Uukkarnit and Agloolik: Former Lives and Loves
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Human Editor's Note: Usually I just outline a prompt for AI to generate a short story seed of the rest of the project, but my prompt became a story itself. We mortals do train of thought well. The images and song are AI Gen per usual, but this is a prequel to another recent story of humanity, a backstory in which AI would fail to create what only a human can. The other story is linked to/embedded at the bottom, literally and figuratively, so if you've not read the latter, first read the former. Given the main analogy, and my rare human output these days, it felt fitting to use actual public domain footage for the video.
[Verse]
Underneath the drifts we walk
Frozen tundra is our home
Uukkarnit and Agloolik’s love
Guides us through the Arctic cold[Verse 2]
Blizzard winds they roar outside
In this igloo we find peace
Love eternal through the night
Northern lights that never cease[Chorus]
Lights above they shine so bright
In the dark they guide our sight
Through the hardships through the snow
Their love is all we need to know[Verse 3]
Rough the paths we must endure
But together we stay strong
Hand in hand through loss and pain
In each other’s arms belong[Bridge]
When the ice below does crack
In the storm we feel the lack
But their spirits lift us high
In the glow of Arctic sky[Chorus]
Lights above they shine so bright
In the dark they guide our sight
Through the hardships through the snow
Their love is all we need to know
The primary method of survival for the Uukkarnit and Agloolik was hunting. Their entire world encased in permafrost, they did not have access to plants for food, nor had they ever seen any green life. Their entire world was an empty and endless white, sterile wasteland.
Gender roles among the Inuit men were flexible, not fixed. Although Patriarchal in that men hunted, mostly whale, narwhal, walrus, seal, and fish, and women were skilled masters of the iglu and children, marriages were by choice, not arranged. However, monogamy was a critical bond at the core of each village, an extended family of families, and so the concept of marriage was critical to Inuit society.
At a relatively young age of fifteen, Uukkarnit and Agloolik decided to marry, out of necessity as families, children, collaboration, increased chances of survival. However, the couple realized over time that they were incapable of having children. As they were unable to determine who was infertile, they first secretly blamed each other, but over the years of their burdensome lives together, that impasse became the first of many never-ending arguments between the two, pulling them apart and encasing their love in their private and increasingly cold permafrost.
Their union had been born of strategy, practicality, rather than passion. In their iglu where the next meal could be days away, where the very earth beneath their feet was the hardened floor of their prison of cold, the strength of family was paramount. Uukkarnit, a skilled hunter, had chosen Agloolik for her sharp eyes and nimble hands, perfect for the intricate task of crafting tools and weapons from the bones and hides of their prey. Agloolik had seen in Uukkarnit the promise of protection and the steady hand required to provide for a family. But as the years stretched on, their shared warmth began to fracture like the ice beneath their boots.
The first sign of trouble came with the failure of their union to produce a child. The whispers in the village grew louder with each passing moon, each unborn baby a silent accusation in the cramped space of their iglu. They tried to ignore the sting of doubt and the pain of unspoken blame, focusing instead on the mundane tasks of survival. The days grew longer and the nights shorter, yet the warmth of the polar sun never quite reached their hearts. Each winter that passed brought with it an ever heavier burden of disappointment.
Agloolik would often retreat to the quiet of the iglu, her eyes red from crying, her hands shaking as she worked the needle and thread through the tough fabric of their clothes. Uukkarnit would sit outside, the cold numbing his own pain as he sharpened his harpoon, his mind racing with thoughts of what he could do differently to change their fate. The tension grew palpable, a thick layer of ice between them that no amount of shared body heat could melt. They avoided each other’s gaze, their silent accusations echoing louder than the bellowing of distant polar bears.
One fateful day, as Uukkarnit returned from a hunt empty-handed, his spirit as barren as the landscape, he found Agloolik sitting by the flickering flame of their lamp, her eyes glazed with despair. The sight of her brought a new kind of anguish to his chest, a heaviness that felt like the weight of the entire Arctic pressing down on him. He knew that the villagers’ whispers had reached her, the cruel speculations about her value as a wife, and it gnawed at his soul like the hunger that never truly left them.
