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Chapter 2:
Grandfather Basil

Asya knew that somewhere she had a grandfather named Basil, but she really didn’t remember him. She only recalled that she used to write letters to him with drawings, when she still hardly knew the alphabet. And that her mother used to talk to her about her grandfather. Back then, they received delicious honey, jams, and dried mushrooms in parcels from him. And, in every package, there was always a wonderful wood-carved toy for Asya. Usually, it was a bird-whistle that whistled almost like a real bird. And it was a different bird each time and the song was always a new one.

… But then, it was like everyone as if forgot about grandpa. Her father threw out all her bird-whistles: so that Asya would stop whistling at home. On that day, Asya was crying, and crying…

Some sort of disagreement had arisen between Asya’s father and Basil. Asya’s father was a categorical man: he never forgave the insults and seemed to cross out from his life those who disagreed with his opinions and were not willing to obey his will.

Then he forbade Asya’s mother to communicate with her father. So, they began to live apart…

But now — Asya’s parents recalled about grandfather Basil.

Later in the evening, Asya listened, through the wall of the room, to her parents discussing it:

“He even healed patients whom the doctors could not cure! What sanatorium could be better?! And besides, are there any other healers whom we know? Basil is Asya’s grandfather! And he will definitely heal her!”

… Initially, Asya’s father objected:

“I don’t want to hear about him! He will start to educate Asya in his ways!”

“Yes, he will probably do this… But it’s better than having our girl die! Do you remember how he — when she was quite little — had healed her when she got sick and almost died? He will cure her now as well.”

“But your father will not want to communicate with me!”

“No, darling, it is you who’s mad at him! He never bears a grudge against anyone! Let’s go see him!”

… At first, Asya’s father greatly resented his wife’s disagreement with his opinion. But then he gave in. He, after all, was also worried for Asya and wanted her to recover.

… And so, all three of them drove by car to the village named Pokrovskoe*, near which Asya’s grandpa lived.

They drove for a very long time. At first, they drove on a big highway, but later, the roads became worse.

Asya’s father scolded the government and the road services. But later, they reached such a bumpy road with enormous puddles and without asphalt at all, that there was not even free time to complain about it: after all, by not paying enough attention, one could easily get stuck!

Later on, they stopped before a new series of deep and dirty puddles.

And next to them… there was a meadow covered in flowers that were yellow like little suns!

“Those are dandelions!” — Asya’s mother said.

“But dandelions are white and should be fluffy!” — Asya’s father objected.

“Well yes, but that’s only when the seeds are ripe. Then — each seed will have a white parachute, so that the wind can carry each seed. And while they are not scattered, they together form a white ball.

“Right now, while the flowers are still in bloom — they are as yellow as the morning sun!” — Asya’s mother completed the explanation.

“May I collect a bouquet of them for grandpa?” — Asya asked.

“Yes, you may!” — her father replied.

And her mother looked as if she wanted to say something, — but said nothing.

Asya joyfully ran through the meadow and plucked flowers. In the end, she had a big and beautiful bouquet!

During this time, her father found a detour to pass the puddles.

Everyone got back in the car and drove off.

But now, the flowers in the hot spring sun in the car began to wither…

Asya decided to figure out: why did the heads droop and the stems become soft? She also noticed dark spots on her palms and fingers.

Her mother gave her a wet wipe to clean her hands, and said:

“It’s from the dandelion juice. It is white when you have just picked a flower, but later, it becomes dark.”

… Her father calmly explained:

“It’s like blood in man: it flows scarlet from the wound, but later — it blackens… And flowers — are the same way. The juice is like blood.

“Throw it away, don't get dirty! And your grandfather won’t be happy with picked flowers!”

… Asya was silent for a long time, and then suddenly she began to cry so much that her father stopped the car and asked her:

“Asya, what’s wrong? Don’t you want to go to your grandpa? Did you get hurt by something?”

… Asya cried without stopping, her thin body trembled and shook while crying, she could not speak…

Then, she quietly whispered:

“I killed the flowers! …”

… After some time she no longer cried, but became very downcast. She stopped rejoicing about the beauty of spring, and became silent…

When they arrived, she greeted her grandfather in a completely lifeless way, more like a shadow than a girl.

When her father and mother had finished greeting him and began to unpack, Asya went to her grandfather, and asked:

“Can you give me a shovel?”

