October and that it is mine to keep or change as I see fit. No mention is there of taking lives in October.”, said Otum.

It was morning by then and so Otum started to get ready to go to office.

Office was a normal day. No strangers jumping out of corners and giving him months of the year. He got home around six and showered. He couldn’t get the dream out of his head. What did it mean? Did the tree exist? Was he supposed to find the tree? These questions and more kept whirling around his head.

Over dinner, he told the rest of the family about what had happened. His children aged 3 and 6 both demanded that the Oktoberfest parade be done every day. His father immediately sprinkled holy water on him, scared that he was possessed by some spirit. He also asked Otum to destroy the document.

Otum said, “I tried. I cannot burn it, cut it, or shred it.”

That night, Otum dreamt again. Once again, he saw a tree. The tree was green this time, and the sky above it was forget-me-not blue. Slowly as Otum watched, the sky changed colour. It became greyish. At the same time, the green leaves of the tree became tinted with red.

Otum looked around. He was in a grove. All the trees in the grove had leaves in full bloom, which were all slowly turning red, one tint at a time.

He walked in the grove for a while. He walked up to one of the trees and asked, “What is happening to you?”

The tree replied, “The year ended. I am growing old. Just as you grow old. This is the season trees grow old.”

“When does this happen?” asked Otum

“It happens just before the winter comes and all is cold, and our leaves are covered with frost. During this time when the trees age, the animals who hibernate search for food. It has always happened in the months before winter. Humans haven’t noticed. They do not know to listen and see things. They do not know the many faces of Nature. They are like babies, shielded in their wombs”

“And when winter passes?”

“The new trees, younger trees grow. The green trees. Flowers bloom. Butterflies can be seen. Robins chirp. You see friend, people tend to see only three seasons- spring, summer and winter. Seasons are not three, but four. Do you understand now?”

Otum looked at the tree, and slowly he smiled.

“Yes, I do.”

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“A new season? You want to make a new season?” asked Otum’s wife

“Yes. I know what the dreams mean now.” Said Otum. He explained the dream he had to his wife. His wife, like him was initially surprised but then she understood.

“I can’t believe that I didn’t notice the trees before. Look, there’s a yellow one outside!”

Otum looked up and saw the tree from his dream. He smiled. He knew that he was doing the right thing.

On the deed he had for October, there was a small space. In that space, Otum wrote that October would have a new season, one called Autumn, In autumn the trees would grow old and their leaves would change colour. Autumn would welcome winter and would last till November, when the cold and snow came. The skies would be greyish. Occasionally there would be a little rain. The leaves would turn orange-ish or reddish, and they would fall from the trees after the first few weeks.

He signed the deed and then went to have dinner.

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That night, Otum dreamt of the tree again and how it changed colour. The red colour seemed a little familiar. He turned around and saw the man who had given him the deed.

“You!” he exclaimed.

“Me” the man smiled. “You’ve done well with the deed I gave you. You figured out what October needed. I forgot to mention who I am. I am a djinn. You call us genie in your language. Not all that we do, but part of our function is to cause some form of mischief. “

“What? Why did you pick me to do what you could have done yourself? “

“That’s just it, I can’t change anything. It has to be a human who sees something different and changes it. After all, you are made in 

God’s image are you not? We are merely mischief makers.

“I forgot to mention another thing. In order for the change to work, you must die. That red color seems familiar to you, because it is your blood that is staining the leaves thus.”

“What you mean is, said Otum, I must die for this to happen.”

“Yes Otum.”

“People will see this beauty unfold each year, but my family, they will grieve!”

“Why do you think it that way? Every time you children see an autumn leaf, they will remember their father. Whenever the monsoons pass, your family will remember you, through this season. Why think the negative? Look at what your mind has created here!”

Otum smiled at these words. He drank it all in. The trees, the winds from the west. The sky.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

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“My husband died in his sleep last night. I am told he felt no pain. He didn’t have much of an estate but it’s to be divided as we see fit. My husband was a kind man; he used to do things for people. This eulogy barely does him justice. I wish I could tell you what he was like.”

As Otum’s wife read this from the church dais, a small, reddish yellow leaf fluttered onto her palm.

The Bilge Master