Tara and The Backpack

People die.

Living things die.

If someone (or something) is alive, it means it is also dying. And if you see it the other way round, if something is dying, it means it is still alive.

So as I walked through the forest, I breathed the fresh air, I felt the damp mud beneath my bare feet. I wanted to enjoy being alive, while I still was alive. I heard a soft rustling behind me.

"Tara!" I smiled as the baby elephant placed her trunk around my ponytail and gave it a joyful tug.

"Tara! How are you?"

I expected the usual grunt, or a nudge, or a trumpet. I didn't expect this baby elephant to speak. In English.

"Backpack," she replied. She pointed with her trunk.

The backpack - the one that hadn't been there a few moments ago - leaned against the tree trunk as if taking a rest. Funny thing was, I thought I'd been the last person alive on this earth for past three years.

I looked at Tara. She looked back. She realised I was nervous. She smiled at me, and pointed her trunk heavenward. I looked up. The trees parted. I could see the sky, directly now. And -- in front of my astonished gaze -- the clouds took the shape of Tara's great-grandfather, the mighty Macchli Elephant, who had been killed by poachers for his magnificent tusks.

The clouds moved, so that the great pachyderm appeared to speak, and, next to me, Tara spoke in his voice. "Open the backpack. Do not be afraid. You were left on Earth to do this, once nature had had sufficient time to replenish itself."

Slowly, Tara beside me, her ancestor watching from above, I tiptoed to the backpack.

I reached it. I stretched out my hand. Somehow, I could not bring myself to touch it. Tara nudged me, and I tripped, falling all over the backpack. Up above, her ancestor laughed -- it was strange, to hear thunder that was laughter and watch the cloud formation's belly jiggle with mirth.

I scrambled to my feet. The backpack had a double-zipper with a tiny lock. From overhead, the cloud formation moved its trunk, and a golden key, the size of my fingernail, appeared in my hand.

It took me four attempts to unlock that backpack, I was trembling so much. Tara had to help, steadying my hand with her trunk.

Finally I had it open.

There was a bubble-wrapped box with an envelope on it. "OPEN THIS FIRST" the envelope said, so I slid it out, and opened it.

A single banana-leaf emerged, with purple writing on it. Grape juice. A note written in grape juice.

"Nature has decided to give humanity another chance. Inside this box, you'll find nine colour coded boxes. Four pairs of matching colours and one odd one. They contain human sperm and human ova. Now, these have been so engineered that, when you pair them correctly, the offspring born in nine months will have characteristics from every race, every religion, every linguist group and every ethnicity in the world. What's more, they have been genetically coded to be kind, considerate of the earth and nature, and non-violent. Instructions about how to get the babies born correctly are inside the big box."

"What about the ninth one, the odd one?" I asked.

Tara smiled. Up above, her ancestor winked.

"What? Why you looking so naughty, Tara?"

"That's for you to get pregnant with," Tara replied, her eyes twinkling.

"ME?"

"Yes. You were going to marry your boyfriend, weren't you, but then he died in the great loss? Well, the ancestors knew it was going to happen. We have his sperm there. The child is going to be a boy, and is going to look and sound just like him, only he won't leave the toothpaste tube open!"

"TOOTHPASTE TUBE? You're talking about me fostering four babies and being pregnant with one of my own, and you are thinking about TOOTHPASTE TUBES?"

"Well, it did annoy you, didn't it?"

"Um yeah. Also the way he would leave the car keys anywhere so I couldn't find them."

"Taken care of. Now, get on with it. Humanity is waiting to be reborn."