Life In Echoes

Preface: 

26 June 2017:

 I joined IIM Kozhikode to pursue my Masters considering:-

Engineering job at an MNC in India is low paying and has a low growth curve (Though my work was exciting, and for a fresher R&D job was a dream come true)

My family’s financial health didn’t allow me to go abroad and take admission in a great MS institute (i loved engineering), and didn’t want to settle there as well in the long run in order to pay-off the loan undertaken

So, i wrote CAT(admission test for MBA in India) and got into this college. Though i was engineer by blood, but who cares. You have to feed yourself and in India, you need an MBA to swing up the ladder. It was here i came across this legend!

5 March 2019:

I bid like all my fortune(in this case grade-points), to get allotted the subject taught by AF Matthew! Had heard a lot about him, and as i was few of those unlucky souls who weren’t given an opportunity to attend his sessions in the first year, this was long due.

And, well fast forward to the end of the session, it was all worth it! He challenged my thoughts, ideals, questioned my beliefs and swiftly moulded me. Whatever he said wasn’t at all sweet and soft. There were times when the entire world which i was a part of for 25years in my life, came tumbling down. But he had his facts, and he was RIGHT! 

He showed us the classics which was too much for a mainstream person i was, for whom a classic meant Lord of Rings franchise or Rocky Balboa Series, and then i was a transformed intelligent soul, now who could sit in a group and take part in knowledgeable discussions, and not fight based on mob-opinions. Also was I struggling with the aftermath of a life-threatening accident i had on Sept 14th,2018. I was no more a confident girl who was strong-headed in her stance and could think clearly in the midst of difficult situations. I was running from my inabilities and HE gave me the strength to face them! 

The following piece is a tribute to him and the art to which he exposed me and built a better person if not perfect. The journey is long no doubt, but i am forever indebted to have had the foundation stone laid by him.

PS, this is a reflective essay which i wove around my life based on the movies and art (highlighted and referenced in the piece) he exposed me to.

“Everyday I breathe, effortlessly I lie Roll back my tears and curl up a fake smile There THEY stand, every movement do THEY eye With my head held high, its time to push another mile”

The statue of Liberty… Yes, this is where my earliest memory of the word “liberty” takes me to. Today, as I write this piece after 30 hours of mental turmoil, I found myself in GC’s class, it would be rather befitting if once I could stand straight, look into the mirror and confront myself. Its long that I have hidden myself in a cocoon of safety and comfort, and hopefully here in this reflective narrative I am able to “woman-up” to my vices and insecurities. 3 Colours: Blue incited in me an emotion which until recently was a far-fetched dream. For the first time in my life, I felt “liberated” too much to the extent that I don’t shy away from the idea of being alone. The night of 14th September 2018 changed my life or so did I think. Now, as I look at it, I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I speak out loud that it “completed me”. Empathising with Julie’s struggle to let herself free as she tried to pay off all her debts and run away from her past, I understand clearly now why after my accident I found it difficult to be at rest. Always was I trying to push people away- blaming & snapping away from someone who’ll try to give me solace.

It was a time when all I wondered was what could I ever do wrong to have had this fate. After 6-pelvic fractures, 1-shoulder fracture, 1-hip surgery and a bleeding clot that rendered half of my brain unreceptive; I feel I am in a good condition to vouch for Julie’s behaviour to untie herself from all bodily aspirations when you are not able to settle the turmoil of emotions that challenges your mere existence day in and day out. Countless times have I found myself since that day questioning my actions, feelings, thoughts and more than that the people around me. “Why me” was something that kept me up at night and tired & helpless all I could do was hide myself in my room away from the eyes that always seem to follow me. It took me long to realise that those eyes actually were supportive of me and some of them genuinely were ready to take part in my sufferings as I once again started a quest to discover myself. But even that was not enough. No matter how much have I been the admirer of the emotions with which HW Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life” claims that “Life is anything but an empty dream”, there were times when everything around me felt futile. When anyways everything is supposed to end, why the struggle to end everyday with perfection? In fraction of seconds, the course of life can be changed so much that you never know if it’s the end. These months have been long, tiring and restless to the extent that I would end up scratching myself, inflicting pain just to remind myself that it would all be over soon. Everything is supposed to end and this too shall pass.