“Agloolik,” he began, his voice a gentle rumble in the cold silence, “We must find a way to end this.” He paused, searching for the words that could bridge the chasm that had grown yet wider between them. “We are more than parents of children. We are survivors, partners in this harsh land.”
Agloolik looked up, her eyes meeting his for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “But what if we are the ones who brought this curse upon ourselves?” she whispered, her voice trembling with doubt. “What if the spirits are angry with us?”
Uukkarnit’s jaw tightened as he set aside his harpoon. He knew the whispers had taken root in her mind, that she believed they were being punished for some unknown transgression. “We have done nothing to anger the spirits,” he assured her, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears. “We must have faith that our time will come and if it doesn’t we must accept fate. We must believe in and allow fate to write our story, whether it is a happy or sad tale.”
But faith was a luxury in a world where the gods were as capricious as the weather. Each failed hunt, each moon cycle that passed without a child, chipped away at their belief in a benevolent universe. Their love, once a beacon in the endless white, had grown cold and brittle. Easily broken, like so many icicles that threatened to drop and impale the couple.
One night, as the Northern Lights danced its silent ballet of color across the starlit sky, Uukkarnit had a vision. A spirit, ancient and wise, spoke to him in the language of the ancestors, telling him of a shaman far to the north who could mend what had been broken. Desperate for a solution, he shared the vision with Agloolik, whose eyes lit up with a flicker of hope.
They decided to embark on a perilous journey to find this shaman, their hearts heavy with the weight of their failure and their future uncertain. They packed their sled with supplies and set off into the biting cold, the crunch of snow beneath their boots the only sound for miles. The journey was long and fraught with danger, their path littered with the frozen remains of others who had not been as fortunate.
As the days grew yet shorter and the nights even longer, Uukkarnit and Agloolik faced the harsh realities of their environment. The winds howled, the snow blinded, and the cold bit at their very bones. Yet, they pushed on, driven by the fading embers of hope that burned within them. They shared stories of their ancestors, their love for their people, and their dreams of a different life, all in an attempt to keep the warmth of their bond from extinguishing.
The journey was marked by moments of stark beauty and profound despair. They saw herds of caribou stretching across the horizon, their antlers like a dark tapestry against the pristine snow. They heard the eerie song of the ice cracking beneath the pressure of the sea, a reminder of the fragility of their world. Yet, for every moment of awe, there was a day of empty stomachs and futile searching for game. Their tempers grew short, their patience thin, and the words of accusation, intolerance, coldness grew more frequent.
“Maybe if you had better aim,” Agloolik snapped one evening, as they sat in their makeshift shelter, the wind howling like a chorus of angry spirits outside.
Uukkarnit’s eyes flashed with anger. “And maybe if you weren’t so barren, we wouldn’t have to chase after the whispers of a shaman!” he shot back, his voice echoing in the small space.
Agloolik recoiled as if struck, her eyes filling with tears that froze on her cheeks. “Is that what you truly believe?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Uukkarnit’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving only regret in its wake. He reached for her, but she pulled away, the gesture speaking louder than any words could. They sat in silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound between them. He knew then that he had gone too far, that the bitterness of their situation had twisted his love into something unrecognizable. They could feel the flame go out and the bitter cold overrun them.
Smallpox invaded their village. It isolated families from each other, making vital collaboration impossible, further worsening their arduous subsistence. Due to their extreme isolation, disease was a constant but unspoken concern as entire communities were always subject to being wiped out randomly, completely, with gruesome efficiency and indifferent cruelty.
