1

Udeema Shakya

To Find Home

Foreword

My name is Zar. And, well I am currently an alien, or at least thats what you humans

of Earth would call me.

Do you believe in reincarnation? Are you familiar with the idea at all? Well, its the

concept that after death, the persons soul is reborn into another body. I have reincarnated

multiple times and am currently visiting the sites of my previous lives. Am I dead? I dont know.

How much time has passed since I had lived in these worlds you ask? For some of them,

only a few lifetimes (100 or so years). For others, it has been much longer (say 500 years).

Just know that I am traveling through worlds that I have lived in before and I have a ship

with lots of exciting technologies that lets me do this. I have the ability to morph into the bodies

of my previous lives which makes it easier to blend in. I dont completely understand why I have

that ability just as I dont understand if Im dead or not.

I just hope that the reason for my travel becomes clear as you read on.

World One

I hid in the corner in our small stone house in order to steal some sweets. The main room

was cluttered with all sorts of delicious dishes. My nose was having a lot of fun and my stomach

was jealous. I quickly reached for the sweets and started gobbling them up. There was a sharp

sting on my cheek and I looked at my mother feeling betrayed.

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Oy, babucha, no sweets for you, not yet. My mother gestured at the door. Go play

outside.

I frowned and rubbed my cheek. It didnt sting anymore but maybe Mother would let me

eat another sweet. I had hope, and so I waited. She glared at me. Ok then. I decided to go

outside.

I made my way around her and the corner where she made the salty and spicy food. I

stepped carefully around the food filled pots on the dirt floor as I headed for the door. I nearly

tripped and grabbed the pebbled wall to regain my balance. I looked back longingly at the

sweets. Mother gestured for me to go out.

I finally stood outside. Our house had few windows so, as a result, it was dimly lit. Out

here, the sun shined brightly and lots of noise was being created from peoples chatter. It also

didnt smell as good as my mothers food. Everyone was everywhere. Flags and colorful ribbons

were being hung up between buildings and people were being stuffed into their fancy clothes

(which was evident from the amount of complaining that drifted out of their homes). It was time

to welcome spring.

I blink my eyes to clear the memory. That was a really long time ago. Lifetimes ago. But

here I am again. In the same little place.

The air is chilly here, the type of chilly that makes your lungs wake up. There are

majestic snow-capped mountains rising above us. I am in the large village lying in the valley that

has two broken stone roads traveling through. The homes have two or three rooms with no

electronics or lights. The temples are styled after stupas and the roofs are reminiscent of pagoda

style architecture. The people are lively today. Their pale faces with mongoloid features are
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smiling. The womenfolk have decorated their hair with red and yellow knotted ribbons.

Everyone is wearing warm fur-lined kurtas made specifically for today. The little ones have been

stuffed into their nice clothes and, unsurprisingly, they are unpleased. Its time to welcome

spring.

This place was once home. Maybe it can be again.

Twang. The bowstring is released. The bow, lowered. Dark eyes squint against the

blinding sun. Hearts beat in anticipation. And then, a thud is heard as the arrow finds its mark.

And immediately everyones ears start roaring from the cheers, from the loudness, from the

screams of joy that rip through their own throats. The young ones are cheering too, although they

dont completely understand what all the screaming is about.

I smile from a bit away feeling nostalgic. The air itself tastes like competitive joy.

The victor salutes the chiefs of the three clans, going from oldest wrinkled face man to

the youngest one whose hair has just begun to gray and go bald. He kneels on the dirt, and is

anointed by the matriarch of his family. Light red streaks now paint his pale skinned forehead

and hairline. The spring season is starting.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Deep hollow drumbeats ring out across the village square and into

the surrounding mountains. It sounds like a lost wind thats always searching, searching for

home. Which, I suppose is like me. But, its time to eat.

Home, I whisper into the chilly air. No. That word. That word doesnt describe this

place anymore. These people are complete strangers to me. This place just tells me that I dont

belong.
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Stone roads crawl through the village. The old stone buildings are wind worn. Dirt roads

lead out and in. The temples are made out of mud and stone. Tibetan flags decorate the sky. The

smell of rice, dahl, vegetables, and freshly cooked meat fill the thin air. Loud chatter in a

forgotten language fills my ears. And above everything, the proud mountains rise.

