Chapter III- The Mad Beggar

As far as I could see, there were men and women of all hues and shapes ahead of me in that long never ending queue. Nishabda was standing just in front of me and Kantaka was perched on my shoulder, nibbling at my ears.

“This is what I call the cruel fate.” He said.

“Yes. A wait in perpetuity.” I replied.

“You are incorrigible. I was talking about Nishabda. And you are thinking about the queue. Can’t you see the beauty right in front of your eyes? Is it not a matter of cruelty that the Lord should make her such a captivating beauty and yet…take away her sound box? And you are too engrossed with yourself to even notice the precious jewel which destiny has dropped in your hands. You selfish brute… I wish...”

The rest of the words fell in my ears as a distant babble as my attention was now riveted on that divine feminity that stood personified before my eyes. I had seen Nishabda several times before in the months or years that she spent with me and yet, as I realized then, it took a squirrel to make me notice her. Perhaps it is all the same with things we take for granted in our life. Our parents, friends, companions and the like are all people who we assume to be part of our existence that it is only their absence that signify their importance in our life. Even if this knowledge is revealed to us, we slowly fall into olden ways and forget the long gone ones, however painful the moment of their death had been to us. May be that is what is difference between knowledge and realization. So we live our lives mechanically, rejoicing in moments of victory and crying in those of defeat. And so had I in my preoccupation with my pursuit of self-discovery that I had ignored this exquisite beauty that did all my biding with a radiant contentment.

Oblivious of the sea of humanity around us, I shamelessly let my eyes ramble all over her. Time, place and consciousness et al ceased to have any meaning as my entire existence merged with that moment. There was no sound but that of her silent laughter. There was no light but the sparkle of her eyes. My eyes saw nothing but her. And there was nothing more to learn but her. There was a blinding radiance around her. Nothing existed but her, not even I. It was a moment of indescribable pleasure.

I heard a voice. “Embrace her.” I did as commanded and saw my own identity sublimate in a divine light. It was the end of an existence and the birth of a new one. Nothing seemed to move and yet the world seemed to churn all around me. How much time passed by, I do not know. Yet, I longed that this thoughtless moment continue into eternity. There was brightness everywhere and there was an aroma of burning camphor and the entire universe seemed pure and pristine.

“Is he a mad fellow? Get rid of him. He is polluting this holy temple.”

My mind was diverted for a brief moment as I wondered what mess Kantaka had created now. He was nowhere to be seen. I opened my eyes slowly to comprehend the problem. It dawned on me that those words of abhorrence were directed towards me as I found myself lying on the temple floor in tattered rags smelling of muck. A crowd was hovering around me and shouting at me. Some spoke in English, some in Tamil, some in Hindi, even a few tourists from Europe were talking about me in French, but none spoke the language of kindness or empathy. To them I was a mad dirty beggar. And yet, I sensed calm in my thought and found my breathing to be deep and self-assuring. It was quite unlike my usual self. I serenely looked around for Nishabda but she was not there. And Kantaka, where could he be?

My roving eyes went around aimlessly and finally rested in the Shivalinga inside the sanctum sanctorum. My lips instinctively called out for Kantaka, as I sensed that he was there behind the idol. He emerged- the chattering squirrel, my conscience keeper, and my cupid who made me recognize that Nishabda was the missing quotient of my life.

“What is this mess that I am into, Kantaka? Is it one of your pranks? Where is Nishabda? What happened to me? Why did that experience end? What becomes of me now? Am I mad like these fellows think?”

Kantaka merely smiled. As he approached me, his form changed into a celestial young sagely boy with a clear white skin dressed in tiger skin and his dark hair matted in locks. His wrinkleless smooth skin was smeared with ash. His left hand carried a trident while the right a begging bowl. My lips quivered in a silent prayer as my heart recognized the figure approaching me to be that of the young Shiva- the third in the Hindu Trinity, the destroyer. He who destroys egos, ignorance and evil was there before my eyes. The same smell of camphor permeated the space.

“Rise, young man. I will answer all your questions. Not all at once but one at a time. You did take a long time to recognize me. I am Shiva. I am Kantaka. I am Nishabda. I am you. And you are I. Nothing exists but me.”

“ Ho. Mahadeva, the greatest among the Lords. What is real and what is not, I never knew. Now that I have reached your feet deliver me from this evil world. Please take me into your umbrage and protect me.”

The Lord merely smiled and said, “I was there with you for over a year and you never talked to me so kindly. You thought you were Manasacharya and that you had a mission to reclaim some lost glorious position in a monastery. Look at you; smeared in dirt, you thought that you were a great person.”

“I was ignorant, My Lord. How could I be great? I am nothing but a fool. Manasacharya…. how could I believe so? I am a madcap as these pilgrims here say.”

“You are Manasacharya… the greatest of my disciples and my favorite one.”

These words hit me like lightning. What is happening to me? I wondered. First it was Kantaka, then Nishabda and now the very Lord Shiva. I am really nuts seeing things, which no normal man would. Next, I would be going places. May be I am going to be magically transported to a mental asylum in Madras and be subject to shock treatment. Perhaps, one day I will sober up and go home to my parents.

“Nothing is real in this world,” replied the young boyish Lord. As I increasingly got convinced that I was schizophrenic, I got disinterested in what the Lord was saying.

“You are sober and you are seeing and hearing me. You are not mad. It was an illusion I created to make you realize that even in an illusory world, things need to be done. The world in which you were born as a human being is unreal, much like the settings in a videogame. Yet, the player in the game has to do his duty as commanded by the user and finally attain his goal. Let me remind you that you as Manasa, my favorite pupil. Nishabda and Kantaka are not real as persons but they are very much real as concepts and you were the one who used to eloquently compose poems about the value of silence and conscience keeper and yet you failed to identify them when you saw them in a different form. Nishabda, as her name suggests is only silence. She is beautiful. She is a mute yet eloquent. Kantaka the squirrel represents the mindless chattering of an indiscriminating intellect. A talking squirrel may be a wondrous sight but it is worthless as a source of knowledge. If one allows himself to be guided by Kantaka, then he finds himself in muck like you are now in. Even Kantaka speaks sense at times, so one should not disregard it at all times. People around you are all Kantakas who incessantly try to live your life by suggesting and advising you on various aspects of it, based on their own experiences, fears and prejudices. You have to guard yourself against such Kantakas. So you did well to listen to the suggestion of Kantaka to appreciate the beauty of Nishabda and embrace her. When you merged your consciousness in silence, you found that absolute peace, which is the pursuit of every life form whether it is aware of the fact that it is in pursuit of something or not. And when you are a peace with yourself…. I could not resist coming when you called Kantaka out, for I am bound to answer the call of every devotee. To me every being is a student, a son, a daughter, and the purpose of my existence. And the muck, it represents the malaises of the physical world. The muck is part of me too. So do not despise anything. I need you, son. Your journey has just begun…. Manasacharya. The seat you coveted is in the hearts of millions who are squirming in dirt and misery and are too ignorant to know their divine nature or appreciate my concern for them. Now go to the temple pond and dip thrice and when you get up the fourth time, the wise men among these pilgrims would realize your divine duty and assist in your mission. Now go on and do well to the world.

With those words, the young Lord disappeared, leaving behind a faint smell of burning camphor and a calm and serene me looking at the pilgrims with love.