Encounterat JegersbergRahul MitraWriterIlustration: AdobeStock // gorsayaka26
SHORT STORYEverything that I am about to narratehere is true. Yes, I could have mixedup some of the finer details, for I waslost and disoriented when it happened,but overall, this is a truestory. Whether you believeit or not, is up to you. Myonly concern is to tell youeverything truthfully, sothat, you, too, may know the forcesthat live amongst us.This incident took placesometime around thethird week of October,perhaps at 17:00 or 17:30in the evening. My mind wasnot at ease, filled as it was withworries and uncertainties. I hadmany things to do and little timeto do them in. And yet, a restlessspirit was upon me. I found that Icould not focus on any one task.So, instead of wasting any moretime, I threw on my jacket, grabbed the backpackand headed out for a walk in the Jegersberg forest.This forest is just a year-long acquaintance, but itfeels like a trusted friend. There is comfort amongits well-trodden trails. A walk here never fails tosilence the chatter, remove extraneous thoughtsand make me feel at peace with the world. Not justthat, I firmly believe that if you want to be at onewith Norway, you must get on good terms with itsnature. For Norway is nothing but these forests andlakes, these rolling hills and hidden valleys andthese sheer vertical cliffs that rise straight up fromthe sea, overlooking miles of fjords sparkling inthe sun. There is something jagged and raw aboutthe nature here, but it is never brutal and alwaysaccepting if you give it the respect that it is due.The old gods, the trolls and spirits still lurk in thedeeper recesses of these places, and it is only fittingthat one should seek to propitiate them when oneis looking for answers. Thus, a walk in Jegersbergis never just a walk, but a way to call forth theblessings of the Universe.And so it was that day. As I wound my way alongthe trail that leads to the main Jegersberg lake, theØvre Jegersbergvann, my very heartbeats startedsynchronizing with the rhythms of the forest.The smell of wood and rain and wet earth filledmy nostrils and all around me was Jegersberg,ablaze in the reds and oranges of late autumn.Many of the trees had shed their leaves and theirtrunks gleamed a ghostly white as bunches of wet,decomposing leaves squished underfoot.I walked deeper and deeper into the forest.I had a need to get lost, and so a little way off fromVafflebua and on the trail that leads towards Gillsvannet,I decided to veer off the known path and follow a small,barely visible trail that led up the side of a low hill.The forest was gloomy here. Bare, white trunks crowdedin on me from both sides as I clambered up the steepslope. It was the magical hour of twilight, when the sunhas already set, leaving behind some reflected light thatlights up the horizon. As I huffed and puffed my way up,I could see the skyline through the trees ahead and knewthat I was coming to the crest of the hill soon. When I gotthere, I found that it was the top of a ravine. From here,the land sloped steeply down. Odd-looking bushes andwhite tree trunks, curved into the most fantastic shapesgrew all along this slope and the bottom was covered indeep shadow. On the opposite side was an open, grasscovered valley with the treeline in the distance.I made my way across the ravine and as I got to the creston the opposite side, the residual sunlight disappearedfrom the sky almost as if some giant, unseen hand hadturned off a light switch somewhere. Darkness camecrashing, and with it came a wild wind and big dropsof rain. All of this happened in an instant.About 300 metres in front, I saw a huge ash tree standingalone in the middle of the valley. It was enormous, withbranches spread out in every direction and covered withdense, green leaves even in this late season. I ran forthe shelter of it’s branches, and stood there shivering,as I waited for the rain to abate. What I could notunderstand was where this rain had come from, forthere hadn’t been a cloud in the sky when I started out,nor any mention of it in the weather forecasts.The forecasters must have got it spectacularly wrong, forI have never seen a storm like this in Kristiansand. Forthe first time ever in Norway, I heard cracks of thunderthat made me jump and saw flashes of lighting tearingup the sky, lighting up the inky curtain of blacknessthat smothered everything around me. In the intervalsbetween the lightning bolts, I espied a faint, flickeringlight far ahead. Hope grew within me- perhaps there wasa house or a village where I could find shelter from thestorm.I started making my way there when the thunderstormhad weakened a bit. However, as the rain calmed down,the sound of the wind became overpowering. It soundedlike the howling of hundreds of huskies, or perhapswolves, and it had a rhythm of its own – one momentthe wind would be tearing through the valley with thisOCTOBER 2022 UNIKUM NR 8 27