No, its not home. Not anymore. Even I want it to be home so badly.

It feels strange to be back. Now, I just feel...alienated. Hmph. Ironic for someone who

traverses across worlds. I dont belong anymore. Hell, I dont even speak the language anymore.

I havent for a long while. I need a cross-language transmitter embedded in my throat just to

communicate.

I look down at my hands, at their current calloused and cold worn state. The people here,

my old people, are pale skinned with Mongoloid features. They are shrunken from the wind and

hard work. Mystery, joy and the unattainable joy of home live in their bright brown eyes.

I may look like them right now but that doesnt mean I get to barge into their lives and

pretend that I still call this place home. But looking like them doesnt mean that Im the same as

them. Im not human. Not anymore.

My stomach growls and I force a grin. At least I can eat delicious food. Oh, Ive missed

it. I step away from the side of the building and breathe in the intertwining smells. This time I

actually grin. At least I can enjoy this little pocket of time.

This little place in this world has not changed over my lifetimes. It remains the same and

for that I am glad.

I grin and run over to where food is being passed out onto plates of woven grasses.
 5

Hello friend. Is this your first time at our festival? One of the women ask as I grab

steamed rice and saag. She looks like a mother, middle-aged with the kind of strength that comes

from raising children.

I blink at her, a bit confused. Of course it wasnt my first time at the Spring Festival, I

had lived here. But, thats right, she didnt know that. Suddenly, I feel like running from this

conversation, but I latch onto that worry and shove it deep inside. Ive come here once, a long

time ago.

Huh. Well, you must try out Chaangput more on your plate! Dont be shy to take

food! Wouldnt want you to be hungry! She takes it upon herself to put food on my plate.

Alrightthats enough! Thank you! I try to stop her from adding to the enormous pile

of food on my plate. She glares at me, like a mother does, but doesnt push me.

I continue to talk and make conversation with her and other members from the three clans

as I gobble down the food. Im not entirely sure who they think I am. Maybe a traveler from

another village here for the Spring festival. Maybe a foreigner who has come to trek the

mountains. Either way, they welcome me with open arms.

Steamed rice, delicious saag, and chewy freshly killed and cooked lamb are some of the

delectable dishes being offered. We talk, drink Chaang, and play card games until the sun goes

down.

Today is a good day, I think to myself. Everyone is equal here. Such a fundamental

concept that doesnt exist in many communities, I muse. But its not home.

The day has been fun and refreshing but, the knot of unease and the sense of not

belonging is only growing. I need to go. I need to go.

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I disappear into the shadows and the night once the dancing starts. There are whoops of

laughter and giggles behind me as I walk away. I look back and I see people laughing, people

belonging. I see a tight-knit community that I sorely want to be part of. My hand grabs a rock so

hard that it starts digging into my skin.

Dont you remember that sense of unease that followed you around today? Dont let it

follow you around for the rest of your life, I whisper to myself as my eyes tear themselves off

the scene.

It's getting cold enough that I start to shiver which causes me to morph back into my

current body with its changeling skin and rough horns. This body is strong and powerful and

much more suited to extreme climates than humans. Or at least, compared to my human form. Or

more likely, Im just not used to the climate here. But the real reason I morph is that this body

serves as another reminder of why I dont belong here. I leap up the rocky side of the hill and

jump into the crevice that my ship is hidden in. My hands get scratched up a little and there's

loose dirt and food stuck under my fingernails.

My ship. I smile. Red and sleek. My home away from wherever home is. This ship is

mine. And I've named it Narz.

I can see the lights from the small fires from the village from the nose of the ship. My

smile fades as I watch them flicker. So close, yet so far.

I go into my workroom and with half a thought, pull up the holographic system of the

stars. I start planning the route to my next destination. To next site of another past life.

World Two
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Narz lands softly by the sugarcane fields. The only trace of its presence is a little stir in

the surrounding air. I smile softly as my ship settles and I take both headsets off. I stand up

slowly, balancing on my toes, and my hand touches the glass. I squash the far away sun between

my fingers. I bounce on the balls of my feet then take off through the ship to the exit. I morph as

I run, instantly becoming weaker but more excited.

