Satyarth Pandita
In the middle of the night, amidst the complete darkness and silence, the palely lit moon struggles to reveal its presence from behind the misty clouds. The clouds create the smudges around the moon. Nevertheless, with a little bit of struggle, the moon somehow manages to peek through and into the window of a white building. The building so white that even in such darkness it stands out as a piece of hope. We can see the pale moonlight amplified in the eyes of the octogenarian- Mr Mortal who is on the other side of the window, inside the room, not asleep yet. The creases on his forehead and palms bear a resemblance to the smudges and streaks of the misty cloud engulfing the moon. He has a long soft white beard, unlike the pale glowing moon. He lies in his chair and continually gazes at the moon, to get a glimpse of it which the clouds adamantly refuse to reveal. He somehow seems pessimistic about the advancing dawn. He fears that he might not be able to see tomorrow’s rising sun, which he has never missed before. So he wants to compensate it by having a last look at the moon instead. He wants someone to be with him at this hour of his life or rather his final hour of life. Alas! There is no one else in the room beside some furniture, paintings, books and an old CRT-tv. He longs for the long-gone family and friends with whom he would like to have the last glass of wine and a cigarette. With every passing minute, he aches for the minutes, months, years, that passed by and with every passing minute, his breath grows heavier than before. He reminisces about the people who in his life had promised to be alongside him, those who had sworn to be there for him in his highs and lows but it is too late for him now to realize that he has failed in deciphering the only thing his life wanted to teach. But he continues to gaze at the struggling moon, for the human is a creature of habits. As he continues to gaze at the moon, a static hiss in his tv set draws in his attention. He lifts the remote controller and holding it with his both hands he struggles to punch in the keys to change the channel. He skips through the channels and stops at a science programme where they focus upon different old paintings by some of the great painters of the world in which pops up an old drawing by Leonardo Da Vinci on the tv screen. The drawing is taken from his notebook where Leonardo has drawn a baby inside his mother’s womb. The drawing looks so captivating. It captures the attention of Mr Mortal. The curves and the tones of the drawing infuse life in the baby human. A moment later quotation surfaces on the tv screen which reads what Leonardo had written in response to his drawing: “It lies continually in water, and if it were to breathe it would be drowned, and breathing is not necessary to it since it receives life and is nourished from the life and food of its mother.” Mr Mortal is amazed at how life once again had taken a stride to make him realize the absolute truth. He ponders upon the feeling of the baby inside the womb that hints at the dependency of human being on another human being even before making a presence in this ageing world. The rusting sound of leaves outside increases as his breathing decreases. The veins on his hands and arm highlight, just like the venation of the rustling leaves. He continues to sit in his chair and watch the science programme. He gets immersed in this world of virtual reality. The drawing of the baby inside the womb enthrals him, and he finds himself incapable of making any movement as if he were the prey of a spider who had been wrapped in the web of silk. He picturizes the baby’s movement inside the womb, making every possible effort to come out of the lonely place where it cannot even make a decision to breathe by itself. It is still pitch dark outside, but the room of Mr Mortal illuminates as the first rays of the rising sun mark their presence before him. With the heat of the sun that seems to spread as from a bonfire out into the empty space of the grounds, he notices the opening movement of the eyes of the newborn. The slight opening movement of the eyelids resembles the action of blooming bud. The movement of the eyelids of the newborn continues whereas Mr Mortal’s gaze remains fixed without blinking. He hears the baby cry and wonders the reason for its crying. He wonders if it is because as soon as the eyes open, they see before them creatures they have never seen before, a completely different picture with which they are not acquainted. Or is it something else that the eyes see? Something ahead of the present time. Mr Mortal changes places with the newborn and notices himself opening his eyes in a world quite different from the one he was some moments ago. He is now anew and delicate. He then stops crying when he is clung to his mother’s chest who assures him of her presence. From this moment onward, the baby (Mr Mortal) is optimistic of the companionship in his journey of life. The baby after the birth looks at people around him, people who are there for him. People who would do anything to protect him. They make him realize his dependence on them, and that they would do anything for him.
