Friday, June 24, 2011

Shiv and His Soul



His was a multi-colored soul. This kid, whose mommy always kept to the kitchen and whose dad forever worked late into the night, spoke to it saying: When I say I want to play, you’ll say you’re game, won’t you. After a second’s pause, turning her head to this side, she said: I surely will, and turned her head to that side and nodded. Her uncle who just stole into the corridor thought to himself: Oh! my-angel-next-door started talking to herself…or what, and went in to his sister to update her on the latest gossips of town. Her aunt, were she here, would have said in a tone of mastered whisper: My niece has indeed found her imaginary friend.

The soul in question belonged to a young man who’s laid on a stretcher in an ambulance a few feet from the house in question. An hour ago, Shiv had an ingestion of **PC/MM -- it must be said the dose was a tad much for his body’s pH balance. A simple ritual preceded the intake of this soma. He sat postured in padmasana on the temple veranda facing the lingam and closed his eyes. He focused resolutely on the split-second silence that’s found nowhere but at the end of the cycle of breathing -- each inspiration and expiration. A voice in his head said: I know Ram, I know Dev.D, who’s Ram.D. He pushed that thought insertion to the darkest corner of his mind, as he breathed, as he sang Aum. In a minute, he was four with the universe.

He saw black, white and then shades of gray. Ever so slowly, a shade of red crept into his monochrome vision that soon was tinged with spectrum. This was the exact moment his soul left his body. The sensation that he had was that of a sword made of ice cutting through him head to loin. In other words, he was having a near death experience. The soul stood guarding his path of transcendence so to speak. A baby universe silently expanded inside him and in his mind’s eye it expanded and expanded until it exploded. He saw one color and its one thousand variations, then one color too many and then he saw everything. He felt his heart reverberate to the tune of what precisely was the detonation of chroma. Now, he was one with the universe.

Like each good thing must, Shiv’s came to an end when he choked, metaphorically speaking, on an overdose of bright colors. He passed out in the course of insecure but pure transcendence. A teenage ascetic watering the roses saw him collapse. She sprayed water on his face, tilted his head with a bouquet of shrubs, all to no avail. She alerted her priestess and they rang the hospital. In 20 minutes, he was performed resuscitation on but his heart wouldn’t beat a sinus rhythm. Except for the faint sign of breathing, he looked as good as dead. He was put on saline. His soul deemed him dead. It’s strange how and what a soul thinks of its body. It drifted to the town in search of its mother of choice to get born again.

Every single nubile it came across it deemed walked the spiritual realm with a slut gait. Shiv’s soul was by all means haughty as a highly and mightily strung virgin country boy. It had abandoned all hopes by the time it chanced upon the six-year-old Purva who had no friends to speak of and who for sport scared and chased alley cats. I could wait until she grows proud and up it thought. Twenty-two years the wait will be and no ordinary wait will it be. ‘Mother’ she called to herself. ‘Aiyoo, it’s our third game and this time around we’re playing god and devil, ok’ she corrected herself.


Meanwhile in the ambulance, the nurse gave a tight slap to Shiv’s face, as is her habit every time a patient refuses to wake up past two resuscitations, and he awoke to a medicined, air-conditioned claustrophobia. Something was wrong with the sound he asked: Where am I? Why can’t I see? Have I…have I gone blind. This is inside, isn’t it? Why do I have this feeling that I’m outside. He incessantly blinked his eyelids and she could tell by the looks of it he was going to cry like a baby any moment as he said: I can’t…it’s all black & white…can’t see the damn colors…why…oh…why! She checked his pupils and ensured they dilated alright. ‘An MRI can tell what’s wrong’ she suggested. She looked to him as though she’d slipped out of a silver screen – straight out of von Trier’s Europa. He bitterly hoped for those episodes in color: If only I could! He thought how sadder it’d make Apu if you told him you could see colors and that the world he inhabited in Apur Sansar was a black & white world. Shiv, though he felt different, felt peculiarly better and asked if she’d unlock the door of the vehicle.

Shiv’s soul had a hunch and found itself under turbulence. Purva said: It’s dinner time and then sleepy time, you want to go home or stay. And again said: Maybe I can go home and come back. It left Purva’s modest residence and as it passed the alleyways the cats orgasmically cried. Twenty-two years after, it’d find Purva in a different corner of the country and be born as her only child, a girl child, and live to a well-lived 80 -- twenty-two years after when Shiv is fittingly fiftyish and after he trips on the stairs on his way to his son’s graduation day event. The soul never will forget the unique aura of Purva and its fragrance which is how it will find her after all those years. It could not forget Shiv’s and it hadn’t in that he lived.

Nurse made her move toward the door and Shiv said: You couldn’t so much as blanket me, won’t you get me my shirt. He felt the shiver intensify as he donned his shirt. When he’s done, as the ache he felt for a second dulled and dissipated, he peered through the open door and saw: green, orange, brown and blue. He cried: Now I can see. He jumped off the stretcher and off the ambulance, ran to the courtyard, plucked a few roses, gave one to the ascetic, one to the nurse; ran to the hotel and ordered pav bhaji like he never ordered it before: on a silver plate with sliced tomato, cucumber, lemon, beetroot, carrot and what not. He has felt his best before but never like this and he never will for the rest of his life feel this best.



………………………………………………………………………………………………

If we see the Milky Way, it is because it actually exists in our souls – Borges
…….………….…………….…….….……….……….……….……….…….………….………....

……...………….…………….…….….……….………..……….……….…….………….………....
…….…………...…………….…….….……….……….……….……….…….………….………....

………………………………………………………………………………………………



****

10 comments:

  1. dipesh shah Thanks very much for your words. I'd glad it made you hungry as well. And you're welcome

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hats off Ahimaaz!!! Man, This was some read...
    What a soulful and colorful story!!
    Am hungry for Pav Bhaji now!!!
    And thanks for your comment on my blog, it meant a lot to me if you liked my story:)

    ReplyDelete
  3. chitra b I'm glad it was worth your time

    ReplyDelete
  4. worth reading!!!and tell me What Color Do I Paint??

    ReplyDelete
  5. barkhadhar Thank you for visiting and commenting. You appreciation means a lot.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Interesting story that has vivid colors and originality of thoughts. Great job!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Someone is Special Thank you for dropping by and the appreciation

    ReplyDelete
  8. lovely post dude and definitely a multi-coloured soul for sure.. beautiful.. and will my life be colourful?

    Someone is Special

    ReplyDelete
  9. Arti Thank you for your uplifting comment. I'm glad you liked it.

    ReplyDelete
  10. A unique take on colors as I was expecting from you. And not to mention a beautiful one too. The journey of the soul through the entire post really makes one realize the importance these colors have in our lives. Good Luck Ahimaaz :)

    ReplyDelete

Your thoughts are invaluable

Site Meter