My bare feet land on the grass outside and I laugh swinging out my arms wildly. This

time I have bouncy short black hair with sun-bleached streaks. My eyes are yellow like a cats

and Im much shorter in this form. My sharp cheekbones and arms are tattooed with red designs

that I created. Theres animals, theres streaks, and theres words. I was very artistic in this life.

These people, my old people, traditionally got tattooed when they reached the age of maturity. I

was the go-to tattoo artist for many of them. Their trust in my ability was my pride and joy.

Maybe this time, I whisper softly into the air. I can taste the feeling of home and let

myself run through my memories.

I remember the plantations. Sugarcane, rice, and wheat are all grown here. There are a

few wooden houses scattered about. These are for the select few who are chosen to live up here

and take care of these fields. I remember it being a prized job. I remember being lucky enough to

live up here with my parents. This part remains the same.

Wed always invite all my cousins to the top and wed play together in the sugarcane

fields and forests. Wed chase the farm animals and giggle when we werent quite fast enough. I

had twenty cousins. When one failed to catch a chicken, the other bajillion would get it.

I hear the buzz of this planets equivalent of bees going to work in the flowers of the

field. Behind me and Narz is a somewhat dense forest. Birds are chirping, I imagine the
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four-legged animals hunting, running or eating. No actually, its chickens I hear, coming from

one of the farms. I shake my head to clear it.

I see our old house. Large enough for the five of us. Someones added a third floor and

miraculously made it look nice. Theyve kept the veranda on the second floor and the too-short

doors. The entrance to the rooms on the second and third stories are accessible by two exterior

staircases. Its the same house, made of brick and wood, but its different. Do I get to say that its

still my old house? The lavender that my mother always hung up by the doors is absent. The

consciousness chatter of people is there but, I dont recognize any of the voices. I mean, why

should I? Its been lifetimes since I lived here. And those voices tell me that theres people

occupying it.

Id rather not get caught by them. If I remember correctly, it was a serious charge to be

caught by the fields without permission. And I dont want to look like a creepy stalker.

I turn my gaze to the large stone gate to the city and my heart starts beating in

anticipation. The people here are a mixture of skin colors from copper to peach. Theyre short,

and have gleaming eyes that reflect the pyrite decorating the walls of their homes. They live

underground with their fields up above guarded and taken care of by a select few. Maybe of them

are tattooed and proud of it. They call themselves the Rhiners.

The ground is soft but rough under my feet as I walk. I reach the gate without realizing it.

Most travelers might assume that an underground city would be poorly lit however, sunlight had

been cleverly reflected into the tunnel and shafts from the ground to the city also funneled it

down. Theres also ornate and complicated lighting decorating the ceilings. Its beautiful down

here.
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The entrance tunnel opens into the main square. Here, the ceiling is high and sunlight is

reflected through the gigantic clearing. The houses and buildings appear as if theyre part of the

cave wallswhich they are. Each house has a column in front of it with a unique crest. These

columns are used as addresses. Small and big tunnels branch off from the square leading to

neighborhoods, parks, schools, and more Uracs (community squares). The pathways are lined

with some sort of soft material which my bare feet are grateful for.

A female bumps into me then shoots me a nasty glare and mumbles something which I

assume to be a curse. I blink at her, she looks...familiar? My heart pauses. Its my sister.

Immediately, my chest fills with longing and grief. Its my sister! Right? I blink again and shes

gone. I shake myself, and call myself stupid. My sister had died before I did, that girl is probably

her descendant.

Someone else bumps into me. Its a group of people, all mainly the same skin color,

chattering excitedly. Only one of them glances back at me as I stare at them. More people brush

past me. Lunch hour maybe?

I appreciate the large number of people are here, It much easier to blend in unlike the

village I had visited beforehand.

Everyone is dressed much differently than me. Skirts have become popular now, for both

genders, and theyve been decorated with designs that match the tattoos decorating peoples skin.

Midriffs are bared and there is minimal jewelry. My midriff is bared as well but Im wearing

pants and my arms have bands circling them, bringing attention to my tattoos. Theres some who

are dressed much differently than everyone else. Theyre wearing multiple patterns, feathers, etc.

