Once upon a time, in a peaceful village far, far away, there lived a poor farmer all the villagers called Vichu. Despite his monetary inadequacy, he was a kind and gentle soul. He was considered by his peers to be an honest, harmless man - one with a spotless history of goodwill and decency. He was a classic example of the "poor man with a heart of gold" cliche in morality tales preaching virtue over vice. If he was a character in a work of fiction for children, it was all but certain that he would live happily ever after. In brief, he was a good guy.
Predictably, an Angel visited him one fateful day while he chopped wood in the forest. After an initial near-tragic misunderstanding (for his frightened reaction was to swing his axe at the apparition), the Angel explained, much to Vichu’s delight, the purpose of this semi-divine visit. It had been decided in Heaven that, as a reward for his staunch dedication to honesty and compassion, he be made wealthy enough to become the richest man in the village. Vichu would only have to pass a simple test to collect the money, one that could pose no problem to a man of his integrity.
"All you have to do," said the Angel, "is resist the temptation of the Demons, our rivals. A demon will visit your house at midnight in the form of a lovely maiden. Treat her as you would any traveler who sought refuge under your roof, but do not fornicate with her or laugh at her anecdotes on sodomy. She will disappear by dawn. I will meet you in the morning with sufficient pots of gold to ensure you spend the rest of your life in luxury." Vichu rigorously nodded, thrilled at his luck. "But beware!" warned the Angel, "If you succumb to those temptations, not only will we deprive you of the wealth, you will spend the rest of your life a homeless leper, your former friends and neighbors laughing at what a fool you are!" and vanished. Vichu went home a happy man, his life seemed to have taken the inevitable turn for the better.
As with most cruel tales however, things refused to unravel the way they ought to. The demon visited him as foretold, in the form of a ravishing young woman whose curves made even Vichu’s pious eyes dance with every movement she made. The demon was without equal in the art of seduction and Vichu was a mere mortal; innocent and inexperienced on all matters carnal. He stood no chance. The night transformed into an unexpectedly torrid one, not only could the walls hear ample laughter on subjects like sodomy, they witnessed the unfettered practice of it, followed by several similar acts of deviance involving a variety of vegetables, Vichu’s talent for mimicry and a string of rope that was hastily carved into a jute whip.
The Angel was furious in the morning, fuming at the farmer’s betrayal of all that was pure to all that was vile. The semi-divine wrath was devastating; his house was reduced to a small pile of ash, every cell of his body was infected with leprosy and he was forced to roam the village to beg for survival. When his neighbors and friends heard the story, some shook their heads in disapproval and some laughed at how foolishly he had behaved. Most were just baffled that a man as noble as Vichu could sacrifice a lifetime of luxury from Heaven for a night with a demonic seductress.
Several years later, his limbs in an advanced state of decay, his once admirable reputation lost, his pride destroyed at having had to beg his former friends for food, Vichu squatted at the edge of the village when he was visited by the Angel again. "Well!" thundered his punisher, "you have nothing in your life now but agony and humiliation! The very people who once praised you now warn their children to behave themselves if they wish not to become you! Your treachery has deformed your body and when you die your soul shall never attain salvation. What do you have to say for yourself?" Vichu flashed his rotting teeth in a smile that sent shivers down the Angel’s wings and said:
"What a night!"
- Nilan
No comments:
Post a Comment