Saturday, 7 August 2010

The Enigma Divine

I was walking around the woods one evening seeking solace from the reality for a moment. The clouds around mighty snow peaks looked bright while sun shone in dim flares. I saw someone sitting on a rock at the shore of river. The rock was covered with small yellow flowers. She appeared like a butterfly hovering over those flowers. She seemed calm; patient. Like she was contemplating the flowing river or sheer flow of river was contemplating her. Like her vision was captured by falling rainbow or the colours of rainbow were created by her. Her gleam outlined a set of wings ready to fly. Like the wings were the cloud themselves or the muses of clouds feigning shape of her.

My admiration of her presence was disrupted by a large clock drifting across the river from the other side. Its hands were running fast in opposite direction. She looked at me for a moment and next the butterfly was being devoured into a vacuum created by the clock. Like the time dilated and entire world ended in slow motion. Like certainty had plans; biased; ignorant. The butterfly tried to flutter its wings but the grasp of vacuum was stronger. The butterfly was lost into utter darkness.

I opened my eyes into that utter darkness; flabbergasted; parched. Like the senses were falling apart or stiffness was the rope hanging from the ceiling. I saw a faint light coming from a window. Like the sun accepted it's existence and decided to flash a wave. My legs started to move towards the opening window; slowly; abruptly. As if the window might be a portal to another dimension. Or alternate reality. But the view of the mountains outside was mesmerising. Like a painter stroked her brush carefully around the landscape making it utterly real. But the view seemed too far away; unreachable. Though I still decided to step outside of the window. I was afraid that I might fall down.

Soon I realised I was flying through the air. Like an eagle ruling the skies far above the common sense. The wind orchestrated my flight to far horizon; to the peaks. I was enjoying every bit of freedom. Then I felt presence of the butterfly. This time her wings were stronger as a bird. Like eventuality got weak with its persistence. My happiness was flowing coast to coast as if the clouds kissed a new life in me.

After a while, we landed on a rock inside a crater that was surrounded by melting snow. The rock had two large block of woods adjoining each other like hands of clock. And they were moving fast in regular direction. The butterfly fluttered her wings and flicked a blue bubble. That bubble took her inside and disappeared. But I could still hear her voice. Like the voice was calling me from distant farms.

I saw two hunters in a farm, ploughing the fields. They had dogs tethered to a tree. They were odd looking dogs; of green colour; and had rabbit ears. The hunters looked familiar but strange enough. Their posture had meaning but controlling demeanour. The hunters had their guns pointed at me. A bullet was fired into my chest. I felt sharp pain; uncontrollable; intolerable. I wanted to run but the gravity was too strong. The pain became crushing that was collapsing my lungs. Another bullet was fired.

I wanted to open my eyes but they were still stuck in chaos. I tried to hear mumbling voices. Still chaos. I felt something heavy on my leg. Like a chain tied to my ankles. Finally I could open my eyes. And it was a chain. The voices now were strong but still chaos. I peeped out of key hole of locked door. And the butterfly was there; like waiting for someone. I could see mountains in the background. I felt I could never reach them. Like I was stuck in time and it was being forced.

The room was dim lit but I still could see things. There was a clock hanging over my head moving too slow. There was someone with me. Unidentifiable. Immovable. It was just smiling. Like the smile was put on a puppet. I was a puppet too; levitating; wondering the result of game ruled by certainty. The chain was strings locked on my shoulders , not tied to my ankle. I looked out of window. The city was illuminated with street lights, car lights, flashes, bulbs and all. Like they were casting a focus on me. The senses were lost and traces were left.

My mind becomes conscious now. I keep my eyes closed for a moment and feel the freshness of air. My ears can hear the ticks of clock moving steadily. Second by second. Then I look out of window. The apple trees are proud and green. The wind is little cold but sunshine is precious. I step out of my bed off to sunshine. I see the mountains covered with snow and the river flowing through it. The garden is blossomed with different flowers and the butterflies are hypnotized by opulent beauty.

Then I see her smelling the flowers. Her hands touch them with softness and love. Like a fairy from the lands of clouds. She is an image of joy and pride. My senses are found here; in trees, rivers, and mountains. I tap her shoulder. She turns and looks at me; smiling.

Wednesday, 21 January 2009

A View to Remember

Previous Post - The New Delhi Chronicle

December 26, 2008

The journey from New Delhi to Manali was absolute torture. First because of that movie, Maan Gaye Mughal-e-Azam, which was complete rip off of To Be or Not To Be (produced and acted by Mel Brooks). The original was certainly hilarious. I wanted to ask bus incharge to stop the movie but other people seemed to be enjoying it. So I acted being asleep and imbibed myself into intrusive thoughts. That was even worse because my thoughts wandered towards fountains of reminiscence.

A mental note to myself - Never accept a seat in last or second last row in a bus. But we did not have any option. At this time of year, all transportation to Manali had been herded with honeymooners (and of sorts). So the voyageurs, like me, had to adjust with the circumstances and feel the roller-coaster jumbo ride over the curves of mountains which resulted in the sickness. I thought I would suppress materials inside my body but they certainly had other plans. So they came out to breathe air of freshness but I had a plan too. I tied a knot in polythene bag and placed it under the seat quitely. And guess what? I forgot to dump that bag after leaving the bus. Oops!

The fog, again, had been extremely dense in most part of the Punjab and Haryana. After 6 AM, we could see the hills of Himachal playing hide-n-seek with, eh, fog. When we advanced to higher altitude the sunlight welcomed us with steam hot presence. The view out of the window was breathtaking - the river processing through rough route of big rocks; the trees vying with each other for being the tallest; huts and cottages dramatically contesting of being bravest at great steeps.
We reached Manali at 13:30. The city was not as much cold as I had expected but the air was pure and cool.

We reached our hotel, which was 9 Kms farther from Manali on the way to Naggar. Our fatigue just gargled and whooshed away when we saw the view out of the room window. Here is the picture. :)

A View to Remember
It was already too late to visit any special place in or around Manali. So we decided to walk around Khakhnal village. Such a beautiful countryside it was. Apple orchards (well they were leafless; autumn), silk cascasde, kids playing football (I never saw anyone playing Cricket in Himachal), sheeps grazing in meadows, fluffy and flurry dogs, Deodar trees and snow clad peaks in background. Awe-inspiring.
Temple of Mountains

The day was pretty dramatic for me. The sickness was long over and I started feeling mountains in me. I started finding my traces there.