Maybe foreigners?
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I stride - attempt to stride into the midst of the main square where vendors have their

booths up. More and more citizens crowd into the square. I am dwarfed by the surrounding

people, I can barely see over their shoulders. Thats funny, I was one of the tall ones back in my

day. Being hemmed in by the crowd does enable me to see their tattoos. Elaborate and extremely

detailed artistic statements. I let out a whistle of appreciation. Even my tattoos would have a hard

time measuring up to these.

There it was. My new home and soon-to-be place of business. I had bought an old store

and replaced the column in front of it with a new one with my personal crest. My siblings hugged

me excitedly. We were all screaming with excitement. I was already pretty popular just from

doing tattoos in my free time but now I was going to be official! My grin threatened to explode

off my face, it was that wide.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, I kept murmuring to myself.

Thats probably one of my favorite memories. Becoming an official tattoo artist and

buying my own store was one of the best decisions I had made. But, back to the present. The

vendors in the square are selling all sorts of things from Lechen to Tiger Helms. I unconsciously

reach out my hand towards the salty sizzling meat wau and then towards the fresh Lumpia. My

hand is brought to an abrupt stop when I realize that I dont have money and dont want to steal

from these people. My current people I was born into this time? Sure, Id steal from them but not

these people. I dont want to taint this memory.

As my nose frolics in the sea of smells, my ears pick up on conversations in several

languages. Back in my day, the tourist business had just started, it was this new really amazing
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thing that was so exciting! Im glad to see that its thriving. I wonder, will I be able to jump into

this business even though it is completely foreign to me?

A conversation between two natives, or what I assume to be two natives based on their

clothing, catches my ears. Not because its interesting or even entertaining, but because it sounds

like plain gibberish. What? That doesnt make sense. I updated my communications device with

all the recent editions of the languages spoken here. I should know what all of those are. I lived

here. Itd make sense if it didnt pick up on a language the foreigners are speaking but to not pick

up on a natives language isnt right. Somethings broken. I touch the cross-language transmitter

embedded in my neck and make it start updating yet again. A whisper of dread curls up in my

stomach. I refuse to acknowledge its existence and keep walking albeit more quickly.

I stride through the tunnels, all filled with gentle lemony light or burning torches. There

are so many twists and turns that Im afraid Ill get lost. But my feet know the way. This body

knows the way back home.

Here it is, home. The buildings that house my family. Where we lived before and after

being selected to take care of the sugar cane fields. Same dark stone walls and carved wooden

doors. Same garden in the front and stone griffins decorated with pyrite at the entrance. Those

pyrite decorations are mine. Those designs are mine. One griffin is curled up around our address

column sleeping and the other is crouched on its hind legs and wings out ready to attack. I see

the lights glowing from a window.

It was Zhrisnam. A once a year celebration where we got the whole family together, hung

out, and spoiled the children with presents. I was young and it was when my tattoo shop had just
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opened. That shop, that entire endeavor, was my familys gift to me. If it hadnt been for their

coin and their patronage, I wouldnt have been able to do it.

I was in the kitchen updating my older cousin on my shops business when my niece

tugged on my pant leg.

Its time right? Presents! Zora exclaimed, her pigtails bounced up and down.

I looked at the clock then at my cousin. Present opening time was traditionally at the

moons peak but there was another two hours until it was time. My cousin shrugged.

Yes! Time for presents! My cousin and I started shooing everyone towards the main

room. The kids probably couldnt stay up that late so opening presents time was now. I grinned

at Zora and the other kids, I couldnt contain my

A hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I jump a little as my brain takes a sharp left turn

out of my memories. Im staring at a gleaming metal fence that didnt exist when I lived there.

My heart starts beating very fast. I become very still and look to my side. I only see a wallno,

its a shirt. Then I look up into a kind but stern face.

This guard has a hard face, the sharp stubborn lines only accented by dark blue tattoos.

He has sunken in eyes with bags. His uniform is crumpled almost like he slept in it. I look at his

shirt again. Yep, definitely slept in.

Ye chu yana? The question comes out as if the guard had to think about it really hard.

I blankly blink. A quiet snake of fear rests in the pit of my stomach. I wish my

communication device had finished updating. I try to move my feet but theyre glued to the

ground. He looks big enough to throttle me. Unnamed guard blinks back then huffs, frustrated.

