As withers away the night
With the advent of shimmering light
Thus scamper away all shards of gloom
Once again a flower shall bloom
For the new spring, it shall blossom again
And abound in joy, through autumn and rain
Ek phool, ik tamanna se ek yaad ban gaya
Mera har lafz ibadat se fariyaad ban gaya
Teri parchhaayi yeh ehsaas karati hai
Tera astitva hi meri kaynaat ban gaya
The Summit - I
It appeared to be a very high peak, higher than the ones he had ever seen before, and at such a close distance at that. It aroused him, gave him a sense of challenge. It was an uphill task, well, literally, for he was standing at the base of a small hill on the countryside. He had been there earlier, at that time, gauging the extent and expanse of the hillock that he intended to conquer. He had vowed to come back and prove his point. It wasn’t one of his toughest expeditions in the conventional sense but still the most challenging one. Every other endeavor of his had been made easier by others, his path definitely carved out, his destination defined. This time it was different. He had to make his own way through the wilderness, the rocks, the cliffs and against the sweltering heat, against time, before it was dark and time to disembark.
Holding his breath, he put his first step forward in what was going to be a long journey, and solitary. With a deep sigh, he set out to make that day his own. After such along time, the glory would be his. Glory that had been his ally all through these years, that was his for he deserved it. Yet it had eluded him for quite some time now, with no apparent reason. This day, as the Sun would move into the horizon, it’s last sparks of brilliance lighting up the sky, it would befit the glorious smile on his face, a smile of victory, of perseverance, of belief, he promised to himself. Setting aside all these thoughts, for thoughts like this hinder one’s progress, he began to tread his way through the scant growth of plants, dry and pale. It gave him a sure-footed ground to walk on compared to the treacherous slope of the hill. He would have to be very careful in choosing his way up. One wrong decision and he would end up wasting a whole lot of energy and time. In these dire circumstances, he could afford none.
It was nearing noon and he had covered quite a lot of distance, more than he had planned initially, but then, the terrain had been easier than his expectations and the breeze, pleasant. Also, his initial burst of enthusiasm had spurred him to go on. He had left the last traces of civilization behind him and except for a stray cow now and then, there was no sign of life around him. Even the shrubs had disappeared. Now it was only him and his goal, the summit. There was no one between them, he, his sole adversary in achieving his goal. If he could get a hold on himself, suppress his cravings and focus on the top, it would be his. He jumped from a rock to the next, looking for a place to sit and have lunch. His feet were becoming leaden. The heat was taking its toll. A few years back all this would have been but mere inconsequentialities, but now they came across as major problems. He had to give them due respect and take them into consideration. He had lost his touch and he had to get it back.
After a short nap, quite insufficient, he carried on. Twisting between rocks, climbing, jumping and scampering, even crawling at times, he slowly made progress towards his goal. It was still way ahead and he was running out of time. He was perspiring. He was still being driven by his determination, but as it became clearer to him that he might not reach the end, his motivation started withering away. His breathing became labored. His whole body started falling apart. It seemed futile for him to carry on if there was not going to be a fruitful result. Still, he could not just turn and go back. His ego would not allow him. He had no choice but to go on. It was the toughest decision he had taken that day. Against all his instincts, against disillusionment, against the fear of failure, against his weaknesses, he decided to carry on. If he turned back now, it would be the end of him. To preserve a vestige of self-respect, he had to keep going. When he had decided on his path, a glimmer of hope started showing as well. He felt that he might still make it if he were to give his all.
This phase of climb was the steepest, twilight approaching and he fighting his way up to the elusive peak, where he could rest and bask in his glory. He continued unwavering in the wavering light, at last determined to make it through. His hands were numb, knees bleeding and the face was a mesh of scars. Every step forward drew upon all his powers to keep up the demand of the odyssey, or the end of it. After what seemed like eternity, he could finally make out his destination. It was a joy unparalleled, at least in comparison to his experiences over the past few expeditions. He loved stone, its rugged surface, its sheer brutality, its strength as well s the heights but somewhere along the line he had come to developing a dislike for them. He had blamed them for his failures. He realized his folly. Too late but amendments could still be made. A last spurt of energy and he would be through.
