The Journey has just begun- Chapter 2- The Companions

Chapter II - The Companions

I was staring meaninglessly yet absorbedly at the blue lamp just above the berth. Not entirely meaninglessly, as I was in a thoughtless state of yogic trance. I was distracted from my exalted state by a flashing thought of the famous lines of a poet whose name I could not recollect despite best efforts. My recollection of the lines too were not perfect- “The heights of great men were not by sudden flight attained and kept. They kept toiling upward in the night as their Companions slept.”

Suddenly I realized that I had not even bid a proper farewell to my companions. The same persons whom I had introduced to you a while earlier, Kantaka, the squirrel who talked ceaselessly without good judgment and Nishabda the deaf- mute maid servant, who never uttered a word or was perturbed by Kantaka’s incessant chattering. Guiltily, I turned my eyes away from the light towards the door. There I saw Nishabda standing smiling at me, with Kantaka perched on her shoulder. As our eyes met, Kantaka rattled off.

“How could you do this to me? Do you think I could remain without you in this God forsaken place? And that you could accomplish your mission without me, your thought-keeper.” Even as he labored for words, I wondered, whether he was speaking for himself or for the beautiful Nishabda, who was looking out of the window at the crowded platform. For the first time, his words seemed to have some meaning, that too, only if Nishabda had uttered them and not that indiscreet rodent.

“Now that you are here, why don’t you just shut up?” I protested weakly and tried to return to my trance. I felt my body grow numb and totally oblivious to the surrounding, which was growing more agitated. The protesting voices of my fellow passengers were fading of into a distant murmur. For a moment, I empathized with them as I realized how I felt being disturbed by the annoying pontification of a talkative rodent. As the train started to move, I heard someone say to his companion, “Why don’t we ask the ticket examiner to detrain this guy?” I laughed to myself wondering how the ticket examiner would kick a ticket less squirrel off the train.

It should have been an eventless journey, as I do not remember much of it now. Or to be more precise, I can not remember anything at all. When I awoke, I was tired and lying on a bench in a rather deserted platform of a non-descript platform. Still in a sort of stupor, I surveyed my surrounding. I could not make much of it. I was alone and cold. It was frighteningly dark and my mind could not focus on anything as I drifted back to sleep. How long I remained there or when I awoke, I do not remember. The next thing I can recollect is that I am standing at the end of a serpentine queue before a temple, just behind Nishabda.

The Journey has Just begun- Chapter I- The Beginning

THE JOURNEY HAS JUST BEGUN

Chapter I- The beginning

Trains have never been my favourite mode of transport. Yet, there I was, perched on the top berth of a Second Class Compartment of the Grand Trunk Express on way to New Delhi, the Capital of India. I must fore-warn that this is not the story of a hero who is the embodiment of all virtues, particularly, bravery. Nor is it the chronicle of a philosopher who is widely read and respected for his wisdom. To those who are accustomed to a life full of meaningful actions, my story would appear to be dull, reflecting merely a bland perception of life. It is so perhaps because it is only a record of indisputable facts in the life of a person who never embarked on a journey unless forced by circumstances and who never realized the beauty of a moment until it was long over. These events, which I swear really did happen in my life, were however imprisoned in my disorganized memory. All that I have sought to do is to take them out, dust them and express them as a faithful account of my life, which has oscillated wildly between the commonplace and the uniformity.

Having so lived my life, leaving the beautiful moments and the women of my life to pass by without leaving any impressions in my mind or changing the course of my life, I had also developed a remarkable fondness to identify myself with the yogis of yore. However, like all those celestially ordained beings, I too had a physical identity in which I was a normal young lawyer, who worked hard for a law firm. I was keen to play my part faithfully and ensured that I appeared to be a normal human being like you. I never like to take up a losing cause and so I will not allow you to draw me into a debate on whether the lawyers can ever be considered humans. My physical existence was dull and boring as opposed to my surreal one. Yet, I was so impervious to my environment that I even failed to notice that even the sentences I used in drafting pleadings for my cases were passive and lifeless. The usual joke around office was that judges always read my cases before they retired to their beds as it was better than sleeping pills.

It was during those insignificant days that I perchance made the shattering discovery about myself after which I began to relate to the past events differently. My mind ceaseless re-ran every single event of my life to discover the real meanings to acts of friends, relatives and foes alike. I began to see things, differently. I realized that the new secretary who walked into my cabin to hand over a plaint I had dictated to her the previous evening had told her boyfriend in bed that she was late for the movie because she could barely keep awake typing out my notes. I perceived a heightened awareness about my supernatural skills, which helped me see, hear and feel things that mere mortals could not. I was indeed a yogi, different from the rest of us. More pertinently, the “us” factor was receding in importance and I found an irresistible urge to fulfil my pre-ordained duty to deliver “them” from their miserable lives. And so my journey in spiritual progress began. Or rather it unfolded as if by celestial plan and before I knew it, I set out from my apartment in Madras, which I shared with a talking squirrel and deaf mute maid servant with the mission to reclaim my rightful place in the Sahyadri Order of Monks, as the 234^th reincarnation of the first monk of that order, Manasacharya. That was the truth, I was Manasacharya. To those who are familiar with Indian culture, I need not elaborate that truths like this are self-evident, immutable and are declared only to the chosen ones, that too, in a sudden moment of self-realization. The past, present and future merge at that precise moment and time becomes irrelevant. In the ceaseless cycle of births and rebirths, each life is merely the transposition between two points. It becomes a journey only when there is a conscious realization of our true self.

A writer is born

I am going to trouble you folks by serialising a novel I am attempting to write. I will make you part of the evolving process of the story." The Journey has just began"

Seeking your blessings and wishes.

Yours ever