Now & Then

Every now and then
I would go back to the past
to be with you,
only to come back to the present
and find that
you are still with me.

Last Lament

Just before my death, my whole life stood before me like a ghost from its tomb. Death came to me with a lantern on a boat, flowing through the river of unconsciousness, guiding me to its shore. But that light has no warmth in it, no consolation, no pity. Perhaps this IS the beginning of consciousness- the true awakening of soul.
Yes, there is no pain in the end. Just the knowledge of being. A terrible indiscernible lightness , that shrouds like a weightless hood.
For days I watched the dead being burnt at the shores. For days, I heard the cries of the widows and orphans, the shrill hoots of the vultures circling the sky , above the cry of men, some wounded asking for water, some dead, some dying, all in heaps. For days, I watched the evening sky as red as the blood soaked earth of the battleground. For days, I cringed with agony, not of my wounds, but at of knowledge of my fate, paralyzed by my own helplessness. I writhed at the juxtaposition my destiny has brought me onto.
But it will be soon over now. The arrows still stab at my chest, the heart slowly drawing in the poison, but I feel no pain now. Unlike the brief numbness of severed tissues, there is prolonged relief as last.
I know that I am dying. Just like the millions around me. Hundreds of dead and dying kings and nobles are gasping and writhing for life.
My sky is sullen and mute. Sounds are drowning in. The wall cave in around me. Yes this is the end. It must be. Yes, I am that doomed man.

My parents were poor fishermen folks. But I am no fisherman. I had the knowledge of my difference from a very young age. My parents were kind and loving, I loved them, but I knew my destiny was elsewhere. When later in life, I found out that I was adopted, it did not come as a great surprise. I figured that much out a long time ago. My parents say that they found me by the riverside one fateful morning, wearing armor and an amulet. Armor and amulet were a part of my body, they grew as I grew up. My parents said that they were lucky for me. I never took them off.
I was fascinated with the royalty from a very young age. Perhaps that was my destiny and my impending doom. For, yet again, I was drawn to politics as my fate intertwined and clashed with the fate of kings and princes. But I had no high regard for the royalty. I knew this very well, that after the game is over, both the king and the pawn went into the same box. But, I was never cut out as the pawn; I aspired to be the nobility. Even though, I was told that nobility was a birthright, not a karma. Against my parents wishes, I made friends with Duryodhan, the man who saved my life, befriended me and gave me my honor. He was to become my greatest friend and one day, my downfall. But how can I blame him for my end? He was my greatest champion and mentor. A man, who befriended me at my darkest hour, sheltered me under his cloak of royalty, so that I could get the same privileges as the royal family did. We did not always agree but we were bonded to be friends for life.
The haughty Pandavas. It is them I hated , especially Arjun, the man who thought he had conquered the universe already.
I detested and despised them, their superiority to the subservient class, to be always surrounded by sycophants, always waited upon hand and foot since childhood. My youth was spent around them, watching how as the Kuravas and Pandavas grew up, as their petty, childish squabbles became more and more serious and ultimately an ugly game of power.
And then there was Draupadi, I had seen her once in the royal palace, lissome and dark, kohl-lined eyes caught my heart like no other. But I bore the insult she gave me by refusing to marry me for being the son of a commoner just as I bore the pain of her falling in love with Arjun and subsequently the neglect she bore from him. I would have treated her like a queen, but married to five brothers she was just their bonded maid. It wrung my heart. I protested and fought with Duryodhan for the first time when they decided to shame Draupadi in public. “It is nothing personal, it is just politics” Duryodhan said to me, “ You see we have to find a reason to oust the Pandavas out of our kingdom”. But that day, when I saw Bhima swore revenge, I knew it was very very personal. And that was the end, of Kuruvangsh.
And I knew that was the end of me.
I have been rejected by not one, but two women, both I loved both I lost. I knew I was not the son of fishermen. I knew I was born nobility. But I also knew that I have been abandoned at birth. I longed for the day I shall meet my real parents, my own mother. I wanted to be accepted by her. And when it happened, it came with a price. The price of my life.
That day, in Kurukshetra, Kunti came to me, crying and admitting that she was my mother and begging for the life of Arjun, her other son.
Oh, such an agony. To be denied of love. To be denied of a name.
What else was there to live for. Nothing. I told Kunti that only one of her son would live to see tomorrow. I knew what to do. For since birth, I knew my destiny. I took off my armor and amulet and went for the battle, next day.
I knew what was coming, but I did not know that Arjun would not even give me a fair chance to fight back. OH! To be killed like a commoner, while removing my chariot from the rut into which the wheels had fallen.
But the pain receded as sun shone back from the sullen clouds. No, there was no physical pain now, just a gnawing mental agony. No, I had contemplated death, but not this kind of death. I closed my eyes and grit my teeth and let myself drown into the tumultuous thoughts that preyed on me. Demons gnawed through my vitals and searing heat of the last insult came back to scorch me. The pain was not in death. The pain was - even in death, fate has tricked me of what I deserve.
Why was I denied of a hero’s death?
Why?

