The pale lights twinkle, unaffected by their failure to lighten the dark sky. They simply go on, shining, blinking, and twinkling in their own right. Simple not bothered, embracing the stillness of the canvas.
In the stillness that is the call of the night, the lights reflect on the dark black irises that inhabit my face, embedded deep under layers of natural protection as God had fashioned. A tiny mist forms every time the human me inhales and exhales for oxygen. Somewhere a cricket sounds out to its brethren, what for, only it knows. That is all the action happening in the dead night. Miniscule movements – which would go unnoticed in the history of time, but universal enough to be as true as the starry sky.
Yet, the stillness is only a perception. Just like my lack of movement fails to reflect the inner restlessness that is waiting to burst free. No, not the action that keeps my heart beating, my blood flowing, and my organs alive. The restlessness keeps my consciousness alive, constantly aware of the lack of poignancy in the meaning of our existence. It is the teacher that subsequently pushes us to drive up to new heights, and then once there, humbles us to accept our smallness in the universe.
I see the mountain peak, white with snow and shining as the stars reflect off its surface. It is there, waiting to teach me my lesson. Yet, here I lie in the grass, surrounded by stillness and nature. Already learning the lesson of the universe. Does that make the mountain useless? Does it realise that I will never climb the peak to learn the lesson? That it was only a means to an already ended ‘end’? Does it suffer from the realisation that it is not indispensable?
I call out for an answer.
“No,” a voice like rumbling rocks grumbled. “I am not here to be the means to your end.”
“Then?” I ask, demand, beg for an answer.
“I don’t have the answer. It’s within you.”
Silence. The restlessness builds within again, waiting for an exit in the form of a scream. It builds, slowly and powerfully, like a tsunami waiting to ravish the landmass ahead. At the tip of the tongue, though, the mind exerts control. The tsunami inside abates, unfulfilled and unsatisfied, but by no means destroyed. After all, there cannot be a body without some darkness within. Light is always accompanied with shadows.
“Maybe there was more to be learnt over the course of the journey,” a meek voice sounded. Lost in the restlessness, I looked for the voice. Where did it come from?
“It was not just the mountain, but also the grass plains, the rocky plateaus and the vicarious mountain slopes that were to play a role.”
The voice seemed far away, but was steadily drawing nearer.
“Not just in shaping your lesson, but learning their own lessons too.”
“The same lesson you were to learn, and thought you learnt in the stillness of the starry sky.”
“Thought? I did learn the lesson. I am inconsequential. My presence or absence won’t cause any ripples in the universe.”
“What have I done that would have an impact? Nothing.”
“Look around, what do you see? Nothing. Who would remember me after I am gone? No one. Nothing I have done is out of the ordinary. Nothing that would last.”
“Do all ripples last forever in time?”
I could see a shadow moving closer. Its clothes were billowing, even though there was no wind. A soft shine was emanating, stopping me from making out its details. It finally arrived and stopped in front of me.
The dark black sunken eyes, the squarish straight eyebrows, the dimpled chin looked familiar to me. Vaguely so. Its beauty was distracting, stopping my mind from making the connection. Caught in that moment, the restlessness within lost all impulse.
And in that moment of clarity, brief as it was, the beautiful shadow opened its mouth and spoke.
The voice came from inside me. “You just ‘are’. That’s all. Nothing else matters.”