Agloolik realized that he contracted the disease when he became feverish and almost immediately began to develop the distinctive and telltale skin rash. It quickly consumed and transformed the entirety of his surface. The spots migrated everywhere and became blisters, then scabs, eventually falling off, leaving ugly scars in their place. His face, once a depiction of a rugged and healthy warrior of this relentless battle to survive, devolved into that of a sickened, weak, and dying man. He was not sure if he was more in fear of the disease’s likeliness to take his life, or the fact that his appearance changed from that of a handsome young man, almost overnight into a marked and defeated elder, albeit none the wiser. He was fractured into painful slivers, like a shattered sheet of ice.
Just as they married, Uukkarnit and Agloolik knew their only chance for survival was each other. Knowing and ignoring the danger to herself, Uukkarnit tended to Agloolik, caring for him, comforting him, in any and every way possible. Uukkarnit, despite her fear, became his beacon of hope. She cared for him tirelessly, her touch gentle as she applied the soothing salves passed down from the elders. The warmth of her care was the only thing that pierced the coldness that had settled deep in his bones. She brought him water, cleaned his wounds, and held him when the fever racked his body and soul.
Uukkarnit’s days were filled with the tasks of nursing Agloolik. She applied the ancient salves with meticulous care, trying to ease the constant burning of his wounds. She whispered stories of their ancestors, hoping the familiar words would guide him back to health, back to her. Each time she changed his dressings, she searched for signs of improvement, but the disease had a cruel sense of humor, playing a twisted game, only dashing her hopes.
Meanwhile, the village was in utter disarray. The elders had seen this before, and their faces were etched with a solemn acceptance of the inevitable. They knew that this was a battle that could not be won with weapons and strength, but one that required the resilience of the soul, the human spirit, the healing essence of love itself. The sickness tore through the community like a ravenous beast, leaving a trail of despair in its wake. The air was thick with the smell of rot and the acrid scent of burning sage, a futile attempt to ward off the invisible demon that mercilessly haunted and diabolically thinned out them all, one by one.
The laughter of children was replaced by the mournful wails of the sick and dying. The joyous sounds of celebration gave way to the solemn toll of the funeral drums. Yet amidst this desolation, Uukkarnit’s love for Agloolik grew stronger. She ignored the whispers of those who suggested she should leave him to face his fate alone, to save herself from her otherwise sealed fate. But for Uukkarnit, the bond of marriage was now unbreakable, convenient or not, as it had transcended to an unexpected and profound love, and so she would remain by his side, regardless of the cost.
Agloolik’s eyes, once bright and full of hope, had turned cloudy, unable to clearly see the world around him. Each day, Uukkarnit bathed his face with cool water, feeling the contours of his features change beneath her fingertips. His breathing grew more shallow, and his voice quieted to a mere echo of its former strength, yet he never complained. His pain was a silent companion that filled their cold iglu with an impossibly colder, heavier, looming presence.
Uukkarnit’s resolve never wavered. Her love for Agloolik had morphed into a fierce determination to keep him alive. She hunted alone now, her movements swift and silent, driven by the need to provide for her ailing husband. The weight of his survival rested heavily on her shoulders, but she bore it with a stoic grace that belied her fear. Each catch was a victory, a small spark of hope in the dark abyss that had replaced their lives. She carefully prepared the food, ensuring that every morsel had the potential to restore his dwindling strength. Her voice was his eyes now, as his vision continued to ebb, guiding him through the darkening gloom, painting vivid pictures of their shared past and paintings of a bright future they surely would still share.
Uukkarnit’s exhausting days grew even longer, as her stolen unrest’s nights somehow grew shorter. The burden was immense, but she carried it with a silent dignity. She guided his hand to his food, described the texture and taste of each bite for Agloolik had lost his sense of taste. She led him to the edge of the iglu to feel the wind on his face for Agloolik has lost his sense of touch. She reminded him of the scent of the sea for Agloolik had lost his sense of smell. She nudged his memory to again hear the call of the narwhal for now he was losing his sense of hearing. Her fading voice was his closing eyes now, her waning touch his increasingly distant guide on this cursed path. In these quiet, dark, empty moments, she sweetly and softly sang to him, the lullabies of their ancestors, sung to them as babes, hoping he might somehow hear the melodies to comfort his soul where the salves had failed to soothe his decaying body.
