The Oarsman

by Zubin Mathai

It was an especially beautiful sunrise. The sun found its way through the trees, trying extra hard to reach through leaves and across small hills, and kissed the worker standing on a rock. She had been staring silently at the lake, but when the warmth brushed her back she turned to it, smiling up at the gold. Leaves woke with wriggles and dropped their dew, and mist rolled away from the forest to find other spots to sleep.

  “There you are, new friend.”

  The worker turned to see the soldier, the same perfect specimen that had greeted her the first day. She smiled at her new sister, but didn’t say a word, for she wasn’t done letting the sun greet her with its morning rays.

  “Another day begins for our brave sister in her new home,” said the soldier. The worker noted, as the soldier spoke, that she didn’t once turn to nod to the sun. “What will you do today?” asked the soldier. “Do you want to be a worker, or a soldier; or do you just want to take the rest you have earned?”

  “I rest just before the sun rises, and in the afternoon when the waters are set to brilliance. You should try it too. There are such precious moments here in these woods.”

  The soldier only smiled, and while it was perhaps half a friendly one and half a humoring one, the worker focused only on the friendly half and smiled back.

  “When can I see the queen?” asked the worker.

  “She sent word that perhaps tomorrow or the day after,” said the soldier. “She is busy running the colony, worried about that wasp that killed a few of our sisters, but she has passed on her warmest greetings. She told me to take care of you and make sure you had everything you needed.”

  “That wasp was acting alone. It is now dead, and I know no others of its kind will come this way.”

  “How do you know that?” asked the soldier.

  Now it was the worker’s turn to only smile, offering no explanation as to why her statement was true, and how she would bet her life on it.

  That day, the sun would not leave the worker alone, finding and keeping her warm wherever she was, even as she picked up leaves with the line of workers. These new sisters did not tease the worker, even as she sometimes lost focus and let her lone antenna lead her around in absent-minded circles.

  At one of those times, when she left an arcing trail through the sand, smiling and letting her mind blissfully bathe in the sun, she heard the other workers whispering behind her. She turned, hoping they might be playfully teasing her, mocking her lone antenna or the scars across her body. Instead, the workers only backed up an inch and stopped their talking.

  When one of the ants saw the worker staring, she stepped forward and bowed her head. “Sorry for whispering behind your back, new sister. We are still just in awe of you. My sisters were telling me that, not only did you kill a wasp, but that you supposedly saw a red-dotted spider and were not terrified.”

  “Your left leg,” said the worker, pointing at the little ant before her, “no, not that one, the middle one on your left side. It is a little crooked. Maybe we can call you peg-leg.”

  The worker exaggerated a laugh, hoping the others would join in. When the line of ants only answered with wide-eyed staring, the worker then drooped her antenna, letting it float down as if deflating. “And…” she said, “what would you sisters call me, with my scars and sad antenna?”

  “We don’t do nicknames here,” was all the other ant responded, with a bowed head and sheepish smile.

  That afternoon, the worker found time away from colony life to head to the lake and sit on a stone by its shore. She turned around and found the sun through the trees, measuring its angle with two of her legs. She knew it would only be minutes before the lake was set on fire, so she inched forward to find her reflection.

  I am a bit uglier, she thought, as she rubbed the scars around her eye that the wasp had gifted her with. For a moment her reflection was caught in a ripple, and her distorted face reminded her of her friend, the solider she had grown up with, and who had given her life for hers.

  I wish you were here, said the worker, using the quiet inner voice that the man of the cabin had taught her. I finally found a home. You would be so proud. Maybe you would even crack a smile and run and play with me in celebration. They are very nice here, even if they are a bit dry and humorless — even compared to you.

  The worker chuckled at her distorted reflection, and the memories of her friend, before continuing, They feed me and care for me and fawn over me too much. They think I am something special, after hearing about all my adventures, also because I was there when that wasp was killed. Just wait until I tell them about you, about your courage and adventures, about your sacrifice and friendship.

  The next day the worker was asked the same question at sunrise by her new soldier friend. What role did she want to play today, worker or soldier? The entire colony by now knew she was special, and would be the only ant in their midst to be given such an honored choice. No other worker here would ever dare to dream of being a soldier, and vice versa.

  “Soldier,” said the worker. “I suppose I could try being a soldier today.”

  She made the rounds with a small troop of ants, with her new soldier friend leading the way as their sergeant. Before they set out, they had said they would be patrolling far, so the worker should pack a leaf for food and drink extra rations of water. The worker was excited, and all along their march she kept asking if they would be going even further still.

  She was happy to step over twigs and pebbles, race up hills (even though no one raced with her), and for each section she continued to ask if they would go further. Would they make it all the way to interesting spots like the marshy lands? When the soldiers began circling back, still focused on their silent march, the worker realized that for these ants and herself, the definition of far was very different.

