Land, ahoy!

Extract from the diary of anthropologist Bjorn Ericsson, written on board the Swedish ship, “Gotheborg” that docked here for a brief while.

In the southern peninsula of the vast country called Dinia, is located the kingdom of Matilnad. Our vessel “Gotheborg” anchored off the shores of a large village that the locals refer to as Nenchai.

When I got out of the ship, just before sunrise, I was alarmed to see hundreds of natives menacingly ‘marking their territories’ on the ground, in a manner reminiscent of the behaviour of African lions of the Masai Mara. When I went cautiously closer, I realized to my relief that the behaviour was not borne so much out of an aggressive instinct to protect their turf as a more biological need to empty their bladders. They were not the facile terminators that I had feared they were, but rather docile urinators. I later learnt that this behaviour was the national pastime of Dinia.

I walked on further and confronted giant cut-outs of what must have been the demigods of the natives. The gods were of different sizes, shapes and were shown sporting outlandish pink and green costumes, not to mention purple shoes. The huge cut-outs reminded me of the massive stone sculptures that my fellow anthropologists had reported sighting in the Easter Islands in the South Pacific Ocean, except that the stone creatures had more benevolent expressions on their faces.

The locals are divided into two groups, the Damakians and Aidamakians. When not involved in actual bloody duels, these factions constantly engage in saber-rattling, war-mongering and logger-heading. Much energy is expended on such posturing and blood-curdling, battle-cries.

I caught hold of two of the natives, handed them a silver coin and told them, “Take me to your leader”, and they obeyed.

The leader of the Damakian group and the current Chief of Matilnad is addressed simply as KuMa. He is constantly seen with a yellow shawl and a pair of dark glasses on. While the shawl is a recent addition to his attire, Old Jungle Saying has it that nobody in Matilnad or outside has ever seen KuMa’s naked eyes directly as he has never ventured outside without his tinted glasses that are designed to keep off the ultraviolet rays of the sun and the extra-jealous stares of his son. Much of his time is spent in uttering choice expletives in a guttural tone and in chaste Matil at a wall painting of his arch rival, AyaJ.

His sworn enemy Ayaj, the leader of the Aidamakians, who lives in a house not far away from KuMa’s, is a strong believer in the occult and in the supernatural. Every morning, before sunrise, she invokes the blessings of the tantric, Swami Jagamugananda to help drive her enemy KuMa out of the country. On the advice of her resident-astrologer and numerologist, she changes her name every now and then, to sound less suspicious and more auspicious. At present, she goes by the name of Ayaaj. Unconfirmed reports say that she is learning voodoo magic and spends much of her time with a sharp pin, with which she keeps jabbing a small replica doll of KuMa, hoping to cause the real KuMa excruciating pain in his lower back.

This, then, is how the natives and the leaders spend a typical day in Nenchai. Such are the bizarre rituals, curious customs and strange symbolisms that are displayed in abundant measure in this corner of the world. I heard later that things are no different in other parts of Dinia.

By the time Gotheborg lifted anchor and set sail again from Nenchai, I had come to the conclusion that the natives were in a permanent trance and timidly submitted to the whims, fancies and machinations of their leaders. They show no willingness or inclination to get themselves de-hypnotised from their daze or exorcised of the spell cast by the leaders. We left them in this state of stupor as, clearly, they were hopelessly beyond redemption.