The whispers of a silent upheaval

Have you ever heard a canary whispering in the ears of the fragrant breeze blowing in from the pacific ? The pillar of imagination just stretches along the sky to help us marry our meandering thoughts and dreams to the designs of nature. When the elements of our mind transcend the physical...metaphysical... and imaginative realms of nature, there is absolute bliss or there is limitless confusion which would tear you apart to disgruntled pieces of disjoint emotions. The choice unlike in the life we know, is not yours

 

If you are still wondering if I am on dope, my answer would be not exactly. There are instances in this beautiful and powerful universe that make the most rational and couter-imaginative of us to think hard, thoughts that question the very basics of what we believe in. I just started putting my myriad thoughts into words when I was travelling along the mighty rockies of the American midwest and I realised to my utter dismay, the inability of words to capture my simple instincts.

 

When you start walking in solitude, when nothing transpiring around you makes any sense to you, you get into a state of what I call translucent fantasy. My friends sometimes quip that I have a tendency to halluncinate in thin air and that I see characters and machinations personified in ways that question the rationality of a human being as we know it. But I never constrain the beautiful silhoutte of my dream with rationality. No, its not worth it and I have found it the hard way.

 

A brisk trek along a small rock is something I always cherish. Rocks remind me of patience, of humility. When a guy on whom you are clinging for support is lying there for 5000 years, you always wish you sit for a chat with him and beg him to share his experiences. And when I trek, I hear a faint voice that almost always sounds of familiarity. I claw my way on top of the monolith and am not sure if I am prepared to mentally to view the scene I witnessed.

 

A small boy, around 6 years into this world and his pony, shoulder on shoulder walk along the rock. He is dressed in an unassuming fashion, with a leather skin wrapping his tiny body and leaving his feet bare. He crosses a stream of pleasant water until something pricks him. He looks at his toe, but makes no attempt to get to the area of pain. Instead he looks at the ground, and something astounds him. He sees something sharp. The pony looks at it and turns its head around in disdain. The boy chuckles, is pleased with himself and starts to dig enthusiastically, with a passion that we so long to see in our loved ones. Moments turn into minutes, minutes into hours and he hits upon something. Its a marble lining about 7 feet tall and a foot wide. He takes out a stone and starts breaking the slab. I still was trying to make out what the thing that excited the boy so much was. The pony now moves away and drinks some water turning around at the boy at intervals that it seems fit. The boy puts his hand into the box and removes what seems to be small white sticks. He takes out his sledge hammer, and with a shine in his eyes, starts to work something out of the rod. The sound is hollow and the breeze is calm. Its not unless he unearthed an oval shaped object, that I could make out that the box was a casket and the tiny items that had sustained our subject's interest for this long were bones of a human body buried time immemorial. I just gasped for air. It was lonely out there.

 

And he finishes his job finally. He carves out a beautiful knife - sharp and light, tugs it under his leather belt. He calls his pony with a song and running it comes to pick its hero. The bones lie there unattended and far high up the sky, I can hear the sounds of a vulture who is pleasantly surprised by the turn of events. Like i told earlier, I tried hard to summon words to fill the hiatus between my mind and my brain - but of no avail. I gave up, just allowing the melancholic shudder to sink in. It signified the futility of rationality, the limitless definition of beauty, the chillness of pain in the laps of nature.

 

Do you think I am hallucinating ? I wish. Reality and rationality are not mathematical anymore.