Showing posts with label river. Show all posts
Showing posts with label river. Show all posts

Some Place Else



Rishikesh
Shankara asked Burak to follow him as he walked out of the town in a cold, deserted road. The town lay at the edge of the Himavant, the forbidden world, and this was the last road to nowhere. It was late afternoon. “Are you ready for your ordained destination?” Shankara asked Burak.
“Are we going straight away?”Burak asked expectantly as he jumped off from the stair on which he stood, and followed Shankara. “ I meant that we could, perhaps, do some preparations as we leave!” He tried to explain. However Shankara seemed to be in no mood to stop.
“You’d been preparing for this throughout your life Burak!” He said, and walked on till he bumped into a young sadhu. The sadhu seemed to recognize Shankara and immediately prostrated in front of him. Shankara held the sadhu’s arms and made him rise up. “Vidyadhara, have you brought my consignments?” Shankara asked the strange sadhu.
The sadhu immediately produced a box from his bag, and handed it over to Shankara. Shankara smiled and took the bag. “We shall meet on the other side. Perhaps.” Shankara said to him. There were tears in the sadhu’s eyes. Without saying a word, he turned around, and swiftly walked toward the town. Shanakra and Burak stood there and saw his silhouette disappear in the mist. It was getting dark and cold. It was almost dangerous to go anywhere outside the town at this hour, especially into the wilderness toward which they headed. They suddenly came to a point where the road ended. They could listen to the sound of flowing water somewhere from the woods ahead of them. Shankara continued uninhibited, Burak swiftly followed. Both stopped at a point inside the woods where there was nothing to go ahead, except the swiftly flowing Ganga, that lay in front of them. Shankara turned back to Burak and said, “ Look in front of you. Those are the mountains of the East.” He pointed towards brilliantly shining snow covered horizon, built up by successively taller layers of mountains, that almost obliterated the sky. For the first time in his life, Burak could not see where the land ended, and the sky started. The end seemed to be a bit of both the land and the sky.
“ You shall need to dive through the waters of the Ganga to get to the other side. Take this oxygen kit, and dive immediately after me. You can turn behind after I dive, and join your group after I dive, but remember, this is why you have come so far. Remember the verses that you read in your childhood, that made you come out of the world!” Shankara handed the box over to him. Before Burak could think of anything, Shankara dived into the river, leaving Burak alone to figure out the rest of his life in a moment. An inner voice suddenly overtook him and told him that the man who dived before him did it because he trusted that he would come. If for nothing else, he should trust him because of this and do it.  In a moment, he took out the oxygen mask and jumped into the Ganga.
It seemed petrifying. Cold water had surrounded him on all the sides. As he opened his eyes, he saw a different word, a murky aquatic reality. When he lived by the Van Golu, and the Caspian, he often thought of the life underneath the great water bodies. He had imagined it to be somewhat similar to the aquarium, but being inside was a completely different experience. He felt the waxy and ribbony water grass touch his body, and a sudden fish rush before his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a thrust from behind. He was pushed forcefully ahead. Suddenly shankara came over him, and dragged him along with himself.  Within minutes they had surfaced to see a high wave building in front of them. Suddenly, they were takem upon the crest of the wave, and after a few tosses in the water, Burak could sense the turbulence calm. He could feel something by his hands. He cleared his watery eyes and saw brilliantly white snow covered landscape in front of himself. He was at the shore.
Burak couldn’t recount that how long he remained in water. Even though it didn’t seem long, but, by all standards, it would have been really long time, as it was bright daylight. He was exhausted. As Shankara looked around, as if searching for something, Burak just fell down on some warm earth on the riverside to rest. When he woke up, the sun was overhead, but the chilling winds made the warmth almost ineffective. Shankara had gathered some twigs and made a fire close to Burak. It gave him some warmth. His clothes had, miraculously, dried, A Burak stood up and went a few steps ahead to inspect the landscape, he saw the most wonderous thing he had ever thought of!
He saw a humanoid figure appear in the horizon. The person seemed perfect, except that he had long ears, and strangely enough, a bow and a quiver full of arrows. As he turned back, Burak saw that Shankara had come close to him. Shankara quietly indicated Burak to remain silent, and spoke just one word in whispers. “Elf.”
The elf was surveying the sky intently, as if trying to figure something out. He then wly took out an arrow from his quiver, and aimed at the sky as if there was something there. He released the arrow towards the sky. The arrow vanished, but the elf kept looking at the skies as if searching for something. Suddenly, there was a shower from the sky. Amazing large pink fruits fell from the heavens, as if there was a tree up there. The elf quickly collected the fruits and wnt away, kicking some fruits here and there in haste. One of the fruits reached the place where Burak, and Shankara stood.
It was a pink colored fruit. Shankara indicated Burak to pick it up.  “ You can eat it. It’s safe.” Shankara said.
The fruit was almost the pulp. Without a covering or the rind. Burak was filled with unspeakable joy as he took the first bite on the fruit. This was the sweetest, juiciest, and tastiest fruid Burak ever had. All his tiredness and worries were gone in a moment.