“I can!” — her grandfather said with a gentle smile. — “But, what do you need a shovel for?”

“I need to bury the flowers… I killed them… I didn’t know… I wanted to give you a present… But their blood became black… And they died…” — Asya forced out her words with difficulty and again began to cry.

Her grandfather hugged her very affectionately, patted her on the head, and kept her close to his body — until she calmed down and raised her wet eyes, expecting that now she will be reproached…

“Show me the flowers!” — grandpa asked.

Asya unfolded her urban jacket, in which she wrapped — like a baby — the bouquet of dying dandelions.

“Let us think about it, Asya: we surely can do something beneficial with these flowers. What if we prepare a healing drink from them! And for this purpose, these flowers will be quite useful: they did not die in vain, and their lives will strengthen and help to continue the lives of people!

“And now, ask for their forgiveness in the magic language — to apologize for tearing them.”

“But, I don't know that language…”

“You do know it! Everyone knows and understands it: it is the language of love of the heart. Words are not needed for the soul to hear it! But people do not always speak it…”

“Do these words need to be spoken aloud?”

“You can say it aloud, or you can say it inwardly. It is the language of souls! One way or another it can be heard in the world where souls live.”

… Asya apologized to the flowers.

“And now we will prepare a useful drink from these dandelions. Many people specifically grow different plants in order to eat them. The bodies of fruits and herbs become the energy that gives us strength. And people can direct this power-energy to benefit themselves and others.

“It is in this way that lives are sustained. And not only of humans, but of many creatures on the Earth.”

… And so, Asya and her grandfather began to make some honey out of the flowers of the dandelions.

Then Basil explained to her that tomorrow morning he will again boil the filtered liquid, which they had already mixed with sugar. And that they will get a healing and tasty treat, similar to bee honey.

And he told her in detail that all bodies — both of plants, and animals, and people — die in due time. But souls are immortal and do not die. And so, it is not necessary to cry about dead bodies. But we have to learn how to live so as not to cause pain or other evils to any being in vain. And then, man can become a resident of a Magical World where everyone loves everyone, where everything is always good, where no one is sad and no one cries, and where everyone is always healthy and happy!

“Is there really such a World?” — Asya asked in bewilderment.

“Yes, there is. But, it isn’t visible to everyone. You can enter it and even learn to live there! There are people who even become real inhabitants of this Magical World!”

“Do you know how to do that?”

“Yes, granddaughter. I’ll teach you this!”

“Grandfather, can you sit with me for a while before I fall asleep? I’m afraid to sleep in a new place. I so often have nightmares… In the past, my mother used to read me bedtime stories. But then dad said that I was already big and that I shouldn’t listen to fairy tales anymore.”

“Fairy tales are for everyone: for big and for small! And many adults also read fairy tales — and this makes them better!

“Follow me, I’ll show you your room.”

Asya’s grandfather put her to sleep in a small room on the second floor, where one needed to climb by a steep side ladder to get to it. Everything in this room was clean and beautiful: there were wooden walls and carved shelves. A nightstand made out of a polished stump seemed to have come from a fairy tale. There was also a table with legs made from fancy tree branches. And when Asya lay down, she could see the evening sky right through the window.

“There’s no need to be afraid here, granddaughter! This is a magical and good place! Here, there is always an open entrance to that wonderful World, which I began to tell you about. Here, everyone will guard and protect you: both I myself, and the trees, and the grass, and the flowers, and the stars, and the small river, and the lake! Later on — I’ll show you everything! I’ll show you how to enter the Magical World. I’ll teach you how to live there.”

… Then there was a quiet purr. A huge red cat appeared in the room.

“This is Purr! He’s here to meet you! Shall we invite him to come closer?” — grandfather asked.

“Yes!” — Asya answered spellbound…

… For a long time, Asya had begged her parents to buy a cat or a dog. But, in the end, they only let her have a fish in an aquarium. But it was not interesting for Asya.

… At first, the cat for some time looked and sniffed at the new inhabitant of their house, and then he began to purr as if singing a quiet lullaby. His blissful peace passed on to the girl. And she fell asleep before grandpa could even start telling her a story.

Grandpa said to Purr in the magic silent language — which is understood by birds, mammals, trees, and flowers — that he must protect Asya. And then, Basil went down quietly to conduct a difficult conversation with Asya’s parents in the language that people use when talking among themselves.