He sat on the tallest peak of the highest hill looking around him, a smirk on his face, conqueror in his own right. So he was not that bad. He still had it in him to be where he wanted. All it needed was conscientious effort on his part. Sitting over there, squinting in the darkness, he pondered over his state of unhappiness. Why was he still unhappy? It was a victory, a self effacing win, nothing to say of all the critics who would be rendered dumb form this feat. Yet, his hunger was not sated. There was a void somewhere. He was alone but he had always known that at the top, you are alone. No one is and can be with you. It is your high and your chasm after that. You must endure both all by yourself. That could not be the reason of his anxiety. He wanted answers. He would not move until he had them.
The Other Self
He sat gazing blankly at a tulip in full bloom on the edge of the pool. It was just one of the numerous flowers growing on the poolside, ornamenting it in a wreath, a beautifully woven wreath that might have signified the sense of purity and calm that the place had. It was as if nothing could penetrate the invisible barrier that stood between the cares of the world and the peace of the self. The wind blew gently, almost too gently, as if it were scared of interrupting the serenity of the place, the ostentatious simplicity of the occasion. He felt at home, lost in his thoughts, in the surroundings that seemed to emerge from his own self, unaware of his presence or that of her.
He was woken out of his reverie by the slight nudge that she gave him. It took him a while to get back to reality. He felt slightly irritated for being disturbed from his stupor. It was so intoxicating. It was a painful experience, the transition from fantasy to the mundane world. He shifted his head to adjust to the new state, realizing that he was glad to be out of his dreams. This was a dream, a dream come true. No fantasy could be better than what he experienced at the moment. He was half-sitting, half-lying on a patch of dried grass and leaves, propped up against her left arm, her palm in his, fingers clasped. Her right hand held on to his arm lightly, her head on his shoulder. She sat with her feet folded in an awkward fashion
The two of them together, sitting thus, were more content and happy than they had ever been. It was nearing dusk. They had arrived at the spot at daybreak and had not moved from their current position since lunch. No word had been exchanged between them for well over two hours. They hardly needed to speak. Words seemed to undermine the power and sanctity of their relationship. Words were plebeian, commonplace. Every person on the street had loads of them, without any meaning, though. Their touch said it all. It was all they needed to communicate in the most intimate manner possible. The assurance of the other’s presence was enough for both. It was as if love permeated from the body of one and seeped into the other’s. If it was love.
It had never appeared to them that they needed to define their relationship. They enjoyed being together. Even that was for others. Others who do not understand the subtleties of life. What they felt was very private, chaste and essentially indescribable. They did not claim immortal love or togetherness for this life or lives beyond. They simply did not discuss it with others. It was between them and it would go with them. No one else had any right on them. He was an extension of her and she, his. They talked, they laughed, they loved but they did not say it. They had never said it. It had been understood. They had never made an effort to be together. They simply drew closer. It was natural, as if a way had been carved for them and they had to tread that path, embracing each other.
They stood naked before each other. Naked in thought. Naked in need. Naked in desire. Naked in soul. They could see right through each other. There was no deception, no desire to deceive. No effort ever, was needed to comprehend the other. There were no discussions between them on any issue. A silent approval of thought or a slight nod of the head was all they needed to convey or express their opinion. This place was their perfect refuge. Solitude, silence and scenery was what they got. They needed none. They had each other. This place was a perfect refuge, but so was every other place where they could conceive each other. Physical presence was not imperative, not even desired. They had melted into each other as the Sun was melting away in the sky, burning with all its glory, setting the sky on fire. They were as much a part of each other as the darkness that was engulfing them, a part of every night that stood between dusk and dawn. They were as aware of each other as darkness was of light, even though one must perish for the survival of the other. They were one, receding into each other, away from the self.