In the beginning of the end, you try to treasure onto the memories you have in order to make them last longer. Same did I experience in these last few weeks. Change is inevitable and no-one is ready to accommodate it into their lives that easily. My days in campus are about to get over and all I can see now is a life full of competitions and unnecessary races for which I am not prepared for, rather not been accustomed to for long. Then one day sitting by the edge of my classroom, lost into the serene surroundings into which my college is built; I let my thoughts take a flight just like the flapping wings of the bird I was staring at. I was no more scared to be lost. There is a world full of possibilities and it stuck me that just one setback doesn’t define your future or justify your past. I came onto terms with my life. I accepted my limited ability and sufferings that accompany the same, something which I know will eventually pass no matter how hard it seems now. Something which I was looking and searching for outside, was inside me. That thought gave me power. It gave me freedom. I accepted that the unfortunate incident was no-one’s fault and accepted the things as they are now. I forgave myself,those who were in the car with me that night and decided to move on, following my life’s route destined. The moment I faced these things, I was no more caged. Neither did I feel helpless, nor did I want to hide. Rather, I started respecting and treasuring all the more those who were throughout besides me in these unfortunate times no matter what. And then I decided lets “Leave Footprints on the sands of time”.

Yet another gush of emotions I felt was in the face of acceptance of the fact that how society has long demeaned women and have pre-decided their boundaries from the day they were born. And if you decide to over-step these “Lakshman-Rekhas” created, you have exposed yourself to the barbaric world and are immoral for sure if not unholy. The movie Caterpillar lays out one such example and shoves conservatism straight in the face. Lieutenant Kurokawa serves the right-wing parties and rapes the women on his way claiming them as the spoils of war. But once he comes back home mutilated, the desire to dominate still doesn’t seem to leave him which can be easily seen in his sexual intimacy with his wife. He seems to force again himself on her with aggression when all she does is take care of him, feed him and carry out all other “duties” that a woman is bound to carry out for her man. Well, in this case, he is the “War-Lord”. Many-a-times have I seen this in my surroundings, silently closed my eyes and kept quiet because this is how the system has trained me till date. My mother used to feed us, wash our clothes, clean our mess and all I would do was to accept it as it is because its her duty. And why was not it supposed to be? Didn’t I fill in my school almanac “Housewife” against her occupation field! The pain and cries of the women in Invisible War even more made me question the system I have been brought up in. There are facts and then there are beliefs. When and how did I start accepting, or when did my mother start accepting that she has to subdue to my father’s wills. Or when did I justified the sad reality that dress modestly else you can get molested, or worse raped! I was mere 10 years old when every morning while going to the school a man used to swiftly pass by pulling my skirt from the small gaps under my rickshaw. At that time, I didn’t even know how to behave or react. Though I knew something was not right- something that stopped me was the thought that how will I explain it to others or come out in the open. Maybe I am overthinking and wrong about my feelings! Well, now I know the reason to all these questions. The system had trained me to come to consensus with the supremacy of male gender who considers women as objects meant to be fu**ed.

When was I immodest in my simple school tunic, or where did I go wrong when I used to follow the Catholic principles in my missionary school? But in the image of Father Amaro, I received an answer to the same as well. Why is there the need to depress the bodily desires and preach in the name of religion the things which you can’t follow. Humans, so petty they are! They lead sad, depressing and meaningless lives. All they need is a religion to back them up and fulfil the void in their lives. But thousands of wars are being fought under the name of same religion and not to mention countless women get grilled under the expectations that the system imposes on them. Who’s responsible for it? But, yet again if you have power and hold a reputable position in the society, no-one will question you. Rather the voices against you will be silenced at the hands of the mob itself who want to stay in their safe, comfortable cocoons around them. Similar thing was seen in the smile of Gomez in “The Secret in their Eyes” that in its entirety meant that he is untouchable. No matter who he rapes, no matter who he kills, he is the hitman of the right-wing conservatist party and is bound to walk free as he is indispensable to the system; The system that can silence anyone, crush voices and indulge in anything to protect itself and its “ideologies”.

