RAILWAY STATION

The hillock was mostly bald with patches of green but largely ugly brown. At the summit were two skinny trees with little leaves and not too many branches. The larger of them had Y shape; appeared like a woman mulling with one arm, elbow bent, resting on her hips. The other looked like her child with a basket on head. The visual was disturbing.

Beyond the hillock was a forlorn railway Station. It was mostly empty of people; a single train went up in the morning, the same returned in the evening. The platform was not raised but its vague boundary was marked by red bricks dug into the ground upright. It was at the same level as the railway line. A small three room building in very bad shape served for the office of station master, ticket window etc. Signal towers at each end of the platform and a steel structure at one end of the platform holding a small water tank completed the station complex.

It was twilight time. A lone man with crisp white shirt and dark firmly ironed trouser with a brief case in hand was restlessly strolling up and down the platform. He looked very odd in that milieu, apparently an agriculture implements salesman. He had already enquired with the station master several times about the arrival train. The place appeared to him stuck in some kind of time warp. There was nothing he could do to accelerate passing of time. Then he saw some hope. At distance he saw movement over the railway line, a train was arriving. His hopes were dashed when a goods train came to a halt with nasty shrieks of breaks moving down the train decaying in a wave like surge. The trade mark guard’s cabin was in the middle of the train. He saw a funny character jumping from that cabin, immediately began running towards the engine. He began attempting to climb to the roof of that engine. Strangely it was a diesel engine so the effort made no sense to the man at the platform. In fact he felt fearful for the guard as a high tension wire ran over the track. He hesitated briefly then briskly walked over to station master’s room to report this bizarre happening. He expected a minor eruption of temper but the station master looked at him sympathetically through the thick glasses, which made his eyes look grotesque, said ‘Sorry fellow, a goods train will pass first before your train arrives.’

‘Goods train will pass! It has already arrived and halted. I have come to report the same. A crazy fellow is trying something incomprehensible. Please stop this crazy man.” 
‘What are you talking? The train hasn’t moved from the last station!’
‘I was about to tell you about that crazy guard in that goods train. The fellow will get electrocuted? You must stop him.”

The station master looked at him curiously and got up. When they came out, the sales fellow was shocked to see an empty station. There was no sign of the goods train.

***

LIGHT HOUSE

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.

    

Aarasii III (Mirror)

The man entering the room was a psychic. The room was about twice as long as its width, looked largely bare with minimal furniture, a couple of pictures hung on the side walls. It was brightly lit, walls painted in matte white finish. He could see a high mirror neatly embedded into the side wall on his left in the middle of the room. It had varnished wood frame delicately worked with flowery patterns as if it was a celebrated painting.  As he entered the room, the door swung back slowly, closed with a mild thud.

Nothing to do, he walked up and down the room scrutinizing the little furniture and looked at the paintings on the wall critically. Eventually when he looked at the mirror he felt a surge of fear running down his spine. All was normal except the mirror didn’t reflect his own image! In reflex he looked at his hands, bent his head to look at his torso for reassurance and then looked back at the mirror, nothing; his image still wasn’t there. He was a psychic, he knew it was just a trick, mostly sleight of hand to fool people, sometimes strong persuasive suggestions to warp consciousness and fool the mind but brazen disappearance of image was not explainable. In auto reflex his hands moved up to mirror to feel it. He was surprised that there was no mirror at all. It was open space, a pane less window. In fact an identical room in the style of mirror image of the one he was in; complete with reversed pictures and furniture existed on the other side.    

The above was merely a writer’s way of creating allegory, a powerful allusion or metaphor to make a point. There is nothing in the world we can say with finality. If I say am agnostic, it is only at conscious level I reject super-normal and irrational but I have no control over my subconscious. It is still ruled by occult, paradigms of superstitions and belief that my destiny is enshrined in wriggly lines on my palm. Is death then cessation of existence? Indeed it is at rational level but life is a lot more complex, there are mindboggling thoughts that prevent us from acknowledging this possibility. When I think of life after the death it seems to me that secrets of the world will be revealed to me after the body’s expiry date.  It doesn’t quite gel. If the secrets are revealed, our reason to exist in any form will also evaporate. Paradoxical, isn’t it. We must live to know that we will never know why Universe exists!  There really is no mirror on the wall to show us what we are, why we are. 

