Mâ, the Ancient One of evolution, leads Gringo on adventures through the past & future of the Earth, from the pre-human forest to the forest of tomorrow.
Un 'Livre de la Jungle' à l'envers. Non plus un petit d'homme qui revient à la vie animale, mais un autre petit d'homme dans une tribu sauvage de la forêt amazonienne, qui cherche comment on sort de la Tribu humaine et le passage de 'l'Homme après l'Homme'. C'est la légende de l'évolution et de l'Ancienne de l'évolution, figurée par la 'reine' de la tribu, qui entraîne Gringo à la découverte des aventures passées de la terre - en Egypte, dans l'Atlandide, en pays arctique -, et dans l'aventure de l'avenir de la terre, chaque fois forçant le barrage des défenseurs de la Loi établie, que ce soit celle des anciens initiés, celle de la Tribu amazonienne, celle des spiritualistes ou celle des biologistes du XXième siècle. Car chaque sommet atteint devient l'obstacle du prochain cycle. Successivement, Gringo passe par la 'porte de braise', la 'porte de jade', la 'porte bleu', la 'porte de neige', avant d'arriver à la 'porte noire' du XXIième siècle et à la 'minute nulle' où les hommes disent NON à leur loi suffocante et consentent à ouvrir 'les nouveaux yeux de la terre'. l'auteur évoque ici l'aventure qu'il a vécue dans la forêt vierge de Guyanne à l'âge de vingt-cinq ans, et l'aventure qu'il a vécue auprès de Sri Aurobindo et de Mère dans l'avenir de la terre : toute une courbe, de la forêt pré-humaine à la forêt mystérieuse de demain.
A 'Jungle Book' in reverse. No longer a young boy returning to animal life, but another young boy in a wild tribe of the Amazon rainforest, who seeks to discover how one escapes from the human Tribe and the passage of 'Man after Man.' This is the legend of evolution and of the Ancient One of evolution, represented by the 'queen' of the tribe, who leads Gringo on a journey of discovery through the past adventures of the earth — in Egypt, in Atlantis, in the Arctic lands — and into the adventure of the earth's future, each time forcing through the barrier of the defenders of the established Law, whether that of the ancient initiates, that of the Amazonian Tribe, that of the spiritualists, or that of the biologists of the 20th century. For every summit reached becomes the obstacle of the next cycle. Successively, Gringo passes through the 'gate of embers,' the 'gate of jade,' the 'gate of blue,' the 'gate of snow,' before arriving at the 'black gate' of the 21st century and at 'zero minute,' where men say NO to their suffocating law and consent to open 'the new eyes of the earth.' The author evokes here the adventure he lived in the virgin forest of Guyana at the age of twenty-five, and the adventure he experienced alongside Sri Aurobindo and 'Mother' in the future of the earth: an entire arc, from the pre-human forest to the mysterious forest of tomorrow.
XIV
HE smiled at the light.
The song of the forest surrounded Gringo with love. The tall ferns had just settled on their tips and were waiting, slightly bowed, to resume their dance. Gringo ran his fingers through the waterfall, still holding a silver thread, and then... And then the crickets carried the dreams away in a high, strident wave, like another memory of all memories, sweet and deep in the shimmering folds of time. A small green wader set one delicate foot on the rock, hesitated, dipped its beak into the waterfall and flew off at once with a fluting cry — towards what country? For the world is a country of a thousand countries, rosy and blue, singing and grave as the heart of the night, or sudden and light as a fleeting smile.
Gringo smiled and it became the prettiest of all countries in the world.
For a moment he hesitated, brought his hand to his neck as if searching for something, looked around him, searched again, for man seeks without knowing it - for a great, eternal country, as if his land had not quite found its eyes or from what dream it emerges or its garland that binds everything together — and we go here and there, groping through this story, clothed in rags and sorrows, in white, in red, in black, with a few scraps of smile and great hollow eyes.
His eyes fell on the machete.
A frown creased his forehead.
He did not want to see this again; he only wanted to relive that lovely memory: that which was like a soft, causeless love, enveloping everything in its pearly folds — night, day, evil, sorrows and small joys, alike; that which was like an unforgettable caress from the depths of time — oh! to remember only that...
But this machete was not his own.
Then he knew and looked at the sun, at his feet bloodied from the long run. He recalled the pain. He was again a little child of man and pulled his bark-cloth tight around his waist.
Vrittru was waiting for him in the clearing with the whole tribe, silent.
It was Her he saw first — peaceful and white in a hollow of the violet-wood, counting her seeds as if nothing had happened. It was warm and light in his heart like a small gazelle's leap. She smiled.
Vrittru stepped forward, thumbs in his belt.
— You slept, did you? And you want us to believe...
Gringo looked at Vrittru for a moment: vague shadows touching a sunlit shore. He smiled.
— Well, speak!
Without a word, Gringo drew the machete from his belt and in one stroke, planted it between Vrittru's feet. Vrittru went pale. There was an amused murmur.
— How many are there? he said in a furious voice.
Gringo hesitated: if he said too few, he would have them killed; if he said too many...
— There are perhaps fifty. I didn't see clearly. There are women and children.
— We will kill them.
— No, you will not kill them, said a small clear voice calmly.
Everyone turned toward Her.
— But...
— I have spoken.
A silence fell.
Vrittru turned toward the tribe:
— If we don't kill them, it is we who will starve. There will be no more game. They are coming onto our territory — they will steal our women. This land is ours, it has been for tribe after tribe. Will we let ourselves be invaded like cowards?
There was a long murmur through the tribe. Vrittru puffed himself up like a guinea fowl. Ma did not move. She was so still and so frail in the midst of that pack — and yet so imperious in her silence.
Gringo went to stand beside Her.
— For tribe after tribe, it is the Law, Vrittru went on. We are killed, or we kill. If we do not follow the Law, the spirits of our fathers will pursue us and our children will be struck down.
Brujos, the slippery slug, came to stand next to Vrittru. He was the healer.
— If we are struck by evil, said he, how shall I cure you? For tribe after tribe, the spirit of evil is vanquished by the wise Law, and if we betray the Law, who will protect us?
Now the tribe was shaken. Gringo listened from afar to a clamor rising from the depths of time — an old, inexorable clamor like fear and hunger. And all of this was unreal: there was no evil, there was no enemy, there was no missing game, no one had been struck down! And yet everyone was struck down.
He turned toward Brujos, toward Vrittru: they were the inventors of evil and the cure for evil. Ma held his wrist:
— Be quiet, little one.
Everyone was looking at Ma.
— Tonight, she said, I will go and blow out the smoke from their camp — and if tomorrow Brujos still sees a fire, it will mean he has taken too much niopa.¹
And in one stroke the commotion subsided. Everyone looked at each other, then laughter broke out everywhere — there was no more enemy, no more war, no more law, no more spirits, no more tribe of tribes. It had all flown away, like a cloud of bats in the light. There was a morning like any other, and the little iguana trotting off to lay its egg in the igapó.
Gringo caught sight of Rani, one finger on the tip of her nose. She had put on a bark skirt drawn tight beneath her round breasts, and a line of red roucou like a small flame on her forehead.
¹ Niopa: a hallucinogenic powder.
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