The manner in which the glory of war is demystified and we are exposed to this grim reality of the war, something which physically and psychologically transforms you, is shocking. The idea that the movie Caterpillar and Invisible War highlights is something that stays out of the green light and is something which the system won’t let you talk about. Lost in these wars are the futures of countless children who have witnessed it in their surroundings, suffered losses of their near and dear ones and felt pain which is unexplainable for them. But more than this what I am worried of is the loss of Innocence. At small ages they have seen things which shall scar them for years to come. The character of Chava in “Innocent Voices” brings it in light how these children constantly live in fear of death and even are hesitant to openly discuss on the idea of birthdays as that brings them closer to the D-day, when their childhood officially ends. In Baran as well, the same issue is highlighted as the plight of Afghans who live in Iran as refugees is pictured out. Feelings such as first love, innocent emotions- all get eroded under the idea of things that are beyond their control and they can’t even understand them. The mere thought gives me chills down the spine if today in my cosy surroundings I think of the continuous terror under which the children in Kashmir are living. How difficult life has become for them under the whims and fancies of a selected few who are staying true to their beliefs and justifying their actions throughout in the name of Nationalism.

It’s a common saying that “All is Well that Ends well”. As I end this piece, I don’t want to be true to the system and the common beliefs where everything is rosy and turns all fine. Rather I wish to confront myself and accept that there are insurmountable pains that lie under the lies that are spoken and preached. There’s a propaganda that is followed by those who are in power and its they who decide the rules to play their game. Amidst all this, An Affair of Love gives me hope. A woman putting out an idea of string-less and pornographic affair was more than a bold step. It challenged the beliefs where identity has to be put on such women & an affair of gossip for all those witnessing it. It was erotic and had its charm at the same time. Similarly, the tale of Yossi and Jagger was moving in the sense that their love was pure and Yossi articulated it as Jagger “died in his arms”, a phrase and scene which is defines tragedy in an ideal girl-boy movie story. It was heart-breaking and sad to find Yossi lamenting his loss as in the funeral he sings Jagger’s favourite song. Last but not the least, the character of Nora in “The Divine Order” stands for women’s liberation and freedom as she fights her way against the social norm to make a place for herself in the society. The day all these emotions shall be respected, and unheard voices given an ear, can we expect an uprising against the system.

This time her emotions won't let her be, so long has it been now. So long has she grieved.

Static they were, all who claimed. To her justice, were they all shamed.

She never once breathed her plight. Who knew she was the lone-ranger putting up her fight.

They tore her apart time and again. But when was she tamed to their reins, she breathed.

She was a free bird, free to her whims. No one has controlled her without her pleads. This time she let it lose. But not for all. She knew how to knit back her life, it was all she got.

She'd leave them all. A sole soul she has been. Let them prey on her broken soul, let it bring them peace. But she never ran. Running was not any of her strides. She has always painted pictures building others' might.

Long has she watched, grieved and cried. But whatever might be the case, she won't die. She won't put her head down and run from herself. Rather complete all expected plus some additional perks unsaid.

Long has she been the woman who was free to shine. This she'll continue even when her will dies!

Alone she smiles

Alone she fumbles

Alone she cries

Alone she weakens

Alone she builds

Alone she crumbles

Alone she wins

"Why me" she screams

Alone she grieves

Do you rejoice in my pain, my trials and tribulations?

Or, its your wish to surface the lies hidden and unspoken?

  Armour be thy strength, so did you say

But with my feelings you always had your way

when in the darkest nights in your embrace I lay.

 Would it be too much if I ask you to be kind?

Its taken a while now to accept, no more can I hide.

