VI. Gajandra and the Problem with Sanoor

“Ssldfjkwoiejj ggggggoiffffnhttthgoirjlkfjg oifjdglk pplskdfjgiiiiennrrkkkkkjj” comes the soft palate murmur in the palatial estate. Someone is in turmoil’d sleep.

“First Hundaa, First Hundaa!”

“What? What is it, child?”

“It is the gurgling sound again!”

“Wee, at this time of the nighttime time!”

“Yes, First Hundaa — all of the household is complaining about it — no one is able to sink into sleep.”

“Yes, Geena, I know. Tomorrow I will consult the Head Attendant.”

“Sir Jutu!”

“Yes, First Hundaa.”

“It is the foul sa-noor-spirit again, infesting Young Master while he battles the demons of the non-waking world.”

“Yes, First Hundaa, I fear that I have heard her cloying groans as well.”

“I trust you will attend to this demon, Good Jutu?”

“Yes, First Hundaa, as steadfastly as always.”

What first seemed to be a giant bluish boulder was closing in on me. “Halt, Demon!” I cried, but the dome-like beast only increased its speed. I had seen similar beasts in other journeys, but they seemed older, more classic, somehow more austere, and with the engine in the rear instead of the back.

“What is ‘injun,’ master?”

“Oh — I don’t know — terminology supplied by the dream itself. As the shiny boulder approached, it began to taunt me, with meaningless phrases: ‘Less Flower, More Power’ and ‘Hug It? Drive It? Hug It? Drive It?’ “Ye shall not earn a hug from me, Beast!” I shouted. And I shall drive you out of the land!!”

“And then?”

“Something about quick recall, and then I awakened.”

“And you believe that it was during this chase that sa-noor began to seize your throat?”

“Yes, wise Jutu.”

“The wizened old man leaned back slightly in his squat, looked upwards for a few seconds, closed his eyes, and mumbled to himself for a while.”

Gajandra knew well from past experience not to disturb Jutu when he was doing his ‘figuring.’ To do so was tantamount to, say, a malfunction on an orbiting communications device that would cut off the functionality of 32 million pocket-sized oracles.

Gajandra watched patiently as Jutu mumbled, eyes closed, and then, when the mumbling ended, Jutu fell silent. For a while. For a good long time.

“Jutu?” ventured the troubled prince. It was then that he heard the subtle rasp of the spirit Sa-noor invading Jutu’s throat.

“Begone, Annoying Spirit!” shouted Gajandra, taking handle of a nearby earthenware jug and sloshing cold water upon the afflicted old man.

“AIIEIEEEEEE! What in Hell do you do!” cried Jutu.

“I am sorry, Jutu, but the insidious Sa-noor was afflicting you even as you meditated on how to banish her from mine own throat!”

“Yes, master,” he said, swabbing his drenched skin with a nearby towel. And fortunately, I have found a way to purge her from your nightly voyages.

“Good. Speak, Jutu.”

“What, am I a dog?”

“I will ignore that.”

“But first, we must feast!! And a grand feast was called, with mountains of fresh boiled blue crab and traditional Northeast Indian Po’ Boys and carafes of wine and the ancient beverage called Zatarain’s root-beere. All of the people of the village and the surrounding kingdoms were invited.”

And when the traditional pre-Hindi Zydeco music faded out, late in the twilight of the summer night, Gajandra asked Jutu, “What now? Shall we retire to a chamber distant from the surrounding dozing revelers, such that Sa-noor would not be confused as we battle her?”

“Sit,” instructed the somewhat sotted mentor, and then a little of the spirit of Pha-hart escaped from his post-eating-path vortex. “Let me tell you a story.”

“A story,” sighed Gajandra, in respectfully subdued impatience.

“Once, when I was a little boy,” began the old man, “there was a very old man in the village. The village. He was the oldest man anyone at all had ever seen in all of the village. And Gajandra, little preppie-fart, mind you well...

Jutu leaned over and cupped his hands to Gajandra’s ear.

“THAT OLD MAN WAS MEEEE!!!!”

“Is that it?”

“No-no-no-no-no-no — that was just my pre-story story. Here is the real story:”

Many years ago, long before your grandfather’s grandfather was born, there was trouble in the town. Two hundred people had died of old-age in the preceding twenty years, and there seemed to be no end of it.

“Jutu. . . ”

Don’t interrupt! Housewifes were forced to clean houses, men with bulging muscles were compelled to do manual labour, and all manor of persons with musical talents were cursed with the indignity of singing songs and playing musical instruments. Have you ever heard a long song-epic played on the sitar? Not as long as you think long is! I remember when a long song took a l-o-o-o-o-ong time. Not like the tidy little blasts of music-fluid of today. Do you think this pleases Sarasvita? Or Ganesh, even?