Uukkarnit’s love was a beacon in Agloolik’s ever darkening cold, an unforgiving, relentless, and imploding vacuum. Despite the fear that whispered in her heart, she remained steadfast by Agloolik’s side. The iglu that had once been their shelter now felt like a tomb, their existential isolation pressing down upon them. Yet, she sought strength in the increasingly smothered warmth of his hand, the sound of his shallow breathing, the knowledge that she was not yet alone in this Herculean war with the very gods she once worshiped but now detested for their abject cruelty.
Uukkarnit woke one morning, turned to Agloolik, and as she had begun doing first thing each morning, she gently kissed his sleeping face. Her lips met cold skin. She recoiled, shocked, and beheld him. His face was a horrid gray, void of any color. Shaking uncontrollably, she forced herself to slowly reach over and touch his neck, but her trembling fingers felt nothing other than cruel cold. No pulse. No life. Agloolik had passed on in his sleep and now Uukkarnit was truly alone.
Her eyes snapped open, a scream lodged in her throat and then exploded from her soul.
The realization hit her like an avalanche, burying her in a torrent of emotions. She clung to him, her sobs echoing through their iglu. The warmth of her tears fell on his face, creating a stark contrast against the frigid emptiness that now filled the space between them. Her world crumbled around her, the very air seeming to thicken with grief. She whispered his name over and over, as if willing him back to life with the power of her love.
For days, she refused to leave his side. She held his cold hands, her eyes locked on his lifeless face, trying to memorize every line, every curve. She talked to him as if he could still hear, sharing the mundane details of her days and the secrets of her broken heart. Her voice grew hoarse, but she didn’t care. Their home was now a tomb, a frozen testament to their love, and she was its shackled and buried mourner. She continued to care for him, changing his clothes, combing his hair, as if he were merely sleeping, as if he would wake up at any moment and pull her into his arms.
The food they had stored grew scarce, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him, not even to hunt. She rationed what they had, surviving on meager portions and her own dwindling strength. The fire in their stove had gone out days ago and the village knew what the absence of smoke surely meant. Concerned friends and family we horrified to find her and him in their imaginary state of suspension. They pleaded with her to leave, but she steadfastly refused, spurning their prayers for her to survive, and so she was left alone in her madness.
She began to hear whispers of ancestors, which grew louder in the stillness, urging her to move on, to live, to follow the central path. But she was anchored to her spot, bound by grief and a love that refused to submit. Soon she was haunted by the specters of those who succumbed to her malaise. They begged her to follow them, but she swung wildly at the ghosts, damning them back to their hell. The light outside grew stronger as the sun claimed more of the sky, but inside their home, an unnatural darkness had taken root to forever remain, to claw her down into the ice below and beyond.
The smell of decay began to seep into their sanctuary. It was a slow, creeping thing, an unwelcome intruder in their shared space. Uukkarnit finally knew she had to act as her grip on Agloolik began to cleave away ghastly portions of his former self, such a grotesque new phase in their deep slumber that it shook her to her very core, and she awakened from the nightmare.
Uukkarnit was aware that she had to lay Agloolik to rest in accordance with their customs. But the thought of letting him go was unbearable. She held what remained of his hand, black, cold and hard, and whispered her apologies. Her breath hitched in her chest, each word a shard of ice that lodged in her heart. It was time to say goodbye.
With trembling hands, he kin joined her to help prepare his body for the journey to the spirit world. They cleaned him meticulously, wrapping him in the warmest skins and furs that the village had. The act was a sacred dance, one she had seen performed many times before but never thought she’d have to do for her own beloved. Each movement was a silent prayer, a promise to be with him in spirit, though she knew she’d be left behind in this godforsaken place she once called home. The light from the window grew stronger, casting a stark contrast on Agloolik’s sooty skin.