Yes, its He who haunts me! Yes, He has be-witched my heart, soul and mind.

 Lost in those eyes have I woven dreams, Dreams as true as my pulsating heart.

Eyes that are deep as the ocean’s womb, bright as the dawning star,

Light to the shipwrecked, peace to the souls that depart.

 Warm are those hands that fit perfectly in mine,

Embrace me when I am weak, pull me up when my faith is blind.

Healing is their touch as He tells me that the missing pieces will fall in line.

 You have visited too often, would this time you’ll be my guide?

And tell Him what my words fail to structure and feelings hide.

You have visited too often, would you tell Him the story we both have shared for a while?

The one where she sleeps with the hope that He’d liberate her from exile.

 This time before you flood my eyes, would you let me drop my armour just for one time?

I wish to tell Him how much I miss Him, then you can lie that I am doing just fine.

 -

AJ

Perspective....How often have we come across this word. 

Well , for me, about 90% of my life has been driven by the perspective I hold of myself and about others around me.

(College)  ”Anjali, key to a successful engineer ,is to have the perspective of a layman”

(10th class-ICSE) “Look at the sonnets from the perspective of the romanticists for whom nature was their beloved ”

(Kindergarten) “Stop beating everybody up, Anjali . Have you ever considered the perspective of the recipient . Try putting yourself in their shoes!” .

Pheww! A difficult kid that I was still unaware of another dimension to “perspectives” that stuck me a few days back .

Perspective is not actually what you define. Its actually defined by what others think and feel ! Yes, I am not blabbering  another philosophical statement and obviously not challenging your power to control your own decisions. “I am an individual. I am the master of my thoughts. I control my life !”  Obviously,  this claim on your part stands unrefuted. But for once, try and ponder how valid this statement stands in this 21st century !

In the month of September, I visited my hometown during the Ganesh Chaturthi weekend. Mind you , there weren’t any huge idols being taken to visarjan or mass gatherings dancing to the beats of trumpets and dhols . But just an ordinary day that you expect to flow ordinarily In the ordinary narrow lanes of an ordinary city of northern India .

Back-to-back shots of golgappes ! A perfect day indeed. Certainly nothing can compare my love for them and the constant cravings I had for them in Pune.  I fired my scooty and headed home when I was stopped mid-way.  All happened suddenly.  A rickshaw driver on the main road dashed into an I10 while taking a blind turn into yet another “ordinary” narrow lane. What next! The person got out pulled off the rickshaw was given a beating of his life. When people tried to stop him, that man kept repeating “Meri nayi gaadi pe scratch maar dia! Andha, baap ki sadak hai !” And the abusings continued with the poor-man constantly pleading sorry and saying “Saab-maafi”. Finally , the crowd intervened and pulled the rickshaw driver away from the scene. The road cleared and I went home with the scene revolving in my head. Just a few days back I saw the same accident happen but this time it was between two cars- a duster and an alto ! One could easily do the math and come up with the cost amounting to thousands!  But , no one did anything and blamed it all on the nagar nigam for such poor facilities and road arrangements!

What was different ! Even the i10 driver seemed to be an educated fellow with a business suit and puma boots ! Then what went wrong. Your perspective of a situation changes with respect to the person you are dealing. And at that time you are not a master of your thought but a social animal who tries to suppress the voice of those who cant express or maybe those whose views wont create a difference.

The journey from undeveloped to underdeveloped has been an enthralling experience for the nation as a whole. But, to be able to call India developed ; a change in perspective on the part of every individual is needed. Instead of expecting the change from others , first reflect on your own actions.

                       “Our father who art in heaven” ; art thou?

The Bible claims heaven to be abode of God. Is it that anything less perfect would defy His stature? 

In their darkest hour and deepest despair, the mortals call out to Him; claiming Him to be their savior. But are the towers in heaven able to recept them or the millions of calls need to network crash again and again. ! 

They say- “Ask and you shall receive” ; when we don’t , they say- “let patience be thy guide.” The wait and sufferings cast the request bearer insurmountable pain. The past taunts him while he is torn apart between present and the future.