It is said that your life flashes before your eyes before you die. Is this what is happening to Mr Mortal or is just a state of the dream? Mr Mortal whose physical form is lying in a chair, his subconscious mind has taken him to relive and revaluate his past. Mr Mortal, who once was a child, has now turned into a teen. Throughout this phase, he attended school and then high school, where he learned basic human instincts and opinions. It was here in such places that he learned to make friends. He tried to expand his horizon of acquaintances because that is what he had learned right from his birth. He did not want to be alone, for he feared that being alone was as good as being invisible. He struggled initially and intermittently during these phases to get along with a group of companions of life_friends. The bond of friendship, even if at that time was weak, seemed to him stronger than anything in the world. The opium of companionship eventually consumed him, making him believe that he needed this to be with him throughout his life. He firmly believed that his friends at school were his best friends and that they would be there for him just as other people had been with him till then. One day when he was at school, this perception of him was soon broken when his best friends broke off ties with him. He was shattered and felt empty. As soon as the school day was over, his father was waiting outside to pick him up. The school was at a walking distance from their house. And as they started to walk back home, his father noticed that he was dull today and asked him if everything was all right. Mortal replied and told everything that how his best friends who he had taken for his companions of life had turned their back against him. His father suggested a long walk to home by stopping a moment at the sunset point in the way. They reached that point which overlooked their whole city. The houses that now looked tiny resembled the countless stars of the night sky. They both sat down in silence and watched the birds fly past the scene. There was a brief moment of silence that was filled in by his father by telling him that nothing is permanent in life—the people, the seasons, course of rivers, the sun, the earth- nothing.
At which mortal exclaimed, “Not even the sun?”
“Not even the sun.”, his father replied.
“But the sun is always there; it has been always there. How is it not permanent?” asked young Mortal.
The turquoise sky started to turn crimson red with the sun all prepared to set and hide. His father pointed out towards the red disc and explained how the sun which is also a star of the milky way galaxy runs on fuel, just as human-machine runs on food. He said that, “The sun has been using the fuel from very long ago and that it will continue to use it for many many years to come, but eventually, it will run out of its fuel, will become massive and end up engulfing the earth. Hence not even the sun, the earth is permanent. So why do you worry about the temporary attachments?”
Mortal who at that time was very young to understand anything about the red giants or the white dwarfs was somehow convinced by his father’s theory on nothing lasts forever. But mortal was just another human being who was a learner of life and had still a long way ahead in his journey of life. He could not fathom out the reason as to why nothing stays forever. However, after some years, when he entered another realm of perceptions_college, he wanted to give yet another chance to his human instincts of survival. The things he had learnt till now, the new understandings that he had developed began to flicker in his mind and heart. He looked for companionship, again, for this is what human nature is all about. This companionship in college served him either as a purpose of survival, friendship or love. But soon this perception of him was shattered to pieces when met the same fate twice yet believed to think against it. This left a mar on his conscience. His flickering thoughts slowed a bit but did not stop. His father had advised him about the temporary attachments, yet he had not paid any heed to it and now found himself in a dilemma whether to be alone or to continue his search of companionship.
Nearly all animals that dwell on this planet are lifelong learners, and so was Mr Mortal who continued his quest of companionship. He wanted to know why is that the humans or the animals engage in the web of companionship. After a couple of years, when he was at home savouring a cup of coffee, he came across the words of Dexter Dias that indicated this behaviour of the beings. He read, “For many species, humans included, it’s hard to live within a group but almost impossible to live without it.” At another point, it was mentioned, “The human inclination towards living in groups of other humans derived from a stark evolutionary fact: lone individuals were likely to die; left alone, the solitary human being was, on average, more likely to be doomed to disaster and death.” This statement made him look and search for a book that his father had given to him. He looked for the book in his room and finally found it inside his closet. He opened it and began reading a note that his father had written on the first page, The note read:
“Dear Mortal,
We should not forget about our journey in this world. Companionship in one’s life is essential, but one should not rely entirely on this. The human companion dependency is just like holding sand in a tight fist. The tighter you hold, the sooner you lose the sand. The least the expectations one keeps from people, the happier and victorious one emerges. We should realise that all those around us, friends, family, people are the pawns of this universal game. Right from the moment a newborn opens his eyes to the moment his older self closes the eyes forever, it is him and only him who has journeyed so far. The people he met, the friends he made with, the different relationships he established were mere the different moves in this game of chess designed to teach him the basic mantra of life that nothing stays forever. It was him alone like the sun and the moon who despite many hindrances and smudged perceptions made so far in his life without giving any much thought about the misty clouds that tried to block his path yet could not stop his presence from revealing. We need to realise and channel our life just like the flora of the wild that does not rely on anyone for its maintenance and look after. It has come into this world alone and fights alone; it stands by the scorching heat of the summer and the chilling season of the winter, the wildest of the winds and the deadliest of the calamities. Despite these hindrances, it does not fail to flourish in full bloom and eventually get mixed with the mother earth. Remember son that people are the variables in our constants of perceptions.
LOVE DAD”
He closed his eyes for a moment and realised that most of the people are just mere chance meetings in flux. He understood that he had failed to understand his true self. Just as the clouds veil the moon, the people around him veiled his soul lest it should reveal it’s true self to him. He was all deep in his thoughts when a mosquito landed on his neck and pricked him. He squeezed the blood out of that mosquito within seconds and when he opened his eyes, all he could see around was a complete blur. The surroundings had changed. There was no book, no note in his hand but a remote controller. But why was everything blur? Had he been grieving or had he not blinked his eyes once?
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