Midnight Moon

“Taj Mahal was intransigent in time. Except of course, environmental pollution is now eating away the marble. But the sculptures and the design is just as awesome today as it was before.”remarked Sara.
She stood at the bank of Yamuna River, holding her camera on the tripod, looking through the lens. Meera, her older sister sitting on the grass reading a book.
“Meera" she called her, " look at the Taj Mahal. It is a shame for you to read a book while you are here. "
Meera kept her book down. She stared at the Taj Mahal and involuntarily her fingers traced the outline of the structure in her mind - the bulbous dome , then the four pillars on four sides, the raised plinth. At this distance, they could see the tiny human figures near Taj, tourists from all over the world gathered in flocks.
Sara was still fixing the lens. “Excellent view from here”, she says “The sky is clear. Meera, can we wait till dark, I want to take a photograph of the Taj mahal bathed in moonlight."
"Stop taking pictures for a minute and sit beside me Sara." said Meera. " We havent really talked after I came from America.”
Sara complied, reluctantly. She spread the bed sheet on the grass sat near the banks.

The cold December sky was clear. The two sisters sat, looking at the horizon for a while, silently.
"Meera, I am thinking of getting married soon." said Sara, suddenly.
"What!!" said Meera, "What are you talking about."
"I met him at a party at my friend’s house. His name is Subir and he is a doctor at AIMS. We have known each other for almost three years now. He is graduated this year and starting his practice in Delhi. We plan to get married very soon."
“Does Ma Baba know about this? This is so abrupt.”, said Meera.
“No” said Sara, “I plan to tell them soon. No one knows Meera, I am telling you first.”
Meera and Sara were 7 apart in age. Sara was almost a child for Meera, not a younger sister. Even when she was child, Meera used to take care of her, almost like a mother.
She was going to say something, but she looked at Sara , beginning to say that their parents would never approve of a love marriage , but then she stopped.
Sara’s face was glowing with enthusiasm and happiness.
“I dont know what to say.” she shook her head. “You are grown up enough to take your own decisions.”
There was a long silence again. They stared at the River Yamuna for a while.
Sara picked up a stone and threw into the running water. The stone made a poppong sound and plunged into the stream. It was winter, the River was reduced to a narrow dry stream.
“Meera, can I tell you something?” asked Sara.
“Yes” said Meera
“I saw Parikshit in Delhi last week.”
“Who?” said Meera
That was unexpected. She looked at Sara and then turned to look at the river.
“Parikshit, you remember him dont you? I saw him last week in Delhi Hut. He was with his wife and child. Didnt see me. I dont think he would recognize me even if he saw me. " said Sara.
“Oh really” said Meera
“It was a long time ago Meera. But I still remember him vaguely, coming to our house.” said Sara. Meera said nothing. For a while silence sat heavily upon them like a paperweight.
Meera had not thought about Parikshit for a long time now. But her senses would betray her when thoughts of Parikshit would surface every night, as she tossed and turned in the bed, trying to sleep.
Meera was an art student in Agra University when she met Parikshit also in the same university. He was typical art student, wore baggy kurtas, carried a ten ruppes note in his worn out wallet, carried a canvas everywhere, borrowed money from friends for cigarettes, talked about communism and political dysfunctionism in the country in a matter of fact way. Meera knew his type, the arty-all talks- no money types. She refrained from those people. But there was something different about him. He was never very apologetic about his lack of money or his rising debts or his shabby appearance. She had infact passed her judgment on him the first time she saw him - a insolent megalomaniac.
But then fate intended them to meet.
He had seen Meera in a students union meeting. He was distributing flyers. Meera refused to take one, “I don’t need to” she said vehemently.
Their eyes met, and for a moment both did not say anything. Thinking back that day, Meera would say that she was beside herself. How did she end up liking man so different from her. All her life she has been practical except for this time when she met Parikshit.
It made no sense, but they kept on meeting each other at common friend’s houses, and finally when Parikshit asked her to have tea with him, she could hardly say no. Drawn by some invisible forces, she would listen him talking, his political views, his convictions that seem to fill up most of their evenings together. Then one day he asked her to marry him.
What was she thinking, she told herself? She knew her parents would never accept their match. Infact, she could never tell her parents, even when they fixed her marriage with an NRI living in America.Vinod was so utterly different from Parikshit. He as a grim practical man, loved his nine to five job. She told herself that she would be happy and secure with him and this was a right decision.

