Island

Islands of solitude all, searching for sanity in companionship.

Before the dawn

Quarter to four in the morning

Stillness of the night

Disturbed sleep

A cigarette burns

The guitar strums

Torturous memories

Whiplash against the soul

Smile

“I am not him any more”

The yagya

The fire had been lit.

Of course it burnt him from up within.

But this was something he knew that had to be done.

"Even that which is most foul turns pure when submitted to fire," he'd been instructed by his acharya. "Light the fire of knowledge within you and there will be no power in this world which will be able to stop you."

The words reverberated in his mind as he started the yagya in the middle of the forest. He was hypnotized just looking at the flames that danced in the ceremonial pit. The flames seemed to have a life of it's own.

At first, they depended on the ghee and the logs of wood which he'd placed in the pit to establish their presence in this world. The flames seemed to gratifyingly acknowledge that it's own existence wouldn't have been possible without the support provided by the logs of wood.

And slowly, the flames arose and with it came the crackling sound of the wood being burnt. The flames looked at the world with the same power with which a vanquishing army rushes towards the enemy ranks it must clash with on a battle-field.

The warrior paused. He had been watching the flames in a trance, with a fixed stare, an expression-less face and lips firmly pressed together.

Something had stirred within him.

"The fire has been lit, acharya."

A slight smile dancing on his lips, he folded both his hands and bowed reverentially to Agni Dev.

Myriad of Images

The mind wanders. It is filled with a myriad of images.

It struggles. Fights with itself and tries to shake of a gnawing perception but something deep, fine and pure keeps pulling it back. It tugs at the soul and shows an image.

A dazzlingly bright image. The image makes you want to instinctively shut your eyes for a mont. But the brightness also carries a certain warmth. As the eyes grow slightly more accustomed to this bright light, the heart (hitherto undecided) now decides to take a leap of faith and with a silent prayer on its lips and sharp intake of breath just lets go...

Down, down, down the rabbi hole.

As one plunges further and further down, the sounds of various passions become more distant, a sound belonging to a distant world.

~silence~

Om.

Yin Yang

And finally, the two come together... with an explosion waiting to happen.

Baby

Silence.

Deathly silence.

Noises of the world fade into the background.

All that he could hear was his own laboured breathing.

He could not stop the smile which silently crept up on him.

I am alone.

Again.

Finally.

I am alone.

His mind fell down the rabbit-hole that Alice knew so well.

And like a flash of cards, images swept by his mind's eye...

Quiet birthday celebrations...

Mahatma Gandhi...

His old house...

The stories that Shivaji's mother used to tell him when he was a child...

Ramayan...

Mahabharat...

His first job...

Inexplicable joys in the simplest of veg. rolls on Park Street...

JRD Tata...

Durga Puja...

Relationships...

Break-ups...

Scheming relatives...

...and as he continued falling down the rabbit-hole, he felt a sense of relief, that perhaps at the bottom of this hole all his thoughts would end.

Finally, he hit the ground.

No images, no sounds.

Just a monotonic humming... perhaps it was the air-conditioner.

His mind seemed to have gone as silent as the enclosed world around him.

He smiled once again at the thought of a dark, quiet world.

I'm in a womb once again and I can suspend reality for the time being... at least.

He smiled one last time before drifting off.

-----------------------------------------------

Doctor: What's the report on bed no. 3?

Nurse: I've given him a strong dose of sedatives like you advised. He mumbled incoherently for a while, but is resting now.

Doctor: Do you think he'll sleep well?

Nurse: (Smiles) Like a baby.

A tribe fights

The warrior sat at the feet of the sage and listened with rapt attention. His bow and arrows were lying in one corner of the hut. It was time to relax his mind, breathe deeply and take in every word of wisdom that the sage had to offer. The warrior had not spoken a single word to the sage. Yet, he was somehow acutely aware of the fact that the sage had read his thoughts and knew of the dilemma that he was in.

Before long, the sage opened his eyes and spoke.

“They indeed were a curious tribe that lived in the jungles at the foot of the hill. Their spies had told them that their enemies were regrouping and were going to attack the jungle in a couple of days. The tribesmen decided to offer a sacrifice to God and seek His blessings. The village priest, an old and venerated man whose predictions had always proved correct in the past, told them something rather unsettling. He told them that they could try all they could but they would lose the battle. On hearing this, the warriors of the tribe got the entire village together and held a meeting. Long they debated and discussed what they would do. The old priest had never been wrong. What should they do in the face of certain death and defeat?”

The sage went silent and with kind eyes surveyed the warrior’s face closely. Slowly, a kind smile spread across the sage’s face.

“You know what they did, don’t you?” asked the sage.

“They fought,” came the reply.

“Yes. Even though they knew. They fought. Because that is what they were supposed to do. That is what they were born to do. That is what they were destined to do. Fight.”