A mystical adventure awaits a wounded traveller. She encounters a powerful Egyptian goddess in the desert, discovering the bewitching and healing festival of lights celebrated in ancient Egypt.

She writhed in agony, trying to raise her swollen ankle. Alexandra had propped herself against the stones near a shrub. She wanted to keep her leg raised to let the blood flow and ease off the swelling. She held on to her camera, manoeuvring her foot so that it lay on the bag. She was at the Great Indian Bustard Sanctuary in Kutch, Gujarat, India.  

She needed a cold compress or a balm. She regretted not cross-checking her bag for the first aid kit before embarking on the nature trail. The guide had got the permission at the last minute for the walk, and she had just managed to charge the camera battery before reaching the sanctuary gate.

The Great Indian Bustard is a rare bird, critically endangered with about 100 left in the natural world. She wanted to document their lifespan, showcase the work at environment film festivals and exhibitions. This was her chance to celebrate life on Earth, her way of keeping the magic on the planet alive and be a part of letting Nature thrive and heal.

After this sanctuary, she had plans of heading to the Desert National Park, Jaisalmer, Rajasthan. She had also made an appointment with the director of the breeding centre at Sam Forest Chowki. All plans would have to be postponed.

In the attempt to get the best shot, she had twisted her ankle, stepping into a small hole. The new lens was heavy, and she wasn’t used to it. Haste makes waste. Thankfully, the lens had survived the twist. She had captured one shot of the two birds that suddenly appeared on the horizon.

It had been a task to get her boot off as the excruciating pain shot up her leg. The guide had gone to get the forest guard. She prayed that no other animal appeared. The sun wasn’t strong as yet, the dancing rays were welcoming. The golden hour was fast slipping.

The shooting pain blinded her, as she tried to shift to a more comfortable position. Her head spun like the galaxy full of stars, meteors and moons. She struggled to hold the pain at bay, but eventually squeezed her eyes shut.

She saw little clouds drifting towards the moon. Alexandra, sitting on the soft sand dune, was bathed in the moon’s soothing rays. As the moon cast its glow on the desert sands, an ancient caravan appeared from the mist.

A dazzling diva stepped out, adorned in gold. She wore a throne crown curved in the shape of a cow’s horns. The sun’s golden orb sat on that throne. In her hand was a sistrum rattle. Her huge bright wings opened, as she flew towards Alexandra. Through the slit of her sharp vulture eyes, she gazed at the girl sitting on the sand. That kohl gave a mysteriously bold look. Who was this enchantress?

The silvery dunes, the golden diva, was she in fantasyland? This mysterious adventure was making her head spin. Too much golden hour or too much moonlight?

The diva turned her staff towards Alexandra, who felt she was floating in the air. The doors of the caravan opened wide. The staff lowered Alexandra gently on the silky bed inside the spacious caravan. She caught the fragrance of herbs. There were hieroglyphs painted on the walls, symbols in natural colours.

“Who are you?” Alexandra croaked, as the pain in her foot eased.

The diva smiled. She played the rattle and visions of pyramids, lamps, festivities, pharaohs floated above her. Alexandra was bathed in the shimmering blue of the Nile, struck by the colourful lights of the ancient world.

Alexandra gasped. “Am I in Egypt? Are you Isis, wait Aset, the goddess of magic, healing and resurrection?” She felt faint. She was lying in the caravan of a 4,000-year-old Egyptian deity, the most powerful goddess of the ancient world. She rubbed her eyes. The diva smiled, lightly moving her hands over Alexandra, without touching her.

She raised her rattle again, playing it loudly as she chanted a spell. Alexandra looked at her swollen foot. She could now straighten her leg; the swelling and the pain had dissolved with the rattle’s vibrations.  

Isis sprinkled golden dust from her orb over Alexandra. Then, she handed Alexandra an emerald-studded cup filled with an herbal potion. Alexandra hesitantly took a sip, sweet ‘n’ sour, much like her favourite tamarind water mixed with jaggery. She finished the medicine, feeling light and energetic.

