A crooked shade

Here you are again. A familiar blur who shows up once in a while on this land. Why is it that you visit this place again and again? Go around and you will find places offering a view far prettier than what this place has to offer. What is it again? You are here for me? Liar, I pity you.

I am a crooked version of what I could be. In the shadows of my kins around, I had to warp myself to survive. If it is for me that you are here, then you and I share the spirit of resilience and survival. But that is not true, is it? You do not need to survive, the world is an open pasture for you but you choose to not utilise it.

That is the crucial difference between you and I. And that is why you are a liar. It is not the lies you tell me which are worrisome, but the ones you feed yourself with. I have marked a space, a unique identity and nurtured a million stories under my shade. My roots hold me anchored to this land, free from the fear of any hurricane that might come my way. What have you done? You have allowed yourself to float in the cosmos, never finding a ground. Without a ground, you will not grow. Just because you have feet and can move about does not mean that in this realm you can allow yourself to not be rooted. Just sunlight will do you no good if there is nothing filling you up with the pain and joy of the land around you.

That grave you are sitting on has a story I have been a guardian of, for a long time now. That grave will wither away and I too shall perish. But what I gave to the world will carry my life force to another dimension. And I am here to advise you to do the same. There are infinite layers and complexities in any aspect of tangible and intangible. And you can spend your life trying to uncover them. But do not forget that underneath all the layers, lies a single unifier. And the more you are aware of that, the easier it will be to peel off the layers.

Take this advise from a crooked pine tree and stop searching for answers and just sit and listen. The answer is all around you.

A bat and a ball

Well I would prefer smoking other things, but tobacco works well! And a railway toilet is perfect. You look out the window and the world goes by and you look down that hole and the tracks fly past… This trains has a vibe which changes with each compartment. The transition from one coach to another is like moving to another dimension. I walked around multiple times, just couldn’t trace which dimension you were sitting in. But then I was able to retrace myself and here we are.

I mistook your identity initially. You struck me as someone who would be writing a research paper but then no perceptions are definitive and I know more about you now.

I liked the beach. there was so much energy. And the vibes! These were months well spent. I am heading to a village in Himachal now. That is where an old, oddly tall, gaunt man like me can finally be restful and write in peace. Of course I would stop by Dharamshala briefly, but not too long. That place is for you, who has just begun the journey, to take lessons from that space. May it teach you good and may you continue being a good learner.

I want to meet a person there though. Well he was a little kid when he was smuggled from Tibet to safer havens and I was given a task to teach him English. A young kid, full of energy! He didn’t want to learn English yet. No no. He wanted to play and run and be in the nature. Well as it happened, we used to live in a huge farm in the hills. So I got a plastic bat and a tennis ball. I would hit the ball hard and he would run around trying to find it in the wilderness. And discovering the nature while at it. In the meantime I would lay back and catch a nice siesta.

Well, that kid is a young monk now. I want to buy a plastic bat and a tennis ball in Dharamshala and gift it to him. And tell him that I can still hit the ball farther than he can! Ha ha.

A Plea from the Shadows

You.

Help me.

Talk to my family.

Tell them that it is not my fault.

I hold your hands and plead for help.

There are people after me.

The gunshots you heard were for me.

Yes, those who are trying to shoot me down are outside, searching the neighbourhood. Its good that this room has no lights. Shadows can be dangerous. My sister is packing some emergency rations for me in a bag - food, clothes, cash and other essentials. I need to flee this city, the state rather, and do this in the cover of the night. Once I board the train, I might be safe.

Nobody wants a bullet in their skull. I am no different. I do not possess the luxury of time and a common language to explain you the situation. Would you like to come along? They would not shoot an outsider! Yes! This is perfect. You come and I will be safe. Can’t you see I am pleading? Come!

Oh you coward! I am wasting my time asking you for help. Why would you help me? I am nothing to you. This is not your problem, it is mine. The sweat, the blood, the fear, the anxiety, the trauma, the fault, the righteousness… all mine. I cannot depend on you. You will probably be a liability. I doubt you would last a day in the jungle I have to wade through to reach the station undetected.

I am out of time. Hear those cars circling the neighbourhood? The locals are afraid. They have locked their homes. Why would anyone want to be a part of this? When it comes down to hunter and hunted, the crowd becomes a bystander. Nobody wants to be caught in the cross fire.

My own family wont hide me. Chances are that nobody will come and check here, but who would take that risk? Let me ask you something. Are you afraid? You need not be. They are not looking for you. They are not robbers. They are not the rebellion. They are hunters. They have found me guilty and I am to be dealt with.

Bye stranger, pray for me. Pray that it is not a dead man walking that you met on this fateful night.