But even after all this, have you ever felt once for sure that He is there? Inside you, listening to you, responding to you...

In this game of endless tragedies and sorrows, LIFE loses and yet there are no answers to your questions !

Are there any answers? Or are you blinded?              

It is widely preached that wisdom leads to salvation. The sacrifices make the man pure and open to the complexities of life. So far, my experience seems to falsify this fact. 

Over the centuries, it is seen that the more humans intervene in the mysteries of nature, the more are they bound to become restless and impatient. The myths raised by the knowledge that earth is not flat accounted for people scared to leave their houses due to the fear of “falling”. Nostradamus’ predictions of the end of earth excite the scientists’ heartbeat as each day passes. The turmoil of emotions you’ll experience if I declare that tomorrow you are going to die , is sufficient to explain my point at the moment. Certainly, this doesn’t mean that I favor ignorance . Ignorance in terms of rights, education and knowledge has always been a matter of great concern for the countries all over the world striving hard to root the evil out. Great revolutionists like Rousseau have always criticized it in their writings. But the pros and cons of predictability in life can also not be denied.

The world surrounding me felt warm, cozy and safe in all respects unless I opened my eyes to the dirt around me. 

For once in my life, I was not blind.

Then did I realize how stupid was I to ignore what my conscience pricked me to sense. Time and again my soul called out to me but I suppressed it whenever it tried to hamper the beautiful picture painted in my mind. “Now” It’s just a memory.  The day I recepted reality, coziness was all gone. I felt alienated to the “new” surroundings. To walk on the same path now stinks. The dirt leads to suffocation. But amidst all this , my shear helplessness to stand against the wrong drives me crazy. !

The day you confront the reality, life never remains the same. Every moment wasted counts years. You make up your mind to stand against the wrongs prevalent in the society, but the very next moment makes you realize the futility of your aspirations and you take a step back. Obviously , this does not count as your weakness or fickle-mindedness. Weak are those who prefer to act blind and ignore the evil around them ; Weak are those who turn a deaf ear to the agonized cries of their souls ; Weak are those who are afraid to introspect themselves satisfied by the little monetary gains they get benefited of through the day.!

Nowadays, every individual need to fight for his own rights , let alone fighting for others. The moment you dream of breaking the bars and bringing the change, thousands of hands come up to pull you down. Suddenly, the whole world stands against you. Those claiming to be your protectors willingly switch their roles and try their level best to cut your voice out. The mob stays numb to your cries as they are too debilitated to leave the protection of their houses and step up for their rights. If this wasn’t the situation, then surely handful of Britishers couldn’t have ruled India for over hundred years. !

The voices which have the guts to challenge the system and break free the clutches of existing norms and principles die out. And once again the corruption prevails. But the essence of these sacrifices never fades. They stay alive in the hearts of those who are readily awakened to the call of their souls. Their footprints on the sands of time guide others on the path of righteousness and fill them with ecstasy and vitality to face the odds. It’s high time that the budding generation rises to the awakening of their souls and start answering the “Silent Whispers” of their conscience.

He woke up from deep slumber. 

His joints were paining and his body aching. 

He just couldn't feel his limbs. 

A mere movement casted him so much pain… PAIN…How bad did he wish to disintegrate into a million pieces! Anything was better than this excruciating torture tearing his inside out.

He lifted his eyes with the hope to find some commotion - some nuisance around him. He already knew he had held his hopes too high. But what more could he do than wish this would end soon.

Order feeds from the randomness. Order is predictable, Commotion is good.

Everything was dark and dull. Aghast shadows seem were lurking around the corner. Was there somebody?

The silence around him filled him with utmost insecurity and fear. He tried to give out a cry but his lips gave into no effort. Slowly he was loosing command over his senses. 

What the hell was happening! 

He knew that the pathetic situation in which he was would lead to his end if he didn't come up with an immediate solution. He tried with all his might to draw his mind away from this thought.