Isis smiled, as Alexandra stood up painlessly, slipping on a pair of golden sandals that lay on the floor.

Together, they walked in the streets of Egypt towards the temple of Isis. Egypt was celebrating the birth of their powerful guardian goddess. Every house was lit with lamps, the chant of prayers filled the air. The Festival of Isis lasted for four days.

Isis sprinkled golden dust along the pathways, lamps and houses. The lights became brighter, the people happier and children danced in joy.

Alexandra paused to witness this miraculous festival, breathing in the magic of light, the rhythm of lively drums and flutes.  

She turned towards an open-air theatre, watching the play enacting the death of Osiris and his resurrection by Isis. She watched the birth of their son Horus, the rightful ruler of Egypt. She was living the magical moment of fertility, creation, felicitation. This was like the Carnival of Brazil, glittering, joyful celebrations.

Isis was the magical deity in Egypt. She healed all their diseases, guided sailors, ensured the land remained fertile and brought the dead to life. She had wit, power, compassion. She was hope and resilience, an exemplary mother and wife.

Isis smiled as she flew over the country, leaving a trail of her golden dust across the sky, landing in the altar of her temple. Alexandra was mesmerised by the magical lamps that illuminated the dark night. This was the matriarch spirit, the nourisher who had brought order, shaped life.

For the Egyptians, she was Isis or Aset. For the Western world, she was Virgin Mary. For the Indians, she was Durga, shakti, the nourisher of life, the spirit that propelled creation and filled the world with abundance. For the Buddhists, she was Tara. She was Light and Life.

Alexandra touched the beautiful lamp in the temple. She traced the carving in the centre—Isis with Horus and Osiris. She filled it with oil and lit it, like she lit the sacred candles in the church and at home. She chanted her daily prayer, the prayer that she had been taught in the church. Did it matter that she didn’t know the prayer honouring Isis? Isis smiled, indicating that it didn’t.

Alexandra didn’t want to leave before the festival of lights ended, this was her magical moment. The lights were magical, and she wished to be enveloped in the light of abundance and love. She visualised the beauty of festival of lights across the globe.

Alexandra could see Santa with his shining lights coming on the sledge drawn by golden reindeers. She time travelled to the ancient Roman era, celebrating Lychnapsia and Navigium Isidis.

She wanted to dance with diyas during Navratri. She imagined the lights of Diwali in India.

She wanted to see the lamps soaring in the sky like the Lantern Festival in Taiwan. In her mind’s eye, she saw the traditional lamps of Loy Krathong and Yi Peng festivals in Thailand.

She longed to see every light festival in the world.

She didn’t want the magical lights to die, she wanted to become light, dance like the sun’s rays over treetops, capture the birds through her lens, soak in the colours of flowers and she wanted the mother of light to live with her.

Isis laughed as she touched Alexandra’s heart, indicating the light was within her, in her heart. She took a lamp from the altar and gave it to Alexandra, who had an urge to hug the goddess. But was it okay to hug a deity? Wouldn’t the deity be offended?

Isis hugged her, as if reading her thoughts.

“Maam, the doctor is here,” the guide’s voice penetrated her dream. Alexandra gasped, as he handed her a bottle of water. The doctor wrapped a compression bandage around her ankle. She limped slowly towards the jeep that the forest guard had brought. The guide picked up her bag.

Alexandra felt light, as she lay down on the hospital bed. The stress of the last few hours had vanished magically. She touched the wooden souvenir with the Great Indian Bustard carved on it. The forest guard had presented it to her.

She opened her bag to keep the souvenir and take out the phone charger. Her hand touched an unfamiliar object. She discovered a medium-sized red bag with a goddess painted on it. Inside was a terracotta lamp, with hieroglyphs of Isis, Osiris and Horus painted in the centre.

This post is a part of ‘Feeling Festive Blog Hop’ hosted by Manali Desai and Sukaina Majeed under #EveryConversationMatters

This post is a part of BlogchatterBlogHop

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