My heart starts beating faster.

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Yana che ye? He looks proud of sentence. I assume that hes trying to accommodate

whatever he assumes I am, which I appreciate, but it isnt working.

Sorry, I dont understand.

Guard sends out a sigh of relief. I apologize maam. I thought you were one of those

refugees - the Gurns? - not a Rhiner. He doesnt look genuinely sorry and glances down at

something. I realize that Im the only of us not wearing something on my feet. You have to

leave maam. This is the home of House Yannix. We dont allow riffraff here.

The guard is gentle but, firm. I take my hands off the fence not realizing I had set them

there. I realize what I seem like. Probably some sort of weird psycho trying to spy on what seems

like a powerful family.

Sorry. I rub my arms as I walk away suddenly feeling very chilly. Back in my day, no

one wore shoes. Leathery soles were something to be proud of.

House Yannix. Such a fancy way to say it. My family. Seems like they had done well for

themselves. Congratulations.

Back in my day, when my parents had been chosen to take care of a field, that had been

the first time anything special had happened to us. We were ecstatic. But we never forgot the

people around us. We were dearly loved and missed. Our doors had always been open to all and

cousins and neighbors kids were always invited to play in the sugarcane.

I walk for what seems like hours. Exploring every nook and crevice in this city and

engaging in random conversations with its citizens. I talk a lady whos waiting in line to see a

show and learn about her granddaughters. I bump into someone in fancy clothes who glares at

me then proceeds to take it a step further and yells at me. I yell back. I converse with three kids
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who look at me strangely and then reply in a foreign tongue. With every conversation, with every

interaction, I feel more and more outdated. As if Im some piece of archaic antique furniture that

is out of place wherever I go and invisible to modern times. I am forced to realize that this isnt

my city anymore. It is a stranger to me and I, a stranger to it.

Finally, after maybe a full day, I go back to my ship and just huddle under Narz in the

grass. I grew up in those tunnels, in these trees, and in these fields. I lived a full life here, full of

joy and turmoil. It was strange to come back and realize that it wasnt the same. I was expecting

this, I tell myself. What a liar. Id been hoping that it was the same. That I could just plop back

into my old life.

One more world, I whisper to myself. One more life and then I promise Ill stop.

No one hears me except the swaying grass.

World Three

This time its not a village or a city. This time, its a school. A large public boarding

school. The buildings range from two to three stories with wudian style roofs and red shingles.

The classrooms and labs are clustered in one area, dormitories in another, and food places are

scattered throughout. Gyms, the pools, and other recreational things are mainly in one area by the

dormitories. Trails wind through the campus and disappear into the surrounding forest. There is

only one nearby town and it is not visible from the school nor my vantage point.

This place is one with nature and it is beautiful. I had gone here for most of my

adolescence in that life. I loved this place for the scenery when I went here.
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Narz is parked in the canyon behind me and Im sitting on the crest of the hill looking

down into the recreational areas. The school itself looks newish. I can still recognize most of the

buildings although major parts of it look like theyve undergone renovations. I bet the students

are happy about that. I bet theyre happy that they finally get heated and conditioned rooms. If

they didnt add heating and air conditioning to the rooms then theyre idiots.

Im sitting on a rock looking down. The hill is littered with bushes and ferns and small

trees. Just enough for me to not be noticed. The real forest starts behind me.

I can see the students riding two-wheeled contraptions around the campus. There are

people in the pool. I smile. The pool was one of my favorite areas. I was always the one who

snuck everyone into the pool at night. Wed holler and laugh and was always in big trouble when

we were caught but, who thinks about that when youre having fun?

Its warm out today and the sun's still shining. Perfect weather for the pool. Looks like

theyre having fun. Oh, one of them just belly-flopped. That looks painful.

I had been six when wed moved to the school. My guardians had both accepted teaching

jobs here and dragged me along with them. I didnt know what was going on and it was a huge

culture shock for me.

Come on, Lysen said frustrated. She was at her patiences end. There was no way I

was going to get out of the vehicle. How many times did I need to tell her? I didnt want to move

to school in the middle of nowhere!