Jutu went on in such manner at great length. Minutes extended into tens of minutes; Tens of minutes devolved into half-hours; Half-hours into hours. Gajandra struggled with all his princely might to find the wisdom in Jutu’s words. More than ever before, he fought to distill the hidden metaphors and allegories — anything — a simile even would’ve helped — but the old man’s drunken yammering simply bopped back and forth like a curious 9-year-old taken to the marketplace for the first time. Gajandra’s eyelids took on new levels of gravitas. He felt the beckoning of the god that the Hellenists call Morpheus, and with time, he entered into his night-world.

Gajandra looked around him and saw the same scene he had seen before entering into sleep.

But I thought I had fallen, he said.

“You have,” came the familiar voice of Jutu, now floating 3 cubits above Gajandra’s head, and having taken the form a large purple dinosaur. “Look around you, Gajandra.”

And he did. All of the revelers were asleep, spread out under the brilliant night sky as far as could be seen, but all colour seemed tilted markedly toward the blue end of the spectrum.

“It is exactly the same as before I fell — how can this be my nightworld?” asked Gajandra, but upon looking up where the purple Jutu-dinosaur had been, he saw only the night sky.

Cousin? Cousin Gajhrahr? called out Gajandra. He creeped toward his sleeping cousin, so as not to startle her. But wait! What is that rasping? Sa-noor! The evil Sa-noor had infested the soft palate of Gajhrahr. It was then that he noticed other buzz-rasps coming from surrounding sleepers.

Sa-noor! You cannot hide from me! I am Gajandra, Defeater of the Scatoman and Releaser of the Curse of the Seven Monkeys! I will find you, Evil Annoyer!

The nimble prince pranced about from campfire to campfire, across the huge post-festival napping plane, but nowhere did he see the mischievous spirit.

He sat to rest for a bit, and heard yet another rasp-buzzing coming from behind him. He did not bother to turn, but the rasping became louder and louder, and along with it came a puttering — this batch of noises was definitely approaching him. Sa-Noor? He turned.

It was the Big Blue Boulder beast, with the one tall hair sticking straight up from its shiny forehead. Swoooooosh! It rolled past Gajandra, almost striking him.

“You again!”

“Suddenly, the world’s glass is half-full again,” came the cryptic retort.

What do you mean by that!? Are you in league with Jutu? Jutu, is that you?

“0-60? Yes” roared the contraption as it careened past him. On this pass, Gajandra noticed that the beast wore circular shoes of dark leather. “The shoes! I must stub its toes!”

“Repent for the 80s,” cried the beast, but this time, as it screeched toward Gajandra, the young demigod rolled toward one of the round shoes and thrust his knife into the dark leather. Again the beast approached, hobbling somewhat this time, and into the left front shoe went Gajandra’s knife. Two more passes, and the beast was immobile.

“How can you recall me so early!” it cried, “It’s just a stupid battery wiring problem!”

Gajandra ignored the demonly, meaningless words, obviously intended to disorient him, as he approached the wounded beast.

He studied the shiny blue oddity. On closer inspection, Gajandra saw a shiny metal indentation that could have passed for some kind of stylized handle. He grasped at it, and without much effort peeled off a large segment of the beasts’ skin. Oddly, no blood fell from the wound, and Gajandra could see clearly into the gaping hole that he had torn.

Peering back at him, all blue of skin, hair tied in a tall tower, nails glaring, and in her standard Bhramaguptivian fire-ball earrings, was none other than. . .

“Sa-Noor! Have you been eaten by the Shiny Boulder Monster?”

He helped the miffed spirit out of the body of the beast.

“Believe what you will, Foolish Prawn,” taunted Sa-Noor as she clutched at the throat of the startled Main Character.

“Unhand me, Sa-Noor, or I’ll. . . ”

“You’ll what! I control your soft palate, Tiny Mouse! You have no say whatsoever as to how loudly I make him talk! See-there!”

And with her fleeting touch of his throat, Gajandra felt the familiar hiccough-snortle, and suddenly, he was awake, back at the festival ground. But fortunately, a mere few feet in front of him, old Jutu was still faithfully droning on . . .

. . . and so the Mailman says, “Don’t look at me — I just carry letters!” Say, did I ever tell you about the time I found a way to remove shoes without using my hands? It was a billowy autumn’s day, and the village cobblers were occupied with ferreting lottery numbers out of burnt onion skins. . .

The overpowering spell of Jutu’s pointless recollections swiftly sent Gajandra back to his duty. He looked up and saw Sa-Noor, cursing and kicking at the shoes of her beast, apparently trying to repair them.

Gajandra girded his loins, at-the-ready to approach Sa-Noor and implore, “Demon! Why do you seek to torment mankind so?”

But before he was able to approach her, he was startled by an eerie tune of “I love you, You love Me” coming from behind and above him. He looked up.

Jutu! Again you have manifest yourself as a stuffed purple dinosaur!.”

“Yes, Master,” intoned the old man in his sing-songy stuffed-purple-dinosaur voice, “I’ve appeared to give you moral support.”

It is not my morals that need support, dear Jutu--

“Ho-hooo, that’s not what I heard!”

