All forests lead to this one. It doesn’t matter which country, state, or province you are in. The forest exists in a time out of time. In the middle of it is a house, and children find their way there safely. They think they are lost at first, but there is a magical bird that guides them. Often, the children see their favourite birds, or the ones that exist in their homeland. there. Sometimes, they see a brightly-coloured parrot with feathers, and other times, the other children see a crow. Nevertheless, the wings that flap lead the way, where it is safe.
Inside the house is a witch who feeds them all the food they could ever need, even cakes and candy on occasion. The children Hansel and Gretel were the first to inhabit the house. You know the story. Their parents could not have afforded to keep them, and so they entered the house made of gingerbread and candy.
Their pictures hang on the walls, and they have gone to make their way in the world. Hansel and Gretel have left a letter behind, promising them that not all hope is lost.
To different children, the house is made of something different. Chinese children think it’s made of dragon’s beard candy, and Indian kids think it’s made of gulab jamun. Australian children think the house is made of lamingtons, and so on. It differs from different region, of course. It doesn’t matter where these children come from—they could have been chased out of the house by their parents, or perhaps their parents left the house with bills to pay. Some of these children walked out after being punched and beaten by their parents, and for others, the onslaught of insults was enough. Whatever it was, they all ventured into national parks, forested areas, and sometimes, even in the city, the forest would appear to claim them.
Whether it be day or night, the forest is calm and inviting. In the day, woodland creatures play about in the bushes and butterflies flit about. There are no bushes or brambles to cut the children, or even roses with thorns. At night, the forest is tinged blue, and there is the light of the full moon and some fireflies guide the children around so that they don’t get lost. If they come from the desert, they are welcomed by cool air and their favourite food. If they come from the cold tundra, they are greeted by a warm breeze.
Then, there’s the witch, but she’s more like a chef. Somehow, the book in her house tells her what food to make, and how to do it. By intuition, she knows how much salt to put in the soup and how to cook fluffy, white rice. With a torch, she creates a the perfect glaze on a crème brûlée. With skill and precision, she creates flawless swirls on an ice-cream cone. She can create everything. All of this is done before the child arrives.
She always knows when a child is about to arrive. The house décor changes, and so does her appearance. To the Africans, she has the colour of their skin. Sometimes, she is Japanese, and at other times, she is an indigenous aborigine. She takes on the form of a mother, or a grandmother, one that the children imagine in their heads, consciously or otherwise. She could have one eye or three—she could be gnarled like a tree or plump like a berry. She always welcomes them in with a big grin, regardless of whether they are smiling or crying. They are usually crying.
First, she sits them down and they let it all out. She gives them tissue, and she doesn’t judge. She listens to them closely and try to find out how else she can help them. The younger ones tend to babble on and some are oblivious to what has just happened, but the older ones sulk in a corner or run and hide in one of the rooms. Whatever the case may be, she waits until they are ready to tell her what has happened to them.
In the meantime, she makes food for them and ensures that they are well-nourished. Children as skinny as sticks become healthy, while those who are morbidly obese from a diet with the lack of nutrients learn how to be healthy. Some of them slim down, some don’t. Some gain weight. The witch doesn’t shame them for their bodies, but points out what’s loveable about them, inside and out. At times, she has to teach them not to eat their feelings, but most of the time, when it’s needed, she lets them eat their favourite dessert.
There have been cases where the children are filled with rage and pain. They try to destroy the house, and nearly everything in the kitchen shatters. Dishes go flying. Silverware clatters. The witch understands. She does not scold or yell. She merely asks if they are feeling better, and they tidy up.
Some children from different dimensions come. They come from worlds where trees are normally purple and they have tentacles for arms. Others come from ancient Egypt, where they weren’t expected to live very long; many girls come through, fed up with expecting to be married. Often, children who like those of the same gender arrive as well. If they aren’t a boy or a girl, the witch nods and smiles, and tells them that they are perfect the way they are.
Some of them are from the future—daughters or sons of space outlaws and pirates being sentenced to death, who come here for refuge. Some historical figures arrive, too—sons of troubled mothers, but not all stay for long. Some stay until they are adults, and let the forest lead them to a future of their own making. Others need a temporary reprieve, and go back to their own place and time to make history happen. There are many bad parents, but history sometimes glosses over them.
The children meet each other and learn to play together. It doesn’t matter if they don’t speak the same language or view the house the same way. The house takes care of that, and soon, they are there for one another. Most of the time, the witch teaches them to get along, to say “please” and “thank you”, to share and to ask how the other person feels. In a few days, or sometimes even hours, they children hug one another. Healing takes a long while, but time does not matter here. The children take all the time they need, and when they leave, they can choose to return to the exact same time they left, or whatever they wish.
The witch is many things to many people, but some children stay. Some stay long enough to be her helpers. When the witch is tired, these helpers bring children on nature walks, exploring the woodland and taking them to the nearby river, which is shallow enough for them to splash around. The helpers cook and clean and help the children brush their teeth, scurrying around the many rooms of the house.
The house is infinite on the inside, creating a room for each child when they decide to stay. The rooms are never too small or big and are always just the right size for the child, with everything they require. If the child has a stuffed animal at home, the animal somehow materialises there. If the child needs their favourite game, the game appears, especially when they need it most. But most of all, the witch and all of her helpers tuck each child into bed, or whatever they require. If they need a story, there’s a story. If they would like to talk, there will be a chat. If all they want are cuddles, then that’s given too.
When all of that is done, the witch goes to the topmost room of her house, and slowly but surely, sloughs off her skin. Her wrinkles fade, she stands up straight, and then starts shrinking. Her hair, a stark white, becomes brown. In the darkness of the night, when everyone is asleep, she is finally allowed to exist as the little girl she wanted to be. She’s allowed to scream and cry, play with her favourite toys, and eat her own desserts. She is known as Gretel, half of the famed siblings who got lost, and she is, at long last, herself. The bird who leads the children enters another room, and he is Hansel. There, he is allowed to rest, and be himself as well.
The night lasts as long as they want, and when they’re ready, they transform back into the witch and the bird. A familiar sight in children’s fairytales, but so much more. They are ready to care for the children again.
Featured image via Jose M Martin Jimenez