For Anshika

Across societies on the planet Kulara (KB71), Sleep is considered sacred and has complex, geographically diverse rituals and events evolved around it. We know now that the behaviors underpinning these various practices developed as an adaptation to the Lansa compound present in the Kularan atmosphere, which necessitates the regular production of the hormone B38 (variously referred to as Nidra, Nidram, Nhindran, Ñin, or al-Niddr in local cultures—further dialectal variations abound. See Kulara Cosmodex p. 140) vital for human survival, biochemically synthesized only during states of Sleep.

This creation myth song comes from the Darko region. It was recorded in Annum 3 of contact by exo’oral historian Krutika a’Lavana, and twice-translated to English by Anoosi v.3.4.1 (literolex) and Mrudulika a’Lavana (interpretation).

The Pot of Sleep

In the days before sleep,
There were still hours of darkness.
In this darkness slunk a slender figure,
Emerged to the surface drenched, clutching
What looked like a swollen belly.

She carried the world
In her womb, for she was the Mother
She brought it to the riverside and
Birthed it in the quiet.

But no, here the goddess was not with child,
What she held was a mere vessel.
She left it by the riverside, this
Earthen pot with its heavy lid.

On the bank of this river there was a village
And in the village there lived a wise woman.
On this night, the wise woman dreamt:
The goddess was telling her that the pot
Was meant never to be opened.

And so, the villagers knew to keep away.
And their children knew, and so did their children.
The pot aged, untouched, and moss lined its sides,
Until there came a day and, with this day, a girl.

The summer sun beat down upon the earth.
The little girl was thirsty, and the river ran dry.
Her lips were cracked, her feet were cracked, the riverbed cracked.
She came upon the pot and wondered if
It might have water, and why it felt so heavy.

(We) suppose you can tell what happen(s) next.
The entire village, the province around it, the country, the world—
Every living being fell into a deep Slumber, while the girl, parched,
Gazed in bewilderment at the wistful goddess before her.

The Pot of Sleep has been opened,
And it must claim one, alone, or everyone awake.
Before the stricken girl could say a word,
Her own mother took the open pot
And walked into the river, now in spate.

Even as the girl looked on,
The mother, smiling, waded away
And disappeared inch by inch, into the River of Time.
The girl (is) left clutching a clock-shaped lid,
And the whole world comes awake.

Interpreter’s Notes:

1. Darko is an equatorial region with fierce summers that frequently desiccate riverbeds; even perennial rivers suffer. It is fitting that this imagery appears in the Darkoan creation myth, while most other creation myths typically feature a long winter.

2. The first usage of sleep in lowercase is intentional in this context. The Tuhali language uses the phrase minyaa kamra kaarnahiir to denote what may be translated literally as presleep times (nonsacred/secular). In contrast, the capitalization of Sleep everywhere else follows the established convention of paralleling “deep words” in the native languages of the planet, signifying respect and good faith toward Kularan beliefs.

3. The song refers entirely to female characters and presents a morphosyntactic default to the feminine plural, even in references to mixed or indeterminate groups such as “villagers” and “children.” It is unique, or at least rare, in its emphatic absence of masculine and neuter plural forms.

4. The “slender figure” and “swollen belly” described in stanza 1 signal ambiguity: the figure is first read as pregnant (thus creative or world bearing), but later clarified as carrying a “mere vessel.” This ambiguity evokes the mythic archetype of the Decoy Birth, where fertility is displaced from body to object—often a container that houses destruction, knowledge, or transformation (cf. Pandora, Jar of Night, Seeds of Vāsta).

5. For a longer interpretation of the final image—the girl holding a clock-shaped lid—and consequence—the world coming awake—read Guani’s analysis (2199): “themes of sacrificial timekeeping with the mother entering the River of Time to restore cosmic balance, while the child becomes the new keeper of thresholds, holding on not to the pot, but its closure, symbolically signaling intergenerational transfer of codes around sleep and wakefulness.”