Eternal Rhapsody

By Aishani Ghoshal

She sighed as she lay in her bed, her bangles clinking as her hands moved restlessly. In her old age she had naught to do; and yet she looked not her age. Her old hands were not as withered as they should be; her face, perhaps only slightly more wrinkled than that in her youth. Her health, a subject of admiration to those around her; she could not call them her friends, for she knew them not; all she knew was gone. She could not call them her enemies, for she had none. In her loneliness, she had nothing but thoughts, and memories, and her past. And these she dwelled in, these she thrived in. Her mind aged, her wisdom grew; but her body did not. It was almost as if something invisible, something mysterious, something quite untouchable surrounded her.

As the days bled into nights, jumbled with the weeks, and the months, and the years, her mind wandered; only to return to him. Him, whom she had never forgotten; for, how could she? And yet she had lived her life without him, simply because it was her destiny to live not with him, but his memories. And they were her most precious treasures, those memories.

She had forced him to the back of her mind, had continued with her activities; but he was always there: in every step she walked in the meadows, in every movement she made as she danced, in every note she crooned as she sang, her voice sailing like a lark flying high over the clouds into the glow of the setting sun. He was there, he was there, he was there.

He was there everywhere and nowhere; at everytime but not at all. He was the universe and he was the atom. He was the breath of life and the gasp of death. He was the joy of a mother and the sorrow of a widow. He was the innocence of a child and the wisdom of a man. He was the protector of all yet the destroyer of some. He was everything and nothing. And he was there. In her heart and in her mind. In her tears and in her laughs. In her dreams and in her fears. In her past and in her future. He was there, he was there, he was there.

He had always been there. But as her age grew, she seemed to be reaching out to him; her heart yearned for him, for those golden days of yesteryear. She could feel her soul tugging, pulling desperately to reach him, and she could feel the combined cry of her heart and mind during her many, many sleepless nights.

But that one night, she did sleep; as if a hand had gently shut her eyelids for her. And she dreamt.

She dreamt of a lush green meadow, the babble of the flowing river: a clear, undiluted blue. She heard the noise of her own echoing laughter, childish and carefree. She heard the clink of her bangles, the tinkle of her payals. She was running, light as a wisp of air. She was running, and she knew exactly where.

Her body tingled with excitement as she reached the large tree, its branches a safe haven for humans and animals alike. The sun was setting, and cast a mellow glow through the leaves. And there he was.

His silhouette as erect and handsome as ever, the hint of a smile on his lips. The golden glow of the sun surrounded him, like a golden halo, as if the sunlight itself was bending towards him. Sweet, beautiful, haunting music played, delighting mind and soul. But that was not what she seeked. She stepped forward, eyes narrowed into slits as she tried to see him. Only him. She managed to decipher his smile, but did not have the time to study it. For his smile was the radiance; and the brighter it grew, the more blinded she was. She tried to call out, but not a sound emerged. Then suddenly all the light vanished, and she felt herself flying backward, and then she heard him speak: 

“We shall meet soon, my love.”

And then she awoke with a gasp. Moonlight streamed through the window. She realised with despair that she hadn’t even slept the entire night; merely a few hours. She stared at the prahar lamp next to her. Dawn was not far. And unlike her other nights, this one was not an empty one, where she lay haunted by the ghosts of her past. She had the dream to mull over.

For it was the first of its kind; the first of a long string of its kind.

And she knew now, perhaps even better than before, that he was there. And it brought her comfort. He was there, he was there, he was there.

***

She did not have a reason to live.

But then she did not have a reason to die.

So she lived. To overcome the long, blank stretches of day, the hours of drudgery with nothing and no one to love, she meditated. She threw herself into the deep bliss of silence, of peace. Turned off her mind and focused on her soul, feeling its warmth and joy, chill and grief. She took sanyas and detached herself from her worldly ties, for they simply had no value anymore. The peace of meditation, and the knowledge gained from nature were, to her, the true gems, more valuable than diamonds or gold. A simple, frugal meal of fruit and alms satisfied her hunger more than any of the rich dishes she had ever eaten.