Shankara was smiling at Burak. He gave out a short laugh and said. “Welcome to Himavant.”

The Clash and The Crash


Saint Paul’s, London: Same day in the evening

A group of Christians gathered for a silent protest in front of the Saint Paul’s Cathedral. The protest demanded justice for Deborah and the word of the God. About two hundred people gathered – mainly Christians and most of them ethnic British or Europeans. The protest ended late in the night with a resolution of massive demonstration next day at the Hyde Park, and a silent march to the Buckingham Palace. A group of Catholics, Protestants, Anglicans and other Christians by the name – ‘The Children of Our Lady’ resolved to present a request to the monarch to look into the matter personally.
Hyde Park, however, was to be the venue for a popular concert by a Turkish orchestra on the same evening. The request for allowing protests at Hyde Park were denied, keeping in view that all the arrangements for the show had already been made. The venue for protests was shifted to the gardens beside the Mall.
The word couldn’t spread fast enough, though; and by the evening, the protesters started to gather around the Hyde Park. They were naturally asked to stop. There was utter confusion as the crowds saw ethnic Arabs and Turks being allowed to enter the Hyde Park and whites and Christians being stopped. Resentment grew among the protesters.
Soon, a group of protesting youth tried to stop the entry of an Arab couple to the park. A brawl ensued and the lady sustained some significant injuries. A group of Arab guys who had come to watch the show got involved in the brawl and a white guy was beaten up rather badly.
Rest was all rumors, but they spread like wildfire. Soon there were riots in Wembley, Kingston, Wimbledon, Hillingdon, Luton, Ilford, Surrey….. From London, the riots spread to Southampton, Dover, Bristol, Birmingham, Coventry, Manchester, York, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Inverness….Soon, whole of Britain was burning. There were rounds of protests and rounds of riots. A newly formed organization called ‘The Brothers of Rationale’ comprising mainly of ethnic minorities now launched a series of counter protest with the slogan : ‘Deborah the Fake!”
Very soon, keeping Deborah home had become a greater headache for both the government and the Scotland Yard. The government finally asked the King to grant a personal permission to Deborah and Thomas to fly to Portugal under an arrest. The Scotland Yard had, however, hatched a deeper conspiracy. They had inducted an ethnic Arab into the cabin crew, who was trained in hijacking. The plane would be hijacked and flown to a neutral territory. Deborah and Thomas would be killed, and the Yard and the government would bury this whole episode, and as a side effect, tackle some more Arabs in Britain.
Everything went as planned. The plane got hijacked over Spain and then crossed Europe; but then – problems started. The plane needed refueling. The Middle East denied the use of its air strips. The plane moved ahead and finally crashed on the sandy plains of the Indus

The Frothy Mist

7

Nigambodh Ghat, Delhi, India
  
“Oh! I love this smell of burning flesh.” The ascetic said, breathing a long deep breath.

He had long and flowing white hair - matted, oily and rough - falling down to his waist. His beard flew sideways in flowing wind. Flashes of lightening reflected in his eyeballs and lit his face momentarily – accentuating the wrinkles on his forehead. White ash was smeared all over his body.

“Alas, I would have to part with it.” He had a scornful expression on his face as if someone had done some wrong to him.

His disciples gathered around him. With their hands folded and heads bent down, they listened to him intently.

“I get the signals of change! Smell the flesh.” He said inhaling again. “It rots as it burns. Even the Agni (fire) is unable to contain the rot. When the purifier ceases to purify, it means that it’s the time for change. I feel that others might have sensed it too. They would have started as well. At the end of the era, there would be a meeting amidst destruction in the HimavntMountains of the north. The seven sages would be there and thousands of ascetics. Kripacharya, Parashurama and Lord Hanuman himself shall be there. The meeting shall be chaired by Lord Bharadvaja – the Brihaspatya – the son of none other than Brihaspati: master of the demigods. There we shall get the clarity on what’s coming.”

He repeated the old verses:

Yada yada hi dharmasya, glanir’bhavati’bharata.
Abhyut’thanam hi dharmasya, tvad’atmanam srujamyaham
Paritranaya sadhunam, Vinashaya ch’dushkritam
Dharma’sansthapanarthaya, sambhavami yuge yuge.

Whenever, on the earth the righteousness is shamed – in order to raise the righteousness, I incarnate myself. In order to save the ascetics and destroy the evil – in order to re-establish the cosmic order, I come age after age.

“We are in the darkest age, my pupils. The transition of the order is about to begin. Something new will come out of the dust of the old order, as it was the last time:

Senyur’ubhyor’madhye

…in midst of the armies and in midst of the ages…


The darkness shall soon pass.”

He turned around and walked to the banks of the turbulent Yamuna.  

“How much for an upstream ride on the flooding Yamuna?” he asked the lone rower. He was denied the ride.

“How much for a lost boat?” He asked. The rower smiled.

The ascetic was soon seen with oars, rowing upstream in the wild Yamuna, till he vanished in the frothy mist.