  “These are the rounds we make every morning,” said the soldier. “We march in this circle, round and round, for hours on end. The last few days have been particularly tense, because of that wasp that you killed. We kept our eyes peeled for it, and now we watch for any others wanting to come and attack us.”

  “Do you ever feel adventurous?” asked the worker. “I understand wanting to keep the colony safe, but what about walking in zig-zags instead of a circle? What about going to visit the man of the cabin, or maybe coming out here at night and finding a spot where fireflies light up the sky?”

  The soldier only stared blankly at her, not knowing what most of the words of her sentences meant.

  Days came and went, and the worker was happy, but she did find herself sneaking out more often to sit by the lake or walk in circles wider than any of the soldiers. One afternoon she sat by the lake, waiting for the sun to set it afire, when she surprised herself by sighing out. She looked around, making sure no one was there, and then she sighed out again, this time a bit louder.

  She looked inside, curious of this feeling of peace that seemed to be there, and wondered when it had arrived. It definitely was not there before she got to this colony, but why, she wondered, was it there now, when she was away from the colony and all by herself.

  When the lake caught the sun and flung it up to the sky and around the forest, turning everything to gold, the worker stood up and spun slowly around. The peace inside her seemed to be over there on that rock too, and even on that dried bit of leaf all crumbled beside her. It was in the trees and moss, in the amber rays seeking out every last space. She was also certain it was there a minute ago, even before the lake gave up the sun’s reflection.

  She remembered one of the lessons the man of the cabin had spoken to her, how we are all already at peace, already filled with God, and that nothing needs to be added to feel it. That pristine glow is our core, perhaps our soul, but certainly the foundation on top everything else of our life is built atop. The worker started giggling, for she caught glimpse of the truth the man was trying to get her to see, that God was home, home was peace, and they didn’t need to be traveled to to be found.

  Stepping up to
the lake, she was ready to stare down at her reflection, wondering how it would look with the sun so brightly shining. Before she could, however, she was pulled roughly back. She spun, and her new soldier friend was standing there with a terrified look on her face.

  “Friend!” the soldier yelled out, “Ants can’t swim. Don’t get so close to the water!”

  The worker laughed at the absurdity of the warning, throwing her head back and laughing and laughing, and she saw it so plainly, that her laugh was home, was God, too.

  Standing with a frown, wondering what had gotten into this new sister, the soldier waited for this odd display to die down. When the worker turned quiet, wiping what the soldier swore was water from her eyes, the soldier finally spoke up. “The queen,” she said, “has time now to see you.”

  This was the first time the worker was brought to the bottom levels of the colony’s nest. The deeper she went, the more the bustle died down, until, on the lowest level, only large soldiers quietly shuffled through the corridors. She was led by her new friend to the queen’s chambers, past a row of giant guards, and right up to the queen herself.

  The queen sat on her dirt throne, half in the shadows, and something about the way she held herself, so still and proud, so quietly regal, caused the worker to re-adopt a little fear. Out of instinct she jumped behind the solider and peeked out to catch glimpses. When the queen leaned forward and the shadows left, the worker smiled at her own shyness, how it seemed to return not so stubbornly anymore, and she stepped out from behind the soldier.

  “Come a little closer,” said the queen, and the worker stepped up.

  “You are the little one I have been hearing about,” said the queen with a smile, studying the worker from head to legs. “I’ve heard you’ve had quite the adventure, having come all the way from the drought stricken lands. I’ve heard of animals and winds, of friends you’ve lost, of giant ants at night sucking nectar from the ground, and even of this relentless wasp that you finally defeated.”

  The worker stayed silent for a moment, only returning the queen’s smile.

  “How are you liking our colony?”

  “I am enjoying my time here,” answered the worker. “I am thankful to you for allowing me to stay, and for the sisters for taking me in and welcoming me.”

  “Indeed,” said the queen, “but I also hear that you sneak out quite often to be by yourself.”

  The worker sheepishly grinned, looking down at her feet and then back up at the queen. “Yes,” she said, “I think the adventures I’ve gone through have changed me a bit. I like to explore when I can.”

  It was hard to tell by the worker, but it seemed like the queen’s smile fell half a degree before she picked it back up. “I’ve heard that you’ve helped the workers and have also walked with the soldiers,” said the queen. “For a special ant like you — and know that I would do this for no other — I am giving you a choice. You were born a worker, but you helped kill a wasp, so you have earned the right to be a soldier. Tell me, little ant, now that you’ve settled in, what role will you choose for your life here?”

  “I have to choose only one?” asked the worker, looking to her soldier friend, and disappointed that her head and eyes were bowed down in respectful aversion to the queen.

  “We do have rules in this colony,” said the queen. “We do things for the greater good here. We play our roles and honor them. The workers bring in food and rear the young. The soldiers patrol the grounds and keep us safe.”

