🧚 Opening, part 5

And the men and women and beasts and birds and flower-people went to the great god and said: “We are weary, and there is no room for us on the Earth; we are the things that must pass.1 Send the King of Death to take us to the Kingdom of Peace and Forgetfulness and Quiet Sleep.”2

And the great god said: “I will not; I have spoken.”3

Then the tired Earth-people went to Parvati, the wife of Shiva, and, “Please help us,” they said.4 “See how full the Earth is.5 There is no room for us all, and some of us are weary and would sleep.”6

So Parvati went to the great god.7 “The Earth is very full,” she said.8 “Will you not let the King of Death send his slow-moving grey-black buffalo for the tired Earth-people?”9

“No,” said Shiva; “he insulted my symbol: he may not return to the Earth.10 I have spoken.”11

“But you know you did say that the perfect boy was to be no older than his thirteenth year,” said Parvati.12 “That was why the King of Death came to fetch him.”13

And Shiva was silent, not knowing what to answer.14

“But when you said that, you only meant that he should never look older than his thirteenth year, though he might live and live as long as he liked,” said clever goddess Parvati.15

And Shiva waited, for surely here was a way out of a difficulty.16

“And poor old King Death was not clever enough to understand this, and thought that you meant him to take the boy away.17 It was only stupidity.18 Forgive him.”19

And Shiva said: “It shall be as you ask.”20

“Then give the message,” said Goddess Parvati.21

And, “Let the old tired leaves fall from the trees,” said Shiva the god, and turned to other business.22

But his messengers were so full of gladness that good King Death might return to the Earth once more, riding on his grey-black buffalo--for that was the meaning of Shiva’s message--that they were drunk with joy, and said the words wrongly.23

“Let the old leaves, and the middle-aged leaves, and the little baby leaves fall from the trees,” was what they said, when they flew back to the Earth on the wings of the morning.24

And that is why to this day, old and young, boys and babies, all alike, ride, when the great god wills, upon the grey-black buffalo, as it makes its slow-moving way to the quiet Kingdom of Death.25

But Kamil, the perfect boy, lived in the world that he loved, and was always and always just thirteen years old, and no more.26

And, “It was well,” said the man, his father, “that I left the Son-puzzle to you, O Mother of Kamil.”27