Legend of the Telur Suci

The back story for the screenplay Forever Yet

The Legend of the Telur Suci

by J. Thomas Wells

Their rare beauty and fragile form put them in league with the snow flake. Though perceivable by visual and tactile it was the wavelength of sound which brought them forward in this journey.

It was their iridescent purple glow that led to their discovery beneath the earth in the Cave of Life on an Indonesian Isle. Even then they were ancient, thousands of tiny eggs. Dubbed Telur Suci, Sacred Eggs, their delicate aesthetic form brought them into service as an amulet.

In these prehistoric times life for the island’s inhabitants had been that of primitive travail. But the amulet’s beauty stirred the soul and evoked something new - a smile. And so the exchange of smiles over time had its effects, elevating their health and longevity. And so when someone died the amulet was passed on to a new born child.

The sacred egg was worn about the throat which put it against the vocal chords. And as it was alive, it absorbed the audio tones of its host. Through this symbiotic relationship the Telur Suci evolved. Eventually it too began to subtly vibrate. This was pleasurable to the hosts which further enhanced the quality of their voice. It became lyrical. So as this evolution progressed it was no surprise that their daily language became an exchange of song. And so for hundreds of years they prospered in this way.

When visitors from other islands came they were swept up in this lyrical atmosphere. But the visitors had not been part of the evolution and so they were but happy spectators, most of them. There were those few who objected to joy. And so this Shangri La was subverted and became diluted.

Eventually the amulets were taken for granted and then fell into disuse. They had become superstitious baubles of an ancient myth. But the monks in the monastery held the Telur Suci in high regard. And they collected them up and stored them in clay urns.

One day a Shaman came down from the mountain and told the monks that the eggs were actually alive and that they were nurtured by the human voice. And so the monks began chanting to them. And the eggs responded, they became colorful and animate again.

The monks then began bringing them out as part of the religious festivals. The songs of the festivals stirred the Telur Suci, an ancient alliance restored. And here they advanced, then began to participate as chorus with their hosts.

At the close of the celebrations the monks would gather them up and take them back to the monasteries. But the people objected. "The Telur Suci make us happy. They should stay with us." The monks politely smiled and continued carrying the urns back to the monastery.

One day a bold villager stood in their path, “We wish to be happy all the time, why do you ignore our request?” The senior monk stepped forward and answered, “The Gru’kiba.” The elders in the crowd shuddered at this word while the others looked puzzled and confused.

The monk looked on them with compassion, “Come.” he said, and led them to the temple. He walked them past the bas relief panels on the walls, re-acquainting them with the history of their culture. They came to a panel depicting terrified villagers running past burning shrines. In the air above them was a large fire breathing bird. The monk first pointed at the burning shrines, “Telur Suci” and then pointed to the firebird, “Gru’kiba”.

So at the festivals in the following years no objections were raised when the monks returned the Telur Suci to the monastery. But one day the senior monk was no longer with them. And so when the objection was raised again "The Telur Suci make us happy. They should stay with us." there was no counter.

And so the people’s wishes prevailed and the sacred eggs were placed in sheltered shrines in public places. The shrines were constructed in such a way as to amplify their tiny voices. At night as the people lay in their huts they could hear their lyrical sound as they mimicked the songs they had heard during the day.

But this harmonious state did not last. One night the Gru’kiba dropped screeching from the sky, flaming the shrines and gorging upon the sacred eggs.

On a hillside nearby the Shaman from the mountain stood watching the smoke rising from the smoldering shrines. At his feet was a small clay urn containing the last of the Telur Suci. He placed the lid on the urn, wrapped it in his shawl and with this bundle over his shoulder he walked away.

On the temple wall nearby a Sanskrit inscription was carved in the wall – “The Telur Suci ~ in our throats and on our tongues, quiet and fragile, forever calling, forever singing ~ the voice of life”.