But when she slept, she always returned to the meadows. And he was there.

Her memories became her dreams. She re-experienced the fear, sadness and anger; but also the safety, peace and happiness. For she could not remember being as happy as she had been, when she had been with him.

She saw once more the meadow in all its beauty; emerald green during rains, a little drier during summers. Dotted with flowers during spring, their colourful petals dancing in the sun. Covered with red, and brown, and yellow leaves in autumn, blown about by the chilly breeze. She saw the majesty of the skies: deep blue and quiet in the morning, dark and stormy, with streaks of lightning slicing it in half during thunderstorms, flushed a pale pink during dawn, the gold of the sun sparkling with the morning dew, violet at dusk with stars twinkling and winking bravely, and black at night with the silver moonlight illuminating the path for travellers, terrified of the dark.

But she also saw him. She saw him as he danced, with an almost unnatural grace; she saw him as he spoke, a calm and depth to his voice she would never know in any other. Everywhere she went in her dream, he was there, somehow, somewhere. In her heart and in her mind. In her tears and in her laughs. In her dreams and in her fears. In her past and in her future. He was there, he was there, he was there.

And she revelled in his presence, and felt her soul grow warmer, lighter, felt her heart dance with joy. Because she could not remember being as happy as she had been with him. And because she knew he was there. He was there, he was there, he was there.

***

It was strange, how much significance time had had in her life, once. But not anymore. Her steps wearied, her hair greyed, but it did not matter anymore, how much time had passed. She aged rapidly, but scarcely noticed. Because she was at peace; content to live and content to die.

And of course, he was there. He had never left her.

She usually slept well at night; however that one night, she felt she simply could not. Her eyes remained open, as if someone had gently forced them to do so. She lay quietly, waiting, a subdued sense of excitement growing slowly inside of her.

And then suddenly, she was standing. Back in her beloved meadow. She heard familiar, sweet, haunting music. Calling out to her.

She began to move towards its source, travelling through the soft, wet grass. She passed the gurgling river, and stopped to dip her hand in the cold, swift current, and felt a strange elation as a few drops splashed her face and feet. She looked at the stars in the night sky, twinkling cheerfully at her, but outshone by the bright silver moon, its silvery rays illuminating the flowers and trees, but also creating deep, wondrous shadows. A cool breeze caressed her cheek as she walked slowly, enjoying every magnificent sensation.

She knew the direction, of course; but there was still that blinding radiance to guide her, growing steadily brighter as she moved closer, until at last she saw the huge tree. And he was there, perched on one of its wide, bending branches.

But the light did not blind her like usual this time. Instead it dimmed to a gentle glow surrounding only him. And he smiled at her, and uttered her name.

She studied his smile. It was full of mischief and sincerity, innocence and wisdom, pain and pleasure. She studied his dark eyes, swirling with emotion, wit and power; but also humility and love; she had never seen any eyes like his, in her entire life. 

He said something, his smile turning teasing, but she didn’t quite register it. His voice was deep but musical; silky but rough. It was beautiful, melodious, otherworldly. She never had heard anything like it before. But she had never met anyone like him, neither before nor after.

Because he was unique.

And he was there.

A sudden ecstasy filled her, something emanating from deep inside of her, and a laugh escaped her. She watched his lips curl up even further as he outstretched his arms. 

And her soul tugged desperately and was set free; and it drifted forward, her with it, as she finally entered his arms, and her soul merged with his; and she had never felt quite as much bliss, so much happiness, and she knew why. Because he was there, with her, and he would never leave again.

He was there. In her heart and in her mind. In her tears and in her laughs. In her dreams and in her fears. In her past and in her future. He was there, he was there, he was there.

And her mortal body, in its dying breath, let out one last sigh and uttered his name, what would be her first and last words.

“Krishna…”

The End.

By Aishani Ghoshal