Parikshit had asked her again. This time, he had held her hands and told her that he cant live without her and that they would be happy together and she knew it. Meena looked into his eyes and then told him that her marriage has been fixed. He gazed fixedly into her eyes and then let go for her hands and left without a word. He was in Agra for the next two months before he left. During that time they never saw each other. Next month she was married to Vinod.
Yes, she has done the right thing she knew that.
But sometimes, as she lay tossing and turning in the bed, in her heart was an emptiness which kept growing into a storm, with each passing day. She thought how different her life could have been. Could have been. She often thought of what could have been if she had not denied Parikshit. Every night the moonlight streaming down her face provides little comfort or assurance. She looks at her husband, sleeping peaceful and sighs. Her insomnia lasted for almost a year before she went to a doctor, ridden with guilt that she might be laughed at for consulting for a small problem.
The doctor prescribes her sleeping pills. For the rest of her life she would be looking at the moon, until her head starts to feel heavy and the sharp round out-lines of the moon blurs like a distant traffic light and then disappears. For the rest of her life she would be looking at a bottle of pills like aladin’s magic lamp, to spare her the emptiness which grew like a giant spider spinning webs around her, trapping her.
“Meeraaa” cried Sara, “what are you thinking?”
“Hmm, nothing…” said Meera.

The Taj Mahal, gleamed in the dark like a phosphorescent object. The brightness of the full moon, the shimmering water surface of River Yamuna, even the glow in Sheba's face paled in comparison.
She takes her last picture, then takes off the camera from the tripod and puts it in the bag.
“Excellent, wonderful, done”, she said, excited like a child. "Nothing is as beautiful as this. Look at the moonlight falling on the Taj mahal against the backdrop of the blue sky and River Yamuna flowing. Almost mystic."
"Yes, wonderful. It is hard to believe that human hands could make something so marvelously pure and surreal as this.", Meena said, “but isn’t it ironic that the greatest expression of love is actually a mausoleum."
This wasnt a question. Sara opened her mouth to say something and then stopped.
Silence envelops them like an eerie darkness.
Both of them laid on the grass looking the stars and the grandeur of the monument bathed in silver light until the moon dimmed out-of-sight.

Warp and Woof

We are all bounded on this earth and in this universe. Our speed is limited by the speed of light. So also, is our fate bounded and challenged by a certain invisible boundary?

These days I have been toying with the questions of our fate versus our free will. Which one is stronger, which one is more effective? Or more importantly which one has a greater role to play in governing our lives.

People have asked unanswerable questions since the dawn of times. Some ask for the proof of the existence of God. Some ask for the exact nature of the atom. Some ask for the structure of universe. Some ask for the possibility of time dilation or time travel. And all of us, almost at some point of our lives want to know what the future holds for us.

Think about it. Before the results are out, you wish (just to kill the suspense) you knew how you faired in the examination. After a job interview, through a nail-biting waiting period, we all wish to know if we grabbed the job or missed the bus. In the middle of the suspense thriller (not all , but just me) I want to know what happens in the end.

But these are small ripples in a vast pond.