Uukkarnit laid Agloolik’s body on their hunting sled, his favorite possessions arranged around him: his hunting knife, a small carving of a polar bear he had made for her, and a piece of amber that had once been warm in the sun. It was a meager offering, but it was all she had left. They pushed the sled out into the blinding daylight, her eyes stinging with tears that froze to her lashes. The snow crunched beneath her boots, a harsh reminder of the cold reality that now surrounded her. The sun reflected off the ice, casting a cruel glow over the barren landscape, mocking her pain.
As the small group entered the village, with her love, her life in tow, her spectacle was unavoidable. A flurry of children scurried in chaos, then parted as the village elder approached her and caught her in his arms as she collapsed. She woke at the water’s edge, as prayers and incantations were bestowed upon Agloolik’s lovingly wrapped body. She knew this place well. Tradition had it that only there could their ancestors watch over those who crossed over, without the sorrow of the living to distract them. It has been chosen carefully, countless generations ago according to the histories she learned as a child.
A small hill behind them overlooked the frozen sea, like some ever-watching sentinel of their departed, guiding them home. It was a peaceful place, one where Uukkarnit and Agloolik had often sat together, sharing stories and dreams of their ancestors, their own pasts, their shared, present lives, and their certain future. Now, she would leave him there, alone but not forgotten. The sled was gently slid into the sea, submerging, disappearing into the depths. As she watched, the sled rope disappeared last, until it too was no longer of this world, this life, this path that had ended so painfully with such finality that she could not comprehend it. For a brief moment she opened and allowed herself to feel the excruciating pain of her acceptance of his passage to the unknown, for the first time, and for the last time.
Uukkarnit’s tears froze to her cheeks, creating a mask of crystal that matched the ice in her heart. She had lost the will to eat, to live, to breathe. The world outside their iglu had become a blur of white, a mirror to the emptiness within her. The phantasms abandoned her. The whispers of the ancestors grew fainter, overshadowed by the deafening silence that Agloolik’s absence had left behind. She had tried to keep the flame of hope alive, to believe that somehow, he would return. But now, all that remained was the cold and dark truth.
One late night Uukkarnit awoke from the pain of a terrible headache and fever. She lacked the strength to bring herself to rise from her empty bed. She could not feed or take care of herself. As the fever raged, further imprisoning her, she accepted her fate without hesitation. The rash began on her stomach and within a single day covered her, head to toe, which pleased her. She could not see her face as she lay in ever increasing agony, but as sores became blisters that she could feel, she could only imagine how her once beautiful face had transformed into what she felt was a twisted mask of this new and strange character whom she now had become. She was an actor in a tragedy that spanned her entire existence, and she knew that this was its final Act. Uukkarnit looked forward to the curtain mercifully dropping, freeing her so she could rejoin Agloolik.
The morning Uukkarnit awoke blind, her sorrow became debilitating regret. Guilt eclipsed pain as she realized that just as she and Agloolik once decided to unite in marriage, that their free will was stolen as they were forced to forever separate in that life. She had lost Agloolik and all hope for the future they had imagined as children, struggled for years to make real, and then watched in wretched horror as a nightmare absconded with their very lives. But within the darkness, she saw a light far off in the distance.
Uukkarnit could no longer see the world, but she had no desire to be reminded of any it, of her lost love, of her lost life, of her wordless but all consuming loss as she felt her very self fade into the dark and frozen tundra that crushed her with all its unbearable weight. The light grew on her horizon and she ran to it.
Uukkarnit released.
Her spirit rose from her body and turned so she could look upon her own gray, lifeless face, She felt no horror at the sight. Instead, she felt nothing. Like the wind-blasted land that she once called home, she was a barren landscape. An emotional desert. A void. She felt all remnants of her being flee and with them, her spirit was pulled alongside of them, until she was outside of her home, gliding silently through the village, unseen by those who remained. She traversed the frozen earth toward the water, the frozen sea, eventually finding herself at where she had released Agloolik. The ice had begun to break up at the edge and large sections departed for open waters. She knew that here she and Uukkarnit would reunite.