” — but rather, my armaments. Can you supply me with weapons with which to destroy the dreaded Sa-Noor?”

“Ho-hoooo, Master, you never seem to learn! He-heeeee, why do you always seek to destroy the evil without and ignore any evil within?”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Gajandra, as the great floating stuffed-purple-dinosaur started drifting westward.

“Hoo-hooooo, Sorry, Master, gotta go — lots of movies to make. Millions of children to influence.”

“But Wait! Jutu! That is far too broad a statement to leave me with! Can’t you give me something more specific? Even if it is typically cryptic?”

“I love you, you love me,” sang the Jutu-dinosaur as he drifted farther away.

“NO!” Gajandra ran and leapt up and grabbed Jutu’s tail. “I will not release you until you give me a clue!”

“Eat it, curry-boy, I’ve got money to make!” sang out Jutu-saur.

“By the heavens, I command you to tell me how to defeat Sanoor, you old fool!” shouted Gajandra.

Jutu replied only the mysterious, potentially disrespectful phrase, “Eat it. EAT IT!” and with a flick of his great tail, he sent Gajandra tumbling.

On regaining his posture, our epic hero saw that Jutu was gone.

But not a second passed before he felt a painful thud from behind — OUCH! It was the Shiny-Blue-Boulder beast again, with Sa-Noor back inside of it, no doubt controlling its thoughts and movements.

You Nasty Beast! Come out from that creature, and fight like a Demi-God shouted Gajandra as he once again tore open its side.

Sa-Noor pounced out of the beast and onto Gajandra.

“Invisible Mosquito!! You tried to wound my Beetle-Beast, which has given me such mobility that I can inflict my majick on ten times as many sleepers as before — Nay, ten times ten times!” She clawed at him with her fierce nails and got him in a headlock.

“Poisonous Matron of Mischief! You befuddle too much! You annoy all the inhabitants of my household with the loud sound you send through my soft palate. My throat is not an instrument for you to make music with!!” He punched her off and kicked at one of her seven noses.

But the Mystic Sa-Noor was too quick for the young prince. A side step, a two-step, a flying-kick and an instep, and she had Gajandra all a-tangle among her multiple blue limbs.

“Piteous Marmoset! Now you shall suffer for attempting to modify the behaviour of an inhabitant of the Spirit-World. Witness now the Wrath of Sa-Noor!!!”

And with that, she began squeezing his abdomen, constricting his diaphragm with one of her mighty snake-like limbs. To boot, her hellish fire-ball earrings were dangling near Gajandra’s cheek, and scorching his skin with each contact.

“N-no!,” cried Gajandra, who until then had never know defeat. As he struggled for his missing breath, his mind raced for an answer — why had Jutu abandoned him? What was that snide remark about finding ‘the evil within’ all about? Why had Jutu been so dismissive of him in his time of need?

Sa-Noor cackled and squoze, laughed and constricted, guffawed and subtracted needed personal volume-space.

As his vision dimmed, Gajandra could think only of Jutu’s last words to him... “Eat it! . . . . Eat it!” Although he and Jutu had at times undergone mild contentiousness, never had Jutu so brazenly disobeyed a direct order. He had asked for a quick advice, and instead, Jutu had told him. . “Eat it!”

Eat it! The now-almost-lifeless Gajandra could still see the light of Sa-Noor’s fireball earring that kept scorching his cheek. He craned his neck slightly, and the next time the earring swung his way, he snapped at it and swallowed it whole. The sensation of the fireball searing his throat blurred with the outraged screams of Sa-Noor and the release of her grip on his abdomen.

Gajandra gasped himself awake to find himself in his bed in the middle of the night. Out of his window he saw no signs of the festival. He made it to his toiletry room and gargled with mild pinejuice. Soon he was able to go back to sleep, and the next morning he awoke peacefully.

Gajandra found Old Jutu, who was busy finishing the last of his ricemeal breakfast.

“Jutu — Jutu! What happened? Did Sa-Noor infict the rasping on me last night?”

“No, Master. Not a roar or whelp.”

“Then Sa-Noor must have been banished — but how?”

“Did you eat her fire?”

“Yes.”

“Then your soft palate was scorched, thus reducing its size by 5 percent, sufficient to open up the necessary breathing space to prevent the rasping of Sa-Noor.”

Gajandra thought about this for a while.

“Good Jutu, in my battle with Sa-Noor, for the longest time I thought you had abandoned me.”

“Impossible, Noted One.”

But you came to me in the apparition of this ridiculous purple dinosaur, and you told me to “Eat it.”

“It helped, didn’t it.”

“Yes, in the end, ‘Eat it’ was the right advice.”

“Excellent, Master Gajandra, now Bite Off will you?”

“The newly healed heir eyed the old man warily.”

“I will assume you meant that ‘in the right way,’ Jutu, and thus will not have you flogged.”

“Yes, Master.”

But farther down the hall, Gajandra was almost certain he heard Jutu mutter the mysterious word, ‘Prickface.’