  “Do you let any ants, in their spare time, wander? Have you left this nest, or have any ants explored the woods? There are precious spots at different times of the day out there, just aching to be seen. You may not know the word, my highness, but God is out there in abundance.”

  This time it was easier to see, and the worker noticed that the queen’s smile actually rose a shade higher. The worker studied her face and saw something there, beyond the wisdom and calmness that came with the role of being a queen. She saw that this queen had perhaps one of her six legs in something deeper, in that same quiet language spoken by the man and some faces of nature, and that she knew of the word God when the worker had uttered it.

  “To answer your question,” said the queen, “I do not let any ants stray too far. I do not let any ants go beyond the ocean.”

  “Ocean?” asked the worker. She looked at her soldier friend and at the ring of guards, and none seemed to be reacting at all. “What ocean?”

  “That body of water an hour’s walk to the south of this nest — that ocean.”

  The worker scoffed, trying to stifle a laugh from erupting. “But, my highness, I respectfully have to say that that is not an ocean.”

  “It is an ocean,” said the queen. “It is too big to see to the other shore. That, by definition, is an ocean.”

  “But!” shouted the worker, taking a step forward, only to be stopped by two fierce guards. The queen waved them back, letting the worker step up closer. “But I can see the other side,” said the worker more quietly. “I have even come here from that side. I have walked around most of that lake, passing through the marshy lands, even through a hollowed-out tree, to get here. I have seen that lake set afire every afternoon by the sun. I have seen that lake’s bottom and sides. It is not even that big a big lake.”

  The queen frowned and looked around at her guards and the soldier, all with their gazes averted and heads bowed. When she was sure none of her ants were looking, she offered the worker the faintest of smiles beneath her scowl, before continuing with her stern voice. “It is an ocean,” she said. “It defines our southern boundary, just like the hills define our northern ones. We do not venture beyond those points.”

  The worker shook her head in disbelief. She did not even have to blur her eyes for her daydreamed future to come. She saw her days, and they were all the same. Perhaps she would be a worker, but every day would be identical, carrying leaves and moving sand. Perhaps she would be a soldier, but all she would do would be to deepen ruts in the dirt of that tired circle around the grounds. She thought of the man of the cabin, and the wonder he introduced her to, and she also thought of all the friends and adventures that had come her way over the past few weeks.

  “I will ask you again,” said the queen, breaking the silence. “If you are to stay here, you will have to choose a role. Tell me what you want to be.”

  The worker stared around at all the ants, and she frowned, suddenly not liking how much dank and darkness there was this deep underground. She was focused on the ring of soldiers, and her new friend, and did not see the queen smile again at her as she began speaking.

  “I think I may not stay here,” said the worker. “I think I have some unfinished business. I just now thought of some friends I had made. There is a lonely man in a cabin on the other side of the lake. I don’t mind stopping by and saying hello.”

  “And then?” asked the queen.

  The worker paused to think, before answering, “There is a lion trapped in a canyon he doesn’t want to be in. I will need another friend to help me save that lion.”

  “Who is that?”

  “A beetle,” said the worker. “If I can get to him in time, I think there is still a chance, for the one keeping him has sworn off killing.”

  “And then?” asked the queen.

  “Then,” said the worker, proudly looking into the queen’s eyes, “I think I will choose the role of explorer.”

 

  over…

  Author’s Note

  I hope this book brought you to silence and wonder inside, and also made you think about your own roles you have played in your life. The Oarsman represents what we all are at our core, and if you look for it, you too can see that precious peace that has been with you your entire life.

  If you enjoyed this book, please share by leaving a review on the store you purchased from, or mention it to your friends or your book club — as an indie author, it is the only way word can get out about my work.

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sp; If you would like to keep up with my blog, send me a message, or look at other books I’ve written, please visit my site and sign up for my newsletter: zubinmathai.com

  Zubin Mathai

  October, 2016

  Ojai, CA

  Copyright © 2017 Zubin Mathai

  All Rights Reserved

  Published by Beyond Yourself Publishing

  Ojai, CA

  Books by Zubin Mathai

  These books are available from the bookstore or e-store where you purchased this book from. More info on each, and ways to get some books for free, is also available at zubinmathai.com

 

  The Oarsman

  A magical river begins singing out, and a dying man aches to know if the paradise at its end is real enough to fill his heart. He hires an oarsman to take him upstream, but before he can reach paradise, he must first revisit every role he has played in his long and winding life.

  The Ant That Found God

  An ant gets separated from her colony and sets out into the most unknown parts of nature as she searches for a new home. The adventures, friends, and enemies she meets along the way change her life in the most wondrous of ways.

  Little Bites of Truth

  Over 600 snippets of prose and poetry to help the reader explore into their true nature. A great companion book for your mindfulness or self-enquiry practice. — Coming Soon