"Move!", he called out to his legs as soon as his lips became free from the spell which some mystic forces seemed to have casted upon them. But did his legs stir even a little so as to console his ego.

No !

They stayed in their position and openly defied his orders. 

What was happening! 

Had this been a “normal” day, this defiance would have been the precursor of blood, wrath and fury. No mortal has had the courage to go against his will. Whatever he wanted, he would have it. 

It was his right to have it. 

****

Didn’t Shariq had his throat slit open when he refused to have him spend a night with her. Ahh Salema...What a beauty she was! All through the feast he had his eyes tearing through her like a vulture nearing in onto its prey. 

He was in love with her.

In love with her glittering eyes...

In love with her sleek texture and well framed bosom...

In love with her soft voice... 

 All he had wanted was to touch her, feel her and devour her to her last breath !!!

The news of her marriage came as a shock to him. He didn’t expect Shariq to get Salema married so early. Being a brother he wanted to get done with his responsibilities. But what about Shariq’s responsibility towards him…. Didn’t they swear to brotherhood together!

Salema was Shariq’s weakness. So she was his.

Shariq betrayed him.. It was not right.. Shariq was bad!

 Yes bad he was.

Now he wanted her all the more!

Wasn’t it a ritual that unless he had feasted, no one else touched their meal. How could that ritual falter. It was then to everyone’s horror in the coveted haldi ceremony that he demanded Salema. Ah Salema..

Wasn’t she more beautiful naked. He devoured her piece by piece..

He was never so full in his entire life and her shrieks kind of enhanced the pleasure !

He liked it.

He enjoyed it.

 He had her to himself... and by making sure nobody else could have her, he left his mark. His territory was claimed.

It was becoming more and more dark. Thick black clouds engulfed the space. It pinched his eyes. With every passing second his body was stiffening. He knew he desperately needed to tear open this veil around him.

****

Suddenly a bright light blinded him. He took a sigh of relief in the fact that his eyes were still receptive…. He was still alive.

Would you choose to die with closed eyes or afford to live blind.

He saw a yellow pool of light radiating out from a source. He didn't know what it was. Neither did he know how he landed up there in that dark corner of the world. All he remembered was that the last time he had encountered light, he was in the hub of chaos.

There were gun shots and explosions all around him. Last time when he had any human connection amidst the range of voices he remembered one cry distinctly-"Run Ali! We wont let them reach you. Keep the good work going and teach our brothers and sons the real essence of Jihad." It was funny to see how timidly a man whose hands didn't even shake when the recipient of his gun shot was his own father, gave in to the orders of a low grade front end jihadi in difficult times.

Ali, that was his name. Wasn’t he the chosen one who shall lead the strayed humanity back onto the path of righteousness and purge this corrupt world. He taught his followers- "Those who shall intervene in the will of Allah, shall find their souls longing for bliss in hell forever." Little did he know then that this was what that would define his life years later.

****

Ali knew that the light source was his only hope. Maybe somebody out there could help him end his misery. "If Allah has put me to test, I won't let his trust down", he thought as he started directing all his energy towards that sparkling source.

He was not able to feel his legs. But he had no time to worry about it. Every passing second was leading him towards his end. He started crawling towards it pushing the earth beneath him with both his hands. Tired and exhausted he was, but he could not afford to stop. "My entire life is spent in God's service", he said to himself.

"I have been so selfless my entire life. THEY all claim themselves as super-powers of the world. Ohh such a nasty phrase you ask me. Did they think denying us our rights and stripping us off the resources would stop us! Stupid… Sheer Stupids! They needed to be shown their real place. Muslims have never been able to realise their true potential. If guided they have the power to rule the world. They know it. that's why they have always imposed hardships in our path. It was necessary to make them pure.... It was necessary to declare Jihad", he remarked angrily. "Time and again, my actions have led to sufferings and pain. But every reform demands bloodshed. Sufferings have the power to chastise a soul. Unless and until his soul is free of dirt and malice, how can a person even dare to think to step in front of God at Qayamat! I am the prosecutor, I am the justice, I am Messiah"

His contemplation was broken by a loud cry. It shook him. Was there another wretched soul there just like him demanding rescue. Then there was another set of cumulative shrieks- this time more painful and filled with agony. He looked around shocked and scared. His gaze fell upon certain distorted man like structures. They looked more like a man's shadow but lacked all vital parts of human body. He looked closely.