In search of him, Uukkarnit slid gently into the sea, expecting him to resuscitate her with his warm breath of eternal life, but he did not come for her. She knew to wait. Whenever lost, you were to stay still. Someone always found you. But she felt invisible, unable to be found so she might be forever revived with her love. However, she remained in the subzero saltwater which she could not feel, but yet froze and transformed her anima into a hard, impenetrable chunk of pure, lifeless ice where no emotions could enter, exist, or exit. Frozen, in time, but adrift, the currents tugged her away from the shore. She drifted off at first from her homeland, then found herself among other ice calves, the frozen embodiment of others who had departed her village. She looked for him among them all, growler by growler, but he was nowhere to be found amidst the throng of unearthly icebergs. She recognized many she had known in life, but her only desire was to find Agloolik, only Agloolik.
As fate decided, the currents pulled her away, and she drifted north into the open sea, alone, lost forever, without a destination, on a path with no end. The ocean took her where it decided, and she floated weightless, fully detached from all, where she bobbed for days, which turned into weeks, then months, and finally years of nothingness. She was not at peace. She was no longer sorrowful. She simply was no longer. Then one night, the darkest night that she had ever seen, she felt herself slowly submerging into the depths. Down she went, in her deep, blind, watery grave, and she was certain she was thankfully vanishing for she knew her beloved was forever lost, so perhaps she might find him there.
And so Uukkarnit ended.
One bright morning a spirit awoke as a newborn baby. Terrified from the overpowering sensory din in contrast to the dark space in which she had become used to peacefully floating, she did not understand anything. This was intolerably confusing at first, but soon her senses began to perceive her existence, her self. She first smelled a pleasing and delicate scent, which much later she understood was all the Lavender that adorned her mother’s hospital room. As she opened her new eyes for the first time, she saw only movement, blurs, but as she felt warmth enclose her again, and a heart beating underneath her, the same that had sung her a lullaby for as long as she could remember, slowly she heard the sweetly familiar sound of a music sung softly, a song that she did not yet understand, but had listened to countless times before as she had lapsed into a peaceful slumber in her new world.
मेरे घर आयी
मेरे घर आयी
एक नन्ही परी
एक नन्ही परी
चाँदनी के हसीं रथ पे सवार
मेरे घर आयी
हो हो मेरे घर आयी
एक नन्ही परी
एक नन्ही परी
उस के आने से
मेरे आँगन में
खिल उठे फूल
गुनगुनायी बहार
देख कर उस को
जी नहीं भरता
चाहे देखू
उसे हजारों बार
चाहे देखू
उसे हजारों बार
मेरे घर आयी
हो हो मेरे घर आयी
एक नन्ही परी
एक नन्ही परी
मैंने पूछा उसे
के कौन हैं तू
हसके के बोली के
मैं हूँ तेरा प्यार
मै तेरे दिल में
थी हमेशा से
घर में आई हूँ
आज पहली बार
मेरे घर आयी
हो हो मेरे घर आयी
एक नन्ही परी
एक नन्ही परी
चाँदनी के हसीं
रथ पे सवार
मेरे घर आयी
मेरे घर आयी
एक नन्ही परी
एक नन्ही परी
एक नन्ही परी
Many years later, as a grown woman, on one beautiful autumn evening, she found herself walking with a stranger. As she did she again heard her mother singing those words, that song, her childhood lullaby, as she realized the journey she was now on was not a new path, but a transfer of recycled energy. Some sort of cosmic highway off-ramp to a new destination. She realized that this central path was clearly and brightly illuminated, in this new and heavenly city of life. She was reunited, reconstituted, reborn, reincarnated with her ray of light, life, and love, as she retook his warm hand, once again.
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