For a bigger thing such as wanting to know the future at very step of the journey, is something else. Just before we buy some stocks, we secretly hope and pray that the next day stock market would bring some good news for us. Astrology and predictions existed in all culture and religion. Even to this day, we look at the stars, and wonder if there position is sky could govern our lives. We believe that if we know the future, we can prepare ourselves for the battle ahead. And yet again, knowing too much about the future can always distort our views. Why so?

Knowing our future can inadvertently lead us towards its realization of the prophecy. In Shakespeare’s Macbeth, three witches prophesy his doom, which eventually ushers his downfall and death. Oedipus rex by Sophocles talks of prophecy being fulfilled and thus negates the influence of free will. And in both Macbeth and Oedipus Rex, the truth is known (predicted), and it becomes unavoidable to counter ones destiny. Hinduism represents the future and our action in terms of Karma “Fate is past karma; free-will is present karma. Both are really one, that is, karma, though they may differ in the matter of time. There can be no conflict when they are really one.”

Since past present and future are three different times – we might as well see what physics says about them. In Newton’s mechanistic "clockwork" universe everything proceeded deterministically, including human behavior. There is first a cause and then an effect. Hence there is not much chance of evading Fate or Destiny, both are inevitable and there can be only one conclusion to any event. When Einstein discovered neither time nor space are as we perceive them, but are intertwined in a 4-dimensional continuum. Next Quantum physics found that, far from following principles of cause and effect, reality at its fundamental level is inherently in-deterministic. And now we cannot even predict what an atom is going to behave under a give circumstance. Then what about the prediction of our lives, our future? How much truth is there in that Gypsy woman’s words, who looked through her crystal ball and charged 20 bucks for one question?

Despite the randomness of the sub-atomic universe the perceived world consisting of the effect of huge numbers of these micro-events does behave deterministically to a large degree. For example, if you save a few dollars each week your bank balance will grow, if you don't wrap in cold weather you'll likely catch cold.

Does the gamut of small decisions that we take on a daily basis together influence our lives and change our total individual history? Or is it the bigger events, or big drastically life chancing decisions that make the greater impact. After all you may lose your entire fortune in Vegas casinos in one night and land up being in rags the next morning.

There are three basic positions we can adopt on the question of free will: either we have absolute free will, or we have no free will at all, or we have a certain measure of free will. The idea that we are absolutely free is clearly far-fetched, for there are certain obvious restrictions on our freedom: we are not free to do anything that we are physically incapable of doing. For example, we cannot change the past, breathe under water, or fly like a bird. In addition to these physical limitations, there are also psychological limitations on our freedom: our mental conditioning and our numerous habits and instincts play a major role in determining our actions. Some people might say that all these constraints are so powerful that we have no control over them whatsoever and have no free will at all. This extreme position is known as fatalism, predeterminism, or 'hard' determinism. According to fatalism, we cannot choose to do anything other than what we do choose to do; everything we do is predestined, and our feeling of being free is an illusion. Fatalism is impossible to prove, but it's also impossible to disprove, because a fatalist would say that whatever we do or say to try and disprove fatalism is itself determined by fate!

So are we locked in that gilded cage called Fate inside of which we can move freely which we call our Free Will as long as we are inside the cage we can choose to do anything but being bounded by Fate, we can never really get out of captivity.

If free will is a voluntary act, it is also controlled by our nature, which is predetermined by our genetic make up. But boiling everything down to one thing – there seems to be no one outcome of a dice throw. When probability comes into picture, everything has a chance of occurring or not occurring. Every future that we know or don’t know will have its chance of happening and not happening. But who has the hand in making it happen/ not happen?

I’d like to say it’s the individual.

Yet again, it’s another one of those Catch 22 conundrum.

The Sunflower Field

The train stopped with a metallic screech.

It was a hot sweltering afternoon of mid march; the sky was clear blue, fields of yellow sunflower stretched as far as eyes could see from the train window. Jas sat up wriggling his eyes and blinking at the field of sparkling yellow sunflower. Afternoon stupor has set in and his fellow passengers were asleep.

Jas got up, stretching his arms and legs. Might as well take a breath of fresh air outside he thought. Jas climbed down from the train. The train has stopped in the middle of nowhere. Most of the people are asleep , their windows shut to keep out the afternoon sun. Jas had a strange feeling of being alone in this train, even though it was full of people. Suddenly the world seemed to be devoid of sound or movement. There is no wind, Jas thought, that is why this eerie silence.

