Ocean eyes, an illusion or a reality… [Image by 愚木混株 Cdd20 from Pixabay]
All that you see, all that is in your mind, all that you have experienced, all that which breathes within you, exists only because you are.
The inevitable change assures gently that illusion is reality and the rest a seeming.
The carousel of life goes on; from the darkest night to the brightest morning, from black and white to the rich spectrum, you pass by. Humming a single note, you pass by.
The end, the beginning. Remember?
You created the rainbow as you saw it, you replied to the mountain when you echoed, you walked ahead to make it happen, you looked behind to say goodbye, you stopped to realise and what was beyond came to you with an epiphany.
Illusion is a friend. Fathomable, it is the reality.
Playing hide and seek, living-loving-laughing, collecting stones and moments, she picked a golden one. It flew away but left her hand glowing.
*
Lovely golden-brown hair, a tinge of black and kohl-eyed (you beautiful one), he had a unique habit of watching the birds, following them as far as he could with his eyes (do you know this bird, hmm).
She thought he was a dog who wanted to become a bird. Happy by nature, he came rushing madly whenever she whistled (my gugglu-pugglu come here you); he knew it was evening walk time.
He loved the walks, the joy in his eyes, running fast like a deer, jumping cutely like a rabbit proved so every single day (run-run-run-yeah).
She found him notorious and innocent, funny and silly, crazy and cute, all (you are a clown, yes you are).
She can never forget how he once gazed at the moon; mesmerized by the round shape in the sky, wondering, maybe, when and how does it fly… he just kept looking.
Caressing him one evening, after the walk, she didn’t know what was to befall (you biscuit lover, don’t go now).
If only she had the faintest idea, a frivolous hunch, she would have never let him go outside the house.
That night he didn’t return, even when she whistled; she went in the dark, calling out his name, but no sign of him.
Early next morning, walking and whistling, asking any and everyone in the village, she wished to see him, see him come rushing towards her from somewhere so that she could hold him tight in her arms and never let him go.
Two months have passed and she still wishes the same. Her eyes quietly wait to see him.
She watches the birds more closely now. She wishes to fly.
Beauty of green lake and lotus. Image by Prawny from Pixabay
It was not the depth of the green lake that stopped Meredith, but the quietness.
She threw a stone, sending ripples in the lake, which emphatically made the quietness more evident. This silence scared her, for she could hear her mind talk ceaselessly.
Sitting under a tree, Meredith gazed at the path she came through and saw a tiny bird, green and yellow in colour, happily hopping near it.
Her childhood wish to become a bird made her smile. She took out her diary and wrote –
Like a bird I’ll fly
One day
When the chains will rot
At 7:45 dot
And if the spirit remembers
Out of deep slumber
That I can –
Searching for a word, Meredith happened to glance at the tiny bird that was now hopping near the tree. She then observed that the path through which she came had vanished.
She got up and looked around as if the path would walk back and settle where it was laid before.
Confused, she took a few steps in the hope to find the path. Was the path just in her mind, she thought.
The tiny bird hopped towards her and then flew away. Meredith noticed, to her amazement, that there lay a fresh track – the steps that she took, formed a new path.
Meredith felt her heartbeat increase; she then walked towards the lake. Ponderously she turned and found the fresh path stretched to the point where she was standing.
Amused, she walked ahead, giggled and hopped, only to stop and write in her diary –
That I can choose to either
Follow or make a new path
Meredith picked up a stone, threw it in the lake, and beamed.
It was not only the lotus flowers in the lake but the music it played that left her mesmerized.
Locked in a room without a door, I am divided into two. Now red, the walls resent me for something I am unaware about. But the other side of me knows nothing of it. Lost in dancing, this part of me can see a ray of light. A strange light that brightens up whenever I dance.
The red walls and the part sitting rigidly next to it can also see the strange light and me, dancing. Ecstasy shared a blissful piece with me. When did this happen?
When a part of me almost left the room, a part of me refused to move.
I know nothing about the strange light and this nothingness has brought me closer to freedom. But the flustered part of me is stuck and is waiting for an invisible veneer of conflict to accept defeat. And the truth awaits.
Mo: It is Pip’s. (BEAT) Have you been drinking a lot of coffee?
Lucille: I have been advised to.
Mo: That doctor friend of yours is a nut case.
A pause.
Lucille: I can’t believe it? Are we living in… this is ridiculous?
Mo: What is?
Lucille: Haven’t you read today’s newspaper?
Mo: Ah! I don’t read newspapers anymore.
Lucille: Why?
Mo: For peace, darling.
Lucille: Peace… yeah, right.
Mo: Wanna piece of it?
Lucille: Piece of peace? What are you…
Mo: The carrot cake… what’s wrong with ya Lucille?
Lucille: O! Yeah, sure. (EATING THE CAKE) Whatever is happening, it hits everyone… directly or indirectly I mean… it hits everyone.
Mo: Hmm! This place has the best cakes in the world.
Lucille: I love it here! (BEAT) Is there any hope?
Mo: Hope? Hmm… there is always some hope… that’s what is dragging us, you know, ya.
Lucille: Dragging us you say…
Mo: Of course! I mean come on, where is “hope” leaving for? It’s not in any rush like us, I… I hope. Gosh! (BEAT) I feel a bit eerie today, I don’t know why.
Lucille: No really? No, it’s lovely today.
The grey weather outside changes into black and the wild dancing winds start to pour heavy rain, the clouds roar loudly declaring that they too have read the sad newspaper. Lightning hits a tree and its huge branch breaks and falls.
Mo: Storm’s here. Is it still lovely for you? Lucille!
Lucille: What? Hm? Yeah! But listen, where did you park the car?
Mo: Why? Under the tree. But why?
Lucille: Now it is literally under the tree, crushed I suppose.
Mo: What! (GETS UP) O, no!
Lucille: Wait, try some strong coffee, you’ll feel better and hopeful.
Mo: Wa… Lucille, you’re crazy!
Mo leaves hurriedly.
Lucille: Mo! Pip’s umbrella!! (PAUSE) I think I hit a nerve there… but black coffee works wonders… I can’t do without it… especially after reading the newspaper.
I live in a forgotten memory state most of the times, walking along the sun and the moon, day and night. Only rarely I stop to relish Time as I understand it, as I feel it and as it is. The permanence once broken, gazing at Time, I am left utterly surprised. Astonished, I either laugh or cry. Occasionally I question it, avoiding the immediate answer.
Everything’s a repeat with a mild treasure of experience here and pieces of happy love there. But what is with the definite tad of magic in each poor-mediocre-rich life? I say this magic is responsible for breaking the humdrum existence. Routine, shallow journey suddenly becomes grandiose, miraculous and whatnot.
Apart from the universe-wide-famous constant change, there is another true power – to forget or not to forget. And I choose not to forget, but I’ll need to remind myself to remember it. Meanwhile, I have the sun and the moon and I am walking along, day and night.
I live in a forgotten memory state most of the times, walking along the sun and the moon, day and night. Only rarely I stop to relish Time as I understand it, as I feel it and as it is. The permanence once broken, gazing at Time, I am left utterly surprised. Astonished, I either laugh or cry. Occasionally I question it, avoiding the immediate answer.
Everything’s a repeat with a mild treasure of experience here and pieces of happy love there. But what is with the definite tad of magic in each poor-mediocre-rich life? I say this magic is responsible for breaking the humdrum existence. Routine, shallow journey suddenly becomes grandiose, miraculous and whatnot.
Apart from the universe-wide-famous constant change, there is another true power – to forget or not to forget. And I choose not to forget, but I’ll need to remind myself to remember it. Meanwhile, I have the sun and the moon and I am walking along, day and night.
Tenzin Achi’s magical! [Image by Tri Le from Pixabay]
*
Tenzin Achi for the first time was going to reveal the hidden treasure of her green old trunk. She knew we children were very keen and would do anything just to even take a peek inside. Especially after Lo’s encounter with an alien creature who guaranteed Lo that he came via the green old trunk.
When Tenzin Achi was approached to confirm this incident, she had just laughed and said, “Ask the green trunk.” No one ever dared to do that of course.
And today Tenzin Achi has agreed, astonishingly, at such a low bid – one chocolate and five cookies – to introduce us to the mysterious dwelling of the trunk.
“Oi… not letting you see inside”, said Tenzin Achi, “I’ll show you all myself, stay back.” I knew it, we are duped… she wouldn’t have let our curiosity die so soon.
But you know what, we all were prepared for it. Tenzin Achi is famous as canny granny.
Behold, she announced and took out a pair of silver tinned wire loops, which a talking dragon gifted her. Then came out five stones – red, indigo, yellow, green and white; she collected them from a planet she visited, named Kakuraa, and were extremely precious stones.
Seeing none of us impressed, she challenged us to visit planet Kakuraa and ask anyone about the credibility of the stones. Silence prevailed and when someone yawned, Tenzin Achi was seen sweating.
She then took out a tiny copper ball. Now this appealed to all us children and Tenzin Achi beamed.
There was a message engraved on the tiny copper ball and “only a warrior could read it” said Tenzin Achi. Dramatically she said some words in her dialect and we understood zilch of it, but we stayed hooked.
We all gasped in chorus as she twisted and opened the tiny copper ball. She first made all of us swear with our hands on our heart, “don’t pass my secret to anyone – I am a warrior of Phui clan.” We obeyed as we were clueless and eager to know what’s hidden in the copper ball.
Veil uncovered, Tenzin Achi took out a small piece of crumpled cloth from the copper ball, red-white pattern knitted, it looked extremely ordinary, but the story attached to it wasn’t.
She told us about Zumuh (that piece of cloth had a name). When the Kakuraa dynasty decided to leave for another world, they left on this planet, bits of Zumuh. These magical pieces worked as a Genie and it wasn’t easy to get one. Only who believed in magic and showed reverence to the Kakuraa dynasty could find it. Umpteenth times, she said proudly, Zumuh had helped her. Magic lived in her heart and pocket.
Pazo then said harshly, ‘Tenzin Achi is trying to fool us… this Zumuh can’t be used even as a hanky.’ Laughter filled Tenzin Achi’s old wooden room, but she stayed quiet, like me and Lo. Were there tears in her eyes?
I don’t know, but I stood up and told everyone “I too have a Zumuh, it saved my life thrice from a dog.”
They knew it was true, Kaalu had bitten Pazo and even Lo, but I managed to save my pajamas and myself somehow. I took out a round and rotted plastic but alive key ring from my pocket; with red-white pattern on it, I presented my Zumuh.
I told them that a great traveller gave it to me near the hilltop and then vanished. Surprisingly Lo agreed, adding that he too saw that great traveller vanish into thin air.
Pazo asked me to demonstrate the power of the Zumuh. Tenzin Achi had something else in her eyes then – spark of magic.
I stretched my hand, holding the key-ring and shouted, ‘Zumuh show your power, I believe in you.’
‘I also believe in you O Zumuh, let the magic shine’, said Tenzin Achi as she copied me and looked towards the roof, as if it was magical and we could see through it. Lo, who was without any Zumuh, also got up and screeched ‘I also believe.’
Many eyes were glued to the Zumuh and I was actually hoping for a magical blast.
Thunder!!!!!! We all literally jumped on our places. The sky replied and immediately it started to snow.
Although it was winter, it wasn’t the time of the year for the clouds to shower snow. I yelped, ‘Thank you Zumuh.’
We all rock and rolled and tried to copy Tenzin Achi’s funny one-leg-in-the-air-dance, singing ‘zumuh, kakuraa, o zumuh, kakuraa!!’
*
Lightning dances along with them. [Source – Pixabay]
That I am and that I am not is a seeming. Life is a seeming just like its partner, death.
*
A beautiful sunrise/ sunset… a beautiful seeming. [Source – Pixabay]
Rosaline, sitting on the branch of a huge tree, was collecting the passing clouds. Though friends with the clouds, she didn’t like to see them at night, maybe because she also collected stars.
The day-night cycle confused her. Grandma’s solution “you’ll understand it once you become a big girl” didn’t help Rosaline at all.
And so she started living in different worlds – the-bright-blue-sky-world, the-mischievous-cloudy-world, the-paper-boat-rainy-world, the-sparkling-starry-world, the-moon-pie-world, the-ghostly-pitch-black-world…
Two worlds sometimes merged into one and formed something unique.
Whichever world Rosaline was in, she was always excited to live it fully. Happily, she always announced early in the morning “today I’ll be in the-mischievous-cloudy-world’ or ‘give way to Rosaline, the-moon-pie-world awaits her.”
Lost in her myriad worlds, she lived madly. She even recorded her visits to these wonderful worlds.
She was proud to be the youngest and the oldest member of her family, youngest by age and oldest by the many visits she made to these worlds.
On her 92nd visit to the crunchy-autumn-leaves-world, she died. She fell from a huge tree.
Her last words were, “Grandma, you need to plus 22 more worlds to break my record”.
Endless footprints following footprints/
When suddenly a few of them rise/
To bloom like a flower.
Greetings!
A storyteller, following the ancient tradition of cave chroniclers, standing in vrikshasana (the tree pose) on a hill top (it is sunny, but windy), breathing in and out stories (relishing it all, but at times overwhelmed), declares animatedly that she will continue to – tell stories, share rare story gems, and connect with the pacy universe while also keeping the website ad-free.
Big thanks to my readers. Stay tuned!
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Ya-hoy!
Chiming Stories (formerly Home Chimes)
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