Island's End by Padma Venkatraman

crawling up my face.”
    “Be attentive to your spirit, Uido. Leave your body here on the jungle floor.”
    I lie down again. The rattle begins— tshh-tshh-tshh-tshh —like falling leaves. The drum follows— dha-dha-dha-dha . Tshh-tshh-tshh-tshh, dha-dha-dha-dha . I try to make words out of the sounds. But the more I think, the darker my mind becomes. I count hundreds of drumbeats before giving up. I sit, pull my knees to my chest and hang my head in shame. “Why is it so hard today? I entered the Otherworld so easily on the cliff top and even forced my way in when I fought with Ashu.”
    Lah-ame sits on his haunches beside me. “The Otherworld is not a faraway place; it is just a different way to sense this world around us.” He strokes my cheek. “Do not worry about how long it is taking. Allow your ear to drink in the sound of the rattle and the drum; use your spirit, not your body, to sense and feel.”
    Once more I lie back. The rattle begins again. This time I hear it say shhhh to the thoughts in my mind. Slowly my mind becomes still. Matching the drum’s rhythm, I breathe deeply in and out. Then, all of a sudden, a bright light spreads behind my closed eyes.
    The jungle disappears. I am standing by the edge of a pool. Warm sunshine pours across my shoulders and cool water slurps at my toes.
    Welcome .
    I spot a path leading away from the pool, with shoulder-high grasses on either side that seem to beckon me. I can still hear the drum as clearly as when I was in the jungle. So I dance along the path, keeping time with my feet. The tall grasses bend in and stroke me, like members of the tribe greeting a boy returning from his first hunt.
    As I move farther away from the pool, the grass becomes shorter and the scent of vanilla flowers thickens the air. On the stem of a strange red-leafed plant, I see a large web hung with dew. It looks as though it were woven from strings of light. The spider at its center is no more than a black dot. In awe that such a little creature could create something so beautiful, I tremble. My spirit senses that I am in Biliku-waye’s presence again. But this time she remains tiny, as though the slightest breath of wind could blow her away and destroy her web.
    The drumbeat softens and I hear a whisper coming from near the plant that the spiderweb hangs on. When I bend down close, wanting to hear the voice a little better, I notice how unusual the plant is. It lacks flowers, but its leaves are as brightly colored as flowers’ petals: red mottled with pink. The lower part of each leaf is shaped like the pitchers we use to store water, and the top part looks like a small lid.
    I peer into one of the pitcher-shaped leaves. To my surprise, it is filled with sweet-smelling juice.
    Just then, four sharp drumbeats cut into my mind.
    I obey the call to return and trudge back down the path. A strong wind pushes at me, as though urging me to move faster. As soon as my feet splash into the pool again, all light disappears.
    I open my eyes. It is a shock to find my body lying on the jungle floor, as though I never left.
    “Well done, Uido.” Lah-ame smiles.
    “I saw Biliku-waye as a tiny spider. Why did she appear in such a delicate form?”
    “Whenever your own spirit feels strong, the Otherworldly spirits will not appear large or terrifying.” Lah-ame’s smile widens. “Tell me on what plant Biliku-waye hung her web for you.”
    “The plant’s leaves were shaped like water pitchers and filled with a sweet-smelling juice.”
    “That is the insect-eating plant,” he says. “A creature that looks like a plant but acts like an animal. Its spirit is caught between two ways of living.”
    “How can a plant’s spirit be like an animal’s, Lah-ame? Plants are rooted to one place, while animals move. And there are so many other differences between them.”
    “This plant traps insects. But instead of catching them with a sticky tongue like a frog, the plant has a slippery leaf. Insects are