Nhurul turned from the person she was talking to and sighed at me. Leave the child be

for now Lysen. Jayen will come out eventually. She grabbed some bags and started to walk
 16

away from me. Well have your favorite waiting at the table when you decide to come into our

new home.

Nhurul was a person of few words and the type of person who expected perfection all the

time. She was tall, had a sharp face, and usually had her long platinum hair tied back in a

ponytail. Lysen had dark skin, like me,

Lysen left too and I was left alone. I crossed my arms and frowned, determined to stay in

the vehicle. Alas, my stomach started grumbling and my brain started bringing up pictures of all

my favorite foods. I unhappily climbed out and started walking towards where Lysen and

Nhurul disappeared to. I really didnt want to but, what could I do? I wanted to be fed.

I had to walk past two students in uniforms in order to get into our home. I started fuming

silently once I heard their conversation. I instantly hated their black pants and green blazers.

Hey who do you think those two are?

New teachers? I think one of thems replacing the herborlogy teacher and I heard were

getting a surprise new class soon.

Siblings maybe? Why else would they be together?

No, no, no, no, no. They had it all wrong! Lysen and Nhurul were my guardians, and

they werent siblings!

But they dont really look alike.

Yes, there we go.

Adopted?

No.

Sure. One of them shrugged then saw me trudging past them.

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Hey, you know where that kid came from?

At this point I whirled around to face them. They didnt notice until I shouted in their

faces a couple of times.

I am Lysen and Nhuruls kid. And theyre not siblings! I walked away furiously.

I remember it being weird when I had first started here. Not only was I a teachers kid, I

was the kid of teachers who were together and were both female. I was the only kid whose

guardians were the same gender. I felt very different from other people and sometimes I resented

Lysen and Nhurul for it even though they were wonderful people.

I keep looking at the pool, at the people swimming and mucking about and generally

having a good time. I debate going down there just to see what's different.

I don't. There isnt any point. I cant exactly meld back into the small world here. Lysen

and Nhurul arent here anymore. I return to my ship when the sun goes down. I debate whether I

should visit the places I lived as an adult in this world. I decide against in and simply let myself

become immersed in my memories.

It had been about half a year since Id moved out and left Lysen and Nhurul. At first they

begged me to stay with them in the school. Id just raised my eyebrows at them. First of all, we

lived in a boarding school. Second of all, it was in the middle of nowhere. They couldnt really

deny me the opportunity to go somewhere and see something.

I had just finished moving into my new soon-to-be home and was going to go look for a

cup of chete. It was one of my favorite adult drinks. My friends had told me about a really

good place they always went to. I needed to find it.

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Ok, lets see. I pull out a piece of paper with directions on it. Go to Cebre Alley. Take

the station to Holient. The store is just in front of the station alley.

That was simple enough. I could handle this despite the fact that Id gotten lost about ten

jillion times in the past six months.

Ok, first step. Go to Cebre Alley. That was two streets down right? I wandered around,

could not find Cebre Alley for twenty minutes because I was a fool, and then finally made my

way to the store. It was a little quaint store hidden on the corner of a busy street. It was discreet,

not the type of building that screamed Look at me!

I walked inside to get chete. It was the perfect temperature inside and it was filled with

all sorts of people. I honestly didnt really notice my surroundings, I was in a bit of a daze the

entire time until I ordered my drink. I was so excited! I was paying for my adult drink with my

own money! I felt so grown-up!

That feeling had lasted until Id gotten the bill for all my drinks, food, utilities, rent, and

my entire life. Then it turned into more of an oh shit feeling.

I chuckle a little as I remember these things. As much as I loved living here, I dont quite

belong here anymore either. I know so much about these worlds, but time has passed and theres

so much more I dont know.

Home, I whisper into the air feeling jealous of what the kids in the pool have. A place

to belong, a place that is wholly theirs. But me, where do I fit in?

Home is where family is. Home is with friends. Home is a safe space. And I dont have a

place thats home anymore. At least not in the way that I used to. I look back at Narz, at my

beautiful red ship, and my eyes crinkle with a spark of joy. Maybe home is wherever I make it.
 19

That place that I called home is in memories and no matter what, itll always be there whenever I

decide to pull it out. Maybe Ill just keep traveling worlds with Narz. Maybe home is Narz. I tap

the side of my ship and murmur home once again.