Were they making the noise? Suddenly, the shrieks stopped. Silence again enveloped the place. Even in the darkness he fell that his surroundings were now aware of him! Ali tried to figure out what was more soothing- silence that mysteriously held secrets in her womb which he sensed were not welcomed by him, or the scary shrieks that gave him satisfaction that he was not the only one there. And then, he noticed those shadows turning towards him. One of them remarked in coarse voice: "Another cursed one!" This scared him and he rushed from there as soon as it was possible.

I need to get out of here. I don't like it here.

Death and Misery what would you choose? If I say both are same… Would you believe me?

"My heart has always faced any danger and adversity with utmost courage and determination. Many noble ladies gave me the custody of their children when it was right time for them to get trained to serve their brothers and their religion. Hail those mothers! They go on sacrificing their blood for the sake of the greater good. Some others who denied my demand, their sons had to be snatched brutally from them. They called my activities baseless and said i was defying God's wishes. They named me the one with the heart of stone. Oh.. I have endured so much..This is another test that Allah is putting me through..But this can’t stop me. It is a war, a crusade and I’ll be victorious!"

He put his hand on his bosom and said, "Petty ladies said you are made of stone. O heart! Blood still flows in you, isn't it." He started laughing but it was short lasted. There was no answer from his heart. Nothing was beating beneath his cold hand. It panicked him. Suddenly he became conscious of himself. "The breath is also gone! I need to get out of this place. I wont stay here for another moment."

 What place is this !

Finally, Ali reached the source from where light was emanating. It was not a door as he had expected it to be. But a mirror. A mirror from a long forgotten dream he had once seen. Suddenly he realised he was not new to that place. He had been there before as well. At that time everything was lively and happy. Flowers were blooming all around him. He was in high spirits then. Miraculously a mirror appeared in front of him. Splendid as it was, it caught his attention. But to his surprise he couldn't see himself in it.

"I'm the Mirror of introspection", and the place was echoed. It sent him chills!

"I see the world through the eyes of the beholder. I'm not just like the others that show you the beauty of accessory that your soul shall wear, but the sins of your soul. I shall let you introspect yourself on the basis of the deeds you have done in your entire life."    

"Then why am i not able to see myself?", Ali blurted. "Because your soul is pure my son. Every soul that comes to god gets chastised by the five universal elements-fire, water, air, sky and earth. They together drive off the impurities from it. The resulting soul goes on earth to complete another cycle. There every action of his is taken under consideration and it goes on wearing the layers of impurities on itself. I shall make you face yourself without any ornament, without any externalities. You are bare and so shall you be when you go on earth"  

"What happens to them whose souls fail to get chastised?"

Before he could get an answer, he felt a sudden thrust on his back. He led out a cry and found himself in the hands of a stranger who shouted, "Congrats, its a boy". He took him to his mother who happily took him into her arms and imprinted a warm kiss on his forehead.

He could no more feel that warmth and comfort. It was a long time since his mother had died. Now he was alone in that place. Everything around him was cold and strange except that mirror. The bright light brought with itself the realisation that Ali's soul was bare. "Where is my body? My heart is dead and my breath has been cut short. Am I dead!"

"Yes you are", said the known voice.

"You are dead just like those innocent people whom you killed for fulfilling your own evil desires."    

"What are you trying to say. Don’t demean my actions. Haven’t I walked on the path of Allah?"