He waved irritably at the dragon fly which had come from nowhere, flying in front of his face.

Jas looked at the sunflower field that lay before him, the flowers in full bloom facing up at the sun, all in a row. He stared at them. Suddenly he noticed a movement in the field. The plants in the first row in front of him began to move. Jas blinked. Maybe he was daydreaming. But surely, the plants could not have moved. But there it was, the plants had moved to create a small path through the field. Jas tapped his forehead, he was dreaming to be sure. Maybe the path was already there and he did not see it the first time. Curious, he walked towards the fields. There it was, a neat way amidst the sunflower field. He was tempted to go further into the fields.

But then he must be careful. He did not know how long the train will stop. Jas turned to looked at the train, it didn’t look like the train will start any time soon. May be he could take a short walk down the field, Jas thought. He started walking. The sunflower trees were quite tall, reaching 2 or 3 inches above his head. He kept on walking down the field pushing away the branches and stems with his hands. He began to sweat from the heat. Jas halted and looked behind. He had walked a good 15 mins. The train was still there. But, the path behind him was gone. Jas looked again carefully. The path through which he walked was not there anymore, but he could still see the path in front of him. But surely the plants couldn’t have moved. But where did the path go? Then how could it have disappeared.

Jas stood thinking. Suddenly, without warning, the train pulled forward. He started to panic. Then the train began to move slowly. Noooo, he said. He ran forward, waving his hands in the air. Stop. Stop.

But the wheels of the train has already started moving. He broke into a run now. But the sunflower stems were thick and strong. He began to use both his arms to push the stem and branches away. But it was difficult to run through the plants. Was the field so densely planted before? He thought suddenly. Were the trees so closely placed? The train had already started moving away. He began to push the trees wildly in all directions. But they were like a fortress of green. He began to move his arms wildly. The train quickly picked up speed and disappeared in the horizon. Jas stopped, panting with exhaustion and fatigue. Suddenly he realized that he was very tired.

Jas sat down to catch his breath. His heart was racing wildly. The trees began to loom over him, sunflowers looking down at him. Yes, looking down, he realized with horror, the sunflowers were looking down at him. Or maybe he was hallucinating. He rubbed his eyes. No, still the flowers were drooping down from the step facing him. He looked around him. There was an absolute silence. Not even a single fly buzzing in the air.

He moved to the right of were he was sitting. The flowers turned right, facing him. Suddenly he wanted to get out of the fields immediately.

Jas began to crouch on all fours trying to squeeze through the plants. But the foliage was denser below, leaves and thick hairy stem stalks grazed against him. No, it was impossible to get through the plants. He looked up again. The flowers were still looking down at him. The plants seem to crowd around him. He could hardly see the sky. His heart raced. He tried to stand up. But his legs began to shake with fear.

The heat was terrible. He began to wipe sweat off his face and brows. Jas had a sudden urge to lie down and close his eyes. Maybe this was all a bad dream. Maybe this was his imagination. Maybe he didn’t miss the train. Maybe he wasn’t there at all. He closed his eyes and opened it; he was still there. He pinched himself, no he was not dreaming. Or maybe that was also in the dream. His began to feel tired like he had never felt before. It was the heat, he thought, he was silly. He leaned against the plants and began to rest. Rest is what he needed now he thought to himself. His eyelids began to feel heavy. He tried to keep them open. The plants seem to come still closer. The flowers seem to grow bigger. He did not care anymore. He tried to push the foliage away, but his arms wouldn’t move. Something began sapping all his energy and his desire to move. Deep down, a voice within him was telling him to close his eyes and not to worry.

Maybe he should sleep. It was becoming hard to keep his eyes open. His vision was blurring. He thought he saw stems twine around his feet, his hands and his neck. But he did not feel anything so he just laid there. Then he gave up and closed his eyes. The last thing he saw was the trees moving closer, so close that he could see sunflower right in front of his eyes. He could smell them now the flowers were so close, he could see the brown whorls, the yellow petals. Strangely as they drew closer the flower petals appeared dark red. Everything was blurring out-of-focus fast.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep.