Zalman the villager was ignorant and down to earth. A villager, a villager's son, his hands in cow dung and chicken thighs, and his narrow mind was busy calculating litters and hatching chicks. He was not at all familiar with the shape of a letter or its punctuation, and he would guess the hours of the day by the shadow of the sun. Not that he needed to know the exact time, for at dawn he would enter the stable and the pen, and at dusk he would leave the chicken coop and return to his meager hut. He was like a garbage cat, unfamiliar with the material life outside. It was enough for him to witness a complex litter and that would fulfill his duty of spiritual joy.
And now, outside the village, a proclamation from the king announcing that as part of the kingdom's efforts to eradicate illiteracy, starting next month, ten aircraft known as 'hot air balloons' will be stationed in the village's central square and piloted by skilled pilots who will take anyone who wants to ascend into the balloon, soar to the heights of the clouds and observe the great country from a bird's eye view. They will look down on the civilized people walking around the big city, and perhaps they will allow themselves to change a little from their cheap and bland lives and wish to move to the capital - something that will force them to study the language and the customs of life.
And whoever thought that this joyful announcement would become the talk of the town in the primitive village was mistaken. The "nobility" in the village mocked the king's bold plans and some even expressed surprise at the ruler's mental state, for who would milk the cows in their absence while they were on their horribly unnecessary sky tour? Indeed, the ceremony to erect the aircraft, which was planned to be held with great pomp and splendor, was abruptly canceled because no one from the village bothered to honor the occasion with his presence. No one except the simple villager Zalman.
Zalman had long pondered whether to heed the king's advice. Not that he thought he was a wise man, nor did he believe there was any truth in the claim that 'flying through the skies of the land' would turn his skin. But Zalman's soul yearned for a different smell than the pleasant smell of animal dung and chicken droppings. And what could be more pleasant and appropriate than the intoxicating smell of hot, compressed air launched into a hot air balloon. He said and did. He did not report his absence to anyone. He feared, God forbid, that his meager salary would be deducted. He set off for the barn, and from there, when no one was watching his actions, he slipped past and headed for the village's central square. And there he was. He and ten bullets.
The men of the army appointed by the king treated him with respect and honored him greatly, they placed the best of the bullets at his disposal and the best of the guides against him. "Ascend Zalman - ascend," they urged him. And he ascended. He and the guide, who had taken the trouble to explain to the villagers detail after detail of the takeoff journey and the theory of the power of hot air over cold. And Zalman looked on and made a face as if listening. At night the words he heard only made the takeoff more pleasant, and the cold morning chill with the gusty wind from the east likened the flight to liberation and release.
And as in all stories, this time too the wind interfered with the ball's movement, and control of the heavy vessel was taken from the carrier's hands. The box they were in began to sway and lose its balance, and the massive connection it made to the giant ball on which they were sitting would crack and break into pieces. The panic of the carrier, who knew full well the danger that now lay ahead of them, did not escape Zalman, who stood with his mouth open from the joy of the flight and now his mouth opened again in fear. The instruction given to Zalman was clear: "Throw away every unnecessary item, we must urgently reduce the weight of the box and thus stabilize the balance." The villager looked in amazement at the brave man hastily throwing away his many and valuable treasures. But the carrier's astonishment increased when he saw Zalman standing calmly with the heavy fur coat still on his body. "Throw away the coat!" "Every crucial weight" commanded. But Zalman was already busy "throwing away" something else entirely. His hands, skilled at untying the wire of a cage, now began to quickly untie knot after knot from the thick and sturdy ropes of the box. To the astonishment of the carrier, whose breath was taken from him, Zalman explained casually: "What are you surprised about? The heaviest thing here is the ball. I will now quickly remove the ball from its supports and our box will be saved.".
Their crashing with a loud noise woke the village from its slumber.
***
It seems that we are now in the period of 'after'. After the three difficult weeks and after the difficult war in Gaza and beyond. Naturally and by necessity of circumstances, these days are accompanied by liberation and release, after all – we received many acceptances due to the difficult situation and the severity of the days. And now they are gone.
But we still need to remember, even if permission has been given to lower and remove a little, we must guard the large sphere, on which our lives depend, with all due care lest, God forbid, it collapse with a loud noise.
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