by Kali Hawa
The sea was calm and the wind a steady drift. That lone bloke standing on the deck was thinking, the ocean looked so refreshing and endearing in the middle of the day has morphed into a sinister maelstrom in the darkness of night. The lit cigarette held between his fingers was making fascinating crisscrossing patterns in the dark canvass. Occasionally some spark would detach from the glowing head, for a moment swing around, abruptly die. In the loneliness of night he could see ruins of a towering structure not far away. A light-house perhaps! Like the kalaiwala*, ruii-dhunnewala, and pager, it’s time to fade away has come leaving space for more glitzy and efficient contraptions. Who knows how many flotillas, barges or even pirate ships corrected course taking cue from its simmering beacon; now this grand relic is having tough time asserting its usefulness. Surging waves would fill up its shaft and when receding, fountains would burst out of the crevices on wall, declaring audaciously its struggle for existence.
Suddenly he felt a large blob of light hung in the air some distance from him. He then heard someone whispering to him…
rukaa kuch bhi nahiin hai
sirf rukne ka ehsaas hai
zindagi ka markaz aik equilibrium hai
uske ird-gird pendulum ki maanind ghumati hai
raftaar ka ehsaas jiine ki shakl hai............'
[Nothing is still; what seems still is only our perception. Life swings around an equilibrium and the feel of motion is our sense of living]
‘Who are you?’
I am your God!’
My God? Does every individual have his own God?
Yes indeed. I am merely projection of your thought.
What is with the sphere shape?
It looks the same from every side!
Abruptly the blob of light went blank; everything sank in an abyss of darkness. Then he realized the light from the tower that was focused on him had gone off instead a dull dying white glow occupied that spot.