"The agony that you caused to your brothers, the cries of mothers longing for their sons who won’t come back again, destruction in mass human massacres themselves speak for the truth. The path of Allah is free of malice and hatred. There is love and compassion for even the microscopic creature on the face of earth. For Allah, all his sons are equal. No caste, religion, territory or boundary can distinguish it. Pain to any of his son, brings tears in his eyes. Sufferings in their lives make him suffer too. "    

"I've always tried to avenge the pain my brothers have undergone. Jihad has instilled in them a feeling that they are also capable of accomplishing what they have ever aspired for."

"Allah has always preached universal brotherhood. Your deeds have never pleased Him. How can a Father be happy to see His blood tormenting? You have turned yourself into a butcher whose soul is discarded forever. Your soul is not worthy of God's blessings. You shall always be here in the dead corner of the world with the other cursed souls."

The mirror stopped radiating. Ali contemplated, "Was I a fool to think that my activities were valid. Weren’t my activities the will of God. Did I misguide humanity.”

“I made decisions. I had authority. I had powerful. The fear fuelled my aspirations. But, who was i to decide who is supposed to live and who is not." He went close to the mirror. He saw himself as a handsome youth once he was. Ali smiled at the known picture. But suddenly it started disforming and just like a piece of glass, it smashed into a zillion pieces. Beneath it was a dark soul, as dark as a black swan. It went on growing darker and darker. Its shadow was drenched with blood. It became impossible for Ali to see himself in such a condition. He experienced pain and agony But this was no ordinary pain from a cut sole or broken ribs. This was above the body. It was about soul and his soul suffered.

He started scratching the surface of the mirror so as to remove those black scraps off his soul.

"Please don't abandon me", he yelled repeatedly while his voice resounded in vain. “Talk to me, please”.

He kept on scratching the mirror as all the other abandons surrounded him and laughed.

 --

Self

Hello Tumblr ! You told me to fill this tumbler.. great! See i am writing my first post.

Who am I ?

Well , you know me Tumblr, don’t you. Didn’t I just verify my mail account. Now that you’ve officially certified it, sure i’m real. But what you fail to notice my little friend is that reality is out of the realm of the mail verification that you shoot over the bugs like me.. It is something else, something vivid, something unexplainable… Its an echo.

Am i rattling a hardcore philosophy just in my first post ! (which turns out to be my first blog as well). Who doesnt want to grab a solid foothold with all so glorious pen-names and deep yet out of context material. I too am a budding writer and an extensive dreamer,so pardon me dear tumblr if at all i went all fancy while writing this piece of mine. But again, this is not another grain in the sand and neither am I. In order to be fancy, all people like me need is a quiet alone time and ….well a bit crunching and juggling in words. A word here , a word there and booyahh you get yourself a catchy little phrase to carry it all along with you. Complex is the new sexy. Just shoot at the audience complicated fundas and you’ll earn ears. Who cares about knowing straightforward mantras which are a poor investment when time is of essence. I have always loved-deep-classy-strong-extravagant-phrases. And this creative juggling was further fueled by the 12 years continuous gruelling a student of icse board is taken through. LifeInEchoes is yet another byproduct of that creative play.

A writer can make you find worth even in a funky glass sandel (thanks to Cinderella). Well here too i won’t disappoint you. You see a model, you imitate her fashion. You listen to a politician on a burning hot issue and you reiterate it in all your discussions and meets. People say Justin Beiber’s gay, you call him gay. Well, on some accounts i maybe dumb, but dont sue me if i term that as an echo… Ohkay Ohkay, you are absolutely right to question this. Obviously, some of us might be fashion designers as well. So, lets just broaden it more. The teacher tells you stealing is bad, you believe it. Your father tells you respect others, you quote namaste when you meet that distant uncle of yours. You like an idea, you try to incorporate the same in your idealogies as well. Be it Marxisians, Socialists, or Republicans ..all came to existence in the same way. Though the propagandors are no more, but still their call resounds in all the party mantras that you hear. Ain’t it an echo. Take a moment off and realise that the manner in which you are built right now is also continuously moulded and shaped by others around you. All those who met you at some point in life, now resound in you. However small their contribution may be. Reality is a myth and you my friend live Life in Echo.