Aarasii II

[Bizarre world on the other side of Mirror]

The door didn’t open to the room instead a short passage and then a large room. Peering through the smudgy glass on the door, he opened his eyes wide to make out what was in the room. The passage had blocked major part of the view of room but a mirror on the side wall reflected clearly an emaciated body sprawled in the middle of the floor.  Another woman reclining on an easy chair, as frail as the one sprawled on the floor, was trying to snooze oblivious to the inert body on the floor. In fact she pushed lightly the frail body with her right foot to get some space to spread out her legs. Amazingly the presence of inert body didn’t bother her at all. Suddenly she stood up walked over to the adjoining room, returned with a glass, not washed in weeks, with water, lifted the woman’s listless head, poured a few drops into her mouth. She then whispered something into the woman’s ear, didn’t wait for answer. All the effort had drained this woman as well. She slumped back into the chair and sank into a bout of delirium.

They broke open the door. A burst of foul stench whiffed past them. They softly lifted the bodies and carried them over to waiting ambulance. The melee in room had knocked the mirror off the wall, crashing, shattering pieces on the floor. The women who was still half conscious, briefly opened her eyes, thought …..

The delicate equilibrium of life has slipped from its peg, who knows where it will settle now!

http://www.telegraphindia.com/1110413/jsp/nation/story_13848334.jsp

Aarasii

Aarasii is a mirror as in the muhavarah “haath kangan ko aarasii kyaa”. But a mirror is a great metaphor because it is so graphical. It shows us our image, tells us ‘this is how you appear to others’. So we make superficial alterations to present ourselves in a way we want to tell the world ‘this is how I am!’ Mostly a fake exaggerated copy.  And we make the mirror lie to us and for us.

But in spiritual realm Aarasii is profoundly more substantial. The aura of the other side of mirror is mysteriously bewitching. Sometimes, when we have time in hand and are all by ourselves, the urge is to cross over to the other side of mirror, begin peeling off the farcical layers, heaven knows how many and see what we really look like. It appears to be one access point of our quest to unravel mystery of our deeply buried inner-self, tantalizingly so near yet impossible to reach. It occurred to me that our world has a small place that emulates the other side of mirror.

When I see Anna Hazare! Seems like there aren’t too many layers over him.

Anna Hazare Logjam

The government can break this logjam if it shows real sincerity. We have a potentially explosive situation in India where politician have zero credibility with people and a bullheaded Anna trying ram through a bill in parliament which itself is creation of a handful of people. What we need is some sanity. The bill presented by Anna gang can cause serious harm and bill presented by the government appears toothless. There is an ocean of gullible nation willing to throw their lot with Anna because the other side has completely lost faith of the people therefore we need another set of people who are beyond reproach, have proven wisdom and confidence of people to judge. Government should institute a panel of such people such as Amartya Sen, Narayan Murthy, some eminent judges, some top educationist and some eminent lawyers and let them go through the two versions of bills and make a compromise.

They can also utilize this great opportunity to find means to cleanse the parliament of criminals. 

THE WELL

An aged Neem tree by its side and cluster of decrepit single storey houses surrounding it; the well was left alone for a long time. Unused, sans pulley and the frame to hold the contraption, the brickwork rim at its head was crumbling. It was a dark well, very deep, if any water in it, you cannot see due to the contrast created by dazzling afternoon sun. There was still some moisture around the circle of wellhead. A constant stream of ants trailing from the base of Neem tree to the edge of well kept the day in perfect balance. ‘Andha KuaaN’, why it is called so, beats me! Dark has intuitive association with blindness but they are entirely two different things. Not seeing is not the same as seeing dark; blindness has no concept of color.

Then this focused woman came, look around only once. She had glazed eyes, seemed to be walking in a trance. Unhurried she walked on straight to the well, without fanfare climbed the broken brickwork of wellhead and in the same tempo carried on……….

The balance of the day was irrevocably broken.