Menolyrical-Words for Words' Sake

This Too...

Vikram stood outside on the road and stared at the shutters.  Looking around, he was still aghast at the devastation the tsunami had wrought.  That the village he was now visiting sat at 1000 feet above sea level was what had him puzzled. 

As an archaeologist, he had always had the ability to set himself at the scene in any dig, as if he were actually standing in the time to which it belonged.  Now, however things were not falling into place.  There was a peculiar sensation of things moving about within the very landscape, yet he knew it to be in absolute stillness. 

He couldn't get over the feeling that he had walked into someone's meditation.

Shaking his shoulders and refocusing, he walked over to the one building that had remained comparatively intact in Parrtakoo village, high in the Seentoo Hills of Bhasha.

It, like all the others which had been so severely damaged, was made from the material from the ground around.  To call it a mud hut in the human sense of the term would be inaccurate - yet true also...  In the way that diamond is coal only.  Carbon is carbon.  How it is treated is what makes the difference to what comes out the other end of any process.  The Bhashini homes were made of the soil, but went through such a firing process that they became a pristine, almost porcelain-like, quality.  Then they were decorated with a product made from crushed vegetation blended with oil of uddamoo, a by-product from the milk of that creature.

Everything on Bhasha was in tune with the environment and not a thing was used without first seeking blessings of the The Power, a numinous deification concept  of what humans would identify as Mother Nature.

There were very few Bhashini surviving when the Cosmic Exploration Vessel "Pushpaka" had arrived.  Fourteen years on, the world was renewing itself under the care and guidance of the ARK team. 

EarthGov had been stunned when early exploration teams came upon the first civilization outside of Earth's own.  It had been in severe decline and so Gov had formed the ARK to assist it, plus seek out and preserve any other civilizations which now might be found.  Ahimsa, the universal code of 'cause no harm'; Revival, to support existing structure and assist it to grow within the tenets of its own philosophy; and Knowledge, the sharing and mixing of which could only bring unity amongst the members of ARK. Bhasha was the fifth world to come 'aboard'.

As Vikram approached the shuttered window he stopped and took a sharp breath.  Had that been a movement?

A few seconds passed before he moved closer.  Something prevented him from actually reaching over to look into the window.  He couldn't shrug off the sense that he in turn was being watched.  He turned to the entrance.  No door was left, but he was struck with the fact that a curtain hung there.  Surely it hadn't been present when he arrived.

Now he had to sort out whether he was hallucinating, or if the curtain was in fact there.  This certainly wasn't his usual 'time travel' experience.  His hand stretched and grabbed the material.  It was very real.  Course, yet not hard.  Some kind of unrefined wool-like substance.  He called out.

"Namaste! I am Vikram Singhania of the ARK.  Would the dweller honour me with visitation?"  He used the local vernacular and his throat translator rang out in the song-like tones of Bhashataa.

After what seemed like eternity, a strong-fingered hand drew aside the curtain.  Through the door came a tall, male Bhashini.  "Harhagh.  I am Bhertoo of Parrtakoo. Your visitation is honour indeed."  Vikram was stunned.  The being was strong, finely dressed in the style of the ancients of this world - and he had spoken in Earthglish.

Image result for sri rama without bowThere was also something creepily familiar.  Vikram's Indian heritage tickled his synapses and in an instant he noted that the appearance of this man - and he was a 'man' for all the strange colouration and outstanding eyes - was as close a representation of Bhagwan Rama as he had ever imagined.  The only thing missing was the bow and quiver.

"Not required here," said Bhertoo, "it is an instrument of measurement.  Disguised as a tool of hunting, it was in fact that each arrow was only stupefying and taking samples."

Vikram blinked.  His mind had been read. Frantically his brain dug through all his knowledge of the Ramayana and understood that each of the rishis who had written of Sri Rama had actually spoken the truth about his magics, but only from the experience-base they had.  Incredibly, almost as a vision, Vikram understood that this magnificent being before him was nothing more than an anthropologist.

"Indeed, it is true.  We came at a time when your race was crumbling and sought to bring it to its full glory again."

"Just as we are now doing through the ARK project!"

"Correct.  It was inevitable - your arrival.  Come in and let me share with you."  Bhertoo turned and re-entered the building, Vikram only hesitated a fraction of a second.  How could one not follow the Lord of one's history?

Inside, the place took on a completely different look.  It was sparsely though finely furnished and one wall appeared to be made of mirroring.  Moving over to that side,   Vikram reeled from the sight.  Before him moved the entire universe.  His new acquaintance spoke again.

"We travelled long within this place that we imagined.  Earth was an extra special project.  It's inhabitants were the most receptive and yet the most rebellious.  Each eon I came to them and each time they made a name and a story for me.  I let them have their play. However, we were away from home too long.  Bhasha suffered.  This could not be permitted for it is, after all, the centre of the universe.  We left it too late.  So we have been gathering together again to make a fresh start.  You are the last."  Bhertoo held out his hand for Vikram to take.

There was no sensation, no effort.  For a fleeting moment Vikram recalled the meaning of 'Bhasha' in Earthglish - "language of the mind".  He had always thought this quaint.  Now though, Vikram knew that very same language and mind to be his own self.   He knew that the body in which he stood was nothing but a machine he was operating.  He knew that he belonged with Bhertoo and all the others beside him. 

"Others?!"

"We are all the thoughts of God.  We are the ones he allowed to stray.  An experiment he is drawing to a close."

"But," Vikram paused briefly as he tried to comprehend the import of what he was hearing, "then every living thing must also be such a God-thought?"

"This is true.  Not every thought is aware of itself however.  Many thoughts simply flutter about, with no aim, no achievement, no rest awaiting them. All must pass away. Only those who could bring themselves back to the origin are here now, to unite again in His Being.  You were always able to set yourself wherever you wanted to be, is it not so?"

At last Vikram realised all this was his own mind, leading him to the final conclusion.  It felt good.  It felt Real.  He knew it to be Truth.  Looking for one last time at the body he wore, he smiled a final smile.

This too must pass away...

                                                                          ©2013 Yamini Ali MacLean

4 comments:

  1. Wow, you sure can tell a vivid story! We really like that phrase "the body he wore". That has great depth and meaning that we need to reflect on more often!

    Your Pals,

    Murphy & Stanley

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hari OM
      thanks doods... provoking thought is a key aim! Yxx

      Delete
  2. I totally agree with Murphy! And not because he is Stanley's brother. Don't worry, me and Stanley are taking precautions!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hari Om
      thanks Taffy